TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17
CLASSIFICATION:  MSR; RST
SPOILERS:  Third season, episode by lovely episode!
SUMMARY:  The third season with scenes not seen in the
episodes.  What actually happened between the scenes we
saw?  Tune in and find the true smutty story.
DISCLAIMERS:  Please sue me!!!  I would love my 15
minutes.
FEEDBACK:  Most of it welcomed at philer@onemain.com.
NOTE:  This fic starts where 'As It Might Have Been-Season
2' left off.  Seasons One and Two available at Gossamer.


From 'As It Might Have Been- Season 2

*...Back at the motel, Scully was frantic, grabbing her bag
and practically running to the motel office to arrange for a
rental car.  She had to find out where Mulder had gone.  She
knew in her soul, he was in trouble... and lots of it.

"Where's Mulder?" Cancerman asked Eric angrily, but he still
refused to answer.  "He's here," he demanded, angry with
Eric for not talking

"No sir," the soldier reported.  "If he was, he's vanished
without a trace."

"Nothing vanishes without a trace.  Burn it!" he yelled,
grabbing Eric and pulling him to the copter.  One of the men
threw an incendiary device into the buried boxcar and it
exploded.  As the smoking man left in the helicopter, he
watched as flames flew out the open hatch...*


'As It Might Have Been-Season 3'

MOUNTAINVIEW MOTEL OFFICE
FARMINGTON, NM
"I need to rent a car," Scully told the desk clerk, trying
not to seem as frantic as she actually was.

"We don't do that here. You'll need to go into town," the
clerk responded as if he could care less.

"Then I need a taxi," Scully told him, beginning to lose her
patience.

The clerk dialed for a cab, finally checking a phone book to
find the address of Lariat rental cars and scribbling it
down on a piece of paper for her.  Scully waited outside for
the taxi, surprised when it showed up so quickly.
Everything within her being was telling her Mulder was in
trouble and she could barely contain herself long enough to
try to get to him.

NAVAJO NATION
NATIONAL RESERVATION
TWO GREY HILLS, NM
Scully pulled up in front of Albert Hosteen's house so fast
her tires skidded in the gravel enough that she gave thought
that she might run into his porch.  She saw her car that
Mulder had driven parked outside, saying a silent prayer
that he was safe inside Albert's house.  But when she'd
entered, she realized that no one had been safe.

"What happened?" she asked, clearly out of breath.  She
walked further in and could see that Albert was injured,
that he'd obviously been beaten.  His son was attending to
his father's wounds.

"There were men," Albert's son told her and she immediately
assumed they had something to do with Spender and the fact
that Mulder didn't seem to be there.

"They were looking for your partner," Albert said.

She couldn't seem to take her eyes off the two men, knowing
they had bravely stood up for Mulder, even though they
barely knew him.  "Where is he?" she asked slowly, fearing
their answer.  However, Albert just shook his head, not
having an answer for her.

But it was when Albert's young grandson entered the room
that she felt an overwhelming guilt engulf her; guilt for
having involved this family in her and Mulder's situation.
Her heart melted at the sight of the boy, his eye so
blackened it couldn't open and his face bruised and swollen,
obviously having taken a serious beating.

"I, I'm so sorry," she said to them.

But the boy spoke up.  "I'll show you where I took him;
where the men in the helicopter came looking for him."

"Did they take him?" Scully asked, worried that Spender had
him.

"No.  But, come, I'll show you."

Scully followed the young man to the quarry, checking the
boxcar for herself, but finding nothing more than a
smoldering empty car buried beneath the red rock.
"Mulder!!" she yelled into the empty canyon, more out of
need to scream than of an expectation of finding him.  She
looked around the huge quarry, the vast scenery probably
appearing beautiful to most, but seeming desolate and
overwhelming to her.  She sat down and cried.

She had searched for over an hour for any signs of him,
finding no clues at all, no footprints, nothing of his that
had been left behind.  She had no idea if he'd been taken as
she had not so long ago or if he had wandered off into the
desert heat.  Maybe the smoking man's men had somehow taken
him after all.  She had gone into Farmington to talk to the
local authorities, hoping they would be able to help, to
have someone look for him.  But she had been frustrated when
they had told her that if anyone got lost out in that area,
they weren't likely to make it out.  She found herself
hoping that Cancerman did have him.

But after two days of searching and waiting for Mulder to
return to their motel or to Albert's, she knew that if he
were going to show up, it was just as likely that he would
be back in Washington somewhere.  She was sick with fear,
but she didn't know what else to do but return home.

She finally pulled out of the Navajo reservation later the
next evening, driving back the way she had brought Mulder
out only a few days before.  The events of the past week
were swirling in her head, her mind barely on her driving as
she thought and re-thought everything that she had done and
wished she hadn't.  She was so engrossed in her own
contemplations that she didn't hear the helicopter until it
was almost sitting on top of the roof of her car.  "Jesus
Christ," she said out loud when the bright light shined into
the window of her car, so blinding that she couldn't see to
continue driving.  "Oh, fuck..."  She knew the copter could
force her off the road if she didn't stop, so she pulled
over, not really knowing what else to do.  She wasn't all
that surprised to see military personnel pile out of the
copter, coming at her with automatic weapons drawn.

"Out of the car.  Come on," one of the men barked at her,
roughly pulling her from the front seat, pushing her body
against the outside of her car.  "Hands on top.  Spread your
legs."

She complied, her heart racing so fast she felt she could
barely breathe.  The man searched her roughly, taking her
gun from her holster.  "Where's Agent Mulder?" she asked,
turning to look at the man who was roughing her up.

"Turn and face away," he said gruffly, shoving her back
against the car.  "Where are the files?"

Knowing they would find them anyway, she told him.  "In the
trunk."

Not wanting the few pages of hard copy they found in her
trunk, "We need the DAT copy," the man barked.

"I don't have it," Scully told them over the din of the
whirring helicopter.

"Who has it?"

She thought for only a few seconds before she spoke, hoping
against hope that her answer would help find him.  "Agent
Mulder."  Maybe if Spender and his men thought Mulder had
the tape, if they didn't already have him themselves, they
would find him, if only to find the tape.

Scully watched them leave, taking deep breaths to help calm
her pounding heart, trying to silence the thoughts in her
head, "It can't be... he can't be dead..."

OFFICE OF WALTER SKINNER
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
Two days later
Scully had been called into Skinner's office, knowing full
well she would probably get, at least, a couple of day's
suspension for not showing up for her meeting with him the
previous week. But she didn't expect to find several other
FBI directors and the deputy director who had interrogated
her after Mulder had slugged Skinner present also.

They had interrogated her; asked her questions she knew they
already knew the answers to.  They were much more interested
in the tape than they were Mulder, seemingly only interested
in him to get the tape back.  But she had given them
nothing.

"It is the recommendation of the Office of Professional
Conduct that Special Agent Dana Scully be given a mandatory
leave of absence until the full detail of her misconduct can
be calculated," the man read from his file, seemingly
enjoying himself.  Scully didn't give him the satisfaction
of looking at him. "This summary action is justified under
the O.P.C. articles of review and Agent Scully will complete
her suspension of duty without pay or benefits, due to the
nature of her insubordination and the direct disobedience of
her superior agents," the man read from his notes before
looking at her.  "We will have to ask that you check your
weapon and your badge before you leave the building, Agent
Scully."

Finally, Scully glared at him, but silently standing,
lifting her jacket to remove her holster that was clipped to
the waist of her skirt, laying the gun on Skinner's desk.

Skinner seemed to be squirming in his seat, disturbed by the
glances Scully had given him, but silently following along
with what the other directors were dishing out.  "We would
also ask that you make yourself available to answer further
questions in our investigation into Agent Mulder's
whereabouts."

"I've told you everything I know," she said, tossing her ID
next to her gun.  "To the best of my knowledge, Agent
Mulder is dead."

"Don't think this hasn't been difficult for everyone,"
Skinner tried.  But Scully just glared at him, her anger
obvious in everything about her.  If her parting stare
could've killed, Skinner would've dropped over dead.

But just as she was about to exit the door of his outer
office, he called to her.  "Agent Scully..."  She almost
kept walking, but then figured she was most likely out of a
job anyway so she had nothing to lose.

"Who are these people?" she asked, walking back to him
angrily.

"These people are doing their job," Skinner told her.

"What they're doing is putting an official stamp on the
perpetuation of a lie," she told him, now madder than hell
and he knew it.

Skinner tried to lower his voice, hoping she would lower
hers, his door to his inner office still ajar.  "These
people have a protocol to follow, which is something you and
Agent Mulder did not do."

"What about the people who were poisoning Agent Mulder's
water? Whose protocol was that?"

"The investigation will..."

"The investigation will be an exercise! The men who killed
Agent Mulder, the people who killed his father, they aren't
meant to be found."

"We will find them," he told her lamely.

Scully hesitated only a second, "With all due respect, Sir,
I think you overestimate your position in the chain of
command."  And as much as her statement pissed Skinner off,
he knew she was right and he also felt in his gut that
Blevins' chain smoking friend was somehow involved.

Before leaving Hoover, Scully went down to the X-Files
office, making sure that no one had followed her.  She went
immediately to Mulder's desk, opening the middle drawer,
reaching up to the top of it, finding the plastic container
that Mulder told her contained the DAT tape hidden there
just as Mulder had told her it would be.  But when she
pulled the small box out of the drawer, her stomach lurched
when she found it empty.

HOME OF MARGARET SCULLY
ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND
Later that evening
"Dana..."

"Hi, Mom," Scully said, standing on her mother's front step,
her shoes in her hand.

"What are you doing with your shoes?" her mother asked.

"They, uh, they started to give me blisters, so..." Scully
said, barely able to hold back her emotions.

"You walked here at this time of night?" her mother asked,
realizing that something was very wrong, her daughter still
in her work clothes.

Scully couldn't hold it in any longer, her voice breaking as
she began to cry.  "Oh, Mom..." she said, stepping inside
and into her mother's embrace.

"What is it, Dana?" Margaret asked, rarely seeing her
youngest daughter let her emotions get the best of her.

"I've made a terrible mistake," she cried into her mother's
shoulder, her voice hitching. "Dad would be so ashamed of
me."  Her mother took her into the house, leading her into
her living room, both of them sitting down on the couch.

"Dana, what has happened?" Margaret said, turning to face
her daughter, taking hold of her hand.

"Mulder..." was all Scully could manage, her crying turning
into sobs.  Her mother moved closer and reached out for her,
holding her for a long time while Scully just cried.  She
didn't think she had any tears left in her since she'd
practically cried all the way home from New Mexico, but she
couldn't seem to compose herself.

Finally, when Scully's sobs had quieted some, Margaret asked
again.  "Tell me what happened."

"He was in New Mexico... I th, think... he's dead, Mom," her
words making her sob all over again.  "I couldn't find
him...  I couldn't find him..."

Scully told her mom about the tape, all of that part of the
situation seeming so meaningless now.  Nothing was worth
Mulder's life.  She explained about Mulder's water being
laced with some kind of drug and what he'd done to their
boss, finally explaining her reason for shooting him.  Her
mother seemed like she was having difficulty absorbing
information that understandably seemed like science fiction.
And Scully had explained that the last time anyone had seen
him, he'd been inside a burning buried train car.  And she
explained that she was likely expelled from her job at the
FBI.

Margaret could tell that her daughter felt guilty, that she
felt somehow responsible that her partner was missing or
dead and that she could've made better decisions.  "I don't
see how you can fault yourself.  You had to make a choice.
You did what you thought was right," her mother tried to
comfort.

"No, I did what I felt was right for my partner," Scully
admitted.

"Wouldn't Mulder have done the same for you?"

"Yes, but that's exactly it, Mom," Scully told her,
seemingly angry at herself.  "I behaved exactly how Mulder
would've behaved.  I, I lied and I countermanded my
superiors because I thought the pursuit of the truth was
more important."

"And wasn't it?" her mother asked sincerely.

"I don't know what the truth is," Scully started. "But as
far as the FBI is concerned the truth is that if all of
their agents behaved this way, they wouldn't be able to do
their job... And they're right."

Margaret could see that her daughter was torn, feeling so
badly that she had made unwise decisions.  "Dana, if you're
really worried about what your father would think of you, I
think he'd see that there was no right choice and no wrong
one."  Her mother's words made her wish so badly that her
father was still with them, that he would be there to give
her advice.  Margaret could see that her daughter was
touched by her words, but couldn't look at her.  "He
would've been very proud and supportive of his daughter,"
she told her, lifting her chin to make her look at her,
taking hold of her hand.

"Mom, there was a right choice to make.  And I didn't make
it.  I went with Mulder to New Mexico," she admitted, just
as the door opened and her sister came in.  But Scully
looked back at her mother.  "I never should have let him go
off by himself.  He, he was in no condition..."

"Something's happened to the man you work with, hasn't it?"
Missy asked as she walked into the room, sensing something
was wrong.

"Melissa, please," Margaret said, feeling that her younger
daughter didn't need to hear any of her sister's New Age
ramblings at the moment.  Scully didn't totally discard many
of Melissa's unconventional beliefs, but knew that they
waved in the face of her mother's Catholicism.

"No, no I've been feeling it for the last couple of days.
He's become ill or something," Melissa said as if she knew
exactly what had happened to him.

Margaret had had enough.  "I'm gonna go make some coffee,"
she said, leaving Scully on the couch to stare at her hands.

"I'm right aren't I?" Melissa asked, sitting in the wing
chair opposite the couch.

Scully didn't know how to tell Melissa what had happened.
She knew her sister didn't care much for Mulder.  Hell, she
hadn't even referred to him by his name.  But she knew she
had to tell her, if for no other reason than to get it over
with.  Scully took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself
for what she was about to say.  "Melissa, Mulder is very
likely dead," she said, finally looking at her sister.

"Oh, you don't believe that," she said sincerely, slowly
shaking her head.

Scully looked at her, giving her a very serious gaze.  "No,
I DO believe that."

"I'm getting very strong feelings otherwise," her sister
continued, her insistence starting to annoy Scully.

"I wish it weren't true," Scully said, her voice faltering,
Melissa noticing how deeply upset her sister actually was,
wanting, in her own way, to help her.

Melissa moved over to the couch, kneeling on the floor near
where Scully was sitting. "No, no honey.  It's, it's more
than that.  You're radiating, Dana," Melissa told her,
taking hold of her hand. "You have a connection with him
that's still strong, powerful."  Missy knew that her sister
and Mulder were involved, that they had become involved
during the first year they had begun working together.  But
she had gotten the feeling at the time Scully had gone
missing that they may have drifted apart, so she wasn't
exactly sure where they stood at the moment.  Her sister was
often too private with her personal feelings.

"Melissa, don't do this," Scully said, Melissa not sure if
her sister's words were a warning or a plea, but she
continued.

"Well, I know what I feel."

And her words were the straw that broke the camel's back.
"Fine. We'll leave it at that because you have absolutely no
sensitivity to my feelings," Scully said angrily, letting go
of her sister's hand, climbing off the couch.

"Oh, Dana," Melissa said, realizing she'd upset her sister
when she was only trying to help.  She stood, trying to
reason with her sister.  "I wouldn't say it if I didn't feel
so sure. You need a second opinion."

"This isn't a medical condition, Melissa," Scully started,
her patience with her sister gone.  "It is a statement of
fact. It's either true or it isn't. And based on the
empirical evidence which I happened to have gathered, it's a
pretty damned sure bet that your whistling in the wind,"
Scully said, her hurt very evident in the tone of her voice.

And Melissa could see that she'd upset her sister, but
couldn't seem to let things alone, truly feeling she could
help.  "I'm sorry. I know you're feeling a lot of things
right now.  You may even be feeling responsible. But if you
can just try and see through your, your guilt and your
anger, then maybe you can look past this western
empiricism."

Scully was barely able to look at her, but she did just long
enough to give her a stern gaze.  "I'll make sure and
consult my tarot cards when I'm out looking for a new job,
thank you," Scully said flippantly, walking away from her,
but then changing her mind, turning back to address her.
"Melissa, I have lost somebody," Scully added, her voice
faltering again.  "I would like to deal with it in my own
way."  Melissa just stood there as Scully glared at her,
watching her younger sister leaving the room angry at her.

Melissa had gone up to her room, on one hand angry at her
sister for being so stubborn and rigid in her beliefs, but
on the other hand, feeling so badly for her.  She knew, for
whatever reason, her sister was deeply in love with her
arrogant partner and that her belief that he was dead was
killing her.  She wished she could help her.

"Where's Missy?" Margaret asked when Scully had joined her
in the kitchen.

"She either went up to her room or moved back to
California," Scully said, getting a couple of coffee mugs
out of the cabinet.  "She can really piss me off sometimes."

"You know, even though I disagree with her, in her own way
she's trying to help you," Margaret said, pouring the mugs
full.

Scully almost startled, surprised that her mother would be
saying such a thing in defense of Melissa's beliefs.  "I
know...  But I just need to, to grieve in my own way."
Scully could see in her mother's eyes that in order for her
to be understood by her sister, she needed to accept that
she was trying to help.  "But I'll talk to her."

"Why don't you stay tonight..." Margaret told her.  Scully
nodded, moving to her mother, as always, finding comfort in
her embrace.

Scully had gone home the next morning, barely able to eat
much of the big breakfast her mother had made for them. She
had talked to Melissa, explaining that she understood that
she was trying to help, but needing to sort things out for
herself.  But she had to admit, that Missy's honest
conviction that Mulder was still alive gave her a ray of
hope and she finally told her sister so.

That night, Scully had slept fitfully, her thoughts of
Mulder in the forefront of everything she tried to do.  She
had just given thought to getting out of bed and going to
the living room to let the television make her sleepy when
she'd heard a knock at her door.  She was touched that she'd
found Frohike there, drowning his grief about Mulder in a
bottle of vodka.  But he had provided her with information
that she might be able to use to, at least, clear Mulder's
name.

"We'll find out who did this, Scully," Frohike told her,
taking another sip of his coffee.  In many of his dreams,
he'd imagined he'd be alone with Scully in her apartment in
the middle of the night, but not under the circumstances he
found himself in.

"I don't think that's possible.  I think this goes so deep,
no one will ever be able to bring it to light.  Right now, I
just want to, at least, take the blame off Mulder," she said
and Frohike could see how devastated she was.

"I know about you, about the two of you," Frohike told her
after a few quiet minutes, hoping she wouldn't be angry.

Scully looked at her cup of coffee, not able to meet his
eyes.  "I guess it's hard to keep a secret from you guys."

"You're the best thing that ever happened to him," Frohike
told her and meant it with all his heart.  "I just want you
to know that."

"Well, I could argue that you have that backwards..."

FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
Two days later
It felt weird for her to use the public access to the Hoover
Building, passing a tour as she stepped in line for the
metal detector.

"Making you come in the front door these days, are they,
Agent Scully?" the handsome security guard smiled to her.

"For now," she smiled, knowing him from his time working the
employee entrance at the parking garage.  When she walked
through the metal detector, it buzzed loudly, surprising
them both.

"Are you carrying your weapon?"

"No."

"Sorry to have to run you through this."

"It's okay," she answered, cooperating with him.  He picked
up the handheld detector and ran it over her front and it
didn't buzz again.  "That was weird."  He let her pass,
neither knowing what had set off the machine.

She had taken the elevator, passing various agents in the
halls, feeling as if everyone knew she had been suspended
and they probably did.  "Scully, come in, please," Skinner
said, his mood already clear to her.  "You said you needed
to see me concerning the investigation?"

"Yes, sir," she answered nervously as she stood in front of
his desk. She wanted so badly for him to help her.  "I came
across a news article. A man's body was found in New Jersey
and I have reason to believe that he was killed by the same
man responsible for Agent Mulder."  She handed him the
article, explained her theory on how the ballistics from the
murdered Kenneth Soona could hopefully prove that Mulder
didn't shoot his father.  "I would like you to run it
against the ballistics from this man's case."

"Trying to prove what?"

"Well, if both men were killed by the same weapon, we could
prove that Agent Mulder didn't kill his father and it could
also help us find the man who did," she said, wanting so
badly for him to listen.

Skinner looked at her, a stern look on his face.  "You've
been relieved of your investigative function."

"Yes, I know that, sir. I just thought this might be
helpful," she said, starting to realize that Skinner was
probably not going to help her.

"I'm afraid not," he said almost smugly, Scully staring at
him in utter disbelief.  "This case would have been handled
by the Trenton P.D.  They're on our drug-fire ballistics
database. If there was a match in the two slugs, all the
bells and whistles would have gone off by now."

"You don't want to check?" she asked, feeling like she was
begging and knowing that she would if it would help clear
Mulder's name.

Skinner just looked at her, seemingly just waiting for the
moment when he could answer.  "Miss Scully, I think you
underestimate the duties and responsibilities of my position
as Assistant Director," using her own words against her.

She knew there was little chance of getting anywhere with
him, but held her tongue in hopes of one last chance.  "I
was just trying to cooperate with your investigation, Sir."

"To mitigate your situation and then add to your chances of
reinstatement, isn't that right?!"

"No. I just want answers!" she said, wanting to cry but
determined not to let Skinner see that.

"And so do I," he said angrily, picking up a folded form
from his desk.  "I want to know why I was asked to execute a
search warrant on your apartment to look for a digital
cassette," he told her, throwing the paper down angrily on
his desk.

Scully sighed, knowing now that Skinner, and probably
others, had known that Mulder had been in possession of the
digital tape all along.  "I don't have it," she answered
plainly.

"Is this tape what Agent Mulder died for?"

"I believe so," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

What Skinner couldn't tell her and what he didn't want her
to know for her own protection, was that he was trying to
help her, help Mulder.  He'd grown tired of the smoking man
hanging around his office, silently threatening him to do
what he was told to do where Mulder and Scully were
concerned.  "You want to bring me a smoking gun, Scully? You
bring me this tape.  Otherwise, I would ask you to go home,
sit tight and let us do our job."

Scully was hurt by his remarks, now thinking that she was on
her own.  She had no one to trust.  "Is that all, Sir?"

"Yes, that's all," he said, leaning back in his chair as she
gave him one last angry look before she exited.

She had no more than walked out the door, than another door
in Skinner's office opened and the Cancerman entered,
putting a cigarette in his mouth.  "Did you ask her about
the tape?" he asked, trying to act nonchalant, knowing he'd
lied to the other members of his consortium about already
being in possession of the tape.

"She says she doesn't have it," Skinner told him angrily,
wishing the bastard would just leave.

Downstairs, Scully tentatively walked toward the metal
detector again, tossing her visitor's badge into the basket
on the security desk.

"Back again?" the security guard asked her.

"I'm just curious about something.  "Would you mind if I
went through here again?"

"Come on through," he motioned to her.

She put her keys down in the holder and walked through
again, the detector beeping as if on cue.

"This thing is more sensitive than a toothache," the guard
said, wondering what could be setting it off.

But Scully was even more curious, her suspicions on high
alert.  "Would you mind running the wand over me one more
time?"

"Sure."  He waved the handheld across her front, Scully
raising her arms and turning around.  But as he passed over
the back of her neck, the signal sounded again, surprising
both of them.

"You wearing a necklace or something?" he asked, also
wondering what could be setting it off, his machine not
usually so sensitive.

"No, not today," she answered, touching her neck where her
cross usually lay.

"Then what the hell is that?"

Scully had been asking herself the same thing, remembering
what Mulder had said about how people with missing time had
often found implants under their skin.  Had Mulder been
right?  Had they just become even deeper pawns in the grand
conspiracy?  She needed to find out.


TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-2
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17


Continued from Pt. 1


DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
The next day
"Dana?  It's me," her sister announced as she walked in.
Missy was somewhat surprised when her sister had asked her
over for breakfast, wondering what was on her mind.

"Come on in..." Missy heard her sister call from her
bedroom.  "Hi."

"Morning.  I brought goodies.  Pastry, no white flour," she
smiled, dangling a small beige sack in front of Scully.
"You could use some comfort food."

"Thanks... I've got coffee, but I'll make you some herbal
tea," Scully told her, knowing her sister wouldn't begin to
touch caffeine.

They busied themselves putting a couple of things on the
table to eat for their small breakfast, the shrill of the
tea kettle the only sound in the room.  "This is delicious,"
Scully commented after she'd sat down, taking a bite of a
blueberry scone.  Missy dipped her tea bag several times,
watching her sister for some sign of what it was she wanted
to talk about.

"So, Dana, why am I here?" Missy finally asked.

"Because you wanted to have breakfast with your baby
sister?" Scully smiled, taking a sip of her coffee, looking
at her sister for some kind of reaction.  "No, I guess not."

"You called me, remember?"

"Oh, Missy..." Scully began, telling her sister about
everything that had happened to her in the last couple of
weeks, about what she suspected was a conspiracy.  Scully
didn't say, but Missy gradually realized that her sister and
her partner were indeed involved with each other again, her
sister's grief palatable.

"You shot him?" Missy asked incredulously as her sister
continued her story.  "You SHOT him?"

"I had no choice.  It was the hardest thing I've ever had to
do," Scully explained, her sister still incredulous.

"Damn, Dana.  I, I guess all I have to say is that I'm
impressed.  I mean I knew you carried a gun, but I never
really stopped to think you actually knew how to use it,"
Missy said, realizing, maybe for the first time, that her
sister not only loved the profession she'd chosen, but was
also damned good at it.

"There's more," Scully went on, telling Missy what she
thought Mulder may have given his life for.  And she also
told her about what had happened to her the previous day
downtown at the Hoover building.

Scully stood, reaching in her pants pocket, showing Missy a
small vial with a tiny microchip inside.  "This was
implanted in the base of my neck."

"Implanted?"

"I don't even know how long it's been in there. I have
absolutely no recollection of it being put there," Scully
said.

Melissa sat down, picking up the vial to look at it for
herself.  "That is frightening. Dana, this is very serious.
You've got to find out what this is."

"I don't have access to the F.B.I. labs," Scully said,
thinking about how she might be able to gain a way in.

"No, I'm, I'm talking about access to your own memory,"
Missy told her earnestly.

"Melissa..." Scully sighed under her breath as she looked
away, not wanting her sister to start in on her again with
her spiritual ramblings.
"I mean, obviously, you have buried this so deeply, you
can't consciously recall it," she went on.

"Melissa..." Scully warned louder this time, giving her
sister a stern stare.

But she wasn't fazed, continuing to tell her sister what she
needed to do.  "I know someone, someone who can help you..."

Scully stood, slamming her palm on the table in frustration.
"No!" she yelled, staring at her sister, trying to tell her
with her eyes to let it drop.

Missy watched as Scully paced, knowing she was about ready
to burst at the seams.  "What are you so afraid of, Dana?
You afraid you might actually learn something about
yourself? I mean, you are so, you are so shut off to the
possibility there could be any other explanation except for
your rigid scientific view of the world," she told her,
Scully taking deep breaths to try to settle herself, knowing
deep down her sister was right, sounding so much like
Mulder. "It's like you've lost all touch with your own
intuition."

Missy stood, walking over to where Scully stood.  "You're
carrying so much grief and fear that you can't see you,
you've built up these walls around your true feelings and
the memory of what really happened."  Missy touched her hand
to her sister's arm, seeing that she was struggling to
absorb what she was hearing.  "Just do this for me. As your
sister. Please..."

For a few moments, Scully didn't speak, wasn't even able to
look at Missy.  But then she nodded, knowing she needed to
help herself try to make some sense of what had happened to
her, to her and Mulder.  Scully knew she needed to get to
the real cause of many of her problems-- her abduction.
"I'll try, Missy.  I'll try."  Missy wrapped her arm around
her sister's shoulder, almost shocked when Scully turned
into her and slipped her arms around her waist to accept her
comfort.

"I'm not sure I can do this without him, Missy," Scully
confessed, her voice muffled into her sister's dress.

"He hasn't left you, Dana.  He knows you love him and he'll
return.  You have to believe," Missy tried to reassure her,
but could feel that her sister had lost faith.

Scully's visit with the therapist hadn't gone well, some of
the memories scaring her and she was still too raw from
Mulder's absence to deal with them.  When she had returned
from the therapist's office, she was disturbed to find
Skinner leaving her apartment building, Scully wondering
what he could've been doing there.  But when she telephoned
him to confront him and ask him what he wanted, he denied
that he had even been there.  But what she didn't know was
that he denied being at her place to protect her; protect
her from the man in his office who was sitting there puffing
on a Morley.

She had spent the rest of the day and evening alone, trying
to find some peace for herself.  She had decided to attend
Mulder's father's funeral in Boston the next day, so she
went to bed early since she had an early flight.  But as she
slept, she could hear Mulder talking, seeing his image among
the stars, seemingly talking directly to her. *I have been
on the bridge that spans two worlds, the link between all
souls by which we cross into our own true nature. You were
here today, looking for truth that was taken from you, a
truth that was never to be spoken but which now binds us
together in dangerous purpose. I have returned from the dead
to continue with you... but I fear that this danger is now
close at hand... that I may be too late.*  His words
startled her awake.  She sat up instantly, trying to catch
her breath.  Suddenly, she knew... he had to be alive; he
just had to.  Maybe Missy was right.

Scully had gone to Mr. Mulder's funeral, fairly surprised
when she saw Mrs. Mulder standing across the lawn from her.
Scully waited until after the service to approach her, not
sure she should, but taking the step anyway, watching as
Mulder's mother took a flower and sprig of Baby's Breath
from the casket bouquet of her ex-husband.

"Mrs. Mulder?" Scully said, slowly approaching Mulder's
mother, recognizing her from a picture Mulder had of her and
Sam on his dresser.  It bothered her some, sometimes, that
Mulder had never introduced her to his mother and father.
Sometimes she wondered if he had ever even mentioned her to
his parents.  Scully knew that Mulder had become estranged
from his mother, both of his parents, really.  But she also
knew that he loved his parents, hoping that someday things
would be good again.  Of course, now that was impossible, at
least half of it.

"Yes?" Mrs. Mulder asked, wondering who the young woman was
who was offering her handshake.

"I'm Dana Scully.  I work with your son." Scully said, the
two of them slowly walking toward their cars.  "I know what
you may have heard from the FBI, but I have a very strong
feeling that your son is going to be found."  Scully could
barely look at the woman, fearing she would ask for some
kind of proof and Scully knew she didn't have it.

"Oh, my goodness gracious," the woman responded, startled,
stopping in her tracks.

Scully looked at her clearly then, "I think he's still
alive."

"How do you know?" Mrs. Scully asked hopefully.

Scully could almost feel Mulder smile when she offered her
answer to his mother.  "I just have a very strong feeling."
What Scully didn't notice was the distinguished man watching
the two women interact.  Mrs. Mulder was cordial enough and
she seemed comforted by Scully's feelings that her son was
still alive.

"Fox has spoken of you often.  You aren't what I expected,"
Mrs. Mulder told her.  Scully had to rethink her idea that
Mulder's mother had been cordial; she wasn't sure whether or
not Mrs. Mulder's words were a compliment.  "He speaks of
how strong you are, so I guess I didn't expect such a small
woman," the silver-haired woman smiled to her and Scully
felt herself smiling back, warmed by the thought that Mulder
had talked to his mother about her.  "He values you."

Scully felt her throat tighten at the woman's statement, her
choice of words curious, but somehow touching.  "Thank you,"
was Scully's only response.  They continued to talk as they
walked towards their cars, Scully trying to reassure her
that she felt Mulder would return.  "I promise I'll let you
know as soon as I do," Scully told her, touching the woman's
arm in an attempt at some kind of comfort.

"Thank you.  Thank you very much," Mrs. Mulder said
sincerely, reaching for Scully's hand, seemingly even more
lost than Scully.  But it had been her encounter with a
stranger and his warning that someone would try to kill her,
either strangers in her home or someone familiar to her who
stopped by unexpectedly, that had truly unsettled her.  And
she had remembered Skinner's denied visit... and her dream
of Mulder's warning.

She returned home late from Boston, her phone ringing as she
walked in her door.  It was her sister, wondering how her
visit with the hypnotist had gone, but, at that point,
Scully could have cared less.  "Missy, something strange
happened to me today. I'm... I'm a bit freaked out by it."

"Okay, well, I, I want to come over. I want to talk to you.
Are you going to be there for a while?"

And Scully thought she would be until her phone rang again,
this time the caller hanging up, the obvious reason for that
flashing through her mind.  After she'd made alternate
arrangements with her sister, she stuck her extra gun in her
purse and left the apartment.

But as soon as she'd gotten to the street, Skinner drove up
next to her, his car just appearing out of the dark.  He
swung the passenger door open, Scully observing him warily,
her hand near her purse that held her extra gun.  "Scully,
get in the car. I need to talk to you, it's very important."

"I was just going over to my sister's," she hesitated.

"I'll drop you by there.  Right now, I need for you to come
with me."

FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
ARLINGTON, VA
Skinner had wanted her to go with him to Mulder's apartment,
a strange place to want to go to talk in private since he
supposedly thought Mulder was dead.  Scully knew better than
to go in ahead of him, wanting to stay in control of her
situation.  She opened his door with her key, stepping back
to allow Skinner to enter.  "After you."

And as soon as he'd stepped into the apartment before her,
she'd let him know her stand in her best FBI voice.  "Eyes
forward. Put your hands where I can see them. Don't turn
around or I'll blow your head off.  Don't think I won't do
it, you sonofabitch."

"No, I believe you. Just stay cool, I'm with you," he said,
his hands help up.

"Take two steps forward," she told him, knowing the drill.
"Now move slowly towards the couch."  She followed him into
the living room, turning on the lights, Mulder's taped 'X'
still visible in the window, the bullet hole right next to
it.  "Turn around and sit down on your hands."

"Are you going to let me tell you why I'm here?"

"I know why you're here," she told him, sitting down
opposite him, her gun aimed directly at him.  "I want to
know who sent you; whose errand boy you are."

Skinner could see how angry she was and knew she didn't
trust him, wondering how he was going to get her to
understand that he was there to help her.  "No one sent me,"
he said calmly.

But his attempt at trying to reason with her didn't have its
desired effect.  "You got the rest of your life to give me
answers."  She wanted a resolution.  Not for herself, but
for Mulder.  "How high does it go, Skinner? Who's pulling
the strings?"

"You can kill me, Scully, but you'll only be doing their
work for them. Forget about your job and family. You'll
spend the rest of your life behind bars, there isn't a
federal judge that they couldn't persuade."

"What's the alternative? Let you kill me now?"

"I didn't come here to kill you. I came here to give you
something," he began.  "I've got the digital tape."

"You're lying," she answered quickly, wishing she had
someone to rely on, but knowing that Skinner wasn't that
person.  She'd seen the smoking man in his office way too
many times to ever think that he was there to help her.

"I've got it in my pocket. I took it out of Mulder's desk,"
he told her, Scully remembering that's where she'd found the
empty tape box.

Suddenly, Scully heard footsteps outside the apartment in
the hallway, her heart pounding from fear.  She glanced
toward the door, seeing a shadow covering the light shining
through the gap beneath the door.  But she had diverted her
concentration just long enough and Skinner seized the
moment, pulling his gun and aiming it at her. Both of them
stood, their weapons pointed at each other in a stand off.
"Drop your weapon! Put it down, Scully!" Skinner yelled.

"No way."

"I said put it down!"

"I said no! You're setting me up!" Scully yelled, worried
that he had a collaborator waiting just on the other side of
Mulder's door.

"I'm trying to help you!"  They continued their standoff,
until the door crashed open, Scully immediately thinking
that whoever was with Skinner was there to kill her.  But it
was Mulder who broke through, appearing with his gun aimed
at Skinner.

"Drop your weapon! I said..." Mulder yelled.

"What the hell is this? What are you pulling here?" Skinner
said, looking back and forth at both of them.  Scully was
barely able to react, her thoughts totally on Mulder
standing there in the flesh.

"You okay, Scully?" he asked, seeing that she seemed to be
stunned.

"Yeah..." was all she could say, still staring at him.
Mulder made Skinner give his gun to Scully, Mulder asking
for an explanation for what he'd just walked in on.

"I was warned that somebody would kill me... someone I
trusted," she told them both, putting Skinner's gun in the
waist of her pants.

Skinner showed them that he had the digital tape, demanding
an explanation.

"Your cigarette-smoking friend killed my father for that
tape," Mulder told him.  He told Skinner what the tape
contained, both of them deciding it was better for Skinner
to keep the tape since others were trying to get it from
Mulder and Scully.  "Come on, Scully, let's go."

"Where?"

"There are truths out there that aren't on that tape,"
Mulder told her, heading for the door. Scully glared at
Skinner, still not trusting him as Mulder seemed to.  But
before leaving, she put his gun down on the end table.

As Scully joined him at the elevator, Mulder looked down at
her, giving her a soft smile.  She stared at him, taking him
in, letting out a considerable sigh as she returned his
smile.  "Mulder, I..."

"Scully, whatever you're going to say..." he interrupted,
neither of them seeming to be able to stop staring at each
other.

"I went to your father's funeral. I told your mother that
you were going to be okay..." she told him, wanting him to
know that she hadn't given up hope.

"How did you know?" he smiled to her.

"I just knew..." The door to the elevator finally opened,
Mulder following Scully in.  And as soon as it closed,
Mulder scooped her up in his arms, Scully burying her face
in his shirt.  "Mulder... my god..."

"I'm here... I'm okay," he told her, knowing she had to have
been very worried.

She relaxed from their embrace, stepping back to look at him
for several long minutes, "I was so scared..."

"I know.  I'm sorry.  It's a long story," he told her,
knowing he would explain things to her as soon as they had
some time.  He placed his palms against her cheeks, bending
to give her a long, slow kiss, her hands covering his.
"Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, thinking he surely wasn't thanking
her for kissing him.

"For going to Dad's funeral.  I can't believe you did that,"
he said, touched that she had gone all the way to Boston.

"I, I, just wanted to do it for you.  I knew you'd want me
to," she told him sincerely.

"Jesus," Mulder sighed, pulling her into another embrace,
realizing how close he'd come to never seeing her again.
"I've got a lot to tell you."

LONE GUNMEN HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON
Mulder had told her about his escape from the boxcar, his
near death battle with smoke inhalation and his exposure to
the New Mexico elements.  He was surprised when she listened
attentively to the details about his healing, even wanting
to know more about the 'Blessing Way'.  She had told him
about her visit from the mysterious stranger and his warning
to her, her reasons for distrusting Skinner now
understandable to him.

"I need to call my sister," she'd told him, hoping that
Missy had gotten her message.  She called from her cell as
Mulder drove to the Gunmen's, but she got no answer at her
sister's apartment.  "I'll try again later."

Mulder had a photo he'd found at his mother's house, hoping
that the Gunmen could help identify the other men in the
group picture of several, including his father and
Cancerman.  Byers had recognized one, a former Nazi who had
worked on a post World War II project called Operation
Paperclip.  He explained that the U.S. government had given
them a safe haven in exchange for their scientific
knowledge, a 'deal with the devil' of sorts.

"What would he be doing in a photo with your father?" Scully
asked carefully.

"I don't know..." Mulder replied, wondering the same thing.

All of a sudden the door opened and Frohike entered,
immediately seeing Mulder.  "Unbelievable! We thought you
were history," he said, giving Mulder a hug.

"You're going to have to wait a little longer for my video
collection, Frohike," Mulder teased him, Scully having a bit
of a laugh despite herself.

"Where were you? We were looking all over," Langly
chastised.

"Down at D.C. General. I was scanning the police frequency
when I heard the report of a shooting," he began, removing
his hat before continuing, looking directly at Scully.
"Agent Scully..."

"What, what is it?"

"Your sister's in critical condition," he told her sadly.

Scully looked at Mulder, the fear in her eyes obvious to
everyone in the room before she ran out the door.

"Scully..." Mulder called to her, running after her,
following her down the stairs.  "Scully, wait. Scully!"  She
didn't stop, needing to get to her sister. "Scully, wait!
Scully!"  He finally caught her, grabbing her shoulder to
turn her around to look at him.

"I have to go there, Mulder," she said, her voice breaking.

"You can't go."

"That bullet was meant for me," she told him, knowing now
that her sister hadn't received her message not to come to
her apartment.

"If they're trying to kill you, that's the first place
they're going to look," he told her, hoping she'd
understand.

"Those bastards..." she said, her voice tear stained.

"We're going to call someone I think can help. It's the only
thing you can do for her right now is to try to crucify
them," he pleaded, reaching to take her into his arms.
"We'll get them, Scully."

Scully cried against him, allowing herself a moment to
settle her pounding heart.  "Yes, we will," she said,
looking up with him with the determination that he loved in
her.  "Come on, let's go."

CHARLOTTE'S DINER
ROUTE 320A
CRAIGER, MARYLAND
The next day
Mulder and Scully had found the Nazi war criminal in the
photo with his father and he had given them a location that
may have held some answers.  They had found miles of files
in a secret mountain vault, finding a file on Scully as well
as Mulder's sister.  But they had almost been caught, a
small army of soldiers with guns chasing them, seemingly,
into a dead end within the tunnels of files.  But they had
found a back way out and were able to get away.

They found an all-night diner a few miles up the road, the
long walk about as much as Scully could take.  She was
worried sick about her sister and had barely had a decent
night's sleep since Mulder had gone missing.  Mulder had
called Skinner to meet them, not really knowing where else
to turn, knowing he still had the tape.  They had ordered
breakfast, taking their time to eat so they could stay in
the restaurant without drawing suspicion.

"You should try to eat something," Mulder told her, Scully
just picking at her food.  Scully tried, taking a couple of
bites of her omelet, but too disinterested to even be able
to taste it.  "Scully, she'll be okay.  Albert will help
her.  He saved me."

Scully looked up from her coffee, giving him a soft smile,
knowing he believed what he'd just told her.  "I just want
to see her."

They heard the door open and in walked Skinner, his
expression very dour.  "This place isn't even on the map.
How'd you get here?"

"You'd be surprised what's not on the map in this country
and what our government will do to keep it that way," Mulder
said sarcastically, but Skinner knew he meant it.

"How's that?"

Mulder explained what had happened to them, what they'd
found in the mountain vault and how they were chased out by
a hit squad that just happened to arrive in CIA fleet
sedans.

"Well, I may be able to negotiate a deal that would
guarantee your safety," Skinner told them.

"What kind of deal?" Scully asked.

"I'll turn over the digital tape in return for your
reinstatement..."

But Mulder didn't want to give up the tape, wanting it to
finally prove that there was a vast conspiracy against the
American public, to find the answers he'd always been
seeking.

"Is that answer worth your lives?" Skinner asked, the
morning sun bright in the greasy little diner.

"It's obviously worth killing us for," Mulder pointed out.

"In your wildest dreams, what do you possibly hope to find,
Agent Mulder?"

"Why they killed my father... and what happened to my
sister... and what they did to Agent Scully," Mulder
explained, wanting so badly to make whoever took Scully pay.

"I think we should let him make the deal, Mulder," Scully
said quietly, Mulder almost shocked.  "Look... those answers
mean nothing if we're going to be hunted down like
animals. We are operating so far outside of the law right
now, we've given up on the very notion of justice. We've
turned ourselves into outsiders. We have lost our access and
our protection..."

"What makes you think there's any such thing as justice,
Scully?" Mulder tried to counter.

But she was growing tired of his stubbornness and losing her
patience.  "Then what good are those answers to anybody but
you, Mulder?"

"What we found last night..." he tried to make his case.

"Look, I want exactly what you want. But I NEED to see my
sister," she told him and he could see her eyes begin to
shine from unshed tears. They looked at each other for
several long moments, Scully finally looking away.

"What makes you think they'll even honor this deal?" Mulder
asked Skinner.

"Because, if they don't... I'll go state's evidence and
testify... or they'll have to kill me too."

"It's up to you, Scully," Mulder said, knowing that she
needed to make the decision.  Mulder walked out of the diner
and a few minutes later, Scully joined him on the porch.

"I told Skinner to make the deal. But not to hand over the
tape until you agree to it," she told him, squinting against
the bright morning sun.

"I'm sorry about your sister, Scully," he told her
sincerely, realizing he'd been being selfish about his
desire to keep the tape.

"I just need to know she's going to be okay," Scully said
sadly, Mulder feeling so damned sorry for her at that
moment, he could barely look at her.  He knew what she was
going through.

Skinner had taken them back to Washington, both of them
staying in a motel for the night until Skinner could secure
the deal to clear them.  And even though Krycek had caught
Skinner off guard and gotten the digital tape from him,
Skinner, with Albert's help, was still able to call the
smoking man's bluff and had gotten Mulder and Scully
reinstated.  Mulder and Scully were out of danger, at least
for the time being.  But all Scully cared about was getting
to the hospital to see her sister.

DC GENERAL HOSPITAL
WASHINGTON, DC
"Mom?" Scully said, walking into her sister's room, seeing
her mother sitting next to the bed.  The sight of the
labyrinth of tubes and wires hooked up to an unrecognizable
person, more like a mummy, lying on the bed made her stomach
lurch, took her breath.

"Dana..." her mother sighed.  Margaret had been filled with
dread that she might actually be losing both of her
daughters at the same time, knowing that her youngest was in
some kind of serious trouble with her work, but not having
any information as to what kind.  "You're here."

Scully walked over to her and laid her hand on her mother's
shoulder, the sight of her sister making her cry.  "How is
she?" Scully asked, struggling to hide her tears as she
looked at the monitors, trying to figure out what she could
about her sister's condition.

"They had to do another surgery early this morning," her
mother explained, never taking her eyes off of Melissa.
Scully got another chair and pulled it up next to her
mother, taking hold of her mother's hand.  "Something else
was bleeding... or something..."  Scully could see that her
mother was almost too tired to sit up, let alone talk.

"I, um, think I'll go find her doctor; see what I can find
out," Scully said softly to her.  She had located Missy's
attending physician, but was devastated to hear where the
bullet had struck and the extensive damage it had done.  But
she didn't want to give up.

"Why don't you go home, Mom," Scully told her mother when
she'd returned to Missy's room.  "Get some sleep."

"What did her doctor say?" her mother asked, ignoring
Scully's suggestion.

"You never know, with this type of head injury, what to
expect.  We just have to wait," Scully told her.

"Don't lie to me," Margaret said sadly. "I've been here for
four days, Dana.  I know what her prognosis is."

"We can't give up, Mom," Scully told her, giving her
shoulder a gentle squeeze.  "I'll stay with her.  You need
to get some rest."

Her mother had no more than left to go home for a while when
the monitors started beeping and medical staff flew into the
room in a rush.  Scully could see on the monitor that
Missy's blood pressure had skyrocketed and they were doing
everything right in trying to get her sister's BP lowered
and get her stabilized.  And they did, but less than an hour
later, her pressure slowly began to escalate and finally she
flatlined and, despite all their efforts, Scully knew there
was nothing more that could be done.

Scully had signed all the necessary papers and had gone back
into Melissa's room to gather several things she knew her
mother had left there.  Melissa's body had already been
removed and the bed had been made, the room seeming to
forget that anyone had been there, had just died there.  She
sat down, still finding herself sitting there a couple of
hours later, her body so tired it could barely move, her
mind having been a thousand places.

She heard footsteps in the hall and turned when they stopped
at the door, turning to find Mulder standing there.  She
knew he'd come.  "It happened three hours ago. She went into
surgery and, uh... the damage to her brain was worse than
they had hoped."  Mulder kneeled down next to her where she
sat so quietly.  "Her blood pressure started to rise and,
uh... she slipped away."  He took hold of her hand,
recognizing that she was barely holding herself together.
"She died for me and I tried to tell her I was sorry but I
don't think she'll ever really know," her voice finally
breaking, unable to look at him.

But Mulder looked at her, feeling so badly for her he could
barely think.  "Oh, she knows... Melissa knows."

Scully took a deep breath, trying to hold on.  "You were
right. There is no justice," she told him, finally able to
meet his eyes.

"I don't think this is about justice, Scully."

"Then what is it about?" she challenged, trying to find a
way to deal with what had just happened.

"I think it's about something we have no personal choice in.
I think it's about fate," he said, knowing that Scully was
blaming herself.  She gazed at him for several long moments,
seeing in his expression that he truly meant what he had
said.  After several long moments, Mulder spoke, "Skinner
told me that he talked to you, that you were insistent about
coming back to work. Now, if Melissa's death is..."

"I need something to put my back up against," she told him
insistently.

"I feel the same way. We've both lost so much... but I
believe that what we're looking for is in the X-Files. I'm
more certain than ever that the truth is in there," he
explained, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I've heard the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the
answers."  He moved to his knees, leaning in closer to her
to put his arm around her.  She laid her head on his
shoulder, her arm going around his neck and they stayed
there like that for several minutes, just looking at the
empty bed and all it signified.

"Let's go home," Mulder said, giving her a brief kiss.

"I need to tell my mother," Scully said.  And even though
she knew her mother had known that there was little hope
Missy would recover, actually hearing the words would be
devastating.

"I'll go with you," he told her, not giving her any room to
say no.

End of Pt. 2.  Continued in Pt. 3


TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-3
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17


HOME OF MARGARET SCULLY
ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND
"You want me to come in with you or...?" Mulder asked when
they pulled up in her mother's drive.  "I mean, maybe your
mom won't want me there."

"I want you there," was all Scully said, getting out of the
car.

Later, Scully assumed her mother knew when she walked in the
door that her older daughter had died.  She knew Scully
wouldn't have left her alone.  But it had been horrible to
have to actually tell her.  "They couldn't get her blood
pressure down."  Her mother had been silent for a long time,
just sitting at her comfortable kitchen table, her head in
her hand.  "I don't think she suffered, Mom.  The brain
doesn't feel pain."  Scully wished her mother would say
something or cry or... something.  But her first words
surprised Scully.

"We need to make arrangements."
They had spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening
contacting relatives, Mulder staying with them, but
generally just trying to stay out of the way as Scully and
her mother took care of their business in the kitchen.  Her
mother had barely asked about where she had been for the
last week, but did tell her that she was happy to see that
Mulder was alive.  Scully knew that her mother was
emotionally numb, functioning on auto pilot, but she hoped
she was doing all right.

"You okay?" Scully asked when she walked into the living
room, Mulder reclining on the couch but not sleeping.  He
sat up quickly, making room for her next to him.

"That should be my question," he asked, watching her as she
sat down.

Scully took a deep breath and sighed.  "I never realized
there is so much to do when someone dies.  So much...
planning and... and arranging.  I don't think Missy would
want this."

"Want what?"

"Well, a Catholic Mass, for one," she told him, her head
relaxing against the back of the couch.

"That's what you're planning?" he asked.

"No, that's what my brother wants us to do.  Mom is
wavering," she went on.  "Missy would've wanted something
simple."

"Did you tell your mother that?  I mean, is she going to
decide or let your brother decide?"

"I don't know... my brother, my older one, can be a real
asshole sometimes," she told him, her fatigue very apparent
in her entire demeanor.  "After he gets here, I hope Mom can
stand up to him."

"You look tired.  Are you about finished with what you need
to do?" he asked, hoping Scully, and her mother, were about
ready for a night's sleep.

"Yeah, I guess.  We'll finalize things tomorrow.  Mom's
talking to her sister.  I think it's easier for her to talk
to her than it is me.  I'm glad she's finally talking about
it to someone," Scully told him, turning to look at him.

"You staying here tonight?" Mulder assumed.

"Yeah, I think it would be best," she answered.

Mulder nodded, agreeing that Scully needed to stay with her
mother.  "I guess I'd better go then," he said, standing
from the couch.

"You're going?  I, I thought you'd stay, too," she told him.

"All night?  Here?" he asked, surprised that she had even
suggested it.

"Well... yeah... I don't want to, to be alone," she
confessed.

"Your mom needs you," he said, figuring her mother wouldn't
want him to stay.

"And I need YOU," she told him and he realized that he
needed her, too.  He wasn't exactly sure why he felt that
way, he barely knew her sister.  But he knew Scully was
having much more difficulty than she was letting on and it
hurt him to see her hurting.

"I'll stay if you want, if it's okay with your mother," he
agreed.

"You mean you want me to ask my mom if my boyfriend can
spend the night?" she smiled to him and he smiled back.
"I've already told her you were staying and that we would
take the guest room."

Scully had finally talked her mother into going to bed,
encouraging her to take a sleeping pill so that she'd get
enough rest.  She and Mulder had retired to the guest room,
both of them more than tired.  Scully had snuggled into his
side when they'd settled into bed.  "I'm sorry about
Melissa, Scully.  I know you two were close."

"Actually, we weren't really.  I mean we were as kids.  My
family moved so often that we were often each other's only
friend.  But we drifted apart after she took off after high
school," she told him, her fingers absently rubbing a slow
pattern on his stomach.  "I think the entire time I was in
college and med school I saw her all of three or four
times."

"I didn't know," Mulder said, truly surprised to hear what
Scully was telling him.

"We were very different people.  And I often thought that
she didn't like me very much," Scully confessed.

Mulder moved up to lean on his elbow, looking her directly
in the eyes.  "Your sister loved you very much, Scully.  If
you'd seen her after you'd been missing, you wouldn't even
question that.  She loved you."

"I know she loved me.  But I'm not sure she liked me.  I
think she thought I went to med school just to please Daddy
or to, I don't know, follow the family plan because she
didn't."

"But, Scully, you told me your Dad didn't want you to join
the FBI."

"Yeah, I think maybe after that Missy saw me in a different
light.  But I don't think she ever realized that I went to
medical school because I wanted to.  Daddy didn't really
want me to do that, either.  So, it certainly wasn't to
please him," Scully said, her voice sad.  Mulder patiently
listened, knowing Scully just needed to talk.  "But, since
she'd moved back here, since after I was returned, we'd done
pretty well, I guess.  We've talked, done a few things
socially.  I guess I had hope we might get back what we'd
had as kids."

"I'm sure you did, Scully.  Siblings argue, fight, disagree
about a lot of things, but, when it comes down to it, we're
actually closer to them than we ever are our parents.  Don't
you think?" Mulder asked, remembering all the time he and
Samantha spent together doing the things kids do that their
parents pay no real attention to or even know their children
are doing.

"Maybe.  Yeah, I guess you're right.  It's just..."

"What?"

"I feel so responsible," she told him, trying to snuggle
further into his side.

"I wondered when you were going to mention that," he said,
knowing she would blame herself.  "You have absolutely no
responsibility in this.  None whatsoever, Scully.  I want
you to put that out of your mind.  That black lunged
sonofabitch is responsible.  He and Krycek.  And no one
else."

"It should have been me," she said, her voice breaking.

"But it wasn't.  And regardless of the circumstances, you
can't feel guilty for that.  For some reason, it wasn't your
time," he told her.

"You mean, it was just a matter of simple fate? ...You don't
believe that," she told him.

"I do believe that," he answered.  "And I think it's because
there is more for you to do here.  For us to do." he told
her, trying to make some sense from something so senseless.

Scully thought about his words for several long minutes and
Mulder figured she was near sleep until she spoke again.
"Thanks for staying, Mulder."

"I love you, Scully..."

ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA
Three weeks later
"Mulder, there is no such thing as human lightening," she
said, trying to keep her eyes on the road.

"Then what do you think Oswald was, Scully?" They had just
returned from a case in Oklahoma where a young teenager
seemed to have the ability to absorb lightening and,
seemingly, to turn it on others as well.

"I don't know.  But I know he was not lightening," she told
him.

"Oh, is that how it goes?  You tell me my theory is shit,
but you don't have an answer yourself.  I see," he said,
half teasing her.

"Yeah, I kind of like that.  Your theories are shit.  I like
that," she teased back, finally looking at him with a smile.

They had finally gone back to work after Missy's funeral,
both of them needing to work to regain some normalcy in
their lives.  Scully's brother had been so angered that
their mother had stood her ground and had a simple ceremony
and not a Catholic mass that he had stayed away altogether.
Mulder figured it was for the best because if the guy had
shown up, he felt like he could punch him.  "What kind of
guy boycotts his own sister's funeral?" Mulder had asked
Scully when she'd told him about the conflict.  "A Bill
Scully kind of guy," she told him.  "He's used to telling
other people what to do and having them mind him.  And, my
mom is getting a bit stubborn in her old age," Scully
smiled, proud of her mother for standing her ground.  But he
could tell she was upset her oldest brother didn't come.

They had no more than returned from Oklahoma than Mulder had
been contacted about a crazy case in St. Paul and he thought
it might be a bit of relief.  "Is it true you asked for some
help in this case?" Officer Havez asked as he and several
other local police investigated the crime scene.

"This guy's supposed to be an expert at this sort of thing."

"I heard he was a bit... unorthodox."

"He comes highly recommended."

"Yeah. I saw him on TV."

"Hey, so he's a publicity hound. As long as he gets
results."

"I once worked on a case he did. Very spooky."

"As long as he gives us leads, I don't care how big a
kook..."

A policeman appeared at the door, "Sir, right in here,
please."

Mulder walked in and the three officers who were talking
stared at him for a second.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them asked.

"I'm Agent Mulder. This is Agent Scully," Mulder told them,
Scully flashing her badge.

Mulder began explaining to them that their killer was not
likely a satanist, as the other agents were suspecting.
Scully handed them a profile they'd already done, Mulder
continuing about why someone likely committed the murder.
Mulder was in his element, enjoying pulling the other agents
along, spouting his strange theories about seeing one's
future in the victim's entrails and gouged out eyeballs.
Scully could barely keep herself from laughing, Mulder's
intellect and intuition so much above the rest of the men in
the room.

But as soon as the real TV star arrived, an infomercial
psychic named the Stupendous Yappi, and threw Mulder out of
the room, she knew those working on the case were in dire
trouble.  "Please leave this room," Yappi told him.

"I'm part of this investigation."

"You give off negative energy," he told Mulder, Scully
enjoying every minute of it.  She was sure it was her the so-
called psychic was talking about.

"I can assure you, Mister Yappi, I'm a believer in psychic
ability," Mulder told him, tired of the man already.

"So you say with your mouth but your thoughts tell me the
truth," Yappi told him, walking away.

"Agent Mulder, please," the lead officer said, indicating to
Mulder that he actually wanted him to leave the room.

Mulder couldn't believe what he was hearing, Scully leaning
in next to him, "I can't take you anywhere."

Later, they had left the crime scene and were headed to
their motel to review the case file.  "You don't believe in
that guy, do you?" Mulder asked, sensing that Scully had
thoughts she wasn't sharing.

"Of course not, Mulder.  But I also don't believe these
local yokel's are much more capable of solving this crime
than the Stupendous Yappi," Scully said, looking at him next
to her in the car.  "And I'm wondering why you took this
case."

Mulder smiled at her, pulling into the parking garage at
their hotel.  "We should be able to solve this in our sleep,
Scully."

"So, you took it because it was easy?" she asked, not quite
believing his reason.

"I took it because it needed solving," Mulder said, popping
the trunk, giving her a grin as he exited the car.

LE DAMFINO HOTEL
ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA
After they'd settled in their rooms, Scully heard Mulder's
distinctive knock.  "That was quick," she said, not yet
having had time to take her shower, wondering how Mulder
had, his hair spikey and wet.

"I was in a hurry to get here," he said, sliding his arms
around her waist.

"I'd say," she smiled at him, her arms going around his
neck.  Mulder bent to nuzzle her neck, his hands sliding
down to her bottom.  "Mulder... let me take a shower
first..." she said, her fingers softly massaging his neck.

Mulder continued to kiss her neck, reaching for the buttons
on her jacket.  "You know, Scully, I don't think I got quite
clean."  Scully chuckled at his lame reason for wanting to
join her in the shower.

"Oh, I agree... You smell terrible," she said, holding his
face in her palms to kiss him.  Mulder continued on her
buttons, backing them toward the bathroom as he did, neither
breaking their kiss.  They had almost made it before the
ring of the phone stopped them.

"Fuck," Mulder mumbled against her lips.

"Answer the phone first," Scully chuckled, moving back from
him.  Mulder headed for the nightstand, but before he picked
up the receiver, Scully remembered something.  "No!  Don't
answer it!" she almost shouted, hurrying to him.  "You're in
my room.  Let me get it."  He nodded his relief.  "Dana
Scully..." she answered.  Mulder could see that it wasn't
something he was going to want to hear.  Scully hung up the
phone, looking at him, her regret obvious.  "Get dressed,
Mulder.  There's been another murder."

And that's how they met Clyde Bruckman.

LE DAMFINO HOTEL
ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA
The next night
"I am so tired, I think I could sleep standing up," Scully
said as they'd entered her hotel room.  They had worked
through the previous night and through the rest of the day,
working with Mr. Bruckman to locate whoever it was who was
on a fortune teller murdering spree.

"I don't think that'll be necessary."  Mulder said, turning
down her bed before going to his own room to shower.

"Mmmmmm," Scully sighed when they'd finally settled into her
bed, the sheets feeling cool against her skin.

"This is much better than standing up, don't you think?"
Mulder said to her as he held her.

"Much," she said, her breath soft against his skin.

They talked about the case for a while, both of them needing
the conversation to wind down a bit.  Finally, Mulder
snickered.  "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"What, dammit," she said, wondering what was on his mind.

"Mr. Bruckman has a thing for you," he told her.

"Oh, please," she said, shifting herself against him,
thinking he was just trying to tease her.  "He's just a
sweet little old man."

"I mean it.  I can tell by the way he looks at you," he
smiled, Scully looking up at him like he was crazy.

"Mulder, sometimes I truly question your sanity."

The next day, they had felt it necessary to put Mr. Bruckman
into protective custody and had him in a room just a floor
below theirs at the Le Damfino Hotel.  Scully had taken the
first shift to stay with him, hardly believing what she had
heard the man say.

"It's something you haven't explained. Can you see your own
end?" Scully asked, sitting crossed legged on the bed
opposite Mr. Bruckman's.

"I see our end," he told her, Scully confused by his
statement.  "We end up in bed together."  Scully was
stunned, looking squarely at him in disbelief.  "I'm, I'm,
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.  I, I, I don't mean
to offend you or scare you, but, uh, not here, not this bed.
I, I just mean I, I see us quite clearly in bed together."

Scully didn't want to hurt the man's feelings; she'd grown
to like him.  But his conversation was making her more than
uncomfortable.  But he continued.  "You're holding my hand,
uh... very tenderly and then... you're looking at me with
such compassion and I feel... tears are streaming down my
face. I feel so grateful. It's just a... very special moment
neither of us will ever forget."

Scully couldn't look at him, feeling her blush warming her
skin, but felt she had to say something.  "Mister
Bruckman... there are hits and there are misses. And then
there are misses," she said, giving him a small smile when
she finally looked at him.

He smiled at her, Mulder's intuition about the man's
feelings for her right on target.  "I just call 'em as I see
'em."

There had been another murder, Mulder almost being another.
But Scully had solved the case, shooting the suspect just
before he would've stabbed Mulder.  But sadly, they had
found Mr. Bruckman dead, his end just as he had described it
to Scully.  And there she sat, on his bed, holding his hand
as a tear slid down his face.  And he had been correct about
something else.  Autoerotic asphyxiation wasn't a very
dignified way to die.

"I can't believe you are taking that stupid dog.  It looks
like a... a... furry rat," Mulder said, glancing at her next
to him in the car, holding the dog Mr. Bruckman had left
her.  What she didn't know was that Mr. Bruckman only had it
because its owner had died, the dog eviscerating his
previous owner's body.

"What was I supposed to do, Mulder?  He left a note.  He
wanted me to have him," she said, the dog sitting in her
lap, its tiny tongue wagging.

"I know you liked the old guy, Scully.  But, Jesus, a dog?"

"He'll be fine."

"I have a feeling that spotless apartment of yours is all of
a sudden going to have plenty of spots... all over your
imported rug," Mulder told her, hoping she'd rethink her
decision to keep the animal.  "He's not going to sleep with
us, is he?"

"Us?" she said, tiring of his nagging about her new
companion.

"Oh, shit..."

PACIFIC HOTEL
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
Six weeks later
"Who were you talking to?" Mulder asked when he'd come out
of the bathroom seeing Scully turning off her phone.

"Skinner.  Virgil Incanto died... finally.  Skinner wants me
to do the autopsy," Scully told him, watching him closely.
"They flew the body to Quantico."

"You aren't leaving tonight are you?" Mulder asked,
retrieving a pair of boxers from his suitcase, dropping his
towel to slip them on.

"No... but I need to get back tomorrow at a decent hour."
She knew Mulder didn't want to be alone even though he
wouldn't say so.  He had a difficult time with the case
they'd just finished in Washington, his emotional attachment
to Lucy Householder, their suspect, ultimately their victim,
had almost gotten the best of him and he was having a
difficult time accepting her death.

After they'd finished the Bruckman case in Minneapolis, they
had barely landed in D.C. before they'd headed to Florida to
work a case of the systematic killing of prisoners and
guards in a state penitentiary.  Mulder thought the guilty
man was a reincarnated prisoner, his view only serving to
irritate Scully.

They had gone directly from Florida to Cleveland, Virgil
Incanto's killing of women to deplete their body of adipose
a gruesome one.  He had upset Scully, his violation of women
reminding her too much of Donnie Pfaster.

At least their next case had been closer to home.  They'd
solved the murders of the family members of several military
personnel at the Ft. Evanston Army base or, at least, they'd
stopped them.  But it was their current case that had proven
to be most troubling to Mulder.

"I'll, uh, finish up things here in the morning if you want
to schedule the flights," Mulder told her, his entire
demeanor seeming defeated.

Scully nodded, moving toward the adjoining door.  "I'm just
going to go take a shower... see if they have a valet
service to dry clean our wet clothes.  Where's your suit and
coat?"  They had waded into a creek to rescue young Amy
Jacobs and the clothes they had been wearing were wet and
dirty.  Mulder had gathered his things, appreciative that
she was taking care of them.  He felt so tired, both
physically and emotionally, that he wasn't sure he would be
able to stay awake until Scully came back into his room.

And he was right.  When she'd returned little more than
thirty minutes later, she found him sound asleep, the lights
in the room still on.  She didn't wake him, simply turning
out the lights and slipping into bed next to him.

The next morning, Scully had awakened with Mulder
practically wrapped around her, his breath steady against
her skin.  "Mulder... we need to get up," she told him
softly, her hand stroking the arm he had across her abdomen.
When he'd roused, he had reached to grasp her more tightly,
his leg wrapping over hers.  When his hand had found her
breast, she thought he was wanting to start something, but
he had simply fallen back to sleep.

BRIGHT ANGEL HALFWAY HOUSE
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
Scully had scheduled their flight and picked up their clean
clothes, Mulder asking her to finish up the last few details
of their case with the local officials while he ran an
errand.  He had insisted on giving her the rental, leaving
the hotel in a taxi.  Later, she was only slightly surprised
when she'd called and found him at the last place Lucy
Householder had lived, knowing he had wanted to make sure
her funeral was taken care of.

After she got to the halfway house, Scully found him on the
third floor in Lucy's room, sitting on her bed, looking at
old school photographs of Lucy before her life had been
turned upside down.  "How's Amy?" he asked softly, hoping
the young girl Lucy had sacrificed her life for was going to
be all right.

"She's exhausted, but it looks like she's going to be fine,"
she told him, noticing the pictures of Lucy in his hands.
"The doctors want to keep her for a day or two just to be
sure."

"How serious were her injuries?"

"Wade must have left her alone. There were no injuries."

"He must have dragged her through the woods for at least a
mile," Mulder said, knowing that Lucy had saved Amy from all
of her kidnapper's malice.

Scully took a deep breath, realizing what Mulder believed.
"I know, Mulder. I can't explain it. She didn't have a cut
on her and nobody wants to talk about that right now.
Everyone's just relieved to have her back again - to have
her safe."

"Did they finish up on Lucy?" he asked.

"Yes. They, uh . they brought in the State Pathologist last
night so I stopped by to get the autopsy reports on my way,"
she told him, watching him shuffle through the pictures of
Lucy.

He finally looked up at her.  "She drowned, didn't she?"

"They found five liters of water in her lungs," Scully
confirmed.

Mulder smiled a knowing smile, also knowing that no one else
would ever let themselves believe what had actually
happened.  "She saved Amy's life," he said, looking up at
Scully.

Scully took a deep breath, moving to sit next to him on the
bed.  "Mulder... Whatever there was between them, you were
part of that connection. Did you think about that? Lucy may
have died for Amy, but without you, they never would have
found her," she told him, still watching him closely, even
though he didn't return her gaze.

"I think she died for more than Amy," he said, rising from
the bed, crossing the room to look out the window.

"What do you mean?"

He thought a moment before speaking, his eyes fixed on
whatever was outside the window.  "I think finally, it
was... the only way she could escape. The only way she could
forget what happened 17 years ago."  He turned to look at
her, his voice achingly sad, "Finally, the only way she
could outrun Carl Wade."  They looked at each other for
several long moments, Scully just waiting on the bed,
letting Mulder have the time he needed.

"You ready?" Mulder finally asked, setting Lucy's pictures
on the small night stand next to her bed.

"If you are..." she replied softly.

On their way to the airport, Mulder was fairly quiet,
apparently not wanting to talk any more about what they'd
been through the last several days.  Scully knew, in a way,
their case had made him think of his sister, wondering who
had her, what someone might be doing to her.  And at that
moment, Scully hoped his sister had someone like Lucy
watching over her as well.

When they'd pulled the rental into the lot, Scully reached
for his hand, "You gonna be okay?" she asked gently.

"I, um, I guess I just wish Lucy'd gotten a break for once
in her life," he told her.

"Yeah..." Scully said, waiting for him to continue.

"Why is it that some people, people like Lucy, live their
entire lives at the expense of someone else?" he began,
obviously having thought about her a lot.  "Why is it that
life treats the people who seem to deserve it the least the
best and just seems to shit on people like Lucy?"

"I don't know..."

"She overcame obstacle after obstacle and, still, she had
nothing.  Not a fucking thing.  And her death will be barely
noticed."

Scully thought about what he said for several moments,
thinking about what she wanted to say.  "Maybe so...  But I
believe she saved a young girl's life and that's more than
most people ever achieve in their lifetime.  Her life made a
difference to Amy Jacobs and her family... whether they ever
realize it or not.  Lucy's life mattered..."  Mulder looked
at her and gave her a loving smile, comforted by her
confirmation that she believed as he did about what happened
between Lucy and Amy Jacobs.

"Let's go home..."

FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
Three days later

After returning from Seattle, they had stayed in their
respective apartments, Scully recognizing that Mulder had
needed some time alone.  She hadn't even heard from him
until very early Monday morning when he'd called.  He was
already in the office and she wasn't even out of bed yet.
He had a new case.  She figured he was back on track.

"Come on in," he said as she slowly opened the office door,
peeking around the edge.  She found him in the office with
his feet on the desk, cleaning his fingernails with a letter
opener.

"What are you watching?" Scully asked when she'd walked over
to the desk to see what was on the TV screen.

"Something that just came in the mail."

Scully sat on the edge of his desk, nodding to the screen.
"That's not your usual brand of entertainment," she turned
back to smile coyly to him.  Mulder smiled, appreciating her
humor.  "What is it?"

"According to the magazine ad I answered, it's an alien
autopsy.  Guaranteed authentic," he told her, trying to
feign seriousness.  Scully could see a group of people
dressed in medical garb, apparently operating on something.

"You spent money for this?" she asked, almost laughing at
him.

"Twenty-nine ninety-five.  Plus shipping," Mulder said,
still smiling at her.

"Mulder, this is even hokier than the one they aired on the
Fox network," she told him, walking closer to the screen to
try to see better.  "You can't even see what they're
operating on."

"Yeah, but it, it does look authentic," he said, going to
stand next to her.  "I mean, the setting and the procedures.
I mean, it does look as if an actual autopsy is being
performed, doesn't it?"

"Well, technically, I don't know why they would be wearing
gas masks," she said, playing along.

"Well, maybe it's this green substance they seem to be
extracting from the subject," he says, pointing the remote
at the VCR to pause the action. "Can you identify that?"

"Olive oil?... Snake oil? I suppose you think its alien
blood," she said, looking at him skeptically.

"It's widely held that aliens don't have blood, Scully," he
deadpanned.

"I guess that begs the question, if this is an alien
autopsy..."

"Where's the alien...?" he said to Scully's nod.  "But what,
what's so intriguing to me is the striking lack of detail
here."

"Well, what do you want for twenty-nine ninety-five?" she
asked, still not quite believing that he was serious.

"No, that, that autopsy you saw on TV was so fake precisely
because it tried to show too much."

"And this is real because it doesn't?"

"Yes, and because, uh..." he began, reeling her in just
where he wanted her.  He pointed the remote again and
released the pause, the action on the screen coming to life
again.  "Because of this."  The autopsy continued until the
back door of the operating room burst open and several men
with automatic weapons charged toward the doctors, beginning
to fire until the picture turned to static.

And Scully hesitated, realizing that Mulder's little
exercise wasn't just to tease her.  "Who's selling these
tapes?" she asked, now suddenly interested.

"Some guy in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Claims he pulled it
off the satellite dish at two in the morning," he told her,
going to his desk, handing her a slip of paper with an
address.

"I guess we're going to Pennsylvania..." she said, looking
to him for an answer.

"Let's just check it out.  It may be nothing more than a
geek with a UFO fettish, but..."

"A geek with a UFO fettish?  You mean there are two of you?"
she ribbed.

"Come, on, smart ass.  Let's just go see what we find," he
smiled to her, grabbing his coat as they left.

End of Pt. 3   Continued in Pt. 4

TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-4
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17


ALLENTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA
Later that night
They had gone to the low-rent address from where Mulder's
video had been mailed and found a man dead, killed execution
style with a pillow case over his head.  Mulder had captured
a Japanese man running from the house and they had taken him
to the local police precinct, Skinner showing up informing
them that the man they had captured was a high-ranking
diplomat who had federal immunity from prosecution.  Skinner
had sternly told them to head back to Washington and keep
their noses clean.

"I don't know, Mulder, it just doesn't track," Scully said
as they walked back to their car.  "What would a Japanese
diplomat be doing in that house with a dead man with his
head stuffed in a pillowcase?"

"Obviously not strengthening international relations."

"Well, what do you want to do now, drop it?"

"No, I paid my twenty-nine ninety-five, Scully. I think I'm
entitled to a few more answers, don't you think?" Mulder
said, opening the trunk of their rental.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he reached in the trunk
for something.

"I just remembered a piece of evidence from the crime scene
that I forgot to turn in," he said facetiously.  He pulled
out the brown leather satchel and closed the trunk. Opening
it up, he pulled out a folder, handing a paper to Scully,
then noticing several aerial pictures of ships along a
coastline.

"What are those?" she asked, noticing the photos, too.

"They look like satellite photos," he said, flipping through
several similar pictures, the ships in various positions in
a canal. "What would he be doing with these?"

Scully glanced at the paper he had handed to her, now
wondering what the Japanese man could have possibly been up
to.  "What would he be doing with a list of Mutual UFO
Network members in the greater Allentown area with the name
Betsy Hagopian circled?"

Mulder noticed the paper, both of them looking at each other
thinking the same thing.  They had stepped into something
neither of them suspected.  "Maybe he was going to fit her
for a pillowcase too. Why don't you stick around, get a
motel room and check it out in the morning?"

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

Mulder put the photos back in the briefcase, fastening the
buckles closed.  "I'm going to go back to D.C. like a good
boy, like Skinner told me to do, and show these to a few
friends of ours."  Scully knew he was going to enlist the
Gunmen to see just what those ships were doing and where
they were doing it.

"Mulder," she called to him as he walked away.  He turned
back to her, covering the briefcase with his overcoat.  "Be
careful and call me as soon as you find something," she
asked to his nod.  "Promise?"

"Promise..."

X-FILES OFFICE
FBI HEADQUARTERS
The next day
The Gunmen had traced the pictures to a naval yard in
Newport News, Virginia and Mulder had gone there, seeing a
group of men loading someone or something onto a train car.
Meanwhile, Scully had followed-up with the MUFON members,
disturbed to find a group of women who claimed they
remembered her from her 'unexplained event' from the
previous year.  She had been beyond worried about what she
had found, but hadn't been able to talk to Mulder since he'd
disappeared in Newport News.

He had left a message on her machine at home, telling her he
was on his way back to Washington, telling her he'd catch up
to her at the office.  She'd gotten there early, but he
wasn't there, Skinner calling her upstairs before she'd even
had a chance to get her coat off.  He'd grilled her about
the briefcase, Scully trying to evade his questions, but
Skinner now knowing both she and Mulder were hiding the
truth.

After she'd escaped Skinner's ire, she went downstairs only
to find the office door locked.  She knocked, hoping Mulder
was there.  Mulder opened the door, peeking out to make sure
it was Scully, not wanting anyone else to see the papers he
had been reviewing at his desk.  "Scully..."

"Why is the door locked?" she asked as she entered.

"I got something to show you," he told her, locking the door
behind her.

"Do you have any idea where I've been?" she asked him as
they moved toward his desk, Mulder noticing that she seemed
upset.

"Allentown?"

"I went to go see those MUFON members to find out about that
woman, Betsy Hagopian."

"Oh, what'd you find?" he asked, sitting back down in his
desk chair.

"I found out that she's dying along with a lot of other
women who claim to be dying too," she told him, her concern
evident to him.  "All of them who say that they have these
implanted in them."  She took out a small glass vial with
little more than a black spot in it.  "It's the same thing I
had removed from my own neck."

Mulder took it from her, looking at it closely.  "But you're
fine, aren't you, Scully?" he asked as he looked up at her,
concerned, but not wanting to seem so, fearful of upsetting
her further.

"Am I? I don't know, Mulder. They, they, they said that they
know me, that they've seen me before. It was freaky. They
know things about me, about my disappearance..."  She had
thought about little else since she'd met the women who'd
told her that they'd all someday end up like their dying
friend Betsy, including Scully.

"That is disturbing," Mulder said, still looking at the
vial. "But I don't think you should freak out until we find
out what this thing is."  Suddenly, Scully noticed a picture
lying on Mulder's desk.

"What is this?" she asked, picking up the picture to look at
it.

"That's a group of Japanese medical officers taken during
World War II."

Scully pointed to a man in the picture, recognizing him.
"I've seen this man before."

"No, I don't think so. Not unless you were in Japan in the
last fifty years," Mulder answered, assuming she was
mistaken.

But she was sure.  "No, I... I've seen him before."

"His name is Doctor Takeo Ishimaru.  He's been dead since
1965. He was the commander of an elite section of the
Japanese medical corps known as '731', a unit now known to
have experimented on human subjects," he explained, showing
her other pictures he had on his desk.  "They performed
vivisections without anesthesia... Tested frostbite
tolerance levels on infants... Exposed innocent prisoners of
war to diseases, the plague.  Like their Nazi counterparts,
they were never brought to justice."

The pictures, Mulder's explanation of them, the
ramifications of what the chip in her neck meant were
beginning to be so overwhelming to her she was starting to
feel sick to her stomach.  "What are you doing with these?"

Mulder explained that several of the doctors in the photo,
who had performed the disgusting experiments, were on his
$29.95 video tape performing the alien autopsy and were all,
strangely, found murdered the day before.

"Murdered for what?" she asked.

"That's what I'd like to know."

"Well, murdered by whom?"

"Possibly our government," he told her, knowing she wasn't
going to believe him.

And she didn't.  "Our government? For what possible reason?"

"For continuing their work. The work the Nazis were doing,
trying to create an alien-human hybrid," he told her, truly
believing what he was saying.

"Mulder, that is still a fantasy," she told him, seemingly
tiring of his theory, more concerned with what might be
happening to her.

He walked closer to her, bending to look her in the eyes.
"Scully, after all you've seen... after all you've told me
you've seen. The tunnel with medical files, the, the beings
moving past you, the... the implant in your neck, why do you
refuse to believe?" he asked her gently.

"Believing's the easy part, Mulder. I just need more than
you. I need proof," she told him, almost imploring him to
understand.

"You think that believing is easy?" he asked with a soft
smile.  They stared at each other for a few moments, Scully
sighing when she understood his meaning.  Suddenly the fax
machine beeped and Mulder pulled a piece of paper from it.
"Well, we have proof.  I identified what those five photos
were tracking. A ship that pulled a UFO off the bottom of
the Pacific Ocean. A UFO that's in a warehouse right now
being guarded by U.S. military personnel..."  Scully looked
at the fax, an overhead picture of numerous boxcars.  "A UFO
that was probably carrying that E.B.E. we saw in that
autopsy tape."

"What am I looking at?" she said, wondering how the railroad
cars were related to the UFO.

"Part of our government's secret railroad. Train cars used
to carry test subjects," he explained, reaching for his
coat, putting it on.  "Used to conduct that autopsy we saw
being performed."

"Where did you get this?" she asked, wondering sometimes
just who Mulder knew.

"From someone like you who wants proof... Who's also willing
to believe," he told her, his disappointment that she still
didn't totally believe in his work very apparent in his
expression.  He took the faxed picture from her, slipping it
in his coat pocket, heading for the door.

"Mulder, where are you going?"

"I'll prove it to you, Scully," he said, wanting to so
badly.

"Mulder, listen to me," she said, looking towards the door
before taking his hand in hers.  "I believe in you.  I hope
you know that.  And if you believe in this, then I will
support you.  I may not agree with you, but I'll always have
your back.  Just tell me what you want me to do."

Mulder smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze.  "How about
you have that chip checked out."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna find that EBE."

Scully had found out that the chip in her neck was so
sophisticated that it could have been, not only monitoring
her thoughts, but manufacturing them.  The prospect scared
her to death.  And Mulder had gone to Quinnimont, West
Virginia and found several Japanese men loading some kind of
being in a train car.  He just knew he'd found what he was
looking for.

After Scully had Agent Pendrell examine her chip, she'd gone
back down to the X-Files Office to take another look at
Mulder's video tape.  Finally, one of the doctors took off
his mask and she recognized him as the man in Mulder's photo
that she'd recognized.  She paused the tape when the man was
in a close position and she could see him clearly, his face
bringing out a memory she didn't even know she had.  She was
naked, lying on a metal table with a bright light in her
eyes, barely able to see.  She could remember trying to
wake, then three doctors standing over her, speaking
Japanese.  She gasped as the ringing office phone startled
her out of her memory.

"Scully," she answered.

"Hey, Scully, it's me."

"Where are you?"

"A train yard in Quinnimont, West Virginia. A group of
Japanese men just put someone in one of those boxcars we saw
in the satellite photos," he told her excitedly.

"I thought you said that it was our government's railroad."

"Something serious is going down here, Scully," he told her,
reaching his car.

"What do you mean?"

"The thing they put in the train? It was alive."

"Mulder..."

"I got to get on that train. It's hooking up with a Canadian
passenger train outside Cincinnati."

"Mulder..." she said, wanting to get his attention to tell
him what she'd remembered.  "...I was right about Doctor
Ishimaru.  He's not dead. In fact, he's on your videotape."

Mulder got into his car, buckling his seatbelt, wanting to
hurry to catch up to the train.  "Well, that's where you
know him from, then."

"No, that's not where I know him from at all," she told him
softly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, concerned.

Scully thought for a few moments about how she was going to
explain her flash of memory.  "When I, when I saw his face I
remembered something, Mulder.  Something from my
abduction..."

"Scully..." he sighed, wishing he was there with her,
knowing by the tone in her voice that she was scared.

"He was there, Mulder.  Dr. Ishimaru.  He and several of the
other doctors were examining me," she confessed, wishing he
was there with her now.

"Jesus, Scully," Mulder said, not really knowing how else to
respond.  "What else do you remember?"

"That's all..." she sighed, not sure if she wished she had
remembered more.  "But there's something else."

"What?"

"The chip in my neck... it's Japanese," she said, knowing he
would put the pieces together just as she had.

He shook his head, realizing even more that he had to catch
up to the box car and the men who were on it.  "I've got to
get on that train, Scully.  I'll call as soon as I can."

"Mulder... be careful... I want you home."

"Ditto."

FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
"Mulder? I think I've got something here," Scully told him,
Mulder listening on his cell while keeping his eye on the
man who had tried to strangle him with a piano wire.  He had
managed to find the train and get on it, something he wished
he hadn't done.  He found himself locked in a boxcar with
the man who tried to kill him, the being that may be an EBE
and a bomb that had only minutes remaining before exploding.
Mulder had disengaged the car from the rest of the train in
the middle of nowhere, at least protecting the rest of the
people on the train.

Scully had tried everything she knew how to locate him and
try to find a way for him to get out of the car, but she had
hit roadblocks everywhere she'd turned.  Finally, she had
gone back to Mulder's apartment, hoping she might see
something on his alien autopsy video that could help.  And
she may have.

"What is it?" he asked, seemingly more resigned to his fate
than she.

Scully had noticed on the video that one of the doctor's on
the video, who had been in a train car like she had
remembered being in and like the one Mulder was currently
in, had punched numbers of a code that had opened the door.
She hoped it might open Mulder's.  It was their only chance.
"I think I may have a code for you," she told him as she
rewound the video, pausing to try to see what numbers the
man was pushing. "I'm watching Zama punch it into a keypad
in one of the train cars."

"What are you watching?"

"Your alien autopsy video."

"You mean I might get my twenty-nine ninety-five's worth
after all?"

Scully looked at her watch, knowing Mulder's time was
running out.  "I've got six minutes left, is that what you
have?"

"Let's hope not. What's the code?" he asked, propping his
phone between his ear and shoulder, going to the key pad
near the train car door.

Scully continued to rewind and pause, wanting to make sure
she saw the numbers as clearly as possible.  "One.  One,
zero."

"Wait, are you there?" Mulder asked, Scully silent as she
tried to see the numbers.

"Yeah, yeah. One, zero, one."

"One, zero, one," Mulder repeated as he punched the numbers
in the key pad.

"And a three... then a three..." she told him slowly, still
straining to see the video.

"Three, three," he repeated after her.

"Uh... I can't see the last number clearly. His hand gets in
the way," Scully told him, frustrated.

"Tick-tick, Scully," Mulder said, knowing his time was
running short.

"I know, I'm sorry, um... I think it's a one."

"You think it's a one? Are you sure?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm pretty sure," she nodded, but only half
believing herself.

"One," Mulder said, pressing the last number, the keypad
beeping as the red lights turned green.  But just as he
smiled in victory, he was hit on the head from behind,
Mulder having almost forgotten about the other man in the
car in his attempt to get the door open.

"Mulder?" she asked, suddenly hearing the sounds of a
struggle.  "Mulder?!"  All she could hear was unrecognizable
sounds, but she knew something terrible had gone wrong.
What she didn't know was that Mulder had been knocked
unconscious and beaten to a pulp by the man in the car.
"Mulder!!!" she yelled again even though she instinctively
knew he couldn't hear her.  But then she heard a gunshot,
her heart nearly pounding out of her chest.
"Mulderrrrrr......!!!!!

Scully didn't hang up the phone, hoping she might be able to
hear what was going on.  She pulled out her cell, calling
Skinner.  She didn't know where else to turn.  But before
she reached him, she heard the beginning of an explosion,
the phone going dead.  "Oh, my god...."

After Skinner had finally gotten on the line, she explained
what Mulder had done and begged him to try and locate any
explosion that occurred on the Canadian Northwest track
line.  She talked as she headed for her car, hoping she
could get the Gunmen to help as well.  But after she'd hung
up from Skinner and had just pulled out into traffic, her
cell phone rang.  "Scully," she said frantically.

"Agent Scully," the voice said and she recognized it as
Mulder's informant.

"Where's Mulder?" she asked before he could speak.

"You should get to the city hospital in Sioux City, Iowa.
And make sure you aren't followed."  Scully had immediately
turned her car around, heading to Dulles as fast as she
could get there.

CITY HOSPITAL
SIOUX CITY, IOWA
Seven hours later
Scully had gotten a flight to Sioux City and driven a rental
to the hospital.  She didn't know what she'd find, praying
that Mulder was there and that he was okay.  She'd gone in
the emergency entrance since the main entrance was locked
due to the late hour.

When she walked up to the ER desk, she flashed her badge,
hoping it would help her get some answers.  "Has Fox Mulder
been admitted here today?" she asked the nurse.

"Yeah.  We wondered why an FBI agent would be all the way
out here," the woman told her, checking her computer.  "We
moved him to a room.  Number 118.  Down the hall to your
left."

Scully hurried, the hospital small enough for his room to be
on the first floor.  When she walked in Mulder's room, it
was dark, almost too dark for her to see.  But when her eyes
adjusted, she could see that it was him, her sigh of relief
audible.  When she got closer, she could see the cut on his
forehead, his swollen lip and the bruising all over his
face.  But he looked beautiful to her.  At least he was
alive.  "Mulder," she said softly to him, brushing his hair
back from his forehead.  "Mulder..."

He began to rouse, trying to open his only eye that would
open.  He was disoriented, not knowing where he was, having
been in and out since 'X' had rescued him from the train
car.  "Scully?" he asked, wondering how she could be there,
wondering if he was dreaming.

"I'm here, Mulder," she said, giving him a soft kiss on his
forehead.

"Where am I?" he asked slowly as he began to orient himself
a bit better.  Scully pushed the button to raise the head of
the bed a bit, moving to sit next to his hip.

"Sioux City, Iowa."

"How, how did you find me?"

"I received an anonymous phone call."

"You're kidding."

"No.  I'm not really in a kidding mood," she said as she
took his hand.  "I begged you not to get on that train."

"It was on there, Scully.  The EBE.  I saw it," he told her,
trying to legitimize his foolhardiness, she figured.

"Right now, I could care less.  What happened to you?" she
asked, noticing the cut that circled his throat, touching it
softly.

"There was a man on the train.  Said he was NSA.  But I
don't think the piano wire that gave me my new necklace is
standard issue."

"He did this to you?"

"Yeah.  Beat the fuck out of me and left me for dead.  I
have no idea how I got off that train," he said, pushing the
button to raise his bed further up.

"I think I might."

"How?"

"I think the anonymous caller was your informant.  I think I
recognized him.  And the ambulance drivers who picked you up
saw a tall black man watching them.  Sound familiar?"

"How did he find me?" Mulder wondered out loud.

"I have no idea.  I'm just thankful that he did," she said,
laying her head down on his chest, comforted by the steady
beat of his heart.

MOUNTAINSIDE INN
SIOUX CITY, IOWA
The next evening
Mulder had been discharged the next day, with cuts and
bruises and two cracked ribs that he said didn't hurt at
all... unless he breathed.  They didn't have enough time to
make it for the afternoon flight out and Scully hadn't slept
in almost two days, so they got a room for the night.

Scully had taken Mulder's hospital issued toothbrush and
paste and stopped at a small grocery store near their hotel
to get some Tylenol and a few things to eat.  Neither of
them had any clothes beyond what they had on and both of
them had been wearing those for a couple of days.  "I hope
our seats on the plane are next to each other, Scully.  As
rank as we probably are, I'd feel sorry for anyone who would
have to sit next to either of us."

"You feel like taking a shower?" she asked, knowing he was
having considerable pain.

"You join me?" he smiled to her.

"If you behave yourself," she told him.  But as he began to
undress, she could see the bruising he had on the rest of
his body.  "Jesus, Mulder.  What the hell did that guy do to
you?"

"I think he had on steel toed boots," Mulder quipped,
looking down to see his discolored body as well.  "Does look
kinda bad, doesn't it?"

"Come on.  The warm water will make you feel better..."

After their shower, she had re-applied the Ace bandage the
hospital had bound around his ribs, the binding giving him
some support and relief from the pain.  "I feel like a
fucking mummy," he mumbled as she'd wrapped him, but thanked
her after she'd finished.

Later, they lay naked in bed, Scully careful not to touch
his sore ribs.  "You look tired," he told her, stroking
under her eye with his thumb.

"You scared the hell out of me," she told him plainly.  "I
heard the explosion."

"I'm sorry..."

"Are you?  Are you really, Mulder?" she asked, exasperated
by his behavior after her warning to him not to get on the
train in the first place.

"What should I have done, Scully?  Just let them get away
with it?"

"Well, they got away with it anyway."

"Maybe not," he smiled to her coyly.

"What are you not telling me?" she asked, propping herself
up on her elbow to look at him.

"Hopefully, when we get back to DC, I'll have evidence.
Real evidence."

FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
One week later, 7:30am
"No.  Okay, call me if you learn anything," Mulder said into
the phone as Scully walked in, his face still bearing the
scars of the beating he took.  "Nothing, Scully. Not the
rail operators, not the forestry department. Nobody knows
what happened to that train car."

"Are there any satellite photos you can get your hands on?"
"Senator Matheson hasn't returned my phone calls. His, uh...
his aides say he's out of the country."

"Well, the administrator at the hospital where you were
admitted said that someone had called and alerted them to
your location. Now, I went through the phone records myself,
and the call was placed from a phone booth in Blue
Earth, Iowa."

"Did you locate the briefcase that Zama left on the train?"
hoping that the conductor had shipped it as he'd asked.

"Yeah. I got it right here," she said, handing it to Mulder.
He looked at it strangely, sitting down at his desk to open
it.

"This doesn't look like the same briefcase."

"It's the one they gave me, the one they said you gave to
the conductor."

Mulder opened the case, flipping though the notepads inside.
Even though it was all written in Japanese, he could see
that they weren't the same journals he'd seen on the train.
"These aren't the same journals. They've all been
rewritten."

"Mulder..." she sighed, exasperated.

"They're getting away with it, Scully."

"They've gotten away with it, Mulder," she said firmly. "The
bodies at the leper colony have all been removed."

"I know what I saw on that train car. It wasn't a leper and
it wasn't human."

"And I know what I saw at that research facility. It was
barely recognizable as human," she tried to explain.  Mulder
rubbed his eyes, tired of missing his chance once again to
gather damning evidence.  "Don't you see, Mulder? You're
doing their work for them. You're chasing aliens that aren't
there, helping them to create a story to cover the shameful
truth... and what they can't cover, they apologize for.
Apology has become policy."

Mulder stood, wanting her to understand.  "I, I don't need
an apology for the lies.  I, I don't care about the fictions
they create to cover their crimes. I want them accountable
for what did happen. I want an apology for the truth."  They
stared at each other for several long moments, Scully
realizing what he said was right.

"I understand.  I do.  But we've got to be more careful
about what we do, Mulder.  We don't want to play right into
their hands," she told him, walking around the edge of the
desk, taking hold of his arm.  "We've got to be sure we
aren't being set up."

"I realize that.  But, I'm going to prove what they've done,
Scully," he told her.  "It may not be tomorrow or next week
or even next year, but I will prove what happened to my
sister... and what they did to you."

Scully wanted to hold him, but glanced at the door and
seeing that it was open, resisted her urge.  "I know you
will, Mulder."

"You really believe that?" he asked, looking at her, hoping
to find proof that she believed him, believed in him.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't..."

DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, DC
A few hours later
"I can't believe you enjoy putting all this stuff up,"
Mulder complained, standing on a step ladder to finish
hanging the garland around her front windows.  "In a few
weeks, you'll just have to take it down again."

"Merry Christmas to you, too," Scully replied quickly,
setting two candle holders on her fireplace mantle.  If the
truth be known, she knew Mulder was actually enjoying
himself, having told her once that he missed celebrating
Christmas as he did before his sister was taken.  "Here,
hang this," she smiled to him, handing him a small sprig of
mistletoe.

"Ooooh, baby, now you're talkin'" he kidded, taking the
mistletoe from her only to hold it above her head, bending
to give her a long kiss.  He was happy to feel her return
it.

"Better?" she asked, giving him a soft smile before going
into the kitchen to find something for dinner.  Mulder
watched her as she moved, always amazed that she seemed
oblivious to how much she turned him on.  He grinned to
himself, then looping the string of the mistletoe around the
button above the fly of his jeans.

He followed her into the kitchen, coughing a stage cough so
she'd hear him.  And it worked.  Scully turned and there he
stood, his hands on his hips, the mistletoe hanging just
above the tailored bulge in his pants.  "Kiss me, baby," he
said through one of his goofy grins, giving his hips a
little shake.  Scully just looked at him for several
moments, finally unable to prevent a chuckle no matter how
hard she tried.  Her low key reaction didn't really surprise
him; he didn't expect her to fall to her knees and
accommodate him.  But her quick move toward him did catch
him by surprise and he half expected her to smack him.  But
she kissed him... hard, her hand instantly cupping him, her
leg wrapping around the back of his causing both of them to
stumble back against the kitchen counter.

And again before he could realize what was happening, she
slipped a finger under the band of his pants and pulled,
telling him, "Follow me."  He went along like a puppy, still
not quite believing what was happening.  When they got into
the bedroom, she finally let go of him, but only to start
removing her clothes, her glistening eyes meeting his as she
continued.  He followed her example and then followed her to
the bed, Scully practically jumping him after she'd pushed
him onto his back.  She lay on top of him, kissing him for
all she was worth before she began to move down his neck,
then his chest to his stomach.

"Oh, Jesus," he sighed, realizing what she was going to do.
She took him in her hand, slowly moving her hand up and down
his shaft, already hard just from what they'd been doing.
She touched her lips to the engorged head, giving him the
kiss his mistletoe had invited.  She licked her tongue
against him, almost teasing him before she put him in her
mouth, her action causing his hips to jump.  "Scully..." he
moaned, grabbing fists full of her comforter.  She licked
and sucked and massaged until he couldn't stand any more and
he grabbed hold of her biceps, pulling her up his body.  "I
want to be inside you..."  He held himself for her, Scully
shifting her weight to her knees and slowly lowering herself
down on him, feeling her fluids leak as he opened her.

Scully couldn't move, the feeling of him pushing deep inside
her rendering her unable to get her muscles moving. He took
hold of her hips, lifting her a bit to get her going and she
smiled down at him, realizing he knew just what she needed.
She leaned forward to give him a kiss, her hips beginning a
good rhythm, continuing as she sat up, her hands sliding
down to his ribcage while her hips kept a steady pace
against him.  And he could tell by the look on her face that
she was struggling to reach her orgasm, moving and pushing
to find just the right spot.  And when she leaned forward
slightly and her pace became erratic, he realized she found
it, her inner muscles clamping him as she fell forward onto
his chest.  "Mulder..." she sighed, barely able to speak.
Mulder held her hips while he pushed up, his movements
speeding up when he felt his release pending, letting go
soon after.  He held on to her while he calmed, her body
limp on top of him.  "Can I just stay here for the next week
or so?" she said, her words muffled against the skin of his
chest.

"Fine by me," he said, smoothing his hands over the
moistened skin of her back.  "If I'd known mistletoe was so
powerful, I would've smoked it while I was in college
instead of the junk I did smoke," he teased, feeling her
snicker against his skin.

"Didn't think I'd oblige, huh?" she said, moving up to smile
at him.

"Maybe all this decorating isn't such a bad thing after
all," he smiled back, giving her a quick kiss.

Later, they'd settled on the couch with the newspaper, their
dinner remnants still on her coffee table.  "Where's 'the
dog'?" he asked, just realizing that he hadn't seen it since
they'd come home.

"He's at my mother's.  She took him for his shots today and
is keeping him for the night.  SHE likes him," Scully said,
knowing that Mulder didn't.

"I don't dislike him," Mulder tried to convince her.

"Liar," she said, paying more attention to her paper than
she was him.  He'd noticed she'd been a bit quiet when
they'd come home from work earlier, wondering if something
had happened earlier in the day that he didn't know about.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she replied, moving from the couch to
go to the kitchen.

"Well...," Mulder said, still trying to gauge her mood,
standing to follow her.  "I'm just wondering what's wrong."

Scully glanced at him, quickly feeling guilty for not
leveling with him.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to snap at
you," she began.  "Did you forget I had an appointment with
Karen this afternoon?"  He had spent much of the day in
Skinner's office getting raked over the coals about their
last case and hadn't really known what Scully had done most
of the day.

Mulder looked at her, knowing he'd have to admit he hadn't
remembered her visit to her therapist since his
forgetfullness was probably written all over his face. "Will
you hate me if I confess I did?" he said.  She gave him a
soft smile as her answer to his question and he wasn't sure
if her response was a 'yes' or a 'no'.  He let it go.  "Um,
I take it your session didn't go well?"

"You want wine?  Or... there are a couple of your beers in
here," she said, retrieving a bottle of white from her
refrigerator.

"Yeah," he said, joining her, reaching in to grab a beer.
"You gonna tell me about it?"

"She wasn't too happy that we'd only done our exercises a
couple of times since the last time I was there."

"Did you happen to mention what we'd been doing for the last
few months?" Mulder chuckled.

Scully smiled, thinking that even if she'd told her
therapist, she doubted the woman would believe her.  "Well,
we need to do them before I go back again."

Mulder set his beer on the counter, turning to her, slipping
his arms around her waist.  "We need to because we need to,"
he told her, wanting her therapy to help her settle whatever
was inside her that was making her have bad dreams.  "No
time like the present."

"I appreciate your thought, but I really don't feel like it
tonight.  This afternoon was bad enough," she told him,
remembering that her therapist had really pressed her about
very emotional issues.  Namely, her experiences with Donnie
Pfaster and her inability to really talk about them.

"I'll ask again.  Are you going to tell me about it?" Mulder
asked again.

"With one stipulation..."

"Name it."

"You give me a backrub..."

"Deal."

Continued in Pt. 5

TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-5
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17



They settled back on the couch, Mulder getting a small fire
started in her fireplace, the colored lights of the
Christmas tree the only light illuminating the living room.
Scully sat between his legs, his strong fingers working
magic on her shoulders.  "You're tense.  Things were that
bad, huh?"

"She just... made me think about things I've worked hard to
try to forget," she said, reaching to the coffee table for
her wine.

"But you know that's what you need to do, Scully.  Just
because you don't talk about what happened to you doesn't
insure that you'll forget about it."

"Yeah, I know.  I'm sure that's why I wake up in a cold
sweat most nights you aren't here," Scully admitted.  Mulder
leaned down, giving her a soft kiss on her neck, wishing he
could make all of her problems go away.  "Anyway, I guess
the more I get out in her office, the less I'll dream
about."

Mulder leaned back against the pillows behind him, wrapping
his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.  "One of
the exercises was for you to tell me three things you
haven't told me that you probably should have... or
something like that."

Scully chuckled, "Something like that.  Are we going to do
this tonight?"

"Tell me one."

Scully thought for a moment, knowing her therapist was
trying to get her to talk to Mulder, her partner, the person
most important to her.  "Ummm.  I'll start my period
tomorrow, so you won't be getting lucky any more this
weekend.  How's that for starters?"

Mulder ignored her statement, knowing if he kept at her she
would cooperate.  "That's one.  Number two?"

Scully sighed, knowing she needed to do what her therapist
prescribed.  "Okay...  After I recognized Dr. Ishimaru on
your tape, after I remembered where I'd seen him before, I,
um, remembered him looking down at me.  My view of him was
from lying on my back and he looked like... like he was...
huge... like he wasn't real.  Then he, um, pulled the sheet
off me... and, um..."

"Oh, Scully," Mulder sighed, unable to imagine what Scully
must have gone through.

"...he, um, inserted something sharp into my abdomen."

"Jesus..."

"But it didn't hurt.  I remember wondering how it couldn't
have," she continued, her voice almost a whisper.  "I
couldn't move; couldn't really see what he was doing and I
was just... just so fucking angry that I couldn't move, or
scream or get up and fight back."

"Do you remember anything else?" Mulder asked gently.

"After he had inserted whatever it was in my abdomen, he
turned away and I could tell that he was doing something
behind me, but I couldn't see.  And then all of a sudden, I
felt a searing pain, excruciating pain, and, and I don't
remember what happened after that.  I have no recollection
of anything..." she said, wondering if she had even been
able to scream.

"Those fuckers... If I ever find who did this to you,
Scully, I swear..." Mulder said, knowing he could kill them
with his bare hands.  He embraced her more firmly, kissing
her temple as he spoke next to her ear.  "I love you...
You're my hero, you know that?"

"Your hero?" she chuckled, wondering why he would say that.

"You are the bravest person I've ever met in my life,
Scully.  No one could've survived what you've endured," he
told her, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"It wasn't like I had a choice, Mulder.  And I have no idea
what I did or didn't do... I remember virtually nothing...
nothing more than a few seconds in a stainless steel train
car," she told him, turning around in his arms to look up at
him.

Mulder bent down to give her a soft kiss, his hands rubbing
her back.  "I'm proud of you for working with Karen.  I know
it isn't easy to do."

"No, it isn't.  If I didn't have your support, Mulder, I'm
not sure I could do it alone," she told him, remembering the
time when she had tried.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," he began.  "I volunteer to
sleep with you as often as I can... you know, to keep the
nightmares away," he grinned, teasing her.

"I just bet you do," she smiled back.

"Were you kidding me about, you know, the time of the
month?" he asked.

"Sorry, no," she chuckled.  "But if you don't stay the
weekend anyway, you're a dead man."

THE WESTWARD INN
WAYNESBURG, PENNSYLVANIA
Three days later

They had only had a couple of days of down time before
Mulder heard about a case in Pennsylvania where a young boy
was supposedly experiencing evidence of stigmata.
Ironically, it was Mulder who had been skeptical about what
was actually happening and Scully who had believed that God
was actually at work in the boy.  But regardless of what was
actually happening, they both believed that the boy was in
danger and Scully had made the decision for him to stay with
her and Mulder at their motel.

"You never draw my bath," Mulder pouted, teasing her.

Scully had drawn young Kevin's bath and she had noticed a
fresh scar on his chest when he'd removed his shirt.  "Kevin
has a cut under his ribs," she told Mulder, giving Kevin
privacy in the bathroom.

"He was in an accident," Mulder answered, relaxing on the
bed, reading the case file.

"No, I... I was with the paramedics when they were looking
at him. It wasn't there," she said, concerned.

"Maybe you missed it."

"No, Mulder, I was paying close attention."

"What do you think it is?"

Scully sat on the other bed opposite him, taking a deep
breath before telling him what she thought, knowing he
didn't share her beliefs.  "Yesterday, I saw Kevin's hands.
They were bleeding from identical wounds on the top as on
the bottom ... just like in the crucifixion."

"Scully ..."

"There have been other signs. I haven't said anything until
now, because I haven't been sure ... and I'm still not
sure."

"Sure of what exactly?" Mulder asked quickly, fearing where
she was going with her conversation.

"How Kevin was able to be in two places at once ... just
like St. Ignatius was able to do in the Bible," she
explained.

"That was in the Bible. It's a parable; it's a metaphor for
the truth, not the truth itself," Mulder said, almost
laughing at her.  "Why didn't Kevin conveniently bi-locate
when Owen Jarvis abducted him from the shelter?"

"How is it that you're able to go out on a limb whenever you
see a light in the sky, but you're unwilling to accept the
possibility of a miracle?  Even when it's right in front of
you," she answered, getting irritated at Mulder's
stubbornness.

"I wait for a miracle every day. But what I've seen here has
only tested my patience, not my faith," he told her sternly,
Scully knowing what miracle he waited for.
"Well, what about what I've seen?" she asked him softly,
torn by what their case was presenting, not knowing what to
think or how to feel.

Suddenly, they heard a noise coming from the bathroom.
"Kevin?" Scully called, walking to the bathroom door.  "You
OK?"  When he didn't answer, she tried the door, finding it
locked.  She looked to Mulder, "I didn't lock it."

Mulder had broken down the door and they found Kevin gone,
the window broken and the bars covering it bent and glowing
red from extreme heat.  Mulder had called the police and
they had cordoned off a ten mile radius.  "Best I can figure
is they must have had an acetylene torch in the back of the
truck. I don't know how else they could have done it,"
Mulder told her as they waited outside of the motel, hoping
for more information.

"I wasn't out of that room for more than two minutes,
Mulder. Come on, there's someone I want to talk to again,"
she told him, walking toward where their car was parked.

"Who?"

"Kevin's father."

"Why?" he questioned, but following her.

Scully stopped and turned to face him.  "He knew that Kevin
was in danger. He warned us about a powerful and respected
man."

"The man's a nut case, Scully," Mulder said, knowing that
Scully was beyond being personally involved in their case
and with Kevin.

"Maybe he is," she admitted, but not knowing what else to
do.

"But if Kevin is in immediate danger, even if his father has
anything to say about Gates, it doesn't help us right now,"
he told her, trying to reason with her.

"Well, it's not doing us a lot of good standing around
here," she told him walking away. Mulder watched her for a
couple of moments, sincerely worried that she was going to
be terribly hurt by her personalization of their case, no
matter what the outcome.

Scully had followed her own hunch, against Mulder's wishes
and had rescued Kevin from near death.  And she had been
emotionally involved, saying goodbye to Kevin one of the
most difficult things she'd ever had to do.  She had asked
Mulder to take care of last minute paper work and had found
herself locating a Catholic church and going to confession
for the first time in six years.

Afterwards, Scully met Mulder at the airport, neither saying
anything about the case until they'd been in their seats and
airborne.  "You, um, gonna tell me where you went?" Mulder
asked softly.  Scully didn't look at him, just watching the
clouds outside her window, but took hold of his hand when he
spoke to her.  He saw her nod, noticing that she seemed to
be straining to contain her emotions.  He grasped her hand
more tightly.  "We can wait until we get home, if you want,"
he told her softly.  And he noticed when she nodded again.

DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTION, DC
Later that evening
"Qeequeg, get down, please," Scully said, picking the dog up
off the couch.  "Come on, I'll get you something to eat."
Mulder watched as Scully carried the ball of fuzzy red fur
to her utility room, now the dog's bedroom, talking to him
as if he were human.  He was working on a salad to go with
the pizza they had called in.

"I can't believe you talk to that mutt," Mulder chuckled
when she'd come back into the kitchen.  She gave him a
glare, the ring of the door bell just in time to save him.
"There's money in my jacket pocket," he called to her, but
she got money out of the drawer of her desk instead.

Later, they sat at her kitchen table, Mulder taking the last
piece of pizza.  Scully had been fairly quiet and Mulder
figured she was irritated at him, probably as much for his
comments about her dog as she was about how he'd reacted to
her handling of their case in Pennsylvania.  Mulder picked
up the plates and began to rinse them to put them in the
dishwasher.  "I guess I'll go," he said.  Scully looked at
him, not really understanding why he didn't want to stay,
but not asking him.

He slipped on his jacket, Scully following him to the door.
Mulder touched her cheek, giving her a sincere expression of
his feelings.  "I love you, Scully," he said, bending to
give her a soft kiss.  He was surprised when she slipped her
arms around his waist and squeezed, burying her face into
his shirt.

"Please stay..."

"Are you sure?" he asked, returning her embrace.

Scully looked up at him, her hand slipping behind his neck
as she kissed him.  "Yeah."

They talked for a while, Scully apologizing to him for
becoming so emotionally involved with Kevin Crider.  "His
father was hopelessly ill and, and then he lost his
mother... I just felt I was meant to be there for him," she
had explained to Mulder, the glow of the Christmas tree
lights giving the room a warm glow.  They lay on the couch
and watched television for a while, nothing much on that
interested her.

"I'm gonna take Queequeg for a walk," she said before they
readied for bed, retrieving the dog from his bed in the
utility room.

"I'll take him," Mulder volunteered.

Scully laughed, "Yeah, right."  She clipped his leash to his
collar, but Mulder took it from her hand.

"I'll take him.  You go take a nice long gourmet bath," he
smiled, bending to give her a kiss.  Scully gave him a
puzzled look and he chuckled at her suspicious expression.
"I won't throw him in front of a speeding bus or anything.
Promise," he said as he left.

Later, they'd settled into bed, Scully snuggling into his
side.  "Feel better?" he asked when she'd finished her bath.

"Much.  Thanks for taking care of Queequeg," she told him,
her hand smoothing over his chest.

"Well, I just hope nobody saw me," Mulder said.

Scully sat up a bit to look at him, wondering what he could
mean.  "Why?"

Mulder laid his hand on her shoulder, rubbing down her arm.
"He isn't exactly a guy's kind of dog, Scully."

Scully laughed, scooting back down, laying her head on his
shoulder.  "I'm sorry if my dog threatens your masculinity,"
she teased, still chuckling.

Mulder turned over, lying almost on top of her, holding her
hands on her pillow next to her head.  "Do you question my
masculinity?" he smiled, almost challenging her.

"Oh.... I don't know... maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe you need to prove to me just how masculine you can
be," she said, her teasing smirk turning him on in a big
way.  He met her challenge, leaning down to kiss her, his
tongue almost immediately slipping into her mouth, his hips
moving against her slowly.  "Mmmmmm," she moaned against his
lips, needing to come up for air.

"How's that?" he asked against her ear, using his tongue to
tickle her there.  She laughed, his action making her shiver
beneath him.

"Not bad for starters," she told him, trying to squirm under
him, Mulder still holding her hands down.  Finally, he let
go of one of her hands, needing his to unbutton her pajama
top.  And as soon as her top was open, he put his mouth on
her nipple and began to suck, his mouth covering a big part
of her breast.  "Ohhhhh, I think you're getting there..."

Soon, they were naked, Scully now on top of him, Mulder's
hands grabbing her bottom and squeezing and she felt her sex
flood.  "You want me on top?" she asked against his lips,
her fingers stroking through his hair.  Without answering,
he took hold of her waist and moved her off of him and onto
her back.  "I guess that's a 'no'."

"You forgot.  I'm trying to prove my masculinity," he told
her, his hand slipping down between her legs.  "Scully...."
he sighed, feeling how wet she was.  She opened her legs
further and he moved between them, rubbing his penis through
her moisture a few times before finding her opening.  He
pushed in easily, always hard as a rock when they were
together.

"I love you, Mulder," she told him, her eyes closing at the
wonderful feelings he was generating in her.  He balanced on
his elbows, their bodies pressed together as they moved in
tandem, kissing and touching each other everywhere they
could.  She moved under him, whispering everything he was
doing right.

Scully climaxed first, her whole body going rigid when she'd
flown over the edge.  Mulder pushed harder and faster,
letting go shortly after she did.  Afterward, they lay
together, both trying to catch their breath.  "I think I
pulled a muscle in the bottom of my foot," Scully laughed,
realizing that Mulder had actually made her toes curl.

Mulder sat up, "Which one?" he asked.

"Left."

He massaged her foot, then bringing it up to give her big
toe a kiss.  "Thanks," she told him, Mulder lying back down
next to her, gathering her in his arms.

"Oh, shit.  I probably shouldn't have done that.  I'm not
sure kissing your big toe is all that masculine," he kidded.

Scully kissed him, taking her time, slipping her tongue
inside, slowly moving her body against him.  "You have
nothing to prove to me, G-man," she smiled to him.

X-FILES OFFICE
HOOVER BUILDING
December 24, 1996

"Are you ready?  I have a hundred things to do before we
go," Scully said, gathering her coat and her briefcase,
hoping that Mulder would pick up his speed a bit.  She had
been trying to get him out the door for almost an hour and
he wasn't being overly cooperative.

Mulder knew he couldn't drag his feet much longer, so he
pulled his jacket from the back of his chair and slipped it
on, trying not to look at her.  They were due at her
mother's house for Christmas Eve festivities and he was
dreading it.  It wasn't, of course, that he didn't want to
be with Scully; actually that was exactly what he wanted.
It was her family celebration that he was having cold feet
over.

It wasn't really even her family that he was dreading.  He
liked Scully's mother and in only the few times he was
around her sister, she had kind of grown on him and he
regretted that he hadn't been able to get to know her
better.  And even though Scully's youngest brother hadn't
been very friendly at Melissa's funeral, so distraught over
his oldest sister's death that Mulder figured he hadn't
really noticed his other sister's partner had been present.
Her older brother, Bill, had refused to go to his sister's
funeral since their mother had opted for a simple service
rather than a mass, so Mulder didn't really want to have to
play nice with a grown man who seemed to act like a child.
But he had never met him, Scully never really saying much
about him, so the jury was still out.

But what was causing his anxiety was being around a big
family Christmas celebration.  It had been so long since
he'd done it, he didn't really know how to be a part of one.
But he was going; going with Scully.  "I'm as ready as I'll
ever be," he said under his breath, following her out the
door.

Later, they were stuck in traffic, Mulder tapping his
fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of something
on the radio, not even noticing that it was some cheery Andy
Williams Christmas tune.  "You okay?" Scully asked, noticing
he hadn't been himself all day.

"Yeah... If I can get up to 'D' street, I can take the back
way to Georgetown," he said, paying more attention to the
traffic than he was to her.  "If I don't get out of this
traffic soon, I'm gonna get out my gun."

"Its okay, Mulder.  I'll call Mom and let her know we're
probably going to be late.  She won't hate us," Scully
touched his arm, wondering why he seemed so on edge.  She
watched him, his eyes, and could tell that he was ready to
do something she probably wished he wouldn't and he didn't
disappoint.  Suddenly, he whipped the car into an alley,
Scully reaching for the dashboard to hang on.  He wound
through so many backstreets and alleys that Scully felt her
lunch speak back to her. Finally, she saw familiar territory
and realized Mulder had actually known where he was going.

"Don't look so surprised," Mulder said.  Scully smiled,
inwardly relieved, too, that they had gotten out of the
snail's pace of the traffic.

After they had made it to Scully's apartment, she had gotten
the presents and food and stocking stuffers she was taking
to her mother's.  "You want to exchange any presents at
Mom's?" she asked him, Mulder leaning against the kitchen
counter drinking a beer.

"Huh?"

"Huh?" she mocked.  "Do I need a translator?" she asked,
totally exasperated with him.

"Whatever you want, Scully.  This is your deal, not mine,"
he said, taking another drink of his beer.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, turning to look
at him, her stare telling him more than her words.

"It means I'll do what ever you want me to do.  I'm just
along for the ride."

"I see.  Mulder, are you going to tell me what's going on
with you?" she asked.

"Nothing's going on.  Christmas is just another day to me,
so just tell me what to do and I'll do it.  I don't care one
way or the other," he told her, not meaning for his comment
to sound as cold as it probably did.

Scully walked over closer to him, disturbed that he seemed
so disinterested in the holiday.  "Is it my family?  Don't
you want to be with them?" she asked, a sense of unease in
her voice, seeing that there was something else going on
behind his eyes.

"No, Scully... no.  It isn't your family," he said, looking
at the floor unable to make eye contact with her.

She slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him to her.
"Then what is it?" she pleaded against his shirt.

Mulder took a deep breath, his sigh filtering through her
hair.  He thought for a few moments, realizing he needed to
level with her since his silence had obviously given her the
wrong idea, an idea that seemed to have hurt her feelings.
But his emotions were getting the best of him, remembering
the last time he'd really had a Christmas, the year before
Sam was taken.  He slipped out of her embrace, moving to sit
at the table. Scully watched in silence for a few moments
before moving to sit next to him.  That's when she noticed
he seemed about ready to cry.

"Mulder...," she said, standing to embrace him, caressing
him to her abdomen.  She stroked his hair, kissing the crown
of his head, letting him have the time he needed.  He was
holding on to her so tightly, she was barely able to stand
up, steadying herself by holding on to him.  Finally, he
relaxed a bit, letting go of her, but still unable to look
at her.  She kissed his temple and sat down again, her hand
tenderly stroking his thigh.  "Tell me..." she coaxed
softly.

"I feel stupid," he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"I can see that whatever it is isn't stupid," she told him
sincerely.  "Talk to me."

"It's just that, well, it's been a long time since I've done
much for Christmas..."

Suddenly, Scully realized what he really meant.  It wasn't
being with her family that he was having anxiety about; it
was knowing what to do and how to act as a part of a family
celebration, remembering what he didn't have with his own
family.  It dawned on her that he probably hadn't had a real
family Christmas since his family had fallen apart after his
sister went missing.  "Oh, Mulder..." she said, taking hold
of his hand.  "Why didn't you say something before?  We
don't have to go."

"I don't want to keep you away from your family, Scully," he
told her honestly, beginning to feel like a whining child.
He didn't want to be without her, but he knew how much being
with her family meant to her, especially this first
Christmas after her sister's death, so he didn't want her to
miss Christmas with them either.  "You need to be with your
family..."

Scully looked at him, realizing he was serious, touched by
his consideration for her need to be with her family.  "I
will be," she smiled to him, moving to her small desk to
pick up the phone, hitting #2 on the speed dial.  "Yeah,
Mom, it's me.  Um, something's come up and we won't be able
to make it tonight," she started, her mother asking if she
was okay.  "Yeah, we're fine."

"Scully...  You go.  I'll be fine here until you get back,"
Mulder said, not wanting her to miss her family's Christmas.

"No, it isn't work, Mom," Scully continued on the phone, her
mother hoping duty hadn't called her daughter on the
holiday.  "Mulder and I just decided to stay home tonight.
But I'll stop by tomorrow, okay?"  They said their goodbyes
and Scully gave Mulder a soft smile when she'd hung up.
"Come on," she said, holding out her hand for him.  "Let's
go open our presents."

MILLER'S GROVE
MASSASSACHUSETTS
January 5, 1996
"Mulder, I'm coming up there right now," Scully told him as
she packed.  He had found himself stuck working a case that
he had told her involved killer cockroaches that he'd
stumbled across after he'd vacated his apartment while it
was being exterminated.  How fitting.  She had made it sound
to him like she felt he needed help on his strange case, but
she wouldn't admit that her sudden need for travel was
probably more due to the entomologist named 'Bambi' than it
was out of any fear that he'd be attacked by a murderous
coprophagous insect.

By the next day, Mulder and Scully found themselves trying
to share an umbrella as they stood in the early morning rain
covered in shit.  Literally.  Not only had the entire town
of Miller's Grove seemingly lost its mind with unwarranted
panic over killer cockroach rumors, but she and Mulder had
found themselves in the middle of it.  And she was pissed,
to put it lightly.

The local Sheriff approached them, not appearing to be as
upset by the whole mess as he probably should have been.
"It's like a crematorium in there.  I don't think we're
going to locate the doctor's remains," he told them,
speculating about an alternative fuel researcher who had
most likely been blown to bits by the explosion that had
covered Mulder and Scully in dung.

"Or anything else, for that matter," Mulder chimed in.

"Still, it's not as bad as some of the other fires we had
last night," the Sheriff continued.

"There were others?" Scully asked, barely able to control
her fury at the entire situation.

"Four, to be exact. Plus eighteen auto accidents, thirteen
assault and batteries, two stores were looted, thirty-six
injuries all total, half of them from insecticide
poisoning... but, we didn't receive reports on cockroaches
or otherwise for the last couple of hours. Maybe this town's
finally come to its senses," the Sheriff commented as he
looked Mulder and Scully up and down. "You two ought to go
home and get some rest."  He looked them up and down again
and then smirked.  "You look pooped."

Mulder smiled at the man's lame joke and Scully would've hit
him if Dr. Ivanov, a professor of entomology, hadn't rolled
his wheelchair up next to them along with the infamous
Bambi.

"Agent Mulder? They told me I could locate you here," the
man said in his serious tone. "Those, uh, segments you
showed me earlier... may I examine them again?"

Mulder shrugged and reached into his pocket, handing a small
bag to the man.  "Well, they're completely desiccated...
just like the molted exoskeleton."

"You know, many insects don't develop wings until their last
molting stage. Perhaps whatever these things were, they had
their final molt and have flown off back to wherever they
originated," Bambi commented to the man, seemingly absorbed
by him.

"Yeah, that would explain everything," Scully said, sarcasm
dripping from her comment.  Mulder gave her a look, his next
comment cut off by the professor.

"May I borrow this, Agent Mulder, for further study?"

"Well, I've already had a similar sample analyzed; it's
nothing but common metals. What do you hope to find from
it?" Mulder asked, his interest just serving to piss Scully
off further.

"His destiny," Bambi commented, trying to be profound,
Scully rolling her eyes.

"Isn't that what Doctor Zaius said to Zira at the end of
"The Planet of the Apes?" the professor asked, obviously
smitten by the shapely woman who nodded as she smiled at
him.

"It's one of my favorite movies," Bambi grinned at him.

"Mine too. I love science fiction," the professor told her,
Mulder looking at them strangely.

"I'm also fascinated by your research," Bambi fawned, both
of them moving to leave without giving Mulder and Scully so
much as a glance. "Have you ever considered programming the
robots to mimic the behavior of social insects like ants or
bees?" she added, both of them almost sickening as they
continued to talk about bugs as if they were the most
fascinating topic of conversation in the world.

"Smart is sexy," Scully said to Mulder's stare, returning
one of her own.  "Well, think of it this way, Mulder. By the
time there's another invasion of artificially-intelligent,
dung-eating robotic probes from outer space, maybe their
uber-children will have devised a way to save our planet."

Mulder, obviously irritated by her sarcasm, glared at her
before finally speaking.  "You know, I never thought I'd say
this to you, Scully... but you smell bad," he smirked as he
walked away, taking the umbrella with him.  If Scully's look
could've killed, he would've been ready for autopsy.

COMITY 'THE PERFECT HARMONY CITY'
CARYL COUNTY
One week later
After Mulder and Scully had left the nightmare of Miller's
Grove, things had only seemed to go downhill from there, if
that was possible and apparently it was.  Scully remained so
irritated at him that he had actually devoted his time and
the Bureau's to cockroaches, no matter what they were or
weren't, that they had barely seen each other since the end
of the case.

"Okay, okay.  I'll pay your dry cleaning bill," Mulder said,
just wanting her to put Miller's Grove to rest.

"That was a Burberry cashmere coat, Mulder.  And the only
thing the dry cleaner did for me was laugh.  That coat is
now only a memory.  So thanks," she said right back to him,
trying to read the map as they headed to the town of Comity.

"Maybe he took it wrong when you told him to clean the shit
out of it," Mulder said sarcastically, his attempt at humor
exactly the wrong thing.

"Fuck you," she said plainly.

"Fuck me?  What's that?" he said, the two of them barely
crossing paths in the past week, let alone share a bed.

"Enough!" she snapped, glaring him down.  "Do you
understand?  Enough."

And that had ended it for several long miles.

Scully was still trying to read the map when she saw a sign
for Comity and an approaching intersection.  "The map says
to turn right at the intersection," she sighed, still a
sharp edge to her attitude.

"The detective who contacted me told me to turn left."

"At the intersection?"

"Stoplight," he answered, neither of them using any more
language than they had to.

"This isn't a stoplight, it's a stop sign," she said like he
was the dumbest person on the planet.

"Well, I'm sure she meant stop sign."  That was the first
Scully'd heard that Mulder's contact person was female,
wondering if she was named after a Disney cartoon as well.

"Turn right," she said, irritated.

Mulder turned right, knowing... hoping in his gut that she
was wrong just so he could tell her 'I told you so'.  And
sure enough, only a few yards down the road, they saw a sign
that said 'You've just left Comity, the Perfect Harmony
City'.  Mulder tried to look at her to rub it in as he
turned the car around, but she wouldn't return his glance,
Scully so pissed at that moment that she could barely see.
He figured it best to keep his mouth shut for a change.  He
may actually need his balls at some time in the future.

And Scully's mood didn't temper a bit after they'd found the
Sheriff's office and a tall shapely woman detective seemed
just a little too happy to see her FBI contact.  And Scully
found every opportunity to ridicule the detective's theory
that 'Satanists' had killed a high school boy and Mulder had
found every opportunity to ridicule Scully's ridicule.

In just a day, the entire town seemed to be snowballing out
of control.  Scully had been biting Mulder's head off
practically every time he opened his mouth and Mulder seemed
to be enjoying treating her condescendingly all the while
flirting with Detective White, something he could tell was
irritating Scully.  And every one of the townspeople was
trying to find the phantom 'Satanist' who was killing
people, a mob mentality making everyone nearly hysterical.
Even the town doctor was being blamed.

"You can go now Dr. Godfrey," Scully said as she walked into
the precinct interrogation room where the shapely Detective
White and Mulder were questioning the poor clueless man.  "I
don't think we'll be needing you any further. Your story
checked out."

"This may not be any time to mention it, but someone is
wearing my favorite perfume," Mulder said out of the blue,
everyone in the room looking at him like he was crazy.

And that was it.  Scully had her fill.  "Can I have a word
with you?" she barked, turning on her heels to leave the
room, her look telling Mulder he'd better follow.

"This has gone far enough," she told him after they'd made
it to the hall.

"What?" he asked, at a total loss as to what she was so
obviously pissed at him about.

"I am not going to be humiliated by you, in front of you, or
by having to bring a teenage girl in, on her birthday of all
days, to identify the bones of her dead dog, Mr. Tippy!" she
said, fully irritated by that point, having no clue how
absolutely ridiculous she sounded.  Mulder barely seemed
interested in what she had to say, sniffing the air, closing
in around Scully's head.  She was used to him getting in her
personal space, so she didn't think too much of his behavior
initially.  "I see no reason to pursue this case any further
and not only that, I find your conduct and comportment in
this investigation not just alarming, but highly
objectionable," she went on, finally having enough of his
sniffing. "What are you doing?!"

Distractedly, Mulder didn't even acknowledge her anger or
her point, more concerned with locating the source of the
person who was wearing the mysterious perfume.  "Must be
Detective White..."

"If that's the reason we're sticking around, that's your
business," she said, walking away from him, Mulder
following.

"What?" he said incredulously, surprised by her insinuation.
"What are you talking about?"

"Detective White," she told him bluntly.

"We came down here because of three unexplained deaths;
Detective White is just trying to solve them. She could use
our help."

"Well, you two seem to have a certain... simpatico," she
spat at him. "I'm going back to Washington in the morning,"
she told him angrily, Mulder sinking against the wall as he
watched her storm off.

Continued in Pt. 6

TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-6
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17

COMITY MOTEL
Later that night

They had done nothing but fight, argue and spar since they'd
come to Comity.  And they hadn't exactly been getting along
before that.  They could usually disagree and quarrel about
their work and not take it personally, but for some reason,
on this trip, they were both taking everything personally;
even things that weren't personal.

Mulder didn't know why, he generally didn't drink much, but
he'd just felt like getting wasted and managed to find the
last container of frozen orange juice at a convenience store
and bought a bottle of cheap vodka to go along with it.  He
went to his room, thinking he would watch some TV and drink
himself into a sound sleep.  He added the frozen mixture to
the vodka bottle, shaking it to make his rendition of a
screwdriver and turned on the television.  A black and white
Keystone Cops movie was playing, the 'Sabre Dance' playing
along with the slapstick.  He changed the channel, hoping to
find something a little more along his line of taste,
something perhaps on pay-per-view.  But it seemed that the
crazy movie was on every channel.

And next door, Scully wasn't behaving any more normally.
She had bought a pack of cigarettes out of the machine in
the lobby, smoking one right after the other since she'd
gone to her room.  She sat on the bed, flipping channels,
the loud 'Sabre Dance' and Keystone Cops movie irritating
her even more than it had Mulder.  She tried to find
something else, finally turning the TV off when she found
the stupid movie on every channel as well.  She threw the
remote on the bed and began to pace the room, so agitated
she couldn't sit still.

She walked to the window, angrily mumbling to herself,
mocking Mulder, "Detective White could use our help." She
looked briefly out the window, then continued pacing the
room, continuing to ruminate "Just here to solve this
case... Detective White...", puffing away on a cigarette
that tasted absolutely terrible.

And while Scully was not enjoying her cigarette, Det. White
had shown up in Mulder's room and he realized she was there
to put the moves on him.  "You know, I don't feel like going
home. Do you mind if I slept here?" she said to him
suddenly, kicking off her shoes, removing her jacket.

Mulder stuttered, not really knowing what to do, but no
where close to wanting the woman in his room.  "Actually,
I'm sure I could, eh, get you another room," Mulder told
her, grabbing the phone.  But Det. White had other ideas and
shoved him onto the bed, straddling him so that he couldn't
get up.

"Maybe we can solve the mystery of the horny beast," she
told him, eyeing him like a shark looks at a swimmer.

"Maybe we should just watch some television. There's a movie
on TV, actually, it's the same movie on every channel," he
told her, trying to get up.

"Weird... I like weird, I feel weird," she said, bending to
kiss Mulder just as Scully came in.

"Mul..." Scully started to say until she saw them and
gasped, the look on her face scaring the hell out of Mulder.
Not knowing what to say, she blurted, "There's been another
death."

Mulder pushed the woman off of him, grabbing his coat before
running out of his room to catch up with Scully, Det. White
following him.

Mulder caught up to her and not wanting to get into anything
personal in front of Det. White, he simply asked her about
the murder.  "Let me drive," Mulder said as Scully was
opening the driver's side door on their rental.

"I'm driving," Scully said disgustedly.  Scully had never
had any real reason to mistrust Mulder where their
relationship was concerned and never really had.  Sure, once
in a while normal female jealousy would rear its ugly head,
but it had always been unfounded.  But what the hell had she
just walked in on, she wondered.

"Scully, it's not what you think," he said, despite the fact
that Det. White was right there next to them.

"I didn't see anything anyway," she said and he could tell
she was more hurt than pissed.

"Will you let me drive?" he said impatiently as she crawled
into the driver's seat.

"I'm driv...  Why do you always have to drive?  Because
you're the guy?  Because you're the big macho man?" she said
angrily, childishly.

"No.  I was just never sure your little feet could reach the
pedals," he snarled back, Scully giving him the look of
death as she slammed the door closed.  Mulder sent Det.
White to ride with Scully, him taking the detective's car
alone.

For several long minutes, neither Scully nor the detective
said a word, riding along in tense silence.  "Look, if I'd
known you two were involved, I never would've gone to his
room."

"What?" Scully said, taken aback at the woman's statement.

"He didn't invite me in," she tried to explain.

"You don't owe me any explanation," Scully told her, keeping
her eyes on the road, but wondering what signs he had given
off that led the woman to realize that she and Mulder had a
relationship beyond their partnership.

"I'm not in the habit of forcing myself on someone.  I don't
know what's gotten into me," Det. White said, realizing she
still felt 'weird'.  "Really, Agent Scully, he didn't do
anything.  He was trying to get me out of there.  It was me;
not him."  Scully finally looked at her and could tell that
the woman was being honest, knowing in her heart that Mulder
wasn't to blame, but still not in the mood to be forgiving.

"Sure.  Fine.  Whatever..."

They had solved the case, two high school girls who just
happened to share a birthday in the midst of a syzygy,
finally being arrested.  And Mulder realized it hadn't just
been he and Scully who were behaving unnaturally, but it had
been the whole damned town.  But they hadn't talked, both of
them just wanting to get somewhere beyond the city limits of
Comity.

Mulder put his bags in the trunk of the car, Scully already
having loaded hers.  She waited for him, sitting on the
driver's side, needing to adjust the seat, Mulder barely
able to squeeze in, the seat was so far forward.  But he
didn't say anything, simply getting in on the passenger
side.

"You ready?" she asked, not looking at him.

"You're the driver," he said, almost taunting her, watching
her to see if she'd give him a glance.  But she didn't,
instead shifting the car into reverse and squealing the
tires as she pulled out of the parking spot.

As they reach the intersection that had started their ill-
fated trip to Comity, the "Perfect Harmony City" sign almost
seemed to be laughing at them.  "Eh, Scully, if I'm not
mistaken, we're gonna be taking a left up here."  When
Scully didn't react, he tried again.  "Eh, there's an
intersection up here.  You're gonna wanna..."  And, again,
she didn't react, continuing to speed along on the dark
country road.  "Scully! You're gonna wanna...!"  Scully ran
straight through the stop sign at the intersection, still
not giving Mulder so much as a glance.  "You just... ran a
stop sign back there, Scully."

"Shut up, Mulder."

"Sure.  Fine.  Whatever."

X-FILES OFFICE
HOOVER BUILDING
The next day

They had very little conversation on the flight back from
Comity, Scully taking a pill so that she could sleep on the
trip back.  They had gotten back very early in the morning
since they'd taken the red eye, the fastest way out of
Comity County they could find.  Mulder had taken the Bureau
car they left at Dulles, Scully opting for a cab even though
Mulder had offered to drive her home.  They both knew they
needed some time apart.

The next morning in the office hadn't been too bad,
considering, she thought.  Mulder had been into yet another
one of his slide shows, eager to move on to a new adventure.

"He's an unemployed painter, divorced, no children. He came
to the U.S. from Uzbekistan during Perestroika. He failed to
mention on his INS application that he spent the better part
of his twenties in an insane asylum," Mulder began, Scully
not paying his pictures much attention as she perused the
file.

"He was arrested last week for the murders of at least seven
men," she commented.

"You thought all they produced were great hockey players,"
he quipped, finally garnering a glance from her.  "The
crimes took place over a three year period. All the victims
were male, aged seventeen to twenty-five."

"Was there a signature or a defining MO?"

Mulder watched her as he moved to his desk chair to sit,
well aware that she was still treating him with a cold
shoulder.  "Well, according to the M.E. there was no
evidence of any sexual assault.  Death was caused by massive
blood loss due to facial mutilation. He also reported that
the wound pattern on all the victims was identical. It's all
there on page three," he said, pointing at the chart she
continued to read.

"Both eyes punctured... signature gashes from the corners of
the mouth to the ears," she read, Mulder noticing the look
of repulsion on her face when she found the pictures.  He
pushed the projector remote button, the wall of the office
covered with the same graphic illustrations Scully found in
the file.

"The level of violence and overkill here would suggest the
work of a very angry individual," she said, the look on her
face reflecting her disgust with the graphic murders.

"Or individuals, if you count the spirit Mostow says
possessed him during the murders."

Scully looked at him, not sure where his theory was going.
"Well, possession is a common claim by criminals who have
disociative disorders. It's how they... distance themselves
from their actions."

"That was the operational opinion until last night..." he
said, flipping to a graphic slide of another victim.  "When
a 19 year old male was found dead six miles from here with
an identical set of facial wounds."

"A copy cat?"

"Well, according to Assistant Director Skinner, who asked us
to look into this case, the details of the mutilations were
never released. Only members of the crime team would have
that information. And Mostow's been in custody for five
days."  They looked at each other, both wondering what kind
of case had just landed in their laps.

And everything had pretty much gone down hill from there.
They had disagreed vehemently on virtually everything about
the case, Mulder thinking Mostow, their suspect, had indeed
been possessed by some kind of evil spirit which had
actually committed the murders, Scully, of course, thinking
Mostow and an accomplice were just plain murderers.

"You have a nice soft bunk, sir. Why aren't you using it?"
Scully asked Mostow when they went to see him in his cell,
the man cowered on the floor.

"Cuz he's been working," Mulder said, taking in his sketch
in the cell, Scully paying it no mind.  "Haven't you, John?
What is it? What is this thing?"

"It killed those men," Mostow said plainly, seeming scared
to death.

"Does it have a name? Does it have a name to go with that
face?" Mulder asked, Scully wondering if Mulder was actually
believing the man's story or was just acting like it to get
the man to talk.

"All men know its name."

"What do you call it? Satan? The devil?" Mulder asked.

"Or maybe it's just the name of your accomplice," Scully
interjected, hoping to add some reality to the situation.

"I had no accomplice."

"You killed all those young men yourself?" Scully said, the
skepticism obvious in her question.

"IT killed them. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Well, ITS fingerprints weren't on the murder weapon; yours
were. And IT won't be tried for seven murders under the
death penalty," Scully told him, losing her patience with
the man's feeble attempts to escape punishment.

Mulder continued to talk to the man, Scully becoming fairly
irritated that he was giving Mostow that much time.  Then
the door to the cell opened, both of them squinting to see
who was there.  "Agent Mulder... Can I see you two outside?"
Both of them left the cell, Mulder reluctantly; Scully more
than happy to have a reason to get Mulder out of there.

"So what is it, Mulder? Little green men, evil spirits,
hounds of hell?" the older of the two men began.

Mulder smiled to himself, recognizing the man's usual
demeaning ridicule.  "Scully, this is Bill Patterson. He
runs the investigative support unit out of Quantico."

"Yes, I know. Behavioral Science... You wrote the book. It's
an honor, Sir," she said.

"Is that what you think, too? That the suspect is possessed
by some dark spirit?" he said pointedly to Scully.

"No, not at all, Sir," she answered.

"Funny company you keep then," Patterson said to her, but
looking at Mulder, Scully now realizing that there was
something between Mulder and Patterson that she didn't know
about.  And the younger agent with Patterson must have felt
the tension, too; all he could look at was his shoes.

"That's what always amazed me about you, Bill. You never fit
your own profile. No one would ever guess how really mean-
spirited you are," Mulder said, starting to walk away.

But Patterson kept after him, walking towards Mulder.  "The
arrest of John Mostow resulted in three years of hard work
by my unit. Three years... You can imagine we were awful
upset by this latest murder. And by the suspect floating
this possession theory."

Mulder stopped and turned to face him, Scully and the agent
with Patterson not able to do much but stand there and watch
the strained interchange.

"You think he's got an accomplice then. Even though your own
profile of Mostow states that he's most certainly working
alone," Mulder said, trying to stand up to Patterson's
bullying.

"My profile led to his arrest. No, he acted alone. And that
murder last night was done by a second killer, and he acted
alone too," Patterson said adamantly.

"What about these drawings of Mostow's?  The gargoyles?"
Mulder said.  Scully was almost embarrassed by Mulder's
belief in Mostow's story, wishing he wouldn't have brought
the subject up.

"You know why he draws those? Did you ask him?" Patterson
asked condescendingly.

"I didn't get a chance to..." Mulder smiled back.

"He says he draws them to keep this demon of his away."

"Well, that would make sense. Historically, that's what
gargoyles have been used for, to ward off evil spirits. Like
on the eaves of buildings..." Mulder started.

"Come on, Mulder. I don't need a history lesson," Patterson
said nastily.  "And I don't need anyone indulging this guy's
story."

Mulder had it by that point, now done with Patterson's rude
condemnation of him.  The man was no longer his boss and he
didn't have to listen to any more from him.  "I was asked to
look into this case. If you've got a problem with that I
suggest you take it up with AD Skinner," Mulder told him
firmly and walked away.  Scully hesitated for a moment,
glancing toward the man with Patterson and they exchanged a
look, both of them wondering just what history Mulder and
Patterson shared.  She walked away without giving Patterson
another look.

Mulder was so tense and irritated in the car, she chose not
to ask him anything.  He simply drove, the radio blaring his
favorite oldies station as they made their way to Mostow's
apartment to check it out.  But finally, she asked him.
"You're not going to tell me when your love affair with
Patterson ended?"

"Patterson never liked me."

"I thought you were considered his fair-haired boy when you
joined the Bureau."

"Not by Patterson."

"Why not?"

"Didn't want to get my knees dirty. Couldn't quite cast
myself in the role of the dutiful student."

"You mean you couldn't worship him?" she asked, trying to
keep up with Mulder as they walked down the damp, dingy hall
to Mostow's apartment.

"Something like that. Yeah," Mulder said, tearing the police
tape from the door.

"Well, from what I hear, there are a lot of men who did. A
lot of men joined the FBI because they wanted to be him,"
Scully said, looking up to him for a reaction.

"Yeah, Patterson had this thing about wanting to track a
killer; If you wanted to know an artist, you have to look at
his art," he said, then turning to look at Scully. "What he
really meant was if you want to catch a monster, you have to
become one yourself."

And that's almost what happened to Mulder.  He absorbed
himself so deeply in the case, in Mostow's demented
drawings, that Scully was scared he was indeed becoming the
monster Mostow had become.  She couldn't reach him, even
when she did talk to him, he wasn't himself.  He was distant
and obsessed and she was seriously worried about him.

They had found more victims amongst more tormented drawings
and sculptures in Mostow's studio and Mulder knew Patterson
was going to be pissed that he had put a wrench in the older
man's case.  Scully and Agent Nemhauser seemed to agree
about the case, both of them trying to solve it without
aggravating whatever was going on between Mulder and
Patterson.

"What does Patterson have to say?" Scully asked Nemhauser.
They had found one victim still alive, barely clinging to
life and they were at the hospital hoping the man could be
questioned.

"I haven't spoken to him yet. But I bet he's going to come
around to the idea that it's someone working directly with
Mostow."

"Well, I'd have to agree with that theory," Scully said.

"What's Agent Mulder think?" he asked Scully, never taking
his eyes off her.

"He thinks our finding Mostow's secret gallery isn't going
to do him any favors with Patterson," she answered without
really answering the agent's question.

"Well, between you and me, I think Patterson secretly went
to Skinner and requested Mulder on this case," he said,
moving closer to her, his gazes and proximity starting to
unsettle her a bit.

"He requested him?" she asked, truly surprised.

"I've worked with Patterson for three years on this. And
this just about killed him, until we finally got a break and
arrested Mostow. Then this first copy cat murder... It threw
him for a loss."

"Mulder's under the impression that Patterson never thought
too highly of him."

"No. That's just Patterson. Late at night, with a few beers
in him, he starts telling me Mulder stories; how he's some
kind of crack genius."  Scully could barely believe what she
was hearing.  Then Patterson showed up, wondering how the
victim was doing, but Scully feeling he was only interested
in getting information out of the poor man, not in his
prognosis.

"Where's Mulder?" Patterson asked accusingly.

"He was going to see what he could find out about these
drawings of Mostow's," Scully told him.

"What's he looking for?" Patterson asked.

"I think the same thing you are, Sir. A second killer,"
Scully told him, finding herself becoming defensive in
reaction to Patterson's sarcasm tinged questions.

They were asked to leave the victim's room by the doctor and
Patterson just kept going, leaving Scully and Nemhauser
standing there.  "Damned if you do, damned if you don't,"
Nemhauser laughed.  "No matter what I say..."

"It's not your fault, Agent Nemhauser.  The two of them need
to settle their own business," Scully said, tiring of both
Mulder and Patterson's issues.

"It's Greg, please," Nemhauser said.  "And I couldn't agree
with you more," he smiled.  "Maybe if you and I can get this
case solved, both of them will calm down."

Scully laughed, "Now I think you may be delusional."

Nemhauser laughed, giving her elbow a slight touch as they
walked down the hall to the elevator.  "Um, Agent Scully..."

"Dana, please," she corrected, pushing the down button.

"Dana... would you have time to get some coffee?  Maybe
compare our case notes?" he asked hopefully, the elevator
doors opening as a soft bell dinged.

"Um, I really need to check on Mulder.  But how about in the
morning... at my office at Hoover?" she suggested picking up
on the fact that Nemhauser might be more interested in her
than he was the facts of the case.

"Um, yeah, sure," he smiled as the elevator doors closed.

But when she'd gone to Mulder's apartment to check on him,
she was stunned to see what she'd found-- Mostow's drawings
plastered all over the walls of his living room.  If she
hadn't already worried enough about him, now she was even
more concerned, fearing he was living Patterson's approach
and was becoming the monster he was pursuing.

And later, Mulder had been attacked by someone, or something
as he purported and he and Scully had argued loudly,
Patterson taking it all in.  She was worried sick, but still
she found herself so frustrated by him that she had let
herself get angry at him.  And she didn't want to be.

The case took another twisted turn and Scully had feared
that Mulder had become so obsessed that he had crossed the
line and done something that would change their lives
forever.  She had found his fingerprints on the murder
weapon that had mysteriously disappeared from the evidence
box in the Mostow murders.  Even Skinner was worried about
him.

Scully had gone home late that night, unsure where Mulder
had gone, hoping against hope that he had gone to her place,
but not really holding out much hope of that.  She checked
her answering machine when she got in, finding a message
from Agent Nemhauser and immediately calling his cell phone,
shocked when Mulder answered.

"Mulder?"

"Scully?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Mostow's studio," he answered plainly.

"Are you with Nemhauser?"

"No. Should I be?"

"Well, that's who I was calling. He left this number on my
answering machine. He said he had to talk to me," Scully
explained. "Mulder? Do you know where he is?"

"I'm not sure."

Scully could hear the difference in his voice, the hesitancy
in his answers and was so worried about him that she could
barely ask him what she knew she needed to, just to try to
put her mind at ease.  He denied taking the knife from the
evidence box and, even though Scully couldn't understand why
he'd touched it, she believed him when he said he didn't
take it.

"Okay, Mulder. Listen to me carefully. I want you to stay
exactly where you are. I'm going to be there in a few
minutes and we're going to work this thing out together.
Okay? Mulder?" she said, leaving her apartment and rushing
toward Mostow's as fast as she could go.  And things had
gone badly, Patterson showing up and attacking Mulder and
Mulder finally shooting him when the man tried to strangle
him.  Skinner had been kind and had put Mulder on
administrative leave only to investigate the shooting, but
knowing he was giving Mulder time to get past the case that
had almost gotten the best of him.  And he knew Scully would
see to it that Mulder would be ready to come back to work
when it was time.

FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
ARLINGTON, VA
Later that evening

Both of them had given their versions of the story to the
agents investigating the shooting of Patterson and had
written up their notes on the Mostow case.  Scully had been
saddened to learn that Nemhauser had been Patterson's last
victim and, strangely, Mulder had been very upset that it
had been Patterson who had been guilty of killing all of the
men Mostow hadn't.  Mulder realized he had a lot of self-
examination to do.

"Mulder?" Scully called as she knocked, not wanting to use
her key unless she had to.  After they completed their
report to OPR regarding the shooting, Scully had gone down
to the X-Files office to talk to Mulder, but he wasn't
there.  She hoped he had gone home and tried not to be
pissed that he had left without telling her.  "Are you
here?" she asked, just as the door opened, Mulder standing
there in his pajama bottoms, his hair still wet from his
shower.

"Come on in," he said, slipping a t-shirt over his head, his
bare feet squeaking against the wood floor.  "I was just
getting a beer.  Want one?"

"No thanks," she answered softly, hanging her coat over one
of his dining room chairs.

"You finish up with OPR?" he asked, moving into the living
room to sit on his couch, noticing Scully had taken off her
coat.  He also noticed her jeans and sweater, knowing she
must have already been home, too.

"Um, yeah.  I looked for you..." asking him with her eyes
why he didn't tell her he was leaving.  "You didn't answer
your cell."

"I'm not even sure where my cell is.  I guess another one
has bitten the dust," he smiled, referring to his penchant
for either losing or destroying phones.

"Mine was working," she said as she sat down next to him.

Mulder didn't look at her, but knew what her comment meant.
He thought a moment before answering, knowing the truth
probably wasn't as bad as something he might make up to make
her feel better.  "Yeah, sorry I didn't let you know I was
headed home.  I just needed some time.  I, um, was getting
ready to call you when you knocked."

Scully was silent for several long moments, not really
knowing what to say until she just let herself say what she
was thinking.  "I've been so worried about you," she finally
spoke, laying her head against his shoulder, taking hold of
his hand.

"I'm sorry..." Mulder said, taking his hand from hers,
rubbing his tired eyes.  "This case..."

"Mulder, we haven't had a personal conversation since you
went cockroach hunting," she said, laying her hand on his
thigh, needing to hold onto something.

"You're exaggerating."

"Barely."

"Scully, I know you're angry at me.  For Comity..." he
began, still unable to look at her.  "For getting covered in
shit."

"Mulder, I haven't even thought about that."

"I know you were mad about Det. White.  I told you nothing
happened.  The crazy woman jumped me," he said, the 'Sabre
Dance' tune echoing in his head.

"Hey," she said, touching his chin with her fingers so that
he would look at her.  "I know that.  I trust you.  The only
thing I'm worried about is you.  And the fact that you've
been existing in your own world lately.  Without me."

"I guess old habits are hard to break," he said, taking hold
of her hand and bringing it to his lips.

"That excuse is not going to fly, Mulder.  We have been
through this too many times.  If you need time to yourself,
you need to tell me that, not just shut me out without
telling me what you are feeling," she told him frankly.

"Yeah..." he sighed, disappointed in himself.

"Do you understand how much that behavior hurts my
feelings?" she asked softly.

Mulder looked at her, realizing that although she did get
pissed at him with some regularity, she wasn't all that
worried about that stuff.  It was shutting her out that
upset her the most... that hurt her.  He could take her
being angry, but it killed him when he hurt her.

"Come here," he said softly to her, opening his arms and
pulling her onto his lap.  "I don't mean to hurt you.  I
don't...  I'll try to do better.  I love you, you know."

She gave him a soft kiss, holding his face between her
hands, slowly caressing his cheeks with her thumbs as she
looked at him.  Then she smiled, "That's a start."

He wrapped her firmly in his arms, kissing her neck, his
hands slowly stroking her back.  "I need you more than you
could ever know," he told her, his voice barely above a
whisper.

She kissed him where she could reach; his ear, the side of
his neck.  "I know... I know..."

Finally, he loosened his embrace and gave her a soft smile.
"Can you stay tonight?"

"Are your sheets clean?" she grinned.

"Umm..." he hesitated.

"Come on.  We'll make your bed.  We both need about a week's
sleep," she said, moving to stand from the couch, Mulder
following, holding on to her hand.

DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
One week later

Scully had worked most of the week, but Mulder had used his
time off to clear his head, work out and bug her, mostly.
She had finally told him to quit calling her at work since
he was driving her crazy.  But they were doing well at
repairing their relationship and both were pleased that
things seemed to be going well.

"Thanks for going with me tonight," Scully said as she
drove, Mulder on the passenger side of her car.  Her session
with her counselor had been fairly manageable, nothing too
heavy that could put her in a really down mood.

"You don't have to thank me, I'll go anytime you want me
to," he told her.

"Anytime you remember," she teased, recalling a particularly
bad session that Mulder had totally forgotten to go to.

"There is that," he responded.  "Where're you going?" he
asked when she took the turn from Karen Kosseff's office to
his apartment.

"I'm taking you home," she said, confused.  They had been
staying in their own apartments for the last week, having
discussed that they probably needed some time apart.

"Oh..." Mulder sighed.

Scully smiled, almost laughed, at his obvious pout.  "Let's
see....  Is this where I'm supposed to ask if you'd rather
stay at my place tonight?" she asked not even trying to hide
her grin.

"Not if I have to beg," he responded.  "It's just that I
thought after our session tonight... and our, um, 'session'
yesterday afternoon... well, I thought maybe we'd progressed
beyond only sleeping in the same bed."

"Well, yesterday afternoon was nice...," she smiled.  They
had worked on one of the home exercises Scully's therapist
had them doing and engaged in a bit of snuggling and groping
on the couch and took a long nap in each others' arms.

"And tonight went well, don't you think?  Your therapist was
pretty happy that we'd done our homework yesterday," he
said.

"Yeah, just in the nick of time."

"Well, at least we did it," Mulder said and Scully realized
it was time to stop teasing him and turned the car to head
to her apartment.  Mulder grinned at her like a kid who had
just been told he could buy anything he wanted in a toy
store.

"Once in a while you do have a good idea or two," she smiled
to him and reached for his hand.  "I've missed you.  More
than you realize."

He looked down at her hand on his, at her understated
manicure, at the precise crisp edge of her cuff peeking out
from under the expensive fabric of her jacket sleeve.
"Scully, can I ask you something?"  She gave him a hesitant
nod, unsure of what he might ask.  "Are you as horny as I
am?"

Her laugh echoed in the car, her hand leaving his as she
held onto the wheel as she continued to laugh.  "I'm not
sure that is possible.  You are in a perpetual state."
Mulder smiled, enjoying seeing her laugh.  "However..." she
said, wiggling her eyebrows at him, "I think at the moment,
I could give you a run for your money."  They hadn't been
together since before he had discovered his dung eating
companions and both of them were ready to put an end to
their circumstance driven celibacy.

But despite their flirting in the car, there were practical
things to be done when they got to her apartment.  The phone
was ringing when they opened the door, Scully taking time to
talk to her mother since it had been a couple of weeks since
she had talked to her.  Mulder showered while Scully got her
laundry ready for pick-up in the morning and while she
showered, he flopped on the couch to channel surf.

"Find anything interesting?" she asked, standing over him,
taking his figure in as he lay on the couch, the way his
grey boxer briefs contoured the bulges of his crotch.  The
tail of his t-shirt rode up just far enough to see the line
of hair that traveled from his navel to below the low rise
of the waist band.  God, he was sexy.

"Maybe I should ask you that," he smiled, catching her
checking him out, reaching down to scratch himself.

"My answer would be a definite 'yes'," she smiled, crawling
on top of him, when he turned fully on his back.

"You naked under there?" Mulder smiled, his hand sliding up
her thigh under her light blue robe.

"Why don't you come into the bedroom and find out," she
teased, her voice low and suggestive.

He wrapped his legs around her, his arms almost crushing her
to his chest as he kissed her, Scully feeling his growing
hardness against her abdomen.  "Nnnnnn..." she moaned
against his lips, then pulling away from him.  "C'mon.  You
get the lights; I'll check the door," she smiled, trying to
make her way off of him.

But he wouldn't let her, instead pulling her up over his
shoulder as he stood, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.
"C'mon, woman," he said in his best caveman voice.  And she
laughed again, only faintly trying to get upright.

"Mulder, let me down," she laughed, Mulder carrying her as
he turned out the lights and double-checked the lock.
"Dammit, let me down!" and Mulder could swear she was
giggling, but he would never accuse her of that since he'd
want his balls for later use.

When he got in the bedroom, he tossed her on the mattress,
her robe flying open when she bounced.  He immediately
crawled up over her, grinning as he straddled her.  He bent
to kiss her, opening the sash of her robe, a hand
immediately going to her breast.  He kissed and nuzzled her
neck, his lips vibrating against her ear when he told her,
"I can't wait to be inside you..."

Scully reached for the band of his underwear, the sight of
his erection tenting the front making her sex flood, her
heart speed up.  "Get these off.  Now."

Soon, they were naked and Mulder opened her legs, entering
her easily.  "Mmmmmm..." he groaned, Scully barely hearing
him over the sound of her own moan.  He pushed in and out of
her, Scully's hips moving with him, her legs wrapped around
his hips.  She could feel her arousal climbing, her body
responding to his movements.  She knew she was getting
close, needing just a little bit more.

"A little harder, Mulder... Harder," she sighed, her eyes
closing when she felt her abdominal muscles starting to
tighten.  "Oh, yes... yes... yessssssss..."  Mulder felt her
legs squeeze his hips, her inner tissue grab him like a
velvet fist.  She shook against him, holding her breath
until she was on the downside, then gasping for air.  But he
didn't let her ride it out, thrusting against her again,
pushing as deep as he could, his hips rubbing against just
the right spot.  "Ohhhhhhh...." she moaned as she came
again, even harder than the orgasm she'd just experienced.

"Scully, Scully," he managed to say, the beautiful sight of
her orgasms more than he could take.  "Oh, fuckkkkkkkk," he
groaned when he let go, his hips jerking with each release,
filling her with his warm liquid, pushing it back out with
each thrust in.

"Oh, god," he heard her say and felt her slick inner flesh
grab him again, massaging the last bit of liquid out of him.
He managed to continue to rub against her, his hips kneading
the flesh of her mons, her breasts moving against the
sensitive skin of his chest.

"I love you," he whispered against her ear.

"And a fine job you do of it, too," she chuckled, kissing
his neck.  "Oh, god, Mulder... that was... wonnnnnnderful."

He propped himself on his elbows, his hips still slowly
massaging her.  "Wonderful, huh?" he smiled to her, her eyes
barely able to focus on his.

"Actually, that's terribly inadequate language, but..." she
smiled back, tipping her head up to kiss him.  "I have
missed being with you so much."

"Three.  Not bad," he kidded her as he kissed her.

"Three?" she questioned.

"I think you missed the last one.  You were still whimpering
from the second one," he laughed, moving off of her to her
side.

"Three, huh..."  She snuggled against him, wrapping her leg
over his, her hand subconsciously smoothing over his
abdomen.  "What you do to me..." she sighed and Mulder could
tell by the tone of her voice that she was only minutes away
from a sated sleep.  He softly stroked his fingers along her
spine, his other hand lying on her thigh where it rested
against his.  "Cold..." she mumbled.  Mulder pulled the
sheet and spread up over them and they both slipped into a
much needed sleep.

THE NEXT MORNING

"Oh, jesus, Mulder," Scully sighed, collapsing over him like
a weathered rag.  He rubbed his hands up and down her back,
his palms finally coming to rest atop her bare butt.

"I love it when you deify me," he teased.  "It makes me feel
so powerful."  They had just had great morning sex, both of
them making up for lost time.  He had woken first, starting
things, but she had quickly climbed on top and did most of
the work.

"I'm really happy right now," she smiled against his chest,
still moist from the perspiration of good sex.  "I've been
carrying around this weight and it feels like it's been
lifted."

"Weight?"

"Yeah, this... distance between us.  I've hated every minute
of it, Mulder.  It was stupid.  And childish," she told him.
She moved up to look at him, giving him a soft kiss.  "And I
apologize."

"It was a two way street, you know," he told her.

She smiled at him, "Yes, it was.  So apologize for your lane
and we can put it behind us."

"I apologize."

"Accepted."  She kissed him again, her body involuntarily
moving against him.

"God, you are so beautiful," he said, wondering what the
hell he'd ever done to deserve having Scully in his life.
He took a breast in his hand, squirming down beneath her
enough to take her nipple in his mouth.

"Don't start something else," she told him, even though she
wished they could just stay in bed the rest of the day.

"Me?"

"I have lunch scheduled with my mother."

"Cancel," he told her absently, kissing up her chest to her
neck.

She could feel her body responding to him, but tried to
temper her reactions.  "I can't."

"Cancel."

"I won't"

"But I can't live without you," he teased dramatically.
Scully moved up just enough for him to see her look, giving
him the eyebrow before moving off of him and heading for the
bathroom.  "I guess I need to work on my morning hyperbole."

Continued in Pt. 7



TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-7
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17

FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
Two days later

They took separate cars into work, Mulder back at work for
the first time since the Patterson ordeal.  Scully had an
early meeting on the sixth floor and Mulder was anxious to
see what had come across his desk in the X-Files.  Scully's
meeting had been incredibly boring, her mind wandering most
of the time to her weekend with Mulder.  She was glad they
were back on track.

Scully was absorbed in the report from her meeting, trying
to catch up on what she missed while daydreaming much of
what was said earlier away.  "Agent Scully? Can I see you
for a few minutes?" Skinner said, poking his head out his
office door as she passed by.  She was caught off guard,
wondering what he could possibly want.  "Kimberly, would you
excuse us please?" he asked his secretary, his request for
privacy peaking Scully's curiosity even further.

After Kimberly had exited, Skinner turned to face Scully and
she could tell by the look on his face that his reason for
talking to her wasn't something routine.  "A memo came
across my desk last night.  I debated whether or not to call
you at home, but I decided to..."

"And it concerns me?"

"Yes.  And your sister," he said, almost meekly.  Scully
could barely believe that he would be talking to her about
something personal.  "It's been 5 months and there have been
no leads or new evidence on her murder investigation by the
DC police team or the Bureau.  I've been told the case is to
remain inactive until further notice."  To say that Scully
was shocked, stunned, incredulous... any of them, would be
an understatement.  Maybe add all of the words together.

"I see," she ineptly uttered when she was finally able to
speak.

"I don't think there's anything to be read into this,"
Skinner tried to rationalize, but Scully recognized his
motives and couldn't prevent herself from rolling her eyes.
"I think it's a case of manpower and workload. I want you to
know that I am going to appeal this decision and I am gonna
go back over all the evidence again myself and make sure
that nothing has been overlooked."

Initially, she couldn't even address him, but her tight curt
expression told him her feelings.  She started to exit, but
found herself telling him what she thought before she walked
out.  "You know, it's strange.  Men can blow up buildings,
and they can be nowhere near the crime scene, but we can
piece together the evidence and convict them beyond a
doubt," she told him, unable to prevent the tears forming in
her eyes, but not letting them drop.  Her voice wavered, but
she went on, "Our labs here can recreate out of the most
microscopic detail the motivation and circumstance to almost
any murder, right down to a killer's attitude towards his
mother and that he was a bed wetter. But in the case of a
woman, my sister," Scully continued, angry now," who was
gunned down in cold blood in a well-lit apartment building
by a shooter who left the weapon at the crime scene, we
can't even put together enough to keep anybody interested."

"I don't think this has anything to do with interest,"
Skinner, again, tried to rationalize, but knowing Scully was
right.

"If I may say so sir, it has everything to do with interest.
Just not yours, and not mine."

X-FILES OFFICE

"Sorry I'm late," she said as she entered the office, the
disgust over the situation with her sister's case evident in
her voice.

"Anything up?" he asked, noticing something wasn't right
with her.

"No. It's nothing," she lied, not wanting to get into it
yet.  She tossed the file she was reading on his desk and
slung her coat in the chair, her body language confirming
that something had happened that she wasn't telling him.
"What did you want to talk to me about?"

Mulder let it go, for now, telling her about what he'd found
about a French salvage ship named the Piper Maru.
Initially, she barely heard what he was saying, her mind,
obviously somewhere else.  But he just kept on, answering
every one of her skeptical questions in detail.

"Mulder..."

"Look Scully, I don't know what it is but something is still
down there and now the French are looking for it too."

"So what?" she asked, feeling a headache creeping up on her.

"So why all the attention paid to this site? What
information are they acting on?" he kept on.

"Why don't you just ask them?" she asked, tiring of his
insistence that he had discovered something that needed to
be investigated.

"I would but the entire crew is being treated for radiation
burns."

And that statement got her.  "From exposure to what?"

Mulder went into another detailed disseration about even
more that he had found out about the case.  Finally, she
smiled... and laughed, shaking her head.

"What?"

"I'm just constantly amazed by you... You're working down
here in the basement, sifting through files and
transmissions that any other agent would just throw away in
the garbage," she said, a respectful smile still on her
face.

"Well, that's why I'm in the basement, Scully," he smiled
back, sitting down, looking up at her as she stood next to
him.  She couldn't help but smile back at his self-
deprecating view of himself.

"You're in the basement because they're afraid of you, of
your relentlessness, and because they know that they could
drop you in the middle of the desert, and tell you the truth
is out there, and you'd ask them for a shovel."

Suddenly serious, Mulder was a bit taken aback by her
assessment.  "Is that what you think of me?"

Scully could tell that he may have taken what she said in
the wrong way; she'd meant it as a compliment.  In the
matter of a few seconds, she admired his dedication and
perseverance all over again and wished the rest of the FBI
would be as committed to their work as Mulder was.  "Well,
maybe not a shovel..." she started seriously, but then
giving him a loving smile.  "Maybe a backhoe."

Mulder was relieved that she was kidding with him, realizing
what her assessment of him really meant.  And her mood
seemed to be considerably better than it was since she first
arrived in his office.  "Well that's good because there's
some garbage in San Diego I want you to help me dig
through," he smiled to her, handing her an airline ticket.

She started to reach for her coat to follow Mulder, but
first opened the ticket envelope, checking the flight time.
"Mulder, we have to be on the plane in less than three
hours," she said, knowing she didn't have anything packed,
wondering if he did.

"Then we'd better hurry," he smiled to her and they headed
out the door.  "And on the way, you can tell me what had you
so upset earlier."

Mulder took his car and headed to his apartment to get his
stuff while Scully swung by her laundry service first to
pick up her things and Mulder would pick her up at her place
as soon as he could.  But while she was packing, the picture
of her and Melissa her mother had taken of them not long
before she had been killed that sat quietly on her dresser
caught her eye.  And then the tears came.  All of her
feelings that she had somehow been responsible for her
sister's death, that she was letting her down by not being
able to find out who did it, rushed into her mind as she
remembered Skinner's words.  She felt that nobody cared.
Her sister was gone and everything else seemed to take
priority.

Scully's door hadn't been locked and she hadn't heard Mulder
come in until he stood at the entrance to her bedroom.
"Scully?" he questioned, seeing that she was crying.

"Um, I, uh, I'm almost ready," she stuttered, standing from
her seated position on the edge of the bed, scrambling to
put her sister's picture back and grab a few more things
from her dresser drawer.

"Scully..." Mulder said, moving over to her.  She turned,
laying her head against his chest as her arms gently wrapped
around him.  "Is this about earlier?"

She sighed, comforted by his arms and the gentle tone of his
voice.  She moved back from him, sitting down on the edge of
her bed.  "Skinner told me Melissa's case is to be made
inactive."

"That bastard," Mulder started, immediately thinking it was
their supervisor who had made the decision.

"He didn't do it, Mulder.  Someone higher up has decided my
sister isn't important enough to warrant FBI attention
anymore," she clarified.

Mulder sat down next to her and slipped his arm around her
waist.  "Well, fuck the FBI, Scully.  We'll cancel the
flights to San Diego and give our full attention to it," he
told her and meant it.

She smiled up at him, leaning in to give him a soft kiss,
touched by his offer to give up an X-File that obviously
meant a lot to him.  "We'll go to San Diego, Mulder.  But we
will solve Missy's murder, even if no one pays attention
except the two of us."

"You sure?" he asked, wanting to make sure she wouldn't
resent it later if they continued with the X-File.

"Grab the suitcase in the living room.  I'm almost done
here," she smiled to him, reaching for her carry on.

Their case had taken them not only to San Diego, but had
also led Mulder to San Francisco and, eventually, China.

MIRAMAR AIRBASE
SAN DIEGO, CA

"Mulder, it's me, where are you?

"San Francisco airport, where are you?" he asked, hurrying
through the terminal corridor.

"Miramar Airbase. I think I've just found out what those men
were exposed to, what the Piper Maru was out there looking
for," she told him, not mentioning the nostalgic memories
being on the base brought back to her.

"What?"

"That P-51 Mustang was part of an escort for a B-20 carrying
an atomic bomb, just like the one we dropped on Hiroshima.
Only this one never reached its target," she told him, sure
she'd found the basis for the French's interest.

"Says who?" he asked, skeptical of her simple reason for the
Piper Maru's search.

"Says one of the men originally sent to find it, on a
submarine called the Zeus Faber," she told him plainly,
knowing he was doubting her.

"That was the name we saw written on that dive chart,
right?" he asked, now convinced she may be onto something,
but her rationalization didn't explain everything.

"It all makes sense Mulder.  Why would they build a nuclear
weapon when they can salvage one?" she pointed out.

"If they knew about it, why wait fifty years to try to
recover it? And why was the only person not exposed, the
diver, sent down to find it?"

"I don't know," Scully sighed, realizing Mulder's points
were valid.

"Why don't you try to find out?" he asked.

"What about you?"

"I gotta go to Hong Kong," he told her, a bit sheepishly.
He hadn't really touched base with her about everything he
had been investigating and figured she'd be a bit upset.

And she didn't disappoint.  "Hong Kong?!"

"Yeah, look, uh... I'm gonna miss my flight, so uh...
I gotta call you back, ok?"

"Shit..." she sighed, wondering what the hell she and Mulder
had gotten themselves into.  She had investigated all she
could, discovering that the military had indeed covered up
some kind of nuclear accident and it was most likely still
at the bottom of the ocean.

NORTHEAST GEORGETOWN MEDICAL CENTER
WASHINGTON, DC
The next day

Scully had gone back to Washington, not really sure how much
more she could find out in San Diego, unsure of exactly
where Mulder was.  He had called her back earlier that
morning, telling her all that he had found in San Francisco
and why he was in Hong Kong.  He left out the part about
Krycek.  "Be careful.  Your FBI credentials won't do you
much good over there," she told him.  But she had no idea
that maybe things were actually more dangerous right in
their own back yard.

"Excuse me, where can I find Walter Skinner? He was brought
in with a gunshot wound."  She had barely returned to her
apartment when she had received a phone call from Skinner's
secretary that he had been shot.  She dropped her bags and
went immediately to the hospital.  She located the other
agents on the case and questioned them about Skinner's
status, not too pleased with their lack of progress on
finding the person who did it.

Skinner had been shot, on the surface seeming like a run of
the mill shooting by a hothead in a restaurant.  But Skinner
knew better after having been threatened the previous day
about dropping the investigation into Scully's sister's
murder.  Scully followed his gurney when saw him being taken
to his room after surgery.  She took hold of his hand to let
him know someone was there with him.  She really didn't know
enough about him to know if he had any family, but she
didn't see anyone around who seemed to be acting in that
roll.  Then she felt him squeeze her hand and he turned his
head toward her.  She leaned down toward him, his voice
barely a whisper.  "I've seen him before," he started,
obviously in pain.  "The man who shot me..."  And Scully
knew that his shooting wasn't just a matter of him being in
the wrong place at the wrong time.  It was a deliberate act,
not just a random shooting.

But there was something she didn't know-- that Mulder picked
up Krycek in Hong Kong and that after they got back to
Washington, Mulder had been found unconscious in a wrecked
car and Krycek had disappeared.  Scully had called Mulder's
cell and his apartment phone but he hadn't been in all
night.

She'd gone into work and just as she was about to check
hospital listings, Agent Pendrell had called wanting to show
her his findings on Skinner's shooter.  "We found saliva on
Skinner's shirt that wasn't his. This is an
analysis of the secretors and other hemofactors," he told
her, handing her a DNA transparency.  Unless they had
someone to match it to, it wouldn't tell them much and it
would take a long time to run it against their available
samples in the FBI data base.  But suddenly, Scully had a
hunch.  "Can I borrow this for a little while?" she asked in
regards to the DNA information.

Scully took the clear plastic sheet with the little dots
which meant virtually nothing unless they could find another
sheet with the same little dots.  She went to the evidence
library and checked out the file on her sister's murder,
already put away in the cold case section.  Her stomach
flipped when she compared the data from Skinner's shooter
and her sister's killer-- they matched.  "Jesus Christ..."
she sighed to herself, sitting down to absorb what she'd
just found out.  Skinner hadn't dropped the investigation
into her sister's murder and someone hadn't liked it that he
didn't.  She practically jumped out of her skin when her
cell phone chirped.

"Scully," she answered.

"Agent Scully, this is Georgetown Memorial Hospital..."

Scully had grabbed both DNA sheets and made it to Georgetown
Memorial in record time.  She stopped at the nurse's station
to get Mulder's room number and found him sleeping when she
got there.  She looked over his chart and felt her whole
body relax when it told her that he hadn't been seriously
hurt.  She sat down next to his bed and just watched him as
he slept.  She loved him beyond words, thankful that he had
managed to make it through yet another near tragedy.

Finally he woke, smiling when he saw her sitting next to
him, her return smile just what he needed.  "I guess I'm not
dead," he greeted her.

Scully just shook her head, still taking him in, leaning
forward to speak to him.  "What happened?" she asked
quietly.

Mulder paused, trying to decide exactly what had happened to
him, not remembering much. "Maybe you can tell me."

"The State police found you unconscious. You were strapped
in the passenger's seat of a rental car that had been driven
into a ditch," she told him matter of factly.  He explained
how he and Krycek were run off the road, probably by someone
wanting the digital tape that Krycek was selling information
off of.

Scully was barely holding herself together, every event of
the last several days taking their toll.  He noticed that
she seemed to be fighting back tears.  "Well it may not be
the best time to tell you but, you're not the only one in
the hospital. Skinner's been shot."

After Mulder recovered from his shock, she told him that
Skinner would be fine.  "Who shot him?"

"I'm not sure," she said giving him a meaningful look. "But
I have an idea."  She opened the folder she was carrying and
handed the plastic transparencies to him.

"What are those?"

"PCR results," she told him, pointing to one of them. "This
one belongs to the man who shot Skinner."  Mulder put the
two sheets together, lining up the matching dots.

"Yeah and who's this one belong to?" he asked innocently.

Scully hesitated, almost not believing the information she
was about to share.  "The man who shot Melissa..."  Mulder's
mouth dropped open, now knowing what Scully had already
figured out.  Someone in the FBI saw to it that the
investigation into Scully's sister's shooting was being shut
down not due to lack of evidence, but because someone didn't
want the killer caught.

"Oh, Scully..." he sighed, reaching for her hand.

She let go of his grasp as she stood, her hands on her hips.
"What is this convoluted crap, Mulder?  Who in the hell is
wanting Missy's case to go away enough to try to murder
someone else?  And an FBI Assistant Director, no less?"

"I don't know, Scully.  But we'll find out," he told her,
Scully pacing next to his bed.  "C'mere."  She sat next to
him on the bed, glancing toward the door before taking his
hand in hers.  "Help me get out of here and we'll find out
who did this.  I promise."

"You need to rest some, Mulder.  And they need to observe
you for a while because of your head injury.  I'll go check
on Skinner and come back by.  Maybe you'll be ready to leave
by then," she told him, squeezing his hand, before she
started to stand.  But he held onto her, not letting her go.

"Promise me that's all you're going to do," he said, worried
that she was just upset enough to do something she might
regret.

"I won't do anything stupid.  We don't need to call any more
attention to ourselves."

When she had gone to check on Skinner, he had told her that
the man who shot him was also the one with Krycek when they
had attacked him and taken the digital tape from him.
Scully realized then that not only was Krycek involved in
the case she and Mulder had been investigating in
California, but was also involved in killing her sister.
Her inner turmoil must have been more outwardly apparent
than she wanted it to be because Skinner warned her against
acting on her emotions as well.  That wasn't something she
generally had a problem with and she realized she needed to
regroup before she did something irrational.

Scully sprung Mulder from the hospital and took him to her
apartment. The next day, she had gone into work and Mulder
had gone to elicit the Gunmen's help, both of them gathering
helpful information.  The FBI had identified the man who
matched the DNA, the picture of the man who most likely
killed her sister sending chills down her spine.  She was
informed, however, that he was an illegal alien and would
probably be next to impossible to find.

Mulder got information that Skinner may be in danger and
Scully went to the hospital to check on him, finding him
gone from his room when she arrived.  The staff told her he
had just left to be transferred and she was relieved when
she was able to catch up to the ambulance.  "I just wanted
to make sure you got where you were going safely," she told
Skinner, taking a seat in the back of the ambulance next to
him.  They rode only to the next traffic light before she
felt the ambulance shake and knew that someone was either on
the top or the back bumper.  She drew her gun before she
opened the door, but then it opened before she had a chance,
a man standing there holding a gun.  He fired at her before
running away into the traffic.  She took chase and luckily,
he was hit by a car which allowed her to gain ground on him,
finally catching up to the man when he fell.

"Federal agent.  Stop right there!" she yelled at him,
pointing her gun at him as he lay on the pavement
helplessly.  "Are you Luis Cardinal?! Are you Luis
Cardinal?!!"

"Please," the man begged.

"Are you the man who shot my sister?!" she screamed at him,
moving around him to keep him off guard.

"Don't kill me, please," the man begged cowardly.

"You shot my sister!" she yelled, wanting to shoot him so
badly her hands were shaking.

"Please, I can tell you."

"Tell me!"

"I can tell you."

"Tell me!!" she demanded, screaming at him.

"I can tell you what you want; you want Krycek, I can tell
you where he is.  Please, please don't shoot me," he begged,
watching her every move, realizing that she was angry enough
to kill him.  And she was.  She knew she could kill him and
tell a story that would make it look like self-defense.  He
had killed her sister.  Her thoughts were broken by the
sound of wailing sirens, several black and white units
pulling up at the same time.

Scully let the local DC officers take him away, still in a
state of stunned silence that she had actually caught the
man who had taken Missy's life.  She quietly gathered
herself, on the verge of tears, but not wanting the other
officers or Cardinal to see her break down.  But what
bothered her the most, was that she had seriously considered
shooting the man in cold blood.

She went to the local PD to follow up on Cardinal's arrest,
getting information from him on Krycek's location and making
sure he was transferred into federal custody.  She checked
to see that Skinner had been transferred safely and then
called Mulder, needing to talk to him as badly as she ever
had.

"Yeah, Mulder," he answered the chirp of his cell phone.

"Mulder it's me, where are you?"

"At the airport in New York."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for my rental car agreement."

"What are you doing in New York?"

"I'll tell you when I see you."

"Mulder, your instincts were right about Skinner. We've just
arrested a man for what looks like attempted murder," she
told him, the beginnings of a headache stirring just behind
her forehead.

"Who?"

"It's him Mulder, the man who shot my sister," she told him,
trying not to cry.

"Oh, Scully..." he said sympathetically, knowing she was
going through something terrible and he wasn't there to be
with her.

"Mulder listen to me.  He said he knows where Krycek is. I
don't know if this makes any sense to you, but he says he's
headed towards an abandoned missile site somewhere in North
Dakota," she told him, hoping he'd know something about it.

And he did, knowing there had been rumors that those old
missile sites weren't as abandoned as the government wanted
people to think.  "I want you to meet me at the DC airport
in an hour. I want you to get two tickets on the first
flight for North Dakota," he told her calmly.

"What's in North Dakota?"

"The salvaged UFO," he told her.

"Goddamnit, Mulder.  I don't give one fuck about some UFO.
I want to find Krycek and make him pay for what he did to
me, to my sister!" she told him, angry and frustrated.

"If you'd calm down..." he told her, rarely hearing her so
angry and upset.  "I think that may be where Krycek is.  I
think the people who are behind this whole mess may be
working out of that area.  At least since they pulled the
UFO off the floor of the Pacific Ocean.  You know, the one
you think was a P-51?"

"Mulder, so help me, if you don't really believe that and
are using this as an excuse to look for some goddamned UFO,
I will...  I don't know what I'll do, but you won't like
it," she told him, her breath billowing in cold clouds in
front of her.

Mulder had to smile to himself knowing, too, she'd come up
with something.  "I give you my word, Scully."

And Mulder had been right.  They knew Krycek had been taken
to the missile silos by the smoking man along with the
downed craft, whatever it was, and taking the radiation
along with it.  Being taken away by the Cigarette Smoking
Man's henchmen was a tough pill for them to swallow, but at
least they knew they had discovered something they weren't
supposed to find.  And, at least, they had one of the men
who had killed Missy.

When they returned to DC and filed their report, Scully had
gone home from work early, Mulder planning finishing up on
everything.  That is until he got a visit in his office from
Skinner and realized he needed to tell Scully the news he'd
just learned.  He went to her apartment, but only found a
note.  "I'll be back in time for dinner.  I love you, S"

Mulder wasn't sure where she'd gone, but he had an idea and
decided to follow her there, not wanting to wait until she
returned home to see her.  Scully had only been at Melissa's
grave a few minutes when she saw a car arrive, recognizing
it as Mulder's lease.  She wasn't all that surprised to see
him, considering his uncanny sense of knowing when she
needed him.  He walked up to where she was standing next to
Melissa's headstone, rubbing his hand across her shoulders
before bending to lay some flowers next to the ones Scully
had laid down.  They stood there in silence for several
moments, Mulder waiting for her to speak first.

"I was just thinking about something that a man said to me,"
she began, thinking before continuing. "That the... that the
dead speak to us from beyond the grave, that that's what
conscience is."

Mulder watched her, her pain obvious.  He didn't want to say
the wrong thing.  "That's interesting, I never thought of it
that way."

"You know I thought... when we found him, this man that
killed Melissa, that... that when we brought him to justice,
I would feel some kind of closure," she admitted, her
fatigue and grief pouring out of her.  "But the truth is no
court... no punishment... is ever enough."

He watched her fight tears, wanting just to take her home,
but needing to tell her what he knew she needed to know.  "I
came here to tell you something, Scully," he said, taking
her by the elbow and leading her toward his car.  She looked
at him and could tell by the tone of his voice that it was
something serious.  "There may be some justice, just not the
kind you're looking for."

"What are you talking about?"

"They found this man, Luis Cardinal, dead in his cell," he
told her, stopping to give her his direct attention.

"How?" she asked, swallowing her tears.

"They made it look like a suicide. The men he worked for
couldn't take the chance that he'd point his finger at
them."

"And what about Krycek?"

"Oh he was there. I know that."

She shook her head, still in disbelief that she would not be
able to witness Luis Cardinal brought to justice.  "You
think they got to him too?"

"I don't know, but if they haven't they will. I doubt it'll
weigh on their consciences though," he said disgustedly.

"I think the dead are speaking to us Mulder, demanding
justice," she said.  His heart was breaking as he watched
her, knowing her grief was about to overwhelm her.  "Maybe
that man was right. Maybe we bury the dead alive."  He
looked at her a few moments before gathering her against his
wool coat, wrapping his arms around her.

"Let's go home..."

FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
ARLINGTON, VA
Later that evening

"I forgot all about your dog," he told her after she'd hung
up from her mother, hearing her ask about the mutt.

"I'm sure you did," she smiled.  "Mom's had him for a couple
of weeks... since we've been out of town so much lately."
He busied himself cleaning up after their pizza and grabbed
a beer before heading into the living room.

"Want one?" he asked her.

"Better not," she said, feeling depressed enough.

They settled on the couch, Mulder sitting up with his feet
on the coffee table, Scully lying down on her side with her
head on his lap.  Mulder found 'Three Days of the Condor'
showing on TBS and tossed the remote to the coffee table.
His fingers subconsciously made small patterns on her arm as
he watched the movie, one of his favorites.

"Mulder, can we watch something with a little less of a
conspiratorial theme?" she said tiredly.

"Sure, you choose," he said, reaching for the remote and
handing it to her.  She took the remote and flipped channels
until she landed on the Oxygen channel and some banal self-
help discussion program.

Mulder let it sit for a few minutes until he could stand it
no longer.  "You're kidding, right?"  He heard her laugh,
realizing she had been teasing him.

"I wondered how long it would take you to say something,"
she said, turning to her back to look up at him with a
mischievous smile.

"I was trying to be nice," he said, his hand resting on her
stomach.

"Come here," she said, reaching up to guide his lips to
hers.  "Thank you for finding me this afternoon.  I really
didn't want to be alone."

"If you would've called me, I would've gone with you and you
wouldn't have had to be alone."

"I know...  I guess I thought I wanted some time to
myself... until you found me."  She sat up, snuggling into
his side, wrapping her hand around his thigh.  "I'm still
getting used to letting myself need you."

Mulder smiled, bending to give her a soft kiss.  "How about
we watch TV in bed?"

"You know I hate to have the TV on in the bedroom."

"Well, you're about to fall asleep right here, so what's the
difference?  I can watch it out here with you asleep or I
can watch it in the bedroom with you asleep and we can be
comfy AND naked," he grinned at her.

Scully chuckled, realizing he was right.  "Come on," she
said, standing, holding her hand out for him.

"Wow, it isn't often I win a disagreement using
rationalization and logic with you," he smiled as he stood.

"Very lame logic, I might add...  And if I wasn't so tired,
you wouldn't have stood a chance," she replied drolly.  But
she was smiling.

FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
One week later
Things had been fairly routine around the office, Scully
suspecting Mulder was deliberately staying away from X-Files
just so they didn't have to be gone on any long trips for a
few days.  He and Scully had been to her counselor again and
the session had been rough on her, her emotions still on
edge since the death of her sister's killer.  She also
figured Mulder agreed to take their next case only because
it was close to home and they could sleep in the same bed
each night.  But a man named Robert Patrick Modell had
almost gotten the best of Mulder.

Scully had been waiting in the basement office for Mulder
for almost an hour and was beginning to worry about him.
She was afraid he was going to do something irrational;
Modell was getting to him.  She didn't want to call around
Hoover like a nagging mother trying to find him, but she had
finally gone to Skinner's office to see if he was there.
Luckily, Mulder had asked Kim to reserve some time for him
at the firing range, so Scully headed after him.

When she entered the sound proof room, she stood at the door
a few moments, watching Mulder empty his clip almost dead
center into a small 'Q' forty feet away.  She was almost
stepping on him before he noticed her, removing his ear
protectors when she walked up to him.  She could tell by the
way he stood, by the way he was chewing the hell out of his
gum, that he was still keyed up from the interchange he had
with Modell at his hearing.  And he was still pissed as hell
that Modell had walked.

"I dug up a few more things on our Robert Patrick Modell,"
she told him, opening the file she'd brought with her.

"Let me guess. He was an average student, he attended an
average community college, he did an average stint in the
military."

"Which branch of service?" she toyed with him.

"Not his first choice. He wanted to be a Navy Seal and then
he wanted to be an Army Special Forces Green Beret. Promptly
washed out of both, though not for lack of intelligence. He
ended up being a supply clerk at Fort Bragg. Served two
years, general discharge," he told her, his profiling skills
impressing Scully.

But she could tell that she had something that he hadn't
figured out.  "Did you know that he applied to the F.B.I.?
He didn't even come close to passing the psyche screening."

"You got a copy of that?" Mulder said, his eyebrows arching
in surprise.

She shared the psyche review with him, telling him what it
essentially said and the screener's assessment as well.
"The screener caught him in a dozen self-aggrandizing
lies... saying that he was a master of martial arts, that he
had been trained by Gurkhas in Nepal and Ninjas in Japan."

"Well, Ninjas are said to have the ability to cloud the
minds of their opponents," Mulder said, trying to figure out
just how Modell was mentally controlling people.

"Are we talking kung-fu movies, Mulder?" she said almost
mockingly, tiring of Mulder's efforts to find an excuse for
Modell getting the best of them.

"He certainly clouded the mind of that judge, Scully."

"Even if Modell could, he didn't need to. We barely had a
case against him."

"Oh, we had enough to get past a simple preliminary
hearing," he said, tiring of her not seeing what he thought
was obvious.  "Modell psyched the guy out. He put the whammy
on him."

"Please explain to me the scientific nature of the
'whammy'," she countered, barely believing he'd just said
what he did.

Mulder seemed to be scrambling to counter her arguments,
realizing he wasn't doing a very good job of it.  "I don't
know, maybe, maybe it's some mental aspect of some eastern
martial art. You know, the temporary suppression of the
brain's chemistry, produced by a specific timbre or cadence
in Modell's voice. His voice seems to be the key."

Scully calmed her sarcasm a bit, knowing that, ultimately,
Mulder was just trying to figure out a way to stop Modell's
ability to get people to kill themselves, seemingly at will.
"Mulder, Modell's last known employment was as a convenience
store clerk. He has never been trained by Ninjas. He has
never even been out of the U.S.  He is just a little man who
wishes that he were someone big... and, and, we're feeding
that wish. That, that failed psyche screening... if, if
Modell could actually control people's minds, right now,
he'd be an F.B.I. agent, right? He'd be a Green Beret, uh, a
Navy Seal."

"Maybe the ability came to him more recently, like in the
last two years," Mulder said, still not letting go.  Scully
couldn't believe he was still grasping for straws.  "Well,
o, o, okay. What's your big theory? How do you explain what
Agent Collins did? I mean, this was a sane man, a family man
with no prior history of psychological problems, sets
himself on fire. You witnessed that. How does that happen?"

"What do you need me to say, Mulder?  That I believe that
Modell is guilty of murder? I do," she told him, wanting him
to understand that she didn't believe Mulder was totally
wrong about him.  She just didn't agree with his reasons.
"I'm just looking for an explanation a little more mundane
than 'the whammy'."

"Well, he's laughing at us, Scully," he said, still chewing
the hell out of his gum.

"Is that what this is about?  A battle of wits?" she asked,
now thinking that Mulder was just being childish, macho, she
wasn't sure.  "When you get into a battle of wits with a
sociopathic convenience store clerk, what does that say
about you?"

"Is that what you think this is?  A simple pissing contest
between me and our suspect?" he asked, almost stunned that
that was what she seemed to be insinuating.

Scully stepped closer to him, glancing back at the door
before taking hold of his hand.  "No, Mulder.  You want to
stop a killer the same as I do," she told him sincerely.
"But you are scaring me."

"Scaring you?" he asked in disbelief.

"I'm afraid you are losing your objectivity and I'm afraid
you are going to get hurt because of it," she admitted to
him.

Mulder realized now why she was trying so hard to get him to
listen to her point and to downplay his theories.  She was
afraid he would challenge Modell and come up on the short
end.  "Scully..." he began, squeezing her hand.  "I'm not
going to do anything stupid."

"I'm sure Agent Collins didn't think he would've done
anything so stupid as to set himself on fire either," she
told him, putting her ear protectors back on and loading a
target of her own, her way of telling him she had made her
point.  He gave her one last look before he left the room.

Continued in Pt. 8

TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-8
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17

FAIRFAX MERCY HOSPITAL
FAIRFAX, VA
They had tracked Modell to the hospital where he was being
examined for a brain tumor, something that definitely
could've caused him to have psychic ability, Mulder
discovered.  A SWAT team, more FBI agents than at J. Edgar's
funeral and more local PD than anyone knew Fairfax had had
the hospital surrounded, trying to decide how best to trap
Modell.  He'd killed a couple of more people, including
Frank Burst who had brought the case to them in the first
place, so everyone was ready to put a stop to Modell's game.

"How do you want to play this?" the SWAT Lieutenant asked
Mulder and Scully, knowing they were in charge.  They were
stationed in a surveillance van, the hospital surrounded by
more police personnel than a terrorist training camp
warranted.

"I think I should go in alone," Mulder spoke immediately.

"Why?" Scully questioned just as quickly.

Even the SWAT Lieutenant wondered why the hell Mulder would
want to face Modell alone.  "My team could flush him out."

"What if Modell turns one of your men against the others...
in a crowded hospital? I think we should give him what he
wants," Mulder said, making his point clear.

"You," Scully said, hoping the others couldn't see how
afraid she was.  She didn't look at Mulder, knowing he would
catch it.  But she knew he was right.  His plan was the best
way.

The SWAT Lieutenant got Mulder wired and miked with a camera
attached to his headphones and a bullet-proof vest that held
the battery packs.  They checked the equipment and a clear
picture showed up on the video monitor.

"Think I can get the Playboy channel?" Mulder tried to joke,
but Scully couldn't find humor in anything that was going
on, unable to do much more than sit there and watch
everything happen.  Mulder turned to look at Scully, her
face appearing on the monitor and her expression told him
everything.  "Smile, Scully," Mulder tried to ease her
seriousness.  But she just stared at him.  He kneeled in
front of her, laying his gun in her hands.

She looked shocked, despondent almost, unbelieving that he
wanted to face Modell without being armed.  "Take it."

"No. I wouldn't want to end up pointing it at anybody except
Modell," he told her, never taking his eyes from hers.  She
looked as worried as he'd ever seen her and he couldn't
believe it when she placed her hand over his, everyone in
the surveillance van seeing it.  Their eyes didn't waver,
both wondering if they'd ever see each other again.  "Let's
get this show on the road."

Mulder made his way through the hospital, trying to locate
Modell, Scully and the SWAT Lieutenant watching his every
move on the monitor, Scully talking him through it, hoping
her voice would keep him focused.  But it was Modell who
found Mulder, pointing a gun at him, then the picture going
black.  "Mulder!  God!" Scully gasped, pulling off her
headset and rushing out of the van toward the hospital.
Once she got inside, she was outfitted with a bullet-proof
vest and went to locate Mulder, not giving any of the
officers room to talk her out of it.

As Scully handed her service weapon to the SWAT Lieutenant,
the whole scene would've been humorous if it weren't so
serious.  The hall was full of SWAT Team personnel, big men
outfitted with helmets, goggles, bullet proof protectors and
the best in automatic weapons standing by while an unarmed
5' 2" woman in heels went after the bad guy.  They were all
admiring her balls.

She located the room Mulder and Modell were in, slowly
opening the door and taking in the scene before speaking.
The two were sitting opposite each other at a small table, a
pistol lying on the surface between them.  "Mulder..." she
said softly, but neither of them moving their eyes from
where they stared at each other.

"Thanks for joining us," Modell spoke, still not taking his
eyes from Mulder.

"We've got a dozen law enforcement officers outside in the
hall... another thirty in the parking lot," Scully told
Modell calmly.

"Regular convention," Model quipped, Mulder still staring at
him.

"So whatever you've got planned, it's not going to work out
the way you it want to," she told him, hoping he would
realize his situation was hopeless.

"You don't know what I got planned," Modell said, his mood
angrier as he continued to stare at Mulder.

Scully kept her eye on the gun, then glancing at Mulder's
expressionless face, as she slowly sat down in the other
chair at the table.  She felt helpless when Modell suddenly
picked up the gun and checked the chamber, mumbling some
crap about Japanese Budo and fighting to the death.  She
looked at Mulder, perspiration dripping down his face,
remembering the last time she'd seen him like that-- above
her with a look of pure love in his eyes.  Now, they were a
blank stare.

"I'm going to give you... one pull of the trigger against
me," Modell told Mulder, Scully's eyes wide with fear.

Mulder lifted the gun, almost nonchalantly, aiming it at
Modell.  Scully couldn't stay quiet any longer.  "Wait.
Mulder, look... there's pure oxygen in this room," she
warned, but he pulled the trigger without even flinching.
The lone bullet in the gun wasn't in that chamber, the gun
just clicking like a toy.  Scully wished the gun would've
fired; then everything would've been over.

"Piece of cake. Your turn," Modell smiled, but the expelling
of the breath he had been holding betrayed his real fear.

"Mulder, no," Scully said, wanting him to look at her.

"Mulder, yes," Modell said, mocking her.  "Go."

Scully's eyes filled with tears, scared to death that she
was going to sit there and watch Mulder shoot himself.
"Mulder, listen to me. Give me the gun," she tried, her
voice shaking with fear.  "We can stop this thing right now.
You and I can walk outside of this room..."

Mulder cringed and jerked the barrel to his head, pulling
the trigger in one quick, fluid motion.  Even as Scully
heard only another benign click, she jumped up, pounding the
table with both hands, glaring at Modell.  "No!  Damn you!,"
she yelled.  "You bastard!!"  She turned to Mulder, reaching
to grab his arm that held the gun.  "Mulder, hand me the
g..."  But Mulder grabbed her arm, then aimed the gun at
Modell, but only for a few seconds.  Then Mulder slowly
moved the gun toward Scully, pointing it at her shocked
expression.  "Mulder, you don't have to do this. You're
stronger than this."

"Your turn, Scully. Got to play by the rules. Pull the
trigger, Mulder," Modell mocked, seemingly enjoying the
scene as it was playing out in front him.

"Mulder, fight him. You can fight this," she said, knowing
her partner was stronger than Modell could ever be.  But
when he continued to point the gun at her, she could no
longer hold back the tears.

"I'm going to kill you, Modell," Mulder was able to say, but
still, could not point the gun away from Scully.  Scully
slowly began to back out of the room, heading for the fire
alarm on the wall.  "Scully, run!" Mulder told her,
mustering the strength to warn her, but still unable to
point the gun away from her, the weapon shaking he was
trying so hard not to fire.  "Scully..."

Scully stared at him, then ran out into the hall and pulled
the fire alarm, the sound breaking Modell's concentration on
Mulder which broke his 'spell', Mulder then pointing the gun
at Modell and firing, shooting him in the head.  Mulder
stood, tipping over the table and dry-firing at Modell as he
lay on the floor, even though he knew the chamber was empty.
Scully turned her eyes away, unable to watch Mulder any
longer.  The SWAT team swarmed the room, the officers
descending on Modell.

Mulder fell into a chair, the reality of the entire
situation crashing down upon him.  Scully moved closer,
Mulder noticing out of the corner of his eye, handing her
the gun.  He put his elbows on his knees, his face in his
hands overwrought with what he'd almost done to his partner,
his lover.  As Modell was lifted onto a gurney and other
medical personnel attended to the patient whose room they
were all in, Scully leaned against Mulder where he sat, his
arms going around her hips as she pressed him against her
abdomen.  And she paid no attention as the others in the
room watched her lay her head atop his as she cradled him
with a loving embrace.

They went back by the hospital later so that Mulder could
reassure himself that Modell was indeed comatose and would
never do to anyone else what he'd done to him... and Scully.
"There's no telling how long he'll hang on, but he'll never
regain consciousness," Scully said when she walked into
Modell's room, having been down the hall checking his status
with the nursing staff.

"You know, we thought he was undergoing treatment. We were
wrong," Mulder told her.  His sadness was still so present
in his expression, in the tone of his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Read his chart. The M.R.I.'s were a way to gauge how much
life he had left, but he consistently refused treatment. The
tumor remained operable right up until the end, but he
refused to have it removed."

"Why?"

"I think it was like you said. He was always such a...
little man. This was finally something that made him feel
big," he said sorrowfully.  Scully slipped her hand in his
and felt him take it, giving her a squeeze.

"I say we don't let him take up another minute of our time,"
she told him softly, slowly walking out of Modell's room.
Mulder joined her in the hall, taking hold of Scully's hand
again as they walked toward the elevator.

"Mulder..." she warned, knowing they shouldn't be seen doing
that in public and tried to move her hand out of his.  But
he held on.  And then she let him.

After they had gotten in the car, Mulder reached to start
the ignition, but she stopped him.  He looked at her,
puzzled.  "Mulder, I want us to put this case behind us,"
she told him, laying her hand on his arm.

"Easier said than done," he replied, unable to look at her.
"I almost killed you..."

"Look at me," she said and he slowly complied.  "MODELL
almost killed me... and you.  It was because of you that he
didn't."

"That's the way you see it?" he asked, searching her eyes
for the truth.

"HE was the murderer, Mulder.  No one else.  You have to put
this behind you or you are going to let it eat you alive,"
she told him gently.

Mulder looked at her, thinking whether or not he really
wanted to ask her his next question, but he needed to know.
"I need to ask you one question, Scully."

"Okay..."

"Did you believe that I was going to shoot you?  I need the
truth, Scully," he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Never for a second."

"But I could see how afraid you were."

"I was only afraid for you.  Only for you," she said,
leaning into him, her arms going around his neck.  When she
withdrew, she squeezed his hand before moving back into her
seat, fastening her seatbelt.  Mulder started the ignition,
checking for traffic before pulling away from the curb,
driving away back to their lives.

SAN FRANCISCO, CA
Three weeks later
After the Modell case, they had spent days undergoing
questioning by OPR, Mulder's shooting of Modell being ruled
'self-defense' in an odd sort of way and he had been cleared
to return to duty.  They had gone on a strange case in
Boston that involved an Ecuadorian Amaru and lots and lots
of rats.  And cats, much to Scully's chagrin since she was
allergic to them.  Then they had gone to San Francisco to
investigate a strange case that uncovered a secret game that
involved the selling of body parts for profit.  Disgusting
and incredibly sad and too easily solved to be much of an X-
File by Scully's estimation.

"Mulder..." she began.  "How was this case an X-File?"  They
were holding hands, walking amongst all the shops on Pier 39
at Fisherman's Wharf.

"Well, it had some... mysteries to it," he smiled to her.
"Particularly what the meat was we had in that Chinese lunch
we just ate."

"Cut the crap," she smiled back.

Mulder squeezed her hand and bent to give her a quick kiss
as the Bay breeze mussed his hair and blew the tail of his
jacket.  "We're in San Francisco, one of the most beautiful
cities in the world.  We have a room at a beautiful hotel
literally on the Bay and we have the next four days off," he
smiled to her.  "Now, are you still questioning why I took
this case?"

Scully stopped walking and looked up at him, pushing her
windswept hair out of her face with her hand.  "You civil
servant, you," she laughed, standing on her toes to give him
a kiss.  She intended it to be a quick peck, but he wrapped
his arms around her and lifted her off her feet while he
practically devoured her.  Finally, he put her down, smiling
down at her like a mischievous child.  She thought how good
it was to see him relaxed and in a fun mood.  The Modell
case had taken a toll on him but the passage of some time
had made things better and they were, hopefully, moving on.

They walked for a long time, pointing out this or that of
interest to each other, finally ending up in Sausalito in a
quaint little restaurant Mulder knew of for dinner.  "So,
how did you know about this place?  It's wonderful," she
told him, taking a spoonful of her asparagus bisque.

"I spent some time here one summer, before I left for
England," he told her and she could tell by the expression
on his face there was a story behind that.

"Why did an eighteen year old kid spend a summer in San
Francisco?" she asked, her curiosity peaked.

Mulder took a drink of his wine, wiping his mouth with the
linen napkin before speaking.  His actions gave Scully the
feeling he was preparing to tell her something fairly
unpleasant.  "Actually, I was seventeen," he smiled, then
beginning his story.  "My parents were at each others'
throats... constantly, it seemed.  My dad would disappear
for days on end, which while he was gone, things would be
quiet, too much so, actually.  But then when he would
return, my mother would just be insane."

"Did..., do you think he was having an affair or something?"

"Or something, yeah.  At the time I didn't form a theory,
really.  But I know my mother thought he was," he said,
pausing to take a bite of his food.

"But now?"

"But now, I think it was something to do with his work, with
Sam," he confessed.

"Oh, Mulder," she sighed, knowing that memories of much of
his youth were incredibly painful for him.

Mulder nodded, but then going on.  "I think that might be
why my father would be so passive when Mom would become so
enraged.  Having her thinking he was having an affair was
much better than her knowing what he was actually doing," he
said, trying to smile.

"You don't know for sure what his work was, Mulder," she
tried to console, not wanting him to have only bad memories
of his father.

"No, I don't.  But do you actually think he wasn't involved
somehow in the disappearance of my sister?  Truthfully?" he
asked.

Scully thought for a moment, not wanting to hurt Mulder, but
knowing she needed to be honest.  "No," she said plainly
before continuing.  "But that doesn't mean it's a fact.  You
know, I heard a saying once, um, something like, 'It's not
what we don't know that gets us into trouble.  It's what we
know for sure that just isn't so'," she told him.

"Yeah, Mark Twain.  So you think there's a possibility my
father wasn't part of everything we found in the files in
that mountain vault?" he asked skeptically.

"There's always hope," she smiled, touching his hand across
the table.  He couldn't help returning her optimistic smile.
They continued to eat, the food delicious and the view of
the bay at night gorgeous.  "So, you didn't finish your
story about spending a summer here."

"Oh.  Yeah.  Well, since my parents were so busy sparring,
I'm still not sure they even noticed I was gone," he began,
garnering a chuckle from Scully.  "One of my best friends
throughout high school moved close to here only a few months
before graduation.  His dad was Air Force and he got
stationed at Hamilton in Novato, so I spent the summer with
them."

"So, you had a taste of what it was like to live in a
military household," she smiled at him, interested to hear
his impressions of how she had lived her entire youth.

Mulder hesitated, knowing Scully had drawn conclusions that
weren't exactly true.  "Well, we weren't exactly in the
household..." he began, the smirk on his face telling Scully
he had more to say.

"I can't wait to hear why," she smiled to him.

"Well, I told my parents I was staying with Keith and well,
he told his parents he was staying with me," Mulder smiled,
Scully laughing out loud.

"Oh, my god.  I'm not sure I want to hear what high
schoolers did on their own in a city like this one," she
continued to chuckle.

Mulder smiled, shaking his head, his mind spinning wondering
which story he was going to tell her first.  "We smoked more
pot, drank more wine and, how should I say this, sampled
more of the local population than we should have," he
laughed.

"Where did you actually live?" Scully asked, her curiosity
peaked.

"We camped on the beach..., lived in a concession stand at
San Francisco State Park...  But mostly, we crashed at this
chick, um, girl's house in Half Moon Bay, a little town on
the coast."

"Ah... A girlfriend?" she commented.

"Yeah.  Just not mine.  Keith had it bad for her and then
she dumped him.  That's when we ended up in the park,"
Mulder laughed.  "It was 1978, but we kinda lived like it
was '68.  We worked here and there for money, but my parents
usually sent me enough for both of us to manage on.  It
didn't take much."

"Seventy eight?  You should've graduated in '79," she
quickly calculated.

"I graduated early."

"So, you were only sixteen; you wouldn't have turned
seventeen until October," she calculated, her mind spinning
at how quickly he must've grown up after his sister
disappeared.

"I couldn't wait to get out of that fucking house.  I took
every summer class in high school I could to make that
happen," he confided.  It had also given him more reason to
be out of the house to be in school during the summers.
"And that summer was... well, it made me feel, for the first
time in my life since Sam was taken, that it was okay to
have fun, to actually live a life that wasn't soaked with
grief and anger and conflict."

"I'm glad you did it, Mulder.  I wish I would've been a
little more carefree in my youth," she admitted.

"Yeah, as the saying goes, we don't regret the things we
did; we regret the things we didn't do."

"Mark Twain?" she smiled, teasing him.

"No.  Keith Wright."

"So, have you stayed in contact with your friend?" Scully
asked, the busboy taking her empty plate.

"I did for awhile.  But, I haven't heard from him in many
years.  Don't even know where he is, now that I think about
it," he told her, chewing on his thumbnail as he thought.
"Last I heard, he was living in Vancouver working on a
fishing boat or tour boat or slow boat to China or
something."

After their meal, they went back to the Wharf area, near
their hotel, finding a seat at an outdoor cafe'/club, a
blues band playing.  They were a bit overdressed for the
club, their restaurant having a dress code, but no one
seemed to notice.  The ocean breeze was cool, but the club
had heaters placed here and there, so it was comfortable,
perfect actually.  "Great band," Mulder commented, the lead
guitarist reminiscent of Stevie Ray Vaughn.

"Thanks for tonight, Mulder," Scully told him, wishing she'd
been the one to plan something special; she knew Mulder
needed it.

"The night isn't over yet," he grinned, waving his eyebrows
at her.

"Oh, you think not, huh," she smirked.

"Well, that depends on you, I guess," he said, his little
boy pout fully in place.

"If it depends solely on me, then let's get back to our
room," she stood, then bending to whisper in his ear.  "And
our bed," brushing her tongue against the whorl of his ear.
Mulder stood, practically grinning ear to ear when the band
struck the first chord of 'Stairway to Heaven'.

"We've gotta dance first," he said, pulling her to the area
near the band where a group of couples were dancing.

"Stairway to Heaven, Mulder?" she questioned, Mulder almost
pulling her along behind him.  He grabbed her into his arms,
the song not a bad song to dance slowly to, at least in the
beginning.  He bent to kiss her, her hands grabbing onto the
fabric of his jacket.

"This song reminds me so much of the summer I spent here.
You couldn't go into a bar or a coffee house without hearing
this song," he explained as they continued to dance.  She
understood and gave in to his lead, enjoying being held by
him in public, something they didn't dare do back in
Washington or some Podunk town while they were working a
case.  "I don't think we've ever danced together, have we,"
he noted, just realizing it.

"It's nice."

Scully felt good moving with him and the slow motion the
music inspired ratcheted up her arousal with every move
Mulder made.  And Mulder felt the same way, the feminine
smell of her perfume, the way her hips slowly brushed
against him.  "You know, I really love this song," he said
against her ear, "but I think I really love more what is
going to happen once we get back to our room."  He felt
Scully chuckle against him, then she took his hand and
headed out of the place.

THE INN ABOVE TIDE
SAN FRANCISCO, CA

"Mulder, yes, yes, Uh, Uh, Uhhhhohhhhhh," she moaned, his
movements finally sending her flying.  She was on her
stomach, a pillow under her hips.  Mulder was on his knees
behind her, his hips moving against her as fast as he could
move and still hold himself over her back.  She tried to
keep moving with him, feeling another orgasm building in
her, but not sure she had enough energy to work hard enough
to achieve it so quickly after the first one.  She took hold
of Mulder's hand where it pressed into the mattress next to
her and guided it to between her legs and he knew what she
wanted.  He shifted a bit, his hips still pushing hard and
deep, then wriggled his fingers between her body and the
pillow to find her folds.

"Uh, Scully, shit, I'm close," he said, worrying that he was
going to go before she could get off again, knowing that
that was what she wanted.  But he found her clitoris, her
folds wet and slick, and began rubbing as firmly as he could
with his middle finger.

"Harder..." she sighed, her hands clenching the sheets.
Mulder wasn't sure if she wanted him to thrust harder or to
press her clitoris harder, so he did both.

"Scully, Scully...." he groaned before letting go inside
her, his hips shivering with release.  He continued to try
to move in and out of her, but couldn't keep any semblance
of a rhythm going.  Finally, he collapsed against her,
sliding off onto his side, taking her with him, pulling her
back against him.  His penis slipped out, but he somehow
managed to keep his fingers where they were and kept working
on the orgasm they both wanted her to have.

Scully lifted her leg back over his and put her hand over
his between her legs, guiding his fingers to just the right
spot.  "There... Oh, god, right there..." she told him just
as his other hand snaked under her and found her breast,
taking it fully in his hand and firmly squeezing.  "Oh...
Oh, oh, uh, Mulder..."

"Come on, Scully..." he breathed against her ear, his lips
moving to her neck.  "Come on..."

"I'mcloseI'mcloseI'mclose," she said, her words barely
discernable, her face buried in the pillow.  "Uh, uh, uh,
yesssssssssssssssssssssss," she cried out, her second orgasm
hitting hard.  Mulder slipped his fingers inside her, her
flesh squeezing him in pulsing spasms, her liquid coating
most of his hand.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered to her when she'd come
down, lying motionless next to him, her breath still
panting.  After she'd calmed, she adjusted herself to her
back, giving him a soft, lingering kiss.  "Feel good?" he
smiled at her.

"If I felt any better, I'd spontaneously combust," she
deadpanned.

"Now you're talkin'," Mulder teased, watching her as she
took a deep breath, sighing the air back out.  She smiled at
him, knowing he was watching her, then touching his face
with her palm.  He watched her for a several more moments,
brushing a few stray strands of hair from her forehead.  "Do
you know that you fight your orgasms?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, wondering how he
could say that when she'd just had two really, really nice
ones.

"You hold back.  Why don't you just let go?"

Scully thought about it, trying to figure out just what he
had meant.  She knew his question wasn't a complaint or
really even a request for her to do something differently;
he just seemed curious.  "Well... if you are perceiving my
build up to it as 'fighting' it, then I guess it is because
the build up is... somewhat painful, a good painful, but
none the less perceived by the autonomic nervous system as
pain.  So, naturally, the body fights it."

"You can't be serious," he said, incredulous.

"The build-up to your orgasm isn't painful, at least to some
degree?" she asked curiously.

"You can't be serious," he retorted again and she chuckled.
"Anything but."

Scully laughed, closing her eyes as she shook her head.
"Well, you fight it, too, you just don't realize it."

"Not that it doesn't prolong my pleasure, too, but the only
reason I try to delay orgasm is to last longer, to prolong
your pleasure," he smiled.

"You just keep telling yourself that," she chuckled.  "I
can't believe we are talking about this."

"Oh, I don't know, I kinda like it," he grinned at her, then
cradling her cheek as he kissed her.

"Mulder, we never talk about things like this," she smiled
to him.

"And why not?" he asked, suddenly serious.  Scully looked at
him, not exactly sure what to say.

"Well...." she thought.

"Because I'm so good in bed, we don't need to discuss our
sex life?" he smirked.

"Oh, brother," she sighed.

"I'm NOT good in bed?"

At that comment, Scully pushed him to his back and crawled
on top of him, almost in one swift movement.  "You are
wonderful in bed. Wonderful."  Her lips descended on his,
her tongue quickly sliding into his mouth while her fingers
slipped through his hair.  She moved sensually against him
as they continued to kiss, Mulder's hands stroking her just
about everywhere, kneading her bottom.  Finally, when they'd
stopped kissing, Scully propped herself up on his chest to
look down at him, her expression growing into a satisfied
grin.  "You make me happy."

"Did you mean that sexually?" he smiled back.

"No, not specifically.  I simply meant you make me happy."

Mulder kissed her, then tucked her close to his body,
resting his chin on her head where it lay on his chest.
They laid there for several long minutes, Scully almost
asleep when Mulder spoke, "You know what, Scully?"

"Mmm?"

"I think today was the best day of my life..."

WASHINGTON, DC
One week later

They had spent the next four days in San Francisco, eating a
lot of good food, listening to good music and having a lot
of great sex.  They had done a lot of touristy things,
standing in line for over an hour at 'Ghiardelli Square' for
one of their famous sundaes.  Scully complained the next day
she'd gained a pant size, but she brought lots of chocolate
home anyway.  They had gotten fairly drunk one evening at
the 'No Name Bar' in Sausalito and Mulder ate enough
Dungeness crab at a joint in China Town that Scully had to
doctor him through a very upset stomach.  But the time had
been good for them.  They had laughed and loved and
forgotten about the terrible world around them, at least for
four days.

When they had returned to Washington, Mulder had been
contacted by one of Scully's favorite authors, but someone
Mulder thought was a nut.  "Mulder, please talk to the man;
if for no other reason than as a method for me to meet him,"
Scully almost begged him.

"He's a nut, Scully.  I won't give him fodder for a book
that will do nothing but make those of us who believe in
life on other planets look like raving lunatics," he
complained, both of them in Scully's car on their way to
work.

"And your point is...?" she smiled.

"Ha," Mulder frowned back at her, not amused.  "I'll tell
you what, Scully.  You like him so much, you go talk to
him."

And that's how Scully met Jose Chung.  She had enjoyed every
minute with him, his animated demeanor entertaining her the
entire time she talked with him.  And his grandfatherly
little comments and innuendo made her laugh.  "He called me
a 'brainy beauty' and told me I had good taste," she teased
Mulder after she arrived at her apartment the day she met
Mr. Chung.

"And that qualifies you for what?" Mulder snipped, opening
the take out she had set on the counter.

Scully glared at him and his comment, wondering why just the
mention of Mr. Chung made him irritable.  "Maybe if he'd met
you first, he wouldn't have said the thing about taste," she
quipped and Mulder had to smile.  She could tell Mulder
couldn't stand not having input on the man's book, pestering
her all evening about what she had told him and why she
hadn't told him what she didn't.  "When the book comes out,
you can find out for yourself."

The next morning, Mulder had gone into work early, Scully
having an early dental appointment.  But as soon as he'd
gotten into his office, he had a message that Skinner had
called in a homicide.  But after Mulder had arrived at the
crime scene in the Ambassador Hotel, he realized there was
more to it.

"Yeah," Mulder answered his cell.

"Mulder, it's me. I just got your message," Scully said, on
her way into work, the rain so heavy she could barely see.
"You said Skinner called in a homicide?"

"Yeah, it appears to be a little more complicated than that.
It seems like he had a front-row seat," Mulder told her,
watching a detective talking to Skinner.

"I don't understand."

"I don't understand it either. They're not letting me talk
to him. Hold on a second," Mulder told her, Skinner coming
out of his hotel room with the Detective.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Mulder said when Skinner looked like he
was going to walk right past him without a word.

"I appreciate your concern, Agent Mulder, but there's no
need for you to get involved in this," Skinner said, barely
able to make eye contact, seemingly embarrassed.

"Detective?" Mulder called several times before the man
acknowledged him.  "Can you at least tell me what happened?
What does he say happened?"

"Well, he claims he met the victim in the bar downstairs.
After a couple of drinks, they decided to get a room
together, which is all fine except when he wakes up, he
finds her lying next to him with a broken neck," the man
told Mulder, his skepticism in Skinner's story obvious.
"That's all he says he remembers."

"You don't believe him?" Mulder asked, Skinner being taken
away by other officers.

"He refused to take a polygraph test. It's not helping his
credibility," the man said smugly.

Mulder tried to get any information he could on the victim,
find out if there was any evidence of an intruder or if any
of the hotel workers saw anything.  The Detective wasn't all
that forthcoming and grew tired of Mulder's questions.  "I
appreciate that he's a colleague of yours, but I want you to
understand something. He's also a suspect," the man told him
and turned to walk away.

But Mulder didn't give up.  "Detective?" Mulder said,
handing him one of his business cards.  "When you're done
questioning him, I'd appreciate a call."

"All right."

"Get any of that?" Mulder asked Scully, still on the other
end of the phone.

"Most of it. Mulder, I'm on my way."

"No, no, I want you to take a look at that body. Get down to
the Coroner's. I'll meet you there."

Skinner had been charged in the woman's murder, Mulder
working to prove his innocence, Scully hoping against hope
that he was right.  And Mulder had found evidence that it
was likely Skinner had been framed and a sting had been set
up to trap whoever had set Skinner up.  The scheme had
worked, Skinner having been cleared of the charges, but not
before Scully had been knocked out just before the criminal
was shot by Skinner.  She was checked out by the EMT's and
was sent home with nothing any more serious that a nice bump
above her eye.

"How's the eye?" Mulder said when Scully walked into the
kitchen from the bathroom.  After they wrapped everything
up, they had come to Scully's, Mulder ordering in dinner
while she took a shower.  She had made an ice bag and held
it over the left side of her face.

"I think the swelling has stopped," she told him, removing
the bag to show him.

"Shit, Scully.  You're going to have a nice shiner," he told
her, moving over to her to look more closely.  "Your cheek
is swollen, too."

"Gee, thanks for your optimism," she said sarcastically.
"Your comfort makes my headache so much better."

Mulder chuckled, but then leaned down to give her bruise a
soft kiss.  "I'll get you some Tylenol," he told her softly.

"Just took some," she smiled to him, putting the ice bag
back to her face.  "What'd you get?"

"Comfort food.  Teddy brought it by," he told her, Scully
knowing Teddy from 'Green's Grill' a couple of miles away.
"Meatloaf and mashed potatoes."

"You're kidding," she said, knowing Mulder knew she didn't
eat ground beef.

"That's mine.  I got you a Cobb salad," he said, noticing
still a look of disappointment on her face.  He moved to her
and wrapped his arms around her, laying his cheek against
the top of her head.  "A Cobb salad and... his special onion
rings and blueberry cheesecake for dessert.  You need a
treat."

"Thank you," she smiled to him, moving to give him a quick
kiss.  "It's you who should have the treat."

"I'll help you eat it."

"No, I mean it, Mulder.  If you hadn't persevered, I think
Skinner would be going to prison on a murder charge," she
told him sincerely.

"So, you think I used a shovel or a backhoe on this one?" he
smiled as they sat at the table.

"On this one?  I think you used a fork," she told him.
"Really, Mulder.  You should be proud.  You did a good job."
Mulder gave her a soft smile, touched by the sincerity of
her words, but uncomfortable with her praise.

They finished their meal and, later, sat in the living room
with the cheesecake and two forks.  "Mmmmmm, Mulder... This
is abso ute wy scrum ious," she said, her mouth full of
cheesecake and blueberries.

"You are so articulate when you're pigging out," he told
her, reading the paper, catching up on the news.  "You think
you'll feel like going to work tomorrow?"

"I'm fine, but I'm not sure I'm ready for all the stares,
though," she said, touching her black eye, her face tender.
"Hopefully, I can cover it with make-up."  Mulder smiled,
giving her a knowing look and she could tell he had
something on his mind.  "What are you up to?"

"I found a case that warranted a look before Skinner's
situation and I thought maybe we could check it out," he
said mysteriously, not telling her anything further.

"Mulder, we've got our reports to do on Skinner's case and I
wouldn't mind having the weekend at home..."

COUNTY RD 33
RIGDON, GA.
Two days later
So much for the weekend.  Both of them had worked on Friday,
Mulder staying late working on something or other, Scully
wasn't sure or interested enough to stay late with him.  He
hadn't come over after work, calling her briefly telling her
he'd see her tomorrow.  He had been watching a case in
Georgia and early on Saturday morning, he received a call
that another murder had taken place.

"Good morning, sunshine," Mulder called, Scully barely awake
when she answered her phone.

"What do you want at..." Scully glanced at her alarm clock,
"five eleven am, Mulder?"

"Get packed.  I'll be over in five minutes," he told her
excitedly.

"If you are at home, you can't make it in five minutes and
if you are already in your car, you should've called me
earlier," she told him, still barely awake.

"Five minutes," he told her and hung up.

"Uhhhhhhhhh," she groaned out loud, irritated at him for
pulling one of his usual stunts; irritated at herself for
complying.  'Someday, I am not going to go with him.
Someday...' she told herself as she crawled out of bed and
headed for the shower.  So much for the weekend.

Just as their car drove past a large billboard that asked
'What's Older Than The Hills?', Quequeg began to get
restless in the back seat, the sound of his 'yipping' bark
sounding like fingernails on a blackboard to Mulder.
"Nature's calling. I think we should pull over soon," Scully
told him as she watched her dog bouncing around in the back
seat.

"Did you really have to bring that thing?" Mulder
complained, wishing he could pull over and let it out and
then keep on driving.

"You wake me up on a Saturday morning, tell me to be ready
in five minutes, my mother is out of town, all of the dog
sitters are booked, and you know how I feel about kennels.
So unless you want to lose your security deposit on the car,
I suggest you pull over," she smiled at him, getting a
certain amount of pleasure in knowing that she was paying
Mulder back for taking her out of town on the weekend by
bringing her dog along.

"I think I'm lost anyway. I've got to stop and ask for
directions."

"I know I'm lost as to why you're so interested in this
missing person's case," Scully said, looking at the file.

"Dr. Bailey works for the US Forestry Service. That makes
his disappearance a federal case," he answered
non-commitally.

"It's not jurisdiction that I'm questioning, Mulder."

"Dr. Bailey's not the first person to go missing from
Heuvelman's Lake recently. Two weeks ago, a Boy Scout Troop
was out here, fossil hunting... Their troop leader wandered
off to relieve himself, and hasn't been seen or heard from
since," he told her, trying to make his case.

"So you think that there's a serial killer at large?"

"The operative word being 'large'," Mulder answered, a small
smirk on his face.

Scully hesitated, suspicioning she wasn't getting the whole
story, then noticing another billboard, this one asking
'What's Bigger Than the Sky?'. "What are you leaving out?"

"What makes you think I'm leaving anything out?" Mulder
answered a little too innocently.

"Most missing persons cases are not that uncommon, Mulder.
Why this one warrants us flying halfway across the country
and driving for two hours is a total mystery," she said,
becoming a bit frustrated with him.  He glanced away and she
followed his eyes, seeing another sign 'Big Blue. The
Southern Serpent. Spot Him at Heuvelmans Lake.'  "Oh, tell
me you're not serious?" she said and he gave her that little
mischievous smirk that could just make her melt.  But,
sometimes, it could just serve to irritate her.

"It's Georgia's answer to the Loch Ness monster," he smiled.

"As in the one who has never been found or even credibly
photographed?  The one that only crazy people believe
actually exists?  That one, Mulder?" she asked, disbelieving
tha
t he came all that way to look for something named 'Big
Blue'.

"You don't think it sounds interesting?" Mulder asked,
sincerely.

"I think it sounds more like a Sesame Street character.  I
can't believe you dragged me all this way for some silly sea
serpent," she said, shaking her head.  "No, more to the
point, I can't believe that I followed you."  Mulder smiled
at her, his expression teasing her that he knew she'd always
follow him.

Continued in Pt. 9

TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-9
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17


TED'S BAIT AND TACKLE SHOP
HEUVELMANS LAKE
BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS, GA
They passed two nice, clean looking gas stations before
Mulder pulled up in the parking lot of a run down local bait
and tackle.  "Do you always have to pick the rattiest
places?" she asked, unfastening her seatbelt, glancing back
at her anxious dog.

"I always pick the best places for information," he smiled
at her, stepping out of the car, popping his umbrella open.
"And this place looks like it's just teeming with info."

"Teeming with something," she said under her breath, hooking
the leash on Queequeg's collar.  Mulder held the umbrella
over her as they walked across the muddy gravel parking lot.
"If I get mud all over my new suit, you are a dead man,
Mulder."

"I like your new coat. Fits you quite nicely," he smiled
back, wagging his eyebrows at her, trying to keep her happy.
He knew his case was a bit ridiculous, but the thought of a
prehistoric lake monster was more than he could resist.
"Who needs that old Burberry, huh, Scully?"

"Shut up, Mulder," she fired back, but he knew she was just
playing along.  "I can't believe we are actually going in a
place that has a giant blue rubber lizard tied to the roof.
Why are we here?"

"It's been reported for centuries in dozens of countries.
From the monsters in Loch Ness, Nessie, to the Ogopogo in
Lake Okonagan," Mulder started his usual encyclopedic
explanation of the case background.

But she stopped him mid-sentence.  "And Lake Champagne,
Lalavack Iceland..."

"Sounds like you know a little something about the subject."

"I did as a kid. But, then I grew up, and became a
scientist," she said, her expression insinuating he hadn't
grown up or they wouldn't be at Heuvelman's Lake.

"Well some very grown up crypto-zoologist believed it could
be an evolutionary throwback, quite possibly prehistoric,"
he retorted, reading her look accurately.

"An aquatic dinosaur," she said, almost laughing at him.

"A plesiosaur, actually. Though admittedly, there's not a
lot of hard evidence to back that up," he had to confess.

"You know why? Because those creatures don't exist, Mulder,"
she said, becoming exasperated. "They're folk tales born out
of some collective fear of the unknown."

He couldn't help but smile at her predictable skepticism,
but he kept after her.  "Well how many folk tales do you
know that could eat a Boy Scout leader and a biologist?"  He
walked away from her, leaving her standing in the rain as
she rolled her eyes at him.

They found the proprietor, busying himself folding 'Big
Blue' t-shirts.  "Can I help you people?"

"We're looking for the Lake View Cabins. Flipper Road?"
Mulder asked, Scully looking around at all the tacky
souvenirs.

"You passed the turnoff a few miles back. It's uh, pretty
tough to find," he told them in his folksy accent, chomping
his chewing gum.  "Uh, a map might help."  He offered up a
map, Mulder reaching for it.  But Ted pulled it back, "Uh,
they're two-fifty each, plus Uncle Sam."

"Fine," Mulder said, irritated he'd bit the man's bait,
Scully suppressing a laugh.

"If you don't mind my saying, you folks don't look like
you're here for the trout."

"No, we're with the FBI. We're investigating a pair of
missing person's reports," Scully answered, showing the man
her ID.

"Oh, yeah. It's big news around here. Everyone's been
talking about it."

"What are they saying?" Mulder asked.

"The same thing they've been saying for years. Now I'm not
one for spreading rumors, but the truth is, I've heard the
story since I was a kid," Ted told them.

"About Big Blue? What kind of stories?" Mulder asked.

"Well, I was ten years old, fishin' with my daddy, when I
heard a... " the man began, telling a story so tall Scully
could barely contain her laughter.  She watched Mulder,
enthralled by the lame story, wondering at the moment which
one of them was the most gullible.

"That's quite a story," Scully mocked.

"That's just one," Ted said.

"Those stories must sell a lot of T-shirts," Scully added
quickly, hoping to stop the man from telling another one.

"Well, a man's gotta survive," Ted laughed.

"What about you? Do you believe those stories?" Mulder
asked.

"Well, a man's got to look at the evidence, decide for
himself. But if you want to ask a real expert, you should
probably talk to Ansel here," Ted told them, nodding toward
the man who had just entered the store. "He's out there
practically every day." Ted picked up several rolls of film
the man handed him, seemingly used to the man and his
pictures.  "These folks are with the FBI, they've been
looking into that unsolved mystery about how those two
people disappeared."

The man chuckled, trying his best to present him as someone
who knew something no one else knew.  "Unsolved mystery?
Since when is there a mystery?"

"So you think Big Blue's responsible for what's been
happening?" Mulder asked.

"Don't you?" the photographer asked.

"Have you ever actually seen it?" Mulder continued.

"Not directly, no," the man admitted rather sheepishly. "But
I aim to. Someday, I'll be in the right place at the right
time, and I WILL snap a shot of that monster."  Mulder
looked at Scully, nodding like he was buying all of it,
Scully standing there in stunned silence until someone
hurriedly entered the store announcing, "Call the Sheriff.
We got a floater."

They had found half of the Boy Scout leader's body floating
near the dock in front of Ted's Bait Shop, Scully sure it
was a simple boating accident, Mulder just as sure it was
'Big Blue's' latest victim. Scully had gone into town with
the ambulance that came to pick up what remained of the
body, the town small enough that there was no morgue.  She
watched as the local coroner performed a cursory autopsy at
the town's only funeral home, too much predation already
taking place to determine what had initially severed the
man's torso from his legs.  She knew no more after the
autopsy than she did when she found the body floating.

LAKE VIEW CABINS
FLIPPER ROAD
HEUVELMAN'S LAKE
Later that night
Scully had gone back to her cabin frustrated and irritated.
She hoped Queequeg had peed on Mulder's floor while she had
gone to the funeral home and hoped he was as ready to go
home as she was.  But when she had gone to his cabin, he
wasn't there, her dog more than happy to see her.  "C'mom,
Queequeg. We'll get you something good to eat," she cooed at
the animal as she carried it to her cabin.  The night was
chilly, but not cold and the air was fresh and crisp.  She
took the opportunity to take Queequeg for a short walk,
letting him go into the woods only a bit to go to the
bathroom.

After she had changed into her pajamas and had Queequeg on
her bed as she read a bit to make herself sleepy, she
recognized Mulder's soft tap at her door.  "Go away," she
called at the same time she got out of bed and slid her feet
into her slippers.  "What?" she said, opening her door.

"How'd you know it was me?" Mulder said as he stood there
looking at her, Queequeg standing there barking at him.
"What if it was 'Big Blue'?"

"Nonexistent prehistoric sea serpents don't knock," she
deadpanned, going back to her bed, fluffing her pillows
against the headboard, crawling in and leaning against them.
Mulder felt a twinge of jealousy when her dog jumped in
after her and snuggled against her hip, his head in her lap.

"What'd you find at the autopsy?" he asked, tossing his
jacket into a chair next to the one he settled in.

"Not one goddamned thing, Mulder.  What did you expect me to
find?" she said, petting her dog.  "Blue finger prints?"

"Did you find anything unusual?  Were there bite marks or
could you discern if he'd been cut by a propeller?  You
know, facts," he said, getting irritated at her irritation
with him.

"Facts?  Facts?  What about this case has anything to do
with facts?"

"Did you find anything?" he asked, exasperated.

Scully took a deep breath, trying to remember that there
were actually two murders that needed solving.  "No.  There
had been too much predation, most likely by turtles.  We
couldn't make a determination as to the actual cause of...
his dismemberment. But, his body was cut in half prior to
death."

"Thank you," he said, giving her a stiff smile.

"Where've you been?" she asked, since he wasn't in his cabin
earlier.

"I drove into Millikan to find something to eat.  We must've
just missed each other.  I've got some pizza in my cabin.
That is, if you aren't too pissed off to eat," he told her.

She took a deep breath, pulling Queequeg fully into her lap
before she spoke.  "I'm not pissed," she sighed.  "I just
don't understand why you take cases like this, Mulder.  You
have to know this is all a bunch of nonsense."

"Two people are dead, Scully."

"And don't use cheap shots, Mulder.  Of course, I understand
that.  But we should not be running all over the country
investigating garden variety deaths that should be handled
by local police," she started.  "And before you tell me the
locals couldn't solve a game of 'Clue', I realize that.  But
that doesn't change our role."

Mulder sat there, not really knowing what to say in defense
of himself, knowing that she was right.  "But don't you
believe there is a possibility that something like 'Big
Blue' could exist?" he said, his childlike hopefulness
striking a nerve in Scully.

She moved Queequeg from her lap and tossed the covers back
as she got out of bed, slipping on her house shoes.  She
moved over to him and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms
around him as she hugged him to her.  "No.  But I love you
for believing that," she told him, moving back to look him
in the eyes.  "I'm sorry I've been so crabby.  I'll try to
be a little more... accepting."

Mulder smiled at her, knowing she probably wouldn't be, but
loving her for trying to try.  "Pizza here or in my room?"

They had gone to his room to have pizza and Scully ended up
sleeping there with him, Queequeg having his own cabin for
the night.  But just after dawn, there was a knock at his
door, Ansel the photographer telling him Ted was missing.
"Can you and your partner come help?" he asked.

"Yeah, we'll, um, meet you at the bait shop."

Scully had sneaked back to her cabin to dress, Mulder none
too happy when she showed up at their car with Queequeg in
tow.  Ansel had led Mulder down to the lake's shore where
he'd found Ted's hat and several large, creature-like
footprints in the mud.  "Like I said, I recognize his hat."

Mulder picked it up, recognizing the 'Show Us Your Bobbers'
patch on the front.  "How could you not?"

"So Ted's Ford is parked about a half a mile back. Here's
his hat, and here's these tracks. Know what I'm saying? I
mean, look at the size of these tracks," the photographer
said excitedly.

Scully appeared through the tree line near the shore, the
jangling sound of her dog's tags preceding her.  "Mulder?
This is Sheriff Lance Hindt."

"Careful, watch out where you're walking. Watch out...watch
out for those tracks," Mulder told her.

"Queequeg," Scully mildly scolded, her dog tugging on its
leash.

They exchanged a bit of small talk with the Sheriff, seeming
like any other rural local law enforcement.  "I think I can
tell you what's going on. Same thing that goes on every
year. Fishermen get drunk, they drown, men get run over by
power boats. Hell, on a lake this size, you're going to have
eight, nine deaths in a season. That's just a statistical
fact," the Sheriff explained.

"But you've got two or three in as many weeks, I'd say
you're a little outside your bell curve, Sheriff," Mulder
told him.

"Agent Mulder? Mulder, this lake has 48 miles of shoreline.
I got four deputies full time. To close down a lake this
size, hell, you'd have to call out the National Guard
something like that..."

"We'd need irrefutable proof," Scully added, still tugging
at her dog, who seemed determined to get into the woods.

"What about these tracks?" Mulder asked, hoping she'd see
the footprints as actual facts.

"Mulder, a creature as large as the one you're looking for
would have left considerably deeper impressions," Scully
pointed out just as Queequeg gave one good pull on his
leash, getting away from her.  "Queeqeg! Queequeg come back
here! Queequeg!" she called, following the dog into the
woods, noticing what her dog had found.  "Mulder, Sherrif,
come take a look at this."

"What you got?" the Sheriff asked, following her into the
woods.

"There's your lake monster, Mulder," she said, Mulder
immediately seeing an empty boot with a large bottom shaped
like a reptile's clawed foot.

"That's what it looks like," Mulder said, bending to look
closely at it.

"It's all a hoax," Scully said, trying not to be too
gleeful.

"I'll be dammed," the Sheriff said.

Mulder noticed something on the inside of the top of the
rubber boot, touching it with his finger.  "Yeah, but what
happened to the hoaxer?" he asked, holding up his blood
coated finger for Scully and the Sheriff to see.

But just as the three of them believed they'd found clear
evidence of a hoax, two wasted kids witnessed a snorkeler
being pulled through the water by something, with nothing
remaining but the man's head and a lot of blood.  And if
that weren't enough, poor Ansel the photographer was
missing, all of his cameras and equipment found at the
water's edge.  The Sheriff had finally closed the lake,
extra help being brought in to drag the lake and try to get
to the bottom of the deaths.

Early in the evening, Ansel's bloody vest had been found,
but not his body.  Mulder had all of his film developed and
he and Scully were in his cabin going through the
photographs.  "It looks like Ansel took these during the
attack," Mulder said, handing Scully a picture to look at.

"I agree with you, I just wish that he gave us something
more," she told him.

"Oh, look at this.  Could this be a tooth?" he asked
excitedly, wanting so badly to find some proof.

Scully was trying to show interest in his pictures, but
Queequeg was distracting her in addition to the fact that
the photos showed nothing.  "Yeah, it could be a lot of
things, Mulder. Fifteen years of fruitless hunting and the
only thing the guy comes up with is a blurry picture of the
monster's tooth?" she said, looking up at him.

"There's thousands of pictures here, Scully," he told her,
picking up Ansel's bag, pulling out even more pictures.
"There's got to be some visual evidence somewhere. Here, go
through these."

Scully reluctantly took the stack of pictures, skimming
through them.  "Mulder, they're just a bunch of poorly
composed tourist shots.  "There's..."

"That could be something," he said, pointing out a spot on
one of the pictures to her.

"A tooth?" she said to him, Queequeg beginning to whimper
where he stood by the door, wanting out.  "I'm taking
Queequeg for a walk."

"Want me to come with you?" he asked, still shuffling
through Ansel's pictures.

"I'm fine," Scully smiled to him, lifting her jacket to
reveal her gun clipped to the waistband of her slacks.  He
smiled back at her, knowing she could handle herself.  She
hooked the leash to her dog's collar, looking back seeing
Mulder still absorbed in the pictures. "Goodnight, Mulder,"
she said, figuring he'd probably be up most of the night
trying to find some miniscule evidence in the dead
photographer's life's work and she was tired and wanted to
go to bed.

"Goodnight, I'll see you in the morning," he said and she
knew she was right.

She had taken the dog into the lawn near the cabins, the air
cold and damp.  "Come on, Queequeg," she said, tugging
softly on the leash.  "Queequeg, we're not going to go into
the woods. Come on, do your business. I thought you had to
go."  The dog continued to whimper and pull on the leash,
very interested in something in the woods.  "Queequeg, what
is it?" Scully asked, shining her flashlight toward the
woods, wondering what the dog was sensing.  She looked
around a bit, losing her concentration on her pet, the dog
pulling the leash from her hand.  "Queequeg! Where are you
going?"  The dog broke free and ran for the woods, dragging
his leash behind him.  "Queequeg! Come back here!" she
called, following the leash, trying to see in the darkness
with her flashlight.  "Queequeg!" she yelled, following the
plastic handle of the leash, but no longer able to see her
dog.  "Queequeg? Queequeg?" her voice stopped when she
finally reached the handle, pulling her gun when she heard
the dog bark and then whimper.  Then the dog went silent and
the line went limp in her hand, winding itself back into the
handle and, to Scully's horror, with only Queequeg's ragged
collar and tag on the end.

Scully ran like hell back to Mulder's cabin, pounding on the
door, "Mulder!  Mulder, let me in!"

He opened the door and she ran in, practically shoving him
out of the way so that she could close the door and lock it.
"What's the matter?" he asked, then noticing the empty leash
in her hand.  "Where's Queequeg?"  Scully leaned over, her
hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath, winded
from her run and her fear.  "Scully?"

"It's... It's Queequeg..." she started, falling into a
chair.  "I think something got him."

"What do you mean?" he asked, standing next to her.  She
handed the leash to him and he examined the torn collar,
seeing blood on the underside.

"He got away from me... into the woods.  I heard him cry out
and... well, you can see for yourself," she said, looking at
the collar she remembered buying for him.

"What do you think it was?" he asked carefully, sitting at
the chair at the small table.

"I don't know, but if you say it was 'Big Blue', I'm going
to slap you," she said, her voice starting to quaver.  Both
of them sat there for several long minutes, it finally
soaking in to Scully that her dog was dead, Mulder afraid to
say much of anything.  He worked on studying the information
he had about the lake, the locations of the sightings, of
the deaths.  He glanced over at her now and then, seeing
that she was still upset, sitting there in a distressed
silence.

Finally, he decided he'd better say something.  "I'm sorry
about Queequeg," he said softly, hoping he hadn't said the
wrong thing.  Even though he didn't like her dog, he didn't
want her to have to go through losing it, especially in such
a brutal way.  "You know, I think I've learned something
from these photos."

"Mulder..." she sighed, not really wanting to hear about his
damned photos at the moment.

"They're not pictures of the lake monster, they're pictures
of the lake," he said, going over to where she was sitting,
showing her the map he'd been working on. "Locations where
the fish has been sighted over the past several years.
Look, five years ago, all the sightings occurred in the
center of the lake. But progressively the sightings have
moved closer and closer to shore, until this year, they're
practically on the shore."

"Could you repeat the last part again? I kind of faded out,"
she said, barely able to pay attention.

"Which part?" he asked.

She hesitated a moment, then looked at him sadly.  "After
you said 'I'm sorry'?"

Mulder just nodded, knowing she wasn't going to hear much of
what he'd said.  "Can you drive a boat?"

STRIKER'S COVE
HEUVELMEN'S LAKE
One hour later
They had used their FBI credentials to rouse the owner of
the boat rental place, the man not used to letting boats go
out in the middle of the night.  Scully showed adept skill
at maneuvering the vessel out of the marina, Mulder
impressed.  "You really do know how to drive a boat."

"My dad was a Navy man, Mulder.  What do you think we did on
vacations?" she smiled, Mulder noticing her mood was much
better.

"I don't know, maybe head to the desert?" he joked.

"No, he loved the water.  We were all like fish as kids.
And we all learned to ski and drive a boat whether we wanted
to or not," she smiled, memories flooding into her mind. She
drove a little further, keeping her eye on the sonar screen
in the boat.  "It's too bad we're not out here fishing," she
said, seeing all of the activity on the machine.

"We are fishing," he said, his sincerity garnering a smile
out of her.

"You really expect to find this thing, don't you, Mulder?"
she said, looking back at him.

He held up his map, turning it this way and that, pointing
to a particular spot.  "You want to head right...here," he
said, but she got the idea that he probably didn't know what
he was talking about.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"I know the difference between expectation and hope," he
told her, knowing she thought he was being silly looking for
a 'monster'.  "Seek and ye shall find, Scully."

She somehow found his childlike optimism endearing, smiling
to herself.  "You know, on the old mariner's maps, the
cartographers would designate uncharted territories by
writing 'Here Be Monsters'," she told him, remembering when
her father had shown her that in one of his books.

"I got a map of New York City just like that."  She smiled
until the radar beeps got louder and faster, noticing a huge
blot coming at them on the radar screen.

"What was that?" Scully said.

"It ain't no bass," Mulder said, moving over next to her to
look at the screen.

"What is that? What is that, Mulder?" Scully said, starting
to get worried.

"Here be monsters, Scully," Mulder said, staring at the
object on the screen.

"It looks like it's coming straight at us," she said, trying
to remain calm.

"Yep, that's what it looks like," Mulder said, trying to do
the same.
And at the same time the green object on the screen hit the
image of their vessel, something real slammed into their
boat, water pouring in, the boat taking on water fast.  They
were able to grab lifejackets and a lantern and get to a
rock in time to watch their boat sink.

"That was him Scully; that was Big Blue," Mulder said,
balancing along side Scully on a rock.

"So what if it was," she shot back sounding not only angry,
but defeated.  "Mulder, what are we doing here?" She took
her life jacket off and sat down on it, not quite believing
the mess they had gotten themselves into.

"What do you mean, what are we doing here?" Mulder not quite
understanding how she could not know.

"What are you hoping to accomplish?" Scully said, wondering
what in the hell he was thinking.

"Scully, some of the things that we investigate are so
intangible but this creature... it exists within the
specific earthly confines of this lake, and I want to find
it," he explained.

"What for?" she looked at him sincerely.

To Mulder, all of it seemed so obvious.  "You're a
scientist, why do you ask that question? I mean, it would be
a miraculous discovery.  It could revolutionize our
evolutionary biological thinking."

She looked up at him, exasperated.  "Is that really the
reason why?"  Mulder sighed with exasperation as well,
almost rolling his eyes at her.  "You know when you showed
me those pictures the photographer took?  You want to know
what I really saw in them?"

"A tooth?" Mulder asked innocently.

"No. You.  That man is YOUR future, listening only to
himself, hoping to catch a glimpse of the truth, for who
knows what reason," she said, beginning to shiver from being
wet and cold.

"I heard him joke that he was hoping to live off the
copyrights fees of a genuine 'Big Blue' photo," Mulder
smiled, Scully not appreciating that he seemed to be poking
fun at poor Ansel.

"Well, as dumb as it sounds, at least it's a legitimate
reason."

"You don't think my reasons are legitimate?" he asked, a
tinge of hurt in his voice.

She thought for a moment, never too sure why he pursued many
of the things he pursued.  "Mulder, sometimes I just can't
figure them out."

A duck swimming by broke their conversation, Mulder sitting
down, trying to stay warm as well.  The conversation started
again, both of them discussing everything from survival to
the big blue monster.

"Poor Queequeg..." Scully sighed, thinking of the sad demise
of her dog.

"Why did you name your dog Queequeg?" Mulder asked softly.

"It was the name of the harpoonist in Moby Dick. My father
used to read to me from Moby Dick when I was a little girl.
I called him 'Ahab' and he called me 'Starbuck'. So I named
my dog Queequeg," she told him, Mulder feeling badly that he
hadn't taken the time before to ask. He had been too busy
disliking the mutt, never thinking what the dog might have
meant to her.  "It's funny, I just realized something," she
continued.

"It's a bizarre name for a dog, huh?" he smiled.

"No, how much you're like Ahab," she told him, looking him
in the eye.  "You're so consumed by your personal vengeance
against life, whether it be its inherent cruelties or
mysteries, everything takes on a warped significance to fit
your megalomaniacal cosmology."

"Scully, are you coming on to me?" teasing her, but always
turned on by her intelligence.

She didn't acknowledge his comment, just continuing with her
train of thought.  "It's just... the truth or a white whale.
What difference does it make? I mean, both obsessions are
impossible to capture, and trying to do so will only leave
you dead along with everyone else you bring with you. You
know Mulder, you ARE Ahab."

Mulder looked at her for a few moments, not knowing whether
to be hurt or pissed at her comments, so he just decided to
punt.  "You know, it's interesting you should say that,
because I've always wanted a peg leg.  It's a boyhood thing
I never grew out of," he started, Scully rolling her eyes at
him. "No, I'm not being flippant.  I've given this a lot of
thought. I mean, if you have a peg leg or hooks for hands
then maybe it's enough to simply keep on living. You know,
bravely facing life with your disability."  Scully was
listening to him go on, a look of total incredulity on her
face.  "But without these things, you're actually meant to
make something of your life, achieve something, earn a
raise, wear a necktie. So, so, so, if anything, I'm actually
the antithesis of Ahab, because if I did have a peg leg I'd
quite possibly be more happy and more content not to be
chasing after these creatures of the unknown."

"And that's not flippant?"

Mulder chuckled, enjoying ruminating about whatever had
popped into his head.  Scully was certainly a captive
audience.  "No.  Flippant is my favorite line from 'Moby
Dick'. 'Hell is an idea first born on an undigested apple
dumpling'," he recited, Scully mouthing the words along with
him, each surprised they both knew that obscure quote.

Finally, the local biologist had come along and rescued
them, feeling totally stupid when they discovered they were
within wading distance from the shore.  But on the way back
to the marina area, their rescuer had been attacked by
something, Scully attending to him, Mulder, of course,
chasing after the 'monster'.  And he had found it, emptying
the chamber of his gun into it and, sadly, realizing their
'monster' had been nothing more than a huge present-day
alligator.

The biologist had been rescued, the ambulance taking him off
to the hospital.  Everyone was so relieved that all the
murders were solved, they barely noticed Mulder.  But Scully
noticed, seeing him standing near the edge of the water,
alone, walking down the bank to stand next to him.  They
stood there for several moments without saying anything, not
really needing to.  Finally, Mulder asked how the injured
biologist was doing.  "He'll be fine," she told him, looking
up to gauge his emotions.  "How are you?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine," he assured her.  Scully watched as the alligator
was hauled off, thinking about what Mulder had done.

"Well, you slew the big white whale, Ahab," she told him
softly.

"Yeah, but I still don't have that peg leg," he tried to
joke, but she could see the sadness in his smile.

"How can you be disappointed? That alligator would have gone
through half the local population if you hadn't killed it,"
she tried to comfort and meaning it.

"I know," he said, finally turning to look at her. "I guess
I just wanted Big Blue to be real. I guess I see hope in
such a possibility."

And she knew what he meant.  If he could've found something
that others were sure didn't exist, he could find hope that
his sister could still be found.  "Well, there's still hope.
That's why these missing stories have endured.
People want to believe," she said and he smiled at her.
They stood there, watching the moon's reflection shimmer on
the water, before Scully turned to walk away, Mulder soon
following, both heading back to their cabins.  But what they
didn't know they'd missed when their backs were turned was a
large serpent swimming smoothly through the quiet water.

LAKE VIEW CABINS
FLIPPER ROAD
HEUVELMAN'S LAKE
Later that night
"I, um, got our flights for tomorrow," she told him as she
entered his cabin, Mulder sitting at the table tiredly
eating a potato chip.

"Who says you can't eat just one?" he quipped, getting up,
taking his shirt off.  "I'm gonna take a shower.  I smell
like alligator."

Scully could tell he was still upset, sad, that he hadn't
found what he'd come to Heuvelman's Lake to find.  And as
angry as she'd been only a couple of hours earlier, she now
sympathized with him, feeling his disappointment and
understanding the real reason for it.  "Mulder..." she said,
standing and moving over to him, touching his abdomen with
her palm.  "I'm sorry..."

"For what?" Mulder asked, truly not knowing what she meant.

"I understand now why this case was so important to you, why
you are so disappointed."  Mulder felt a lump in his throat
from her tenderness, not able to do much more than nod to
her.  "Just because we didn't find your monster doesn't mean
we should give up on finding your sister.  Don't give up
hope."

He took her in his arms, hugging her tightly.  "You mean
it?" he said into her hair, his voice muffled.

Scully pulled back from him, seeing that he was very
emotional.  "We're a team," she told him, trying to comfort
him with a smile.  "I love you... reptile stench and all."

"Wanna wash my back?" he grinned at her.

"Just your back?" she flirted and he smiled back.

"Yeah.  The back of my legs, the back of my ass, the back of
my..."

"Alright, I get it, I get it," she chuckled, heading for the
bathroom.

"Hey, Scully," he called after her.  "You gonna show me your
bobbers?"

SOMEWHERE OVER N. CAROLINA
UNITED FLIGHT 1755
The next afternoon
Mulder sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him.
They got lucky and had the front seats in coach, so he had
plenty of room for a change.  "I actually feel rested," he
smiled to her, both of them sleeping in late that morning.

"Good," she smirked, remembering waking him in the middle of
the night for something other than sleep.

Mulder smiled back at her, "Yes, you were."

Scully watched as he pulled a 'Time' magazine out of his
carry-on, staring at it a moment before pulling a pen out of
his pocket to draw a mustache on Ken Starr's mug on the
cover.  "Fifty some million to track down an intern, a cigar
and one blue dress," he said, blacking out one of the man's
teeth as well.

"He's just doing his job," Scully said, not really caring
one way or the other.

"He's a right-wing water carrier," he said, getting no
further comment from Scully. "Politicians are like diapers."

"What?" she said, wondering what the hell he meant.

"They should be changed often and for the same reason."

"If you don't calm down, I'm going to take that magazine
away from you," she deadpanned, deciding to change the
subject.  "You want the window?" Scully asked, Mulder rarely
taking it since he usually needed the aisle for leg room.
But he had plenty on this flight.  "If you do, switch me now
because I'm going to take a nap."

"You're tired?" he asked her as he thumbed through his
magazine.

"I don't seem to recall getting as much sleep as you seem to
have," she commented, leaning her seat back slightly,
stuffing the tiny airline pillow between the seat and the
window of the plane.

"Amateur."

Scully smiled as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath
before settling in to try to sleep.  She hated flying,
always feeling cramped and uncomfortable.  She never really
felt like talking either since it seemed anyone who sat in
front, in back or across the aisle from you was listening to
every word you said.  She drifted off, remembering their
last night in the Lake View Cabins.

She was running the water in the tub when he'd come in,
checking the temperature with her fingers.  "A bath?" Mulder
asked, his fantasy of doing it standing up in the shower
fading fast.

"I want to soak," she told him, undressing while the tub
filled.  "I wish we had some candles," she smiled to him.
Mulder turned off the light, closing the door to just a
crack, only a small stream of light showing through.

"Who needs candles," he smiled, easing himself down into the
steamy water, holding his arms out for her.  "Come to papa."

Scully gave him her usual reaction to his lame humor,
getting into the tub, sitting between his legs, leaning back
against him.  "Ahhhhhh," she sighed, the warm water and
Mulder's skin feeling wonderful against her.  Mulder began
massaging her shoulders and she relaxed into his touch.
"Thank you..."

He wasn't content too long doing that, bending to kiss her
neck, his lips cool against her warmed skin.  His hands
massaged down her biceps as he continued to kiss her neck,
across her shoulder, his right hand cupping her breast.
"You have great bobbers," he said against her ear, Scully
laughing out loud.

Suddenly, she turned, facing him, her arms slipping around
his neck.  "Have I ever told you I think you're crazy?" she
smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

"Yeah, several times," he answered.

"Have I ever told you I love crazy men?" she told him
against his lips, then deepening her kiss.  Mulder took hold
of her knees, pulling them up to rest against his hips.
Scully broke the kiss long enough to look down, centering
herself over Mulder's nicely erect penis as he held it in
place for her.  They found her opening and she slowly
lowered herself down on him, his penetration stretching her
pleasurably.  "Mmmmmmm..."

"Have you ever had a man as crazy as me?" he asked and she
could tell he wasn't really kidding.  She pushed her hips
harder against him, his penis in deep, but leaned back so
that she could look in his eyes.

"No," she smiled to him tenderly. "That's why I love you so
much."  He bent down and put his lips on her nipple, his
hands trying to get her hips moving again.  "What about me?"
she asked, moving slowly up and down on him.  "You think I'm
crazy?"

He slid his hands up her back, his mouth moving to her other
breast, up her chest to her neck.  "Yeah," he answered, then
kissing her softly, his tongue sliding into her mouth.  "For
staying with me."

Scully chuckled, but she knew somewhere inside him he was
serious.  She knew he never really felt worthy of love from
anyone, his childhood telling him that people didn't love
each other, not really.  "I will never leave you, Mulder,"
she whispered to him, moving faster against him, feeling her
orgasm building as the water splashed around them.  Mulder
could tell she was getting close, he always could, and held
onto her hips to push harder against her.  Scully locked her
fingers behind his neck and leaned back, pushing him deeper
inside.  And that's what she needed, her tissue beginning to
pulse and spasm.  "Oh, god," she sighed, falling forward
against him when she'd come down.

Mulder stroked her back, feeling her heart pounding beneath
her soft skin.  He slid down slightly, bending his knees,
holding on to her hips as he pumped harder up into her.  She
leaned back off of him, sitting up, balancing herself by
putting her hands on the edge of the tub next to his
shoulders.  She sped up her motions, his hips following, as
she rode him back and forth, up and down.  Then he let go,
his grunt of "Starbuck" almost startling her as his hips
shuddered with each release until he emptied.  He wrapped
his arms around her tightly, holding her to him until his
breath and his heart settled.

"Wow," he said against her skin.

"Wow?" she chuckled.  "I love that sex renders you
monosyllabic.  Well, at least the 'wow' part.  But, jesus,
Mulder... Starbuck?  Please don't ever say that again."

"Why?" he mumbled.

"Because you called me what my dad called me and you did it
during sex.  It just doesn't work for me," she told him,
kissing his neck.

"Mmmmm," he added, his palm guiding her lips to his for a
slow kiss, his hands smoothing over her warm skin.  She
moaned when his palm slid to the inside of her thigh.

"Scully... Scully, wake up," he said, giving her shoulder a
shake.  She jerked awake, looking around to try to orient
herself.  "You were moaning."  She gave him a skeptical look
and his grinning nod only served to irritate her.  "That
musta been some dream."  Scully tried to subtly look around
her to see if anyone had heard her, feeling the blush of her
embarrassment creep into her face.  "Based on the look on
your face and that sexy moan, I hope you were dreaming about
me," he teased.  She gave him one of her classic dirty
looks, hoping he'd let it drop.  "I think I smell you," he
whispered next to her ear.

"Mulder, shut the hell up."

He leaned his seat back a little, folding his hands on top
of his magazine in his lap and closing his eyes.  Scully was
relieved that he was going to take a nap and had dropped his
most recent subject.  She watched him a moment, then
snatched his magazine before he had a chance to hold onto
it, Mulder smiling to himself.

Continued in Pt. 10

TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-10
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17

FREDERICK COUNTY PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL
BRADDOCK HEIGHTS, MARYLAND
The next morning
After they landed in Washington, Scully couldn't wait to get
home and wind down, Mulder opting to get a rental and check
in at the office.  After he'd checked his in-box, he found a
mysterious message and agreed to meet a contact that he
hadn't known before, so he was skeptical, to say the least.
The man hadn't shown on time, but Mulder decided to wait,
getting a feeling that he should for some reason.  Finally,
Mulder's contact showed, tipping him off about a multiple
murder case, the man warning him 'you walk away from this,
more people will die'.  Mulder didn't trust the man, but
couldn't resist checking things out.  He had called Scully
to tell her he was going to go to his apartment and would
see her at work the next morning.  She knew there was
something he wasn't telling her, but hoped he would explain
things at work the next day.  If he didn't, she'd get it out
of him somehow.

But, just before she'd left for work, Mulder had called her
at home and asked her to meet him at a psychiatric hospital
in Braddock Heights.  "Sorry, I would've gotten here sooner
but the Beltway was a parking lot," Scully said as she
approached him, Mulder watching someone through an
observation window.  "What's going on?"

"Multiple homicide, a bizarre one," Mulder told her, leaning
against the wall to look at her, nodding toward the man in
the room behind the window. "That's Joseph Patnik. He
murdered five people, all of whom he insists was the same
man."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he claims to have been killing the same man over and
over again, that he wouldn't die."

"Does he have a history of mental illness?" she asked, the
man sitting quietly watching television.

"Not that I know, but I only just got this case yesterday."

"So, what's the X-File?"

"In Patnik's neighborhood two weeks ago, a baby-sitter
attacked the two children she was minding. She told the
police she thought they were wolves."

Scully reacted, all of it sounding a bit bizarre.  "And
police found no other motive for either of these attacks?"

"Not so far, no."

They talked to the man's psychiatrist, the doctor telling
them the man was loaded to the gills with psychotropic
medication which barely touched him.  The doctor really
hadn't figured out what caused the man to go on a killing
spree, speculating it could've been methamphetamine abuse,
but he didn't seem too convinced.  All of a sudden, Mr.
Patnick snapped, jumping up, screaming, throwing his chair
seemingly scared to death by what was on the television.
Mulder and Scully looked up at the screen, but all that was
showing was a news program about a foreign leader who had
ordered the rape and murder of thousands of his own
citizens.

They went to Patnick's house, Scully not really knowing why
Mulder was interested in the case.  "You said you got this
case last night?  Where did it come from?" Scully asked him,
now knowing what he was keeping from her the previous night,
at least part of it.

"Came from an outside source," Mulder said, vaguely.

"Who?" she asked.  Mulder didn't answer, avoiding her eye
contact as they walked up Patnick's driveway to his house.
"This outside source, Mulder, what's his interest in this
case?  What does he want us to uncover?" she asked, her
suspicions up.

"I don't know," he admitted, finally looking at her.

"And you're not suspicious that we're being used?"

"We've got dead bodies and confessed murderers. If we're
being used, it's to find out the connection. That's what I'm
interested in."

They didn't find too much out of the ordinary when they
entered the house, at least until Scully discovered a
cabinet full of several hundred video tapes.  "Mulder," she
called to him, Mulder joining her at the cabinet. "Look at
this, there must be hundreds of videos here."

"Anything good?" he smirked.

Scully ignored his remark, but got it.  "All I see are
recordings of cable news shows. They're all dated and in
chronological order. You know, that's what Patnik was
watching at the hospital when he went all wiggy.  What if
there's some connection?"

"Between what he saw and what he recorded and what he did?"
Mulder asked, almost disbelieving Scully was postulating
such a flimsy connection.  It was usually him who made those
kinds of correlations.

"You're the one who's interested," she challenged.

They packed up all the video tapes and took them back to the
motel with them, both of them watching the tapes in their
own rooms to make better use of their time.  But Mulder was
getting stir crazy and went to check in on Scully.  "I just
watched thirty-six hours of Bernard Shaw and Bobbie Batista.
I'm about ready to kill somebody too," he said when she'd
opened the door, flopping down on the couch in her room.

"I'm going to show you something," she said, putting her
hand on top of one of the many stacks of video tapes in her
room.  "These tapes are dated April nineteenth, April twenty-
first and April twenty-third. Each corresponds to a night
that Patnik committed a murder."

"What's on the tapes?"

"Among other things, a one-hour special report on the
atrocities in Bosnia, a report that prominently features
Lladoslav Miriskovic."

"The same guy that started Patnik screaming in the psych
ward?" he asked, Scully nodding.

"And my guess is that once I review the tapes for the night
that Patnik killed his wife, that I'll find that report
there as well," she told him, explaining her theory that
Patnick could have been influenced into murder.  For once,
it was Mulder who was skeptical and didn't agree with her
theory.  "Okay, then how do you explain it?"

"I can't. Not yet," he said, standing from his recline on
the couch, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked, hoping maybe he'd come to
her room to watch some of the tapes together.

"I'm going to get some sleep. Looks like you could use some
too."

"No, I'm going to... watch the rest of these tapes. Just out
of curiosity."

"You have fun," he smiled as he left. Scully sat back down
in her chair in front of the television, pointing the remote
at the VCR, hitting 'play'.

Scully watched the tapes for a couple more hours, then
hearing the phone ring next door in Mulder's room, then
hearing Mulder talking.  She wondered who in the hell Mulder
could be talking to and then listened, trying to discern
what he was saying.  "Yes. I understand. All right. I've
just been watching the tapes. I'll come outside. Right.
Okay. No, she doesn't. No. Goodbye."  She turned her
attention back to the television, fast forwarding through
several more minutes.  When she discovered that her ice had
melted, she went out to the ice machine just outside the
door of her room.  But just as she was ready to buy a soda,
she noticed Mulder sitting in their rental, talking,
laughing with someone sitting in the car with him.  She
couldn't tell who until a match flared and she saw the
Cigarette-Smoking Man light one.  She watched in horror as
Mulder handed him a video tape, in total disbelief when the
two of them drove off.

Her soul sickened by what she had witnessed, Scully stayed
up the rest of the night watching the tapes, unable to
sleep.  When she questioned him the next morning, he denied
using the car, stating he'd only been out that morning to
get a paper.  There had been another murder, so she had to
put it out of her mind while they went to check out the
crime scene.  And Scully had found more tapes, a large trunk
stuffed full of them.

But Mulder had noticed something outside.  A cable TV van
and a technician climbing the pole, something he had
remembered seeing at Joseph Patnick's house and didn't think
anything of it.  He ran out of the house, but too late to
catch up to the cable tech.  Scully was barely paying
attention to him, more interested in watching the tape she'd
just put in the VCR.  She didn't give him another thought
until she noticed him climbing the power pole outside the
window. She went outside, suspicious of what he was doing.
"Mulder, what are you doing?"  Inside the cable box on the
pole, he found four transmitters, three of them matching,
but one that looked very different.

"I'm coming down."

"What is it?" she asked as he climbed down the pole.

"I found a cable trapper scrambler running from the pole
into the house," showing it to her.

"Maybe it's a job for Special Agent Pendrell and the Sci-
Crime lab," she said, hoping someone else could take a look
at it, reaching out for him to give it to her.  "You want it
analyzed?"

"Yeah, I'll do it," he told her, not handing the device to
her.  "It makes more sense for you to go down and interview
Helene Riddock. Get her version of the story. Maybe she
knows what this thing is."  Scully stared at him, wishing
she wasn't so suspicious of him, but knowing she was.

And Mulder could read that something was wrong.  "Is there a
problem with that?"

"No, that's, that's fine, I'm..." Scully stuttered, her
mistrust of him clouding her mind.

"Stay in touch," he said before he got in the car and drove
off, Scully's fears growing.

Scully had gone back to their motel, taking Mrs. Riddock's
tapes with her, seemingly unable to do much but go to her
room and watch them.  She hadn't heard from Mulder for hours
and called Agent Pendrell to see if he'd brought the cable
scrambler to be analyzed.  "I haven't seen him, Agent
Scully."

"Did you leave the lab?  Maybe he gave it to someone else,"
she asked.

"I'm the only one here this week.  Landon is on vacation, so
I didn't even leave for lunch," Pendrell told her
innocently, having no idea what his words did to her.

She continued to watch more tapes, but when she hadn't heard
from him for several more hours, she finally called his
cell.  "Where are you?" she asked curtly.

"I was just about to call you," he told her, driving back to
the motel.  He had taken the scrambler over to the Gunmen
and they discovered that the device was likely emitting
information, sent to unsuspecting people via their
television sets.  "Look, I'm on my way back. You may have
been right, Scully, at least partly. I think there is a
foreign signal being introduced into these people's homes
through the television set."  He expected a response, but
Scully said nothing.  "Scully, are you there?"

"I'm here."

"I think they may be running some kind of test," he told
her, still getting no response. "Scully, did you hear what I
just said?"  He could tell something was wrong, that she
seemed to be irritated about something, but couldn't imagine
what it could be.

"So, you had it analyzed?" she said, seeing if she would
catch him in a lie.

"Yeah," he said, not knowing what she was thinking.  Scully
nodded, knowing he was lying to her, realizing her
suspicions about him were true.

"I just talked to Agent Pendrell.  He said that you never
showed up," she confronted him.

"I didn't take it over to Pendrell," he told her, wondering
what difference it made.

"Then where were you?" she asked, biting the inside of her
lip.

"Look, I'd, I'd rather talk about it when we get on the land
line, okay?" Mulder told her, feeling like he was being
interrogated.  "We've dealt with these kind of people
before. We know what they're capable of."

"What was that?" Scully asked quickly, hearing a click on
the line.

"What was what?" Mulder asked, getting exasperated with her
attitude.

Scully heard several more clicks, her mind reeling.  "There,
that noise."

"Scully, is there something wrong?" he asked, beginning to
worry about her.

"Mulder..." she said, then hearing more clicking sounds.
"Mulder, who's listening to..." she asked, looking at the
receiver in her hand.

"Scully, look, I'm going to be right there, okay?" he told
her, it dawning on him that she had been watching many more
tapes than he had.  He hoped what he was thinking wasn't
true.  "Don't go anywhere.  Don't..."

But she didn't hear him, slamming the phone down.  He tried
to call her back, knowing that something was definitely
wrong with her and afraid he knew what.  But when her room
phone rang again, she yanked the line out of the wall,
thinking he was setting her up, lying to her, listening in
on her; she didn't know what.

Scully tore through her room trying to find some kind of
listening device she knew was there.  She looked in the
lamps, under the furniture, everywhere she thought Mulder
might have put a microphone.  She noticed she was having
visual disturbances or at least she thought she was, but
they didn't last long enough for her to try to figure out
what they were.  God, had he drugged her? She ransacked the
entire room until she heard a car pull up, fearing someone
was there to get her.  When she heard voices outside the
door, she feared for her life and fired her gun, then
running out the back door of her rooms, taking off around
the back of the motel and running off down the street.

When Mulder finally broke the door down and entered her
room, he wasn't sure what had happened but told the motel
proprietor to call the police.  Had someone broken into her
room and torn it all to hell?  Had Scully done it herself?
He called out to her, but found the back door open, knowing
she had taken off and worried sick about what she might do.

Mulder called in more agents, the local police showing up
quickly after the motel manager had called them.  He
searched the room for any clues, but in his heart, he knew
Scully had been affected by watching so many of those damned
tapes.  He also knew what other people had done after they'd
watched too many also.  He racked his brain, trying to think
of what Scully might do, where she'd go. He called her
mother.  She hadn't gone there either.  It was now daylight
and no one had seen her.

Skinner had arrived at the crime scene, as had U.S.
Marshal's, seemingly looking for a criminal rather than a
fellow officer.  He knew he needed to find her first.  He
left everyone else at the motel, knowing they wouldn't find
any clues there and went to her apartment.  But she hadn't
gone home.  He went to his apartment, trying to contact 'X'
to see if he knew if anyone had done something to her.  The
Gunmen had called, telling him they had found more
information on his cable scrambler they'd been examining.

"This device is stimulating electrical activity in the
brain," Langly told him.

"Studies into subliminal influence have shown a correlation
between heightened suggestibility and the manipulation of
this response," Byers added.

"Mind control?" Mulder questioned, wondering just who was
now in control of Scully's mind.  He remembered that at the
beginning of the case she had wondered if he was being set
up and he was beginning to think she was right.

"Fifty-seven channels of it," Langly confirmed.  As the
Gunmen continued to chat on about the technology of the
scrambler, Mulder's cell phone rang.  He listened, his heart
pounding, his throat tightening.

"Agent Fox Mulder?" he heard a man's voice ask.  "This is
Sergeant McCullough from the Maryland State Police.  We've
got a body down here at the Frederick County morgue.  We
think it may be your partner, but we need an ID."

"I'll be right there," he said, hanging up as he started for
the door.

"What happened?" Frohike asked.

"Maryland State Police. They think they've found Scully," he
told them, barely able to speak.

"Is she okay?" Frohike asked.

He couldn't look at them, but needed to tell them what the
phone call was about.  "No, um... they think maybe I should
come down and I.D. the body."

FREDERICK COUNTY MORGUE
6:21pm
Mulder drove to the morgue like a bat out of hell, slowed by
rush hour traffic that was making him crazy.  "Please,
Scully... Please..." he said to himself, not really knowing
who he was begging, but figuring if there was a god he would
listen.  And when he got to the morgue parking garage, he
found himself praying, "Please god, don't let it be her.  I
can't lose her.  Please..."

But when he got out of his car and to the entrance and found
the 'source' who had initially told him to look into the
Patnick case, he felt sick to his stomach.  Why the hell
would the man be there if they hadn't been set up somehow.
Mulder had no time for him, hurrying into the morgue,
finding the coroner standing in the hall.  Mulder made his
way towards the coroner, who stood next to a set of blinds.

"State highway patrolman found the body off a rural highway
at 2:00 P.M. Nude, shot in the forehead," the man told him
coldly, having no idea how important the person he was
talking about was to the person he was talking to.  Mulder
closed his eyes, his heart pounding so fast he felt light
headed.  The coroner took hold of the blind drawstring, "Are
you ready?"

"Let me do that," Mulder said, his voice barely above a
whisper.  He hesitated a few moments, then opened the
blinds, staring at the redheaded woman lying on the
porcelain slab.  "It's not her," his relief as palatable as
his guilt for being relieved.  The body was somebody's loved
one.  "Somebody has to call her mother," he told the coroner
as he walked off.

"We already tried.  We weren't able to reach her."

"She's not answering her phone?" Mulder asked, his mind
whirling.  He barely saw the coroner shrug, anxious to get
to Scully's mother's house.  He knew her mother had been
nearly hysterical, knowing also she would've been sitting on
pins and needles right next to her phone.  So, if she wasn't
answering, he knew she was not answering on purpose.

MARGARET SCULLY'S HOUSE
Scully's mom had indeed been sitting by her phone, having
done this before when her daughter went missing.  She had
gotten her rosary, praying that a worse fate than had
befallen her daughter barely a year before hadn't happened.
She was praying and crying when she heard a knock at her
door, crying even harder thinking it was Mulder.  She went
to the door, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to
prepare herself before she opened the door.  She was
speechless when she saw Scully standing there.

"Dana!  Oh, my god, Dana!" she cried, grabbing Scully into
her embrace.  But Scully wasn't interested, almost pushing
her mother out of the way to get inside.  She slammed the
door, locking the deadbolt, sliding the chain into place.

"You've got to hide me, Mom," Scully said, quickly moving
into the dining room, closing the blinds.

"Dana, what is wrong?  What has happened?  Fox told me you
went missing," Margaret said, watching her daughter
scrambling from window to window looking outside to see if
she could see anyone.

"That's what he wants," Scully said almost breathless.

"He?  Who, Dana?"

"Mulder.  He set me up.  He's been spying on me," she told
her mother, pacing back and forth.

"Dana, honey, please calm down," her mother told her.

"Everything has been a lie.  Everything!" Scully said, her
hand holding onto her gun inside her coat pocket.

"No, Dana, he loves you..." Margaret tried to reason with
her, but wondering if her daughter must know something.
Dana wasn't the hysterical type and never reacted to
anything without having factual information.  "Dana, sit
down and tell me why you think these things," Margaret said,
pulling out a chair at her dining room table.

Scully sat, but her mother could see how agitated she was,
very worried for her daughter.  "I caught him, Mom.  He was
giving information to the man we know has been conspiring
against us, or so Mulder told me.  Everything has been one
big lie to set me up," Scully told her.  "He had my phone
tapped, he destroyed evidence.  You've got to protect me.
He can't find me."

But just as Margaret was going to try to reason with her,
she heard someone at her door rapping the knocker.  "It's
him!" Scully gasped.  "Mom, please.  Don't tell him I'm
here," she said and ran to hide in the bedroom.

Margaret answered the door, but barely opening the door far
enough to see him.  "Mrs. Scully, is she here?"

"Uh, no," she answered lamely.

"You haven't been answering your phone," Mulder said, not
really believing Scully's mother.

"Well, when I hear from her, I'll call you, okay?" she told
him, trying to close the door, but Mulder held it open,
knowing Scully was there.

"I need to see her," he told her softly, so relieved that
Scully was alive and with her mother.

"Fox, please, go away..." she said, but Mulder pushed his
way past her on into her house.  "Go away!"

"Sorry," he said, going through the foyer on into the dining
room, looking around, not seeing her.  "Where is she?"

Scully could hear him, worrying that he would do something
to her mother, having no choice but to confront him.  She
stepped out from behind a wall, aiming her gun at Mulder.

"Dana, put down the gun!" Margaret pleaded, walking over to
stand next to Mulder.

"I'm here to help you, Scully," Mulder said, trying to
remain calm.  He could see that it was Scully before him,
but he had never seen the look she had on her face in his
life.

"I told you, Mom. He's here to kill me," Scully said, unable
to stand still, her voice shaking.

Mulder never took his eyes off her, speaking calmly, very
slowly moving toward her.  "I'm on your side, you know
that."

"Put it down, Dana," Margaret said, knowing by that point
that there was something seriously wrong with her daughter.

"Scully, listen to me very carefully. You don't know it, but
you're sick.  With the same thing that drove those other
people to murder... and whatever you think may be
happening..." he explained, taking one too many steps toward
her.

"Just step back!" she told him nastily, her hands shaking as
she continued to point her gun at him, cocking the hammer.

Margaret moved closer as well, hoping her daughter would
listen to her.  "Dana, you're not yourself. He's telling you
the truth."

"It's not the truth, Mom. He's lied to me from the
beginning," Scully said, almost crying. "He's never trusted
me."

Mulder shook his head, "Scully, you are the ONLY one I
trust."

"You're in on it. You're one of THEM," so angry, she was
crying, practically yelling at him. "You're one of the
people who abducted me. You put that thing in my neck. You
killed my sister!"

"That's not true, Dana," Margaret told her softly, Mulder
letting her handle things, seeing that Scully wanted to
believe her mother.

"It is!" Scully cried.

"I want you to listen to me..." Margaret said, stepping in
front of Mulder, right in the line of Scully's gun.

"Mom, just get out of the way!" Scully said, her hands
shaking.

But her mother kept talking, trying to calm her, reason with
her.  "You trust me, don't you?  You know that I would never
hurt you. That I would never let anybody hurt you.
That's why you came here, isn't it? You're safe here," she
told her daughter, her voice soft and comforting. "Put the
gun down, Dana."  Scully stared at her, knowing what her
mother was saying was true, wanting to believe her so badly.
Margaret stepped toward her, "Put it down. Put the gun down,
Dana."  Margaret moved to her, her head touching her
daughter's, her hand touching Scully's arm.  "Put it down,"
she whispered as Scully turned to her, dropping her arm
holding the gun, then falling into her mother's embrace,
sobbing.
"Oh, Mom," Scully cried as her knees gave out, her mother
lowering her to the floor as she sobbed.

"Dana, honey..." Margaret said as she held Scully, both of
them kneeling on the floor.  She held her as Scully sobbed,
her gun falling out of her grasp, both her arms going around
her mother as she continued to cry uncontrollably.  Margaret
looked to Mulder and motioned with her eyes to help her.  He
bent down to pick Scully up, Scully burying her face into
his coat as she continued to cry, Mulder following Margaret,
carrying Scully into the bedroom.

"I'll get her some water," Mulder said, going into the bath
off the bedroom.  Scully was still crying, not able to
really lie still on the bed, her eyes glazed.

"I think we need to get her to a doctor, Mrs. Scully,"
Mulder said, not really knowing what kind of doctor she
needed to see.  Margaret nodded, trying to get Scully to
take a drink, but she didn't seem interested.  "Her pulse is
really fast," he said, holding on to her wrist, feeling her
blood rushing under her skin.
They got her into Mulder's car, Margaret sitting in the back
with Scully's head in her lap.  "Mom?" Scully finally said,
looking up at her.

"I'm right here, Dana.  You're going to be fine..."

NORTHEAST GEORGETOWN MEDICAL CENTER
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, DC
The next day
They took her to the hospital closest to Margaret's house.
Mulder filled the doctor in on what was affecting her, but
left out just how she was exposed.  Scully had become very
agitated again when they entered the hospital, Mulder having
a difficult time carrying her while she was trying to get
down, seemingly disoriented again, thinking he was going to
harm her.

They had given her an injection of Ativan to calm her,
taking her for an MRI and doing a spinal tap.  Margaret
stayed with her, sending Mulder home and to get something to
eat.  They finally got Scully settled in a room, her mother
staying with her.  She hadn't woken, still sleeping off the
Ativan and the local they had given her for the spinal tap.
Mulder had called Margaret and told her he would be there
soon to relieve her so she could go home, having been there
all night.

Scully woke when she heard the phone ring, catching the gist
of what her mother's conversation was.  "Was that Mulder?"
she asked, her voice soft and timid.

"He's on his way," Margaret smiled, thinking that would
comfort her daughter.

"I'm not sure I want to see him," Scully said, Margaret
immediately worried that Scully was still delusional.  "I'm
so ashamed of what I did to him, what I did to you."

"That wasn't you, Dana.  You have nothing to feel guilty
about.  You were ill and you weren't in control of
yourself," she told her sincerely, standing near her bed,
taking hold of her hand.

"He should hate me for what I thought," she sighed.

"He couldn't hate you because he loves you," Margaret smiled
to her.  Scully could see how tired her mother looked,
noticing she had on the same sweater she'd had on the night
before.

"You haven't been home," Scully said, giving her mother's
hand a squeeze.  "Please go get some rest.  I'm fine, Mom."

"I'll go when Fox gets here," she'd no more than said when
they heard a short knock at her door.  Scully was nervous
and her mother was nervous for her, but when Mulder entered,
he put his hands up in a 'don't shoot' pose, the tension in
the air being lessened considerably.  Scully tried to answer
the smile he gave her, but it was a feeble one.

Scully took a deep breath while Mulder sat down in the chair
next to her bed, scooting it closer, Margaret leaving
quickly when he arrived. "How you feeling?" he asked.

Scully took a deep breath, thinking before she answered, but
wanting to be honest.  "Ashamed," she sighed, looking at
him. "I was so sure, Mulder. I saw things and I heard
things, and... it was just like the world was turned upside
down. Everybody was out to get me."

Her words were killing him, but he cracked a joke as a way
to cope.  "Now you know how I feel most of the time," he
smiled and he noticed she gave him a small smile in return.

"I thought you were going to kill me," she told him, her
eyes never leaving his.

"I'm not surprised," he told her, Scully looking confused.

Realizing that she didn't understand, he leaned in closer
before he spoke.  "I did some checking. Joseph Patnik
thought he was murdering a Bosnian war criminal, a man the
media described as a modern-day Hitler. It turns out both
Patnik's parents were Holocaust survivors."

"I'm not following."

"Helen Riddock was scared her husband was going to be
unfaithful to her," he continued to explain. "You see a
pattern developing here? What if this, this video signal
somehow turned these people's anxieties into some kind of
dementia?  A, a virtual reality of their own worst
nightmares?"

"Like me thinking that you'd betray me," she said, Mulder
listening, letting her get out what she needed to say.  "I
was so far gone, Mulder, I thought that you had gone to the
other side."

"What do you mean?"

"That Cancer Man, the man who smokes all those cigarettes, I
was sure that I saw the two of you sitting in your car in
the motel parking lot. You were reporting to him, you handed
him a videotape," she explained, Mulder listening intently.
"I'm... it was crazy."

"Uh, maybe not."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, somebody's behind this, we just don't know who."

"You think it could be him?"

"I don't know."  They exchanged a look, both of them telling
the other they'd try to find out.

"Why don't you try to get some rest?" he said, standing
quickly.  She started to ask him to stay, but didn't.  He
seemed eager to leave.  But only a few minutes later, he
came back into her room.

He took off his coat and tossed it into the nearest chair
and sat down on the bed next to her hip.  "I just talked to
your doctor.  Everything seems to be good," he smiled to
her.  "I'm sure you'll look at your chart sometime, but she
said all they found was an elevated Serotonin level."

"That can sometimes cause mania," Scully knew, "but I had
paranoia to the point of being delusional. I think this
whole thing is something no one is going to really figure
out."

"I think you're right."  Mulder took her hand between both
of his, rubbing his palm against hers.  He looked at her,
Scully returned his gaze.  "Come 'ere," he said, opening his
arms, just needing to hold her.

"I'm not supposed to sit up," she told him, so wishing she
could.  "I have to lie down because of the spinal tap.
But..., you could come here," she said, reaching out for
him.  He lay over her as best he could, Scully wrapping her
arms around him.

"I'd never betray you," Mulder told her, his words muffled
against her hair.  He sat up, looking at her intently.  "I
have done some shitty things... but I'd never betray you."

His words broke Scully's heart.  "I know that, Mulder.  And
I have never thought that... not for a second," she told
him, taking his hand, caressing it to her cheek.  "That my
delusions made me think that you would illustrates just how
powerful that device is."

"Yeah, the Gunmen had to destroy it to find out what the
thing was capable of," Mulder told her sadly, realizing he
had no real proof of what had happened to Scully or who
might have done it.  "They think maybe the reason it didn't
affect me was because of my color blindness."

"I just wonder how many of those things are out there, what
people are being told to watch, or do, or think..." Scully
said, the fear of the possibilities evident in her
statement.

"Gives you an idea why so many people are willing to pay
$129 for the 'Little Traveler', doesn't it?" Mulder cracked,
but he and Scully feared that what he said might not be too
far from the truth.

The doctors kept Scully another day, Mulder taking her home
just before noon.  "You hungry?" he asked after they'd
gotten to her apartment.

"Starving.  You forget where I've been the last couple of
days?" she chuckled, not having eaten much of the tasteless
hospital food.

"Not for a second," he said, taking her into a soft embrace.
"I'm glad you're home..."

"And no longer a psychopath with a gun?" she kidded, not
wanting her illness to be something off limits to talk
about.  Mulder smiled and gave her a soft kiss, taking a
look in the refrigerator to see if there was something to
put together.

"Holy shit," he said, Scully turning around at his words.
"Look at all this stuff."

"Mom's been here," Scully said.  "That's her way of telling
me to stay home for the next few days and rest."

"I always thought she was a smart woman," Mulder said,
searching through the well-stocked fridge that looked good
to him.  "Ahhh, beer."  He pulled out a six-pack of Amstel
Light, Scully's laughter echoing in the room.

"Out of all that stuff, that is what you find?" she noted,
knowing her mother didn't buy the bottles for her.  "At
least she thought of you."  Mulder looked at the six-pack
thoughtfully, realizing Scully was right, but not really
knowing what her mother must have been thinking of him.

Mulder had put together a dinner from Margaret's stock and
Scully had relaxed the rest of the evening and most of the
next day, but had gotten more stir-crazy the better she
felt.  When Mulder stopped by after work, he realized that.
"You've been cleaning," he chuckled, seeing the bags she
wanted him to take down to the dumpster.

"Yeah.  I had to find something to do."

"What is all this stuff?" he said, one of the bags a bit
heavy.

"Mostly Queequeg's things, and some things from the
refrigerator that even you wouldn't eat," she told him,
checking the dinner she was cooking in the oven.

Mulder walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her from
the back.  "Scully, I know you won't believe this, but I
meant it when I said I was sorry about Queequeg," he told
her softly.

She turned in his arms, looking up with a smile.  "You're
right.  I don't believe you."

"Scully..."

"Mulder, I know you weren't hoping for his demise, but I
also know that you wished he weren't here," she told him,
but she wasn't angry with him.  "I'm going to tell you
something... You were right when you said I should never
have taken him.  I don't have the kind of job that makes
having a dog a smart thing." Mulder looked at her with
feigned shock, teasing her.  "My mom was slated to take him
when she got back into town while we were out searching for
sea serpents."

"Scully, I'd be glad to find her another dog," Mulder
interjected.

"No.  That's... she can decide what she wants.  Let's just
leave it alone."  Scully would never admit it, but she kind
of liked having the dog around when Mulder wasn't there and
she was home alone.  Since she and Mulder had gotten back
together how ever many months ago, she felt alone when she
was at home in her apartment.  Before, she had always kind
of liked being alone, even though she knew she was alone too
often.

Scully had gone to bed fairly early, still somewhat fatigued
by her ordeal and hospitalization.  Mulder spent the night,
but had stayed in the living room watching whatever it was
he found to watch on television.  But Scully had woken in
the middle of the night, finding the other side of the bed
empty, figuring Mulder had fallen asleep on the couch with
the remote in his hand.  But when she'd checked in the
living room, she found him sitting up reading and she
couldn't resist teasing him about his reading material.

"So that's what's keeping you up," she smiled, her voice
startling Mulder who was engrossed in his book.  She'd
caught him reading her copy of Jose Chung's 'From Outer
Space'.

"There wasn't anything on TV," he said and she laughed again
at his sheepish expression.

She sat down next to him, softly grabbing his foot with her
fingers.  "I have a bookcase full of books for you to choose
from, Mulder.  I thought you said Mr. Chung was a nut."

"For although Agent Diana Lesky," he began reading, "is
noble in spirit and pure of heart, she remains,
nevertheless, a federal employee."  Scully smiled at
Mulder's irritation at the author's description of his
thinly disguised opinion of her.  "As for her partner,
Reynard Muldrake..." he glared, "that ticking time bomb of
insanity... his quest into the unknown has so warped his
psyche, one shudders to think how he receives pleasures from
life."  He closed the book and tossed it to the coffee
table.  "You agree with that assessment, Scully?"

"Of course not, Mulder.  But it's a novel.  It's fiction,"
she told him.  "C'mon, Reynard, let's go to bed."  She stood
and offered her hand and he took it, slowly pealing himself
off the couch.  As she walked to her bedroom in front of
him, she looked over her shoulder and grinned.  "I knew
you'd read it..."

'K' BROTHERS RESTAURANT
ARLINGTON, VA
Three days later

Scully had just finished re-certifying herself at the firing
range and had been given her gun and badge back.  The
doctors at Northeast Georgetown had verified her fit for
duty and confirmed the temporary nature of her 'chemical
imbalance'.  Mulder had commented that the FBI was probably
in such a state of shock that her problems weren't instead
his, they let her pass going virtually unnoticed.

"I think Skinner is tossing me a softball," Scully said in
reference to the garden variety shooting at a fast food
restaurant that just happened to be in Washington that he
sent them on.

"Well, let's just take it for a change," Mulder said, glad
they had an easy case close to home so Scully wouldn't have
to be running around in some god-forsaken place after the
ordeal she'd been through.  "Jesus, there's certainly enough
local law enforcement here," Mulder commented when they'd
turned the corner and drove up to the restaurant.

"I'll take a look at the victims if you want to find out
what happened," Scully said before she got out of the car.
Once they had both checked around, it seemed that a man had
been on the scene who had 'healed' the victims with the palm
of his hand and then disappeared.

"'Talked to him?" Mulder asked when Scully came out of the
building.

"Who?"

"The shooter described a man, a man who reached down and
healed with the palm of his hand," Mulder said, now very
much interested in their 'garden variety' case.

"He's gone," Scully sighed regretfully.

"They let him leave the scene?" Mulder asked, always low on
patience with incompetent local police.

"Well, nobody LET him leave," she explained.  "He was in
custody, and they were talking to him and then somehow he
just disappeared."

"He's vanished?"

"Without a trace."

They went back into the restaurant and were interviewing the
cop who had talked to the man who had supposedly healed the
shooting victims who seemed to confirm the man just
disappeared.  Just as Mulder noticed a local news van
outside, thinking maybe they'd have film of something, his
cell phone rang.  "Mulder."

The woman on the other end didn't initially sound familiar
to him.  "Agent Mulder, this is Assistant Director Skinner's
office.  Would you hold for a moment?"

"Agent Mulder," Skinner spoke, "We've just received a call
here that might cause you some alarm."

"What is it?" Mulder asked and Scully could see that
Mulder's phone call seemed to be upsetting him.

"Your mother has been admitted in a hospital in serious
condition, a small coastal town in Rhode Island called...
Quono..."

"Quonochautaug? I'm on my way," he said, closing his phone
and taking hold of Scully's elbow as he moved them quickly
out of the restaurant.

"Mulder, what's happened?"

"My mother... I've a, she's in the hospital... in Rhode
Island," he said, getting the keys out of his pocket.  "I've
got to go there."

"Let me drive," Scully said, taking the keys from him and he
didn't argue.  "Did they tell you anything else?"

They both got in the car and were able to weave their way
through all the police cars and ambulances and get out on
the highway.  "Skinner said it was serious," he said,
finally remembering to fasten his seatbelt.

Continued in Pt. 11

TITLE:  As It Might Have Been, Season 3-11
AUTHOR:  Dyann Zimmerman
RATING: R/NC-17
FEEDBACK: philer@onemain.com


After they arrived at the small hospital in Quonochautaug,
Scully had barely parked the car before Mulder was opening
the door on his side.  "Mulder," Scully said, grabbing the
arm of his coat.  "Listen to me."

"Scully, I wanna get inside," he said quickly.

"Let me talk to her doctor, see what I can find out first,"
she tried to tell him, but he wasn't in the mood to be
reasoned with.

"I need to see her," he said, getting out of the car.  She
knew he wasn't going to listen, so she hurried to catch up
with him.

"I'm Teena Mulder's son... she was brought here?" he asked
hurriedly at the nurse's station, Scully joining him at the
desk.

"122," the woman behind the counter replied.  Scully watched
as he hurried off, deciding to ask what questions she could.

"Is her doctor here?" Scully asked to the nurse's shake of
her head.  "Then what can you tell me?"

The nurse looked her up and down before speaking, "Are you
family?"

"Yes," Scully lied, but only slightly. If Mulder's mother
was as sick as Skinner had indicated, she may become all the
family Mulder might have left.

"She had a stroke," the nurse answered as if she was wanting
Scully to have to pull information out of her and Scully
wasn't in the mood.  "The doctor who treated her has already
made arrangements for her to be transferred to Providence.
She needs more specialized care."

"We want to talk to her doctor... now," Scully told the
woman.  When the nurse looked at her with a sour look,
Scully pulled her badge and flipped it open.  "Now."

"I'll call him down," the woman said, her attitude much more
meek.

While Scully was dressing down the nurse, Mulder felt his
stomach move somewhere up in his throat when he entered his
mother's room.  His first thought was that she looked like a
corpse, tubes coming out just about everywhere they could,
hooked to machines that seemed to fill half the room.  He
slowly moved closer to her bed, taking hold of her hand, her
fingers feeling like ice.  He touched her forehead, still
barely able to believe what was happening.

"The nurse said she had a stroke," Scully said when she
entered, the look on Mulder's face as he watched his mother
breaking her heart.  "They don't yet know the nature or
severity of it, but the doctor's on his way down."

Mulder reached for a blanket, "She's cold," he said, feebly
pulling the blanket over his mother.

Scully watched him, checking her emotions; she'd never seen
Mulder like that... he was scared to death.  "Mulder I don't
wanna jump to conclusions. I don't want you to think the
worst," she tried to comfort.  "People recover from these
situations all of the time."

Mulder never took his eyes off his mother, petting her with
a tender, gentle touch.  "Mom..." he said to her softly.

The nurse who had been borderline rude to Scully at the
desk, stuck her head in, seemingly in a mood to be much
nicer.  "She hasn't been able to speak.  She's been in and
out of consciousness."

"How did she get here?" Mulder asked, still not moving his
gaze away from his mother.

"A 911 call came in. The paramedics from Shelter Harbor
found her on the floor of the house."

"Mom..." he repeated gently.  His mother began to stir, her
eyes finding him.  "Hi," he tried to smile to her. "It's
okay.  Everything's gonna be ok."  But his soothing words
didn't seem to soothe, his mother seeming very disturbed.
Scully watched the interchange, wondering how Mulder would
ever deal with his mother if she never really regained her
full capacity.  His mother pulled her hand out from under
the blanket, making a gesture.  "What?  What is it? What do
you want?"

"I think she wants something to write on," Scully
interjected, digging in her pocket for her notebook and pen,
handing them to Mulder.  He gave the pen to his mother,
holding the notebook up so that she could reach it.  She
scratched down a letter at a time, finally spelling out P-A-
L-M.

"Palm?" Mulder questioned, his mind going in a million
different directions trying to figure out what that could
mean.  Scully could see that he was trying to find some
meaning in what his mother was doing, not wanting to tell
him what she was thinking.  Suddenly, the nurse stuck her
head in the door again and told them the ambulance was there
to take his mother to Providence.  Almost at the same time,
the doctor arrived and Scully followed him out, Mulder
staying with his mother to see that she was taken care of
properly.

The doctor filled Scully in on the case, telling her he'd
spoken to the neurologist in Providence so he was informed
of what had happened.  She watched as Mulder followed his
mother down the hall, then loaded into the back of the
waiting ambulance.  Scully walked up to him, softly touching
the back of his coat so as not to startle him.  "She's had
what's called a subarachnoid hemorrhage, but they're very
hopeful because the circulation was restored so quickly.
She's gonna be under constant supervision and get the best
care up in Providence. It could be a lot worse."

Mulder leaned back against the wall, every ounce of energy
seemingly drained from him.  "Thanks," he told her, trying
to smile, realizing he hadn't so much as looked at her since
they'd been there.

"Are you ok?" she asked him gently, the sad look on his face
concerning her.

"Yeah. I'm... uh," he stammered, not really knowing how he
was if he was truthful.  "I just can't help thinking there's
a correlation."

"Correlation?" Scully asked, truly not understanding what he
could possibly mean.

"A connection to the shooting at the fast food restaurant,"
he said, looking hopefully to her for some kind of
confirmation.

"I'm sorry, I... I don't understand."

"My mother wrote the word 'palm'.  That's what the man who
healed the victim, that's what he used, the palm of his
hand," he tried to explain, seeing the look of disbelief on
Scully's face.  "You... you think it's a leap?"

"Mulder, there's no deep mystery here. Your mother is at
the... the right age for something like this to happen."

"Why the word palm?"

"Well there could be several reasons...but to be honest, I
don't think it means anything.  Her, her brain and her
thought processes have been... have been radically changed
by what's happened. It could have very well affected her
center of speech, her language."

"But you can't explain it exactly, nor can it be explained
how the wounded were miraculously healed or how the man who
healed them just vanished into the air, can it?"

Scully could see that he was hoping for something that was
never going to happen, starting to worry that he wasn't
accepting what had actually happened to his mother.  "I'm
sure it can, and will be.  Mulder, I'm gonna drive you to
the nearest motel.  It's been a very long day," she told
him, the fatigue showing in her voice as well as his.

"I'm wanna go back to D.C..."

"To do what?" she asked a bit impatiently.

"I wanna find out who this miracle man is."  He headed for
the door, Scully resisting her urge to be irritated at him.
She knew he just needed her to be there for him, so she
followed him out the door.

NEW JERSEY TURNPIKE
3 1/2 hours later
"As soon as we get back on I-95, I need to hit the john,"
Mulder said, Scully waking from a short nap.  She had been
trying to stay awake to insure that Mulder would stay awake,
but had fallen asleep somewhere in New York.  They had
rented a car, Mulder figuring by the time they waited for a
flight and checked in and out of two airports, they could
make better time if they drove.

"Yeah..." she sighed, turning to look at him.  "After we
stop, I'll drive for awhile."

"I'm fine," he said, but not making eye contact.

"After we stop, I'm driving," Scully told him again.  "I've
had a nap and you look like you could use one, too."

Mulder finally nodded, knowing that she was right and was
just looking out for him.  They found an all-night truck
stop that didn't look like it was built somewhere in the
1950's, so they stopped for a bathroom break and a quick
bite to eat.  "I just talked with the hospital in
Providence," Scully said as she'd walked up to the table
where Mulder sat, returning from the restroom.  "There's
been no change, but she's resting comfortably."

"Thanks," Mulder responded quietly.

"It'll take some time before they can know for sure the
extent of the damage to her brain.  As painful as I know it
is for you, Mulder, we just have to wait."

"I realize that.  I just wish there was something I could
do," he said, sitting still and waiting not one of his
better assets.  Scully gave him a soft smile and squeezed
his hand, trying to tell him with her action that she would
be there with him no matter what the outcome.

"What looks good to you?" Scully said, looking at the menu
while she changed the subject.

"What looks bad?  It's all grease and starch; how can you go
wrong?" he smiled.

Mulder had wolfed down the 'Paul Bunyon' breakfast, Scully
opting for an egg over easy and dry wheat toast.  Both of
them had plenty of coffee and each took one to go.  Scully
had simply held out her upturned palm and Mulder had given
her the keys, relieved that she was going to drive and he
could try to get an hour's sleep.  But he hadn't, unable to
fall asleep, probably as a result of all the caffeine he'd
consumed coupled with everything he had on his mind.
"Mulder, put your head back and..."

"Think of England?" he interjected.

"Something like that," she smiled.  "Think of something
peaceful... or boring... or something that generally makes
you go to sleep."

"Well, I always sleep best after we've just screwed our
brains out," he deadpanned, finally reclining the back of
the seat a bit.

"Now you know what you can think about then," she deadpanned
just as quickly.  He reached over and found a radio station
that was playing 'Paperback Writer' and left it there,
leaning back in his seat.

"Great song..." he mumbled.

"Yeah.  But I liked 'Rain' better, the flip side," she told
him, Mulder smiling to himself.

"I knew there's a reason you and I were meant for each
other," he said, Scully giving him a glance that asked him
where that comment came from.  "You gotta find somebody who
gets the 'B' side.  That's always the best song, but you
gotta find that somebody who thinks to listen to it."

"Thanks," Scully smiled at him, realizing they were both the
type who always listened to the 'B' side literally and
figuratively and she was glad for it.  "Now, get some
sleep."

FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
8:25 AM
"This is everything shot by the first news crews at the
scene," Mulder said, slipping a video tape into the VCR,
moving back to sit on the edge of the desk next to Scully.
"Outtakes and unedited footage."

"Did they get any tape on the man in question?" she asked.
After they had made it back to Washington, they went
directly to their office, the video tapes from the local
news crew Mulder had asked another agent to pick up waiting
for them on Mulder's desk.  Scully had managed a few hours
sleep while Mulder drove, but she figured he probably hadn't
had more than an hour or so of sleep while she did.  And
Scully could see that Mulder had something on his mind,
something he seemed to think was on the news video of the
restaurant shooting.

"Yes, it's supposed to be at about 8:22," Mulder said, fast
forwarding the tape to the appropriate count.  "There, that
must be him."  Mulder fast forwarded and played the tape
back several times, both of them watching the gray haired
man talking to the detective seemingly disappear, replaced
by someone else wearing the same clothes.

"Could that be another detective?" Scully asked, of course
looking for a logical reason why the man seemed to just
disappear.

"Why don't you find out?" handing the remote control to
Scully, grabbing his coat to leave.

"Where are you going?" she asked, worrying about why he was
pushing himself so hard.

"If I told you, you'd never let me go," he told her
sincerely.

"Mulder, you haven't slept in almost 24 hours," she said,
knowing he was going to leave anyway, but never the less
giving it her usual try.

"Call me if you find anything," he told her on his way out.
Scully sighed an oh-so-familiar sigh as she watched him
leave, fearing that wherever he was going would end with her
being called to some god-forsaken hospital to sit vigil...
or worse.

Mulder had gone back to Quonochautaug, his source giving him
disturbing pictures of his mother and the cigarette smoking
man arguing.  'X' knew the history behind Mrs. Mulder and
the cancer man, but he was surprised to see that Mulder did
not.  And while Mulder was gone, Scully had located the
mysterious healing man from the restaurant and even had a
conversation with Mr. Jeremiah Smith, but discovering
nothing.  But, Mulder had discovered what he thought his
mother might have meant by her scrawling of 'LAMP'; a
strange tool hidden in one of the lamps at his parents'
summer house.  And he had seen the tool before, used by the
man Mulder knew as an alien hit-man to kill the other
aliens.  How had his mother known about that?

After Mulder had returned from Quonochautaug, he was shocked
to find that the healing man had simply turned himself in
and Scully and Skinner knew where he worked.
But when Mulder and Scully had gone to the Social Security
Administration and were escorting Mr. Smith out, hoping to
find out just who/what he was, he seemingly vanished into a
crowd, Mulder and Scully left standing there wondering what
happened.  What they didn't know was that the Jeremiah Smith
they had talked to hadn't been the real one, the actual
Jeremiah Smith being imprisoned by the Cigarette Smoking
Man.  The man they had been in contact with had actually
been the alien hit-man, not the Jeremiah Smith who had
healed wounded fast food patrons or the man Mulder wanted to
find with hope for his mother.

FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
ARLINGTON, VA
Later that night
"My aunt says Mom hasn't woken.  She's in a coma," Mulder
said, tossing the phone on his coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully said, his leather couch
squeaking when she moved to sit next to him.  "But I want
you to know something.  Victims of serious stroke often go
into a coma-like state afterwards.  It's the brain's way of
trying to rest and heal itself."

"Really?" he said, wanting so badly to have some hope that
his mother could recuperate.  "For how long?"

"Sometimes as long as a couple of weeks," she told him,
trying to give him some hope, but, yet, she needed to be
honest.  "But, I want you to know that the longer a person
doesn't wake, the less their chances are that they'll
recover or recover without serious disability."  Mulder
nodded, appreciating her candor, but heartsick about his
mother's potential prognosis.  "But right now, I want you to
go take a shower and get into bed and I'll bring you a
sedative.  You need to sleep."

"I need to go see her," he said, needing to do something
other than just wait.

"And you can do that, we can do that... tomorrow.  But you
are going to sleep first.  I'm not giving you a choice," she
told him sternly, then giving him a soft smile.

"You haven't slept much either, not enough to matter," he
countered, taking hold of her hand.

"I'll follow you in.  So make it quick, because I'm about to
drop."

Mulder barely remembered getting under the water, not even
toweling off before crawling into bed naked, his skin still
wet.  "Mulder, why are these sheets damp?" Scully asked when
she scooted in beside him after her shower.

"Wet dream?"

"You haven't been asleep."

"Enuresis?"

"I hope not," she replied, snuggling in next to him. "'Cause
I'm not changing your sheets."  Mulder chuckled as he
gathered her in closer to him, the familiar feeling of her
skin comforting to him.

"Just touching you makes me feel better," he told her,
giving her a soft kiss.

"Me, too."

Scully had forgotten to get Mulder a sedative and it was
probably for the best since he quickly fell off to sleep,
Scully half covering him.  They both slept like dead rocks.
But characteristically, Mulder was awake first and Scully
knew it when she felt kisses against the top of her bare
shoulder. First morning light barely crept in through the
openings between the slats of his blinds, but it was enough
light for Mulder to tell that Scully was now awake, too.

"How long've you been awake?" Mulder whispered, his lips
against her skin, spooning up behind her.

"Since I, um, felt you against my back," she answered, his
erection firmly pressed into the skin of her bottom.  His
hand moved down the front of her thigh, lifting her leg back
up over his.

"This okay?" he asked, his hand then sliding between her
legs, finding her soft curls.

"Mmmmmm, yeah," she sighed, still sleepy, but unable to
resist his physical implication.  Mulder lovingly stroked
her soft tissue, feeling his efforts working their magic,
her flesh lubricating.  He slipped his middle finger inside,
the flat of his thumb finding her clitoris.  "Ohhhh," she
breathed in, her hips jerking from the sensations his
fingers were causing.

Mulder slid his hand up from between her legs, his moistened
fingers softly caressing her abdomen, the creases where her
thighs met her body.  He knew how erogenous that area was
for her.  He'd been there before.

"Are you trying to drive me crazy?" she asked him, her words
slurred with arousal. Mulder chuckled as he sucked softly on
her neck, careful not to leave a mark.  He grasped himself,
scooting closer to find her opening, pushing into her
slowly.

"That better?" he asked against her ear.

"Mmmmm.... much."  He wrapped his arm around her waist,
holding her firmly against him as he began to pump in and
out of her, Scully countering each of his moves.  He slid
his hand up to cover her breast, Scully feeling a bit of
frustration at not being able to hold him in that position.
But she tried, her hand slipping back over his hip to caress
the cheek of his butt, feeling the muscle tightening and
releasing with every move of him in and out of her.

"You feel so good, Scully," Mulder strained to tell her,
feeling the muscles of his lower back begin to burn, knowing
he couldn't last much longer.  He released her breast, his
hand moving down to find her clitoris again, hoping to get
her off before he let go.  He could tell she was trying, but
he must not have yet found the right spot.  Then he felt her
hand on his, moving his fingers just slightly before her
hips bucked, a low moan emanating from her throat, muffled
by the pillow.  Mulder felt her hand guide his finger harder
against her clitoris and he followed her lead, rubbing more
rigorously and she flew.

"Mulder!" she groaned loudly, her tissue grabbing his penis
with sharp spasms, her orgasm a hard one.  Mulder took hold
of her leg still over his and lifted it up, his hand holding
on behind her knee.  He thrusted harder, his smooth rhythm
long gone.  "Oh, god," she whimpered, feeling another strong
orgasm building, bursting forth just before he let go,
pushing harder and deeper as he emptied himself into her.
He couldn't hold her leg any longer, letting it drop when he
wrapped his arm around her again, his panting breaths
fluffing her hair as he tried to calm himself.

"Scully..." he sighed when he was able to speak, still
holding her tightly, his penis feeling the last few twitches
of her inner tissue as she came down from her release.  "I
love you so much..."

Scully scooted away from him, the loss of him inside her
causing another twitch between her legs.  She turned to face
him, wrapping her arms around his neck, draping her leg
around his waist as she tried to envelope him.  "Mulder..."
she sighed, kissing him despite the fact that she could
barely catch her breath.  He pushed her to her back,
returning her kiss almost desperately.  His leg slipped
between hers, his chest pressed against her breasts as they
continued to kiss.  And when the kiss broke, he buried his
face in the pillow next to her head and she realized he was
crying.  "Mulder..." she said to him again, her hands softly
soothing over the muscles of his back.

"You're everything I have, Scully.  Everything..."

Scully moved up a bit, Mulder moving off of her to her side,
Scully moving his head to lie against her breast.  "It's
okay, Mulder.  It's okay..." she comforted, fully realizing
how upset he actually was about his mother.  He was
practically wrapped around her, her fingers slowly combing
through his hair as she whispered comfort to him.  "I'm
here... I'll always be here with you.  I promise."

PROVIDENCE, RI
THE NEXT DAY
The next day, they had gone to Providence to check on
Mulder's mother, Scully making an appointment to talk to her
specialist while Mulder went to her room to visit.
Little did she know that after Mulder had visited with his
mother, distraught over finding her totally unresponsive, he
had found the cigarette smoking man trying to visit his
mother as well.  "I should shoot you right here, but they
probably would be able to save you," Mulder threatened the
man, shoving him against the wall, pointing his gun into the
man's face.

"Do it.  Do it, Agent Mulder," the man challenged him.
"Or maybe shoot a bullet through your brain so you'd be
bedridden for the rest of your life like my mother," Mulder
growled at him, still restraining the man against the wall.

"How is she?" the man asked smugly.

"What do you care?"

"I've known your mother since before you were born, Fox,"
the man told him, Mulder picking up on his suggestive tone.

"I don't care."

"I'd gone to see her recently."

"And I know what you are looking for," Mulder told him,
knowing the man was looking for the stiletto he had found in
the lamp.

Even though he tried not to let Mulder see that he was
shaken by the fact that Mulder seemed to know why he'd gone
to the Mulder lake house, he couldn't totally hide it.  "I
wasn't looking for anything," he said, but not very
convincingly.  "It's what she was looking for actually. She
contacted me."

"Liar!"

"I had information, possibly on the whereabouts of your
sister," the man lied, Mulder releasing his hold on him,
hiding his gun under his jacket as a nurse came down the
hallway.

And despite his gut feeling that the Smoking Man was lying,
he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Where is she? Where
is she?"

"It seems the... the man who has the information has
disappeared."  And Mulder feared he meant Jeremiah Smith.

"I have what you want," Mulder told him, baiting him, hoping
he could get the bastard to trade information about his
sister or Jeremiah Smith for it and, if nothing else, just
to rub it in his face.
"There's nothing I want Agent Mulder, except to see how your
mother's doing."  But Mulder knew he was lying.

Mulder let him go and had gone to find Scully, two floors up
in the office suite.  They had both talked to her specialist
for a few more moments, sadly, not knowing much more than
they had the day before.  "I'm sorry, Mulder," she told him
as they headed for their car.  "I wish they knew more."

"Maybe we should have her brought back to Washington," he
said, knowing they would be closer and Scully could keep
better track of her treatment there.

Scully took hold of his hand, giving it a soft squeeze.  "I
think right now, it would be better is she stayed here.
This is one of the finest stroke units in the country,
Mulder.  We can see how things go for a couple of weeks and
make a decision then.  How's that sound?" she asked and he
nodded, appreciating that she could keep a clear head.  "You
okay?" she asked as they got into their car.

"Yeah..." he answered, but she could tell his mind was a
million miles away.  "I, um, we need to find Jeremiah Smith,
Scully.  As soon as possible."

WASHINGTON, DC
11:21pm
When they had returned to Washington, Scully had gone into
the office to search the Social Security Department records
on her computer, while Mulder notified his contact to see if
he could find another way.  Scully found herself wanting to
find Jeremiah as much as Mulder, hoping as Mulder did that
he could save his mother.  But she was disturbed when she
found information on not only one Jeremiah Smith, but six.
She tried to call Mulder but he was either out of range or
had his cell off.  There wasn't much else to do but head
home and see if he might have gone to her apartment.

But while Scully had gone to headquarters, Mulder had gone
to meet his contact, the man demanding the stiletto Mulder
admitted he had.  And when Mulder refused, 'X' had attacked
him, the two men getting into a knock down dragged out fist
fight, ending with both of them pointing their guns at each
other.  "You shoot me and you'll never find it," Mulder told
him, his lip stinging where it was split.

"I oughtta shoot you anyway after everything I've given
you," 'X' told him, looking around to see if anyone was
watching.

"I'm walking, away," Mulder said.

"You're a dead man Agent Mulder. One way or the other," 'X'
called after him, then disappearing himself.

Scully had gone home, finding her apartment dark with no
sign of Mulder.  She picked up her phone, intending to try
to reach him again when she heard a soft knock at her door.

"Who is it?" she asked, knowing by the knock that it wasn't
Mulder.

"Jeremiah Smith. Please let me in," the voice answered
softly.

Scully reached for her gun and cocked the hammer as she
slowly approached the door, looking out the peep hole.  And
there stood Jeremiah Smith.  Well, one of them.  "I want you
to put your hands up where I can see them," she told him and
checked again through the peep hole.  "I want you to keep
your hands up; I'm gonna unlock the door. I want you to
count to five, come in, close the door and lock it behind
you."  Smith did as he was told and entered her apartment.

"Keep your hands up, please," she said, her gun pointed
directly at him.

"I have important information for you; something your
partner has been seeking. It concerns an elaborate plan, a
project, and his sister," the man told her calmly, still
holding his hands in the air.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I've never spoken to you before.  The man you spoke to was
an impostor.  He was sent here to kill me."

"Who are you?"

"I'll explain everything," he started, but was interrupted
by her ringing phone.

"Yeah," Scully answered, but kept her eyes on Smith.

"Scully it's me," Mulder said to her, rubbing his sore lip.
He was in his car, hoping what 'X' said to him about being a
dead man wasn't about to come true.

"Mulder listen to me.  There's somebody here, somebody you
need to talk to," she told him, knowing Mulder would be more
than interested in who had just entered her apartment.

"Who?"

"Jeremiah Smith."

"Alright Scully, you gotta get out of your apartment.
They're gonna be looking for him.  I want you to meet me.

"Where?"

"Off the I-95, uh, Bond Mill Road," he told her, turning
onto the ramp, heading out on I-95.

Scully had followed his directions and saw Mulder's car
parked near an old saw mill.  When she and Smith had gotten
out of her car, Mulder called to her.  "Scully!" he said,
moving out into the open from behind one of the buildings.
"Scully move away from him, come stand behind me," Mulder
told her and she did as he asked as she and Smith moved
closer to him.

"I've come to you at great risk, I mean you no harm," Smith
told him, but noticed Mulder was holding the stiletto. "I
have a long and complicated story to tell you."

"Mulder, he knows about your sister," Scully told him, her
gut telling her this Jeremiah Smith was the real one.

"How do I know you're for real?" Mulder asked, fearful he
was being set up.

"I was at that restaurant, I healed those people," Smith
said to them earnestly.

"Yes, but how?" Scully asked.

"I can explain everything to you."

Mulder looked at him and Scully could see the desperation on
Mulder's face.  "First I want you to come somewhere with me.
I want you to come with me to see my mother," Mulder said to
him. Suddenly, another car pulled up and Mulder looked back
and forth from Smith to the car, still fearing he was being
set up.  But he could tell by the look on Smith's face that
he seemed to be even more scared by the arrival of the car
than he was.  Scully pulled her gun, not sure what was going
on either.  Then the car door opened and a large man exited
the car and Mulder noticed he also had a stiletto in his
hand.

"He's here to kill me," Smith said, Mulder watching the
large man approach, not knowing which one to trust, if
either.  His mind seemed to freeze... What the hell was he
going to do now?



TO BE CONTINUED in 'As It Might Have Been- Season 4'
Hopefully, coming soon.

Feedback welcomed at philer@onemain.com