TITLE:       MIRROR IMAGES
AUTHOR:      DONNILEE
E-MAIL:      DONNILEE@SNET.NET
RATING:      NC-17
CATEGORY:    MSR
SPOILERS:    Tiny one for Orison.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Sequel to 'Mirror Image.'  More notes at end.

SUMMARY: Scully has some very frightening and weird things 
happening to her, and she becomes a full believer.

DISCLAIMER:  All characters used from the show, The X-Files are 
the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen 
Productions, and Fox Broadcasting.  No copyright 
infringement intended.  No money made here.  See 
further disclaimers at the end.  Here, they would 
give away the surprise of the story.

THANKS:  Once again, my beta-extraordinaire, FatCat, for pouring 
over this thing more times than she should have had to.  Any 
remaining errors are solely my boo-boos.

DEDICATION:  I have to dedicate this one to Cybill, who caterwauled
the longest and loudest for a sequel to Mirror Image.  Some of those
pokes actually hurt!  I love her anyway.  Thanks, Cybill, for your 
enthusiastic cheerleading.  Hope it's up to snuff. :O)
 
XXXXXXXXXX
PART 1 (PG-13)
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
MONDAY MORNING
6:00 AM

It happened for the first time a week ago, on a Monday morning.  I 
was so scared that I had a panic attack.
 
Dana Scully does not panic.  Thank God no one was there to see me 
flip out.  It happened again this morning.  The last time I had put 
it down to my fevered imagination.  I'd probably been having a 
horrible dream and had only dreamed I woke up.  I was sure my eyes 
and my brain were playing tricks on me.  I'd thoroughly convinced 
myself of that.  

Until this morning.

I groaned as the alarm clock sounded its annoying high-pitched wail, 
summoning me from the warm depths of my bed.  I rolled over without 
opening my eyes and slapped the snooze button.  I heard someone 
yelling in the hallway outside my apartment and moaned.  I wasn't 
going to get those extra 15 minutes.  

I sighed and opened my eyes, bringing my hands up to scrub my face 
and the sleep out of my eyes.  That's then I saw it.  

Blood.  Bright, red, blood, all over my hands.  A scream made it 
half way out of my throat, "Ahhh!"  I cut it off with a whimper, 
feeling tears immediately slam into my eyelids, stinging.

I jumped out of bed, holding my hands away from my body.  I ran for 
the bathroom and turned on the faucets, letting the water get hot.  
The blood didn't wash away, but rather, faded away gradually as I 
held my hands under the surging water.  Had it been dry?  Why hadn't 
the water been pink?  I'd been was certain that it was blood.  I'd 
been around enough of the stuff to know what it looked like.  The 
coppery metallic smell that assaulted my nostrils was unmistakable 
secondary proof.

I ventured a look in the mirror.  There was no blood on my face, 
despite the fact that I had rubbed my hands all over it.  It made no 
sense.  I crawled into the shower and stayed there until the water 
ran cool.  What was I going to do?

Mulder and I were a mere month into a personal relationship that had 
blossomed when I came out of a coma after a harrowing accident on 
the job.  I still couldn't read anyone else, but I could read 
Mulder's thoughts.  It scared him and excited him all at once.

Once he'd gotten past his juvenile euphoria over sending me raunchy 
images of the two of us while I was trying to concentrate on typing 
reports at work, things had calmed down.

When I was feeling up for it, we would test my limits.  He would try 
to think abstract things without pictures and I was beginning to 
catch some of it, like a whisper of a voice in my head.  This, 
though, this was too much.

I dressed in a severe black pantsuit for work with a modest blouse, 
feeling a need to cover up.  My insides were shaking and I didn't 
think I could handle breakfast, so I choked down a quick cup of tea 
and some dry toast.  I was going to have to tell Mulder.

As good as he had been about the mind reading thing, I was scared 
for a good reason.  I didn't want to become a lab rat.  Well, shit.

XXXXXXXXXX
HOOVER BUILDING
BASEMENT OFFICE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
9:00 AM

Scully had been acting weird for days.  It was worse last week, but 
had gradually tapered off and I thought we were getting back to 
normal.  We'd spent the weekend together and made love like rabid 
bunnies, and I had chalked up her strange behavior to her 
anticipation or nervousness about the weekend with me.  We'd spent 
four weekends together so far, and although they had all gone well, 
I figured she was still nervous about our new relationship.

I couldn't blame her.  It was like a dream come true for me and I 
had to admit to my own sense of trepidation.  Being who I am, I was 
waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to mess up this 
newfound happiness with Scully.  In light of that, her behavior had 
me on edge.  I was afraid she was having second thoughts.  This was 
the second time she had come in on a Monday looking down and 
contemplative and upset.  

I'd offered her coffee when she came in and she'd barked at me that 
she would get it herself.  I'd quietly retreated to my desk and 
proceeded to surreptitiously watch her out of the corner of my eye.

We'd been here an hour working on backed up paperwork, as was our 
routine on Mondays and I glanced over again.  This time I could see 
wetness pooling in her eyes and her hands were frozen above the 
keyboard of her laptop as if she were in a trance.

Enough was enough.  I cleared my throat and her head jerked around 
to look at me.  She was blinking rapidly to hide her tears.  
"Scully, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said automatically.

"This is the second Monday you've been acting weird.  You bit my 
head off over a cup of coffee and now you're staring out into space 
like your going to find an answer in the cracks of the concrete on 
that wall.  Come on, Scully; don't treat me like an idiot.  I know 
something is wrong.  If you aren't ready to talk about it, I can 
respect that, but don't lie to me."

Her face became tense and her lips frowned severely as though she 
was still trying to hold back the tears.  I couldn't stand it when 
she cried and she knew it too.  I stood up and approached her.

She flinched when my hands landed on her shoulders.  "Did I think 
something that upset you?" I asked quietly.  This was a constant 
fear of mine now.  It wasn't in the forefront, but it hovered like a 
black cloud somewhere in the back of my mind.  I wondered if that 
would be the thing that would drive a wedge in this happiness.

She shook her head.  "No, Mulder.  If I concentrate on other things, 
I can actually shut you out, and not hear what you're thinking all 
the time.  I don't want you to feel like I'm eavesdropping 24/7."

I chuckled.  "As long as you never get upset with something you 
hear, and then keep it to yourself.  Promise me you'll talk to me if 
you hear something that upsets you or that you don't understand."

"I will.  I promised and I haven't broken that promise, Mulder."

"What am I thinking now?" I asked quietly.

She was silent a few moments and then burst into tears.  "You ... you 
love me so much.  You want to take my ... my pain away.  You wish I 
would trust you with it, let you ... let you help me carry the burden, 
whatever it is."

I leaned down and kissed the side of her neck gently.  "That's 
right," I whispered.  I spun her chair around and braced my hands on 
the arms of her chair.  "Talk to me, Scully," I said gently.

"Not here," she said softly.  

"Where do you want to go?"

"Home, Mulder.  I want to go home."

I nodded and stood up, reaching for the phone on her desk.  I dialed 
Skinner's extension and waited.  Kimberly picked up, "Assistant 
Director's Skinner's office."

"Kim, it's Mulder.  Is he available?"

"Not at the moment.  He has someone in his office."

"Can you tell him that Agent Scully and I are taking the rest of the 
day off?"

"Is everything all right, Agent Mulder?" she asked, genuinely 
concerned.

"Yeah, Kim.  Not a case.  Uh, Scully has a family emergency and I'd 
like to accompany her."

"Certainly, Agent Mulder.  I'll tell him.  Tell Agent Scully I hope 
everything works out all right."

"Thanks, Kim.  We'll call later today or tomorrow morning and fill 
him in."

"I'll tell him," she replied.

"Thanks."  I hung up and strode to the coat tree and pulled her 
trench coat off it.  I held it out and she stood and turned her back 
to me, slipping her arms inside.  I threw mine over my shoulder and 
ushered her out of the office, closing and locking it behind me.  My 
hand never left her low back as we rode to the garage.  I was afraid 
to break contact.  She looked terrified now and I was really 
worried.  At least she wasn't pushing me away.

She didn't protest when I opened my car up and coaxed her into the 
passenger seat.  We drove in relative silence to her apartment.  I 
was getting more nervous as the minutes ticked by.  

XXXXXXXXXX
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, D.C.
10:00 AM

We finally arrived and I followed her inside.  She shed her coat and 
went straight to the bedroom.  I followed her and she took off her 
suit.  I had to tamp down my desire as she stood there in front of 
me in nothing but her panties and bra.  She pulled a tee shirt and 
sweats on and then tossed me the same from my drawer in her bureau.  
Yeah, I had my own drawer.  The thought made me smile.  I shed my 
suit and got into the casual clothes without asking about it.  I 
followed her back into the living room. 

She veered off into the kitchen and I watched long enough to realize 
she was starting a pot of coffee.  I settled onto the couch and 
waited.  She came back in and sat opposite me, as far away as she 
could get.  I took that as a bad sign.

"Scully, please tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know, that's part of the problem," she said.

I felt my chest tighten.  "Are you having second thoughts about us?" 
I asked, barely able to get the words out.

Her eyes met mine then and she shook her head frantically.  "Oh, no, 
Mulder!  This has nothing to do with you."

I relaxed slightly.  "Can't you share it with me?" I asked, unable 
to keep the hurt out of my voice.

"I'm scared.  Something weird happened," she began.

I stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her if she was finally 
going to spill the beans.

"It happened last Monday morning, and by Wednesday or so I was able 
to convince myself that it had been a dream and my eyes had played 
tricks on me."

I sighed.  "Obviously, this something happened again."

"Yes, this morning."  She began to cry.

I couldn't stand it.  I slid down the couch and hauled her into my 
lap.  She didn't help but she didn't protest when I maneuvered her 
to straddle my legs.  I hugged her to me.  "Can you tell me what it 
is?"

"I woke up and, you know, hit the alarm without opening my eyes.  I 
know exactly where it is on the bedside table without even looking."

I nodded.  She leaned forward and buried her face in the crook of my 
neck.  I didn't mind.  This side of Scully that liked to cuddle was 
just another miracle and joy for me.  "What happened then?" I coaxed 
gently.

She swallowed hard and pressed her nose into my neck.  Then I felt 
it, she was actually trembling.  I held her tighter and wondered 
what could scare her so bad.  Scully was a strong woman.  She was 
not a wilting flower that fell to pieces over the mundane or even 
over the weird that would scare most people shitless.  I was really 
worried now.

"Shhh, it's all right," I cooed to her.  "Tell me, let me help."  I 
paused.  "I WANT to help, Scully.  It's not a chore for me to help 
you.  I want to do it."

She sniffled and raised her head.  She slowly held up her small 
hands.  "My hands," she began.

"Your hands?  What happened to your hands?"

Her bottom lip quivered.  "Mulder, they were, oh God, Mulder, they 
were covered in blood!"

I gasped in spite of myself.  "What do you mean?" I asked, figuring 
I must be not hearing this right.

"Blood, Mulder.  Bright, red, blood.  It was, like it was dry, but I 
could smell it!"  She hiccupped and collapsed on my chest.

"This has happened more than once?" I asked delicately.

"Yes, this morning was the second time," she sobbed out.  Her whole 
body was shaking now.

"Shhh, we'll figure it out, Scully.  Easy, now.  Together, always 
together, right?  We'll figure it out," I babbled to her, feeling my 
heartbreak as I felt her fear wash over me.

"Do you have any cuts on your body, Scully?"

"No!  What do think I am, an idiot?  Of course I checked!" she 
exclaimed.

I bit my tongue at the flare of anger that rose up in me.  'She's 
scared shitless,' I reminded myself.  'She's going to be defensive.'  
I said, "Sorry, Scully.  Of course you did."

She sat back again and wiped her eyes on the back of her hands.  
"I'm sorry, Mulder.  I didn't mean to snap at you.  It's a 
legitimate question."

I smiled at her gently.  "Don't worry about it."

"Ask your questions.  I honestly can't say I have any answers."

"No theories at all?" I asked, knowing her brain would have been 
working on this for days.

She swallowed and met my gaze.  "Only one, and I can't believe," she 
choked out, cutting herself off.

"What?  Tell me the theory."

"Have you been watching the news?"

I shook my head.  "You know I never watch the news," I teased.

The corners of her mouth turned up but the smile didn't reach her 
eyes and it faded immediately.  "Mulder, there have been two murders 
in the last two weeks, both on Sunday nights, right here in 
Georgetown."

"Scully, no!" I said automatically.

She nodded.  "It's worse."

"How could it be worse than murder?"

"They were children, Mulder," she said in a barely audible voice.

"Awww, no, Scully!  Awww, no.  You don't think that you?"  I 
stopped, not even allowing myself to complete the thought.

She shook her head.  "I don't know, Mulder.  I go to bed, and don't 
remember anything until I wake up with dried blood on my hands.  
Could I be blacking out?  I'm only a month out from a head injury 
and a coma!  Jesus, Mulder!"

She collapsed on me again and my mind raced.  There was no way in 
HELL that Scully had committed murder.  I refused to believe it.  I 
couldn't believe that, even in a total black out or sleepwalking, 
she was capable of doing that.  I was even more convinced because 
they were children.  

I pried her off my chest and cupped her tear-stained face.  "Listen 
to me," I said firmly.

Her eyes took flight and darted everywhere, finally coming to rest 
on mine.  She didn't say anything, but when I knew I had her 
attention, I continued.  "Scully, you are the most compassionate, 
forgiving, loving woman I have ever known.  Even unconsciously, in a 
black out, there is NO WAY in hell that you did this thing."

I tried to pour as much conviction and sureness into my voice as I 
possibly could.  "But maybe I'm jealous and don't know it, and I 
took those babies away from their mothers," she babbled.

"Scully, NO!" I nearly shouted in her face.  "Stop it!  Don't even 
think that way.  I don't have the answers yet, but I know that's not 
it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just am.  I KNOW you, Scully.  You wouldn't kill an adult except 
in self-defense, let alone a child.  That's absolutely ridiculous!"

"I killed Donnie Phaster," she said quietly and with conviction.

"Yes, after he brutalized you and several other women and he would 
have killed you too.  He'd already been jailed once; he would have 
gotten out and come after you again.  He was pure EVIL, Scully.  We 
both know that."

She swallowed harshly and blinked rapidly again, not meeting my 
eyes.  "I'm so scared," she admitted.

I tipped my head until her eyes met mine again.  "We'll figure it 
out.  I promise.  Let me do some research."

"Should we go to the police?"

"No, I think that would be a really bad idea."

"But we have to do something.  It could be true, Mulder."

"No, Scully.  I won't even consider it.  Do you trust me?"

She nodded frantically. 

"Then trust me now, Scully.  We'll figure it out.  You have to give 
me some time though."

She nodded.  "Can I stay here?" I asked.

"During the week?" she asked.  We'd agreed to stay at our own places 
during the week when we were in town, and only stay overnight 
together on Fridays and Saturdays.  We never slept together while on 
a case.  I was asking her to break that rule.

"What difference does it make?"

"Well, one of the best methods of investigation is process of 
elimination."

"And?"

"And if I'm here, I'll know if you get up, if you sleep walk, 
anything like that.  When and IF it happens again, I'll be here.  
You know I barely sleep three hours a night anyway."

She swallowed, seeing the logic.  "Okay, we have to be careful 
though, Mulder."

"Fuck careful.  IF they find out, they find out.  I can always say 
I'm here because you were sure someone was trying to break in.  I 
slept on the couch.  How are they going to know?  They're not going 
to anyway.  They have better things to do than watch us."

I wasn't sure about that, but figured that she needed to hear it.  
"But what if?" she stopped suddenly.

"Scully, trust me," I implored.  "Our relationship and figuring this 
out is more important to me than any job.  Don't you get that?  I 
don't give a good God damn what the bureau thinks."

"We could get separated," she said simply.

"Then we quit and I support us living off my inheritance.  It's not 
an issue for me, Scully."

"What if it's an issue to me?" she asked.

"You can work, Scully.  You're a doctor.  We could become private 
investigators.  There are a lot of options, none of which are 
relevant at the moment.  We have to keep our priorities straight."

"You're right.  I need to know what's happening," she agreed.

I had a hunch, but I didn't want to voice it to her yet.  The last 
thing she needed right now was another shock, or some extreme 
possibility thrown at her.  If I'd learned nothing else, Scully 
needed to be eased into extreme possibilities.  She wasn't as rigid 
in her beliefs as when we began this adventure, but she still liked 
evidence if she could get it, and a rational explanation was even 
better.

"I'm so tired," she said softly.  "I have a pounding headache, too."

"Why don't you lie down and take a nap.  I'll use your computer to 
do some research."

"Can we keep this just between us for now, Mulder?"

"Sure, Scully.  I'll check with you first before I bring anyone else 
in, you know that."

"Thanks, Mulder."

We kissed gently and tenderly and she slipped off my lap and made 
her way to the bedroom.  I sighed, realizing we'd never gotten to 
the coffee.  It was made though, so I poured myself a cup and fired 
up the computer.



PART 2 (PG-13)
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, D.C.
5:00 PM

I woke up the smell of Chinese food and coffee.  I fearfully looked 
at my hands and there was nothing wrong with them.  I sighed in 
relief and rolled over to look at the clock and nearly gasped out 
loud.  Good lord, it was five o'clock already.  I threw off the 
covers and finger combed my hair.  

I wandered into the kitchen to find Mulder pouring more coffee.  I 
eyed the cartons he had laid out on the kitchen table in my dinette 
area.  "Enough there for two?" I asked groggily, realizing I was 
starved.  I had eaten nothing since my piece of toast and tea that 
morning.

He turned and said, "Of course, sit down.  I'll get you a plate."

He waited on me, pouring me coffee as I dished up pork-fried rice, 
an egg roll and some moo goo gai pan.  He sat with me and we ate in 
silence for a few minutes.  "Thanks, I feel better already," I 
mumbled between bites of rice.
 
He smiled.  "Good."

"I can't believe I slept that long," I commented after swallowing 
again.

"You obviously needed it.  Eventually, if we won't go down, our 
bodies put us down."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"How do you feel now?" he asked.

"Pretty good.  I'll probably be up all night now," I complained.

"Welcome to my world," he teased.

We smiled at each other and I marveled that we had come so far in 
our relationship in a short month.  All those years of dancing 
around one another and now we were like an old, married couple.  I 
didn't want to admit it, but I loved the idea of waking up to 
Mulder, seeing him putting around in my kitchen.  It made me feel 
secure and normal, for once.  Our lives would never be normal, but 
down time together was a new thing for us and we both enjoyed it.

I finally asked, "Did you find anything out?"

"I might have," he hedged.

I raised an eyebrow at him.  "Spill it."

"Not yet.  I want to check a few more things."

"Come on, Mulder.  I need to know."

"I don't want to give you wrong information, Scully."

"You can't even give me a hint."

"You're not going to like it," he said with finality.

I tensed.  "What?  Please, Mulder.  Tell me something."

He recognized my fear instantly and laid a hand over mine.  "It's 
not necessarily a bad thing, Scully, and it definitely is not 
criminal.  So you can put those fears to rest.  What I mean when I 
say you won't like it is that it's not something you ever asked for, 
anymore than your ability to read my mind was something you asked 
for."

"Oh no, Mulder.  Don't tell me that.  You think this is some other 
ability I have?  That doesn't even make any sense!"

He chuckled.  "Lots of things don't make sense, Scully.  We're in my 
playground now, remember?  Psychology is not a hard science."

I sat back in my chair, pulling my hand back.  "Are you saying I 
have a mental illness?" I asked, suddenly horrified that I could be 
having hallucinations and not realize it.

He shook his head.  "No, Scully.  This is something that crosses the 
lines between psychology and the paranormal."

"Why am I afraid to ask?"

We were silent for a few moments as he shoveled some more food into 
his mouth.  Finally, he pushed his plate away and said, "Let's clean 
up and I'll show you what I found."

I didn't particularly want to wait, but I realized that I didn't 
want to sit here in the kitchen either, so I quickly helped him 
clean up and put the leftovers away.  We poured fresh coffee and 
made our way into the living room.

Once I was seated on the couch, he sat and turned sideways to face 
me, sipping his coffee.  I could tell he was thinking carefully 
about what to say to me.  "Don't spare me, Mulder.  I have to know 
what's going on.  You should know better than anyone else, that not 
knowing is the worst." 

He nodded.  "Okay.  Let me ask you a question."

I nodded, bracing myself.  "How much do you know about 
clairvoyance?"

My mouth dropped open.  He couldn't be serious.  I almost laughed 
until I saw the expression on his face.  He was dead serious.  "You 
can't be serious?" I muttered, despite my realization that he was.

He nodded.  "I think that bump on the head has done some weird 
things for you, Scully.  I don't think your ability to read me is 
the only area that's been opened up."

I swallowed.  A couple of months ago I would have said this was 
impossible.  Then again, I couldn't read his mind a month ago.  A 
sudden image of him hugging me and nuzzling my neck flashed behind 
my eyelids when I blinked. 

I snapped my eyes open and looked at him.  He was sitting there 
calmly.  "Did you do that on purpose?"

"What?" he asked innocently.  I knew he wasn't teasing me.

"I just saw something," I muttered, still embarrassed by this 
ability to 'see' his thoughts.

"What did you see?"

"You hugging me and nuzzling my neck," I said.  One fear I had 
gotten over was telling him what I saw.

He smiled.  "I think about that a lot," he admitted.  I didn't 
realize I just had though.  I do know that I want to comfort you.

I smiled at him.  "What did I ever do to deserve you, Mulder?" I 
asked, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude to have this man in my 
life.

He smiled.  "I don't know.  You must have pissed somebody off big 
time in your last life."

We both laughed.  I leaned forward and kissed him gently.  "I think 
I made someone very happy."

He smiled at me.  "Maybe you are delusional?" he said in a 
conversational tone. 

I smiled, but was worried that he might be right.  He saw the 
hesitation in me and said, "No, Scully."

"It would make more sense than what you're saying."

"You still haven't answered my question.  What do you know about 
clairvoyance?"

"Not much.  Umm, some psychics can touch something and get pictures 
from it, right?"

"That's one form, yes, but what most people don't know is there are 
different types of clairvoyance."

"There are?"

He nodded, warming to his subject.  "Ready for your first lesson?"

I nodded grudgingly.  I should have known that he would come up with 
something paranormal instead of believing that in something logical.  
I would hear him out.  Then I would have to make appointments with 
my doctors to have an MRI done of my head.  Couldn't hurt to make 
sure I didn't have a tumor or something.

He began.  "First, there are two types.  One is voluntary and one is 
involuntary."

"That seems self-explanatory," I answered.

"Right.  It relates to the amount of control the clairvoyant has.  
Someone untrained can have bursts of sight during times of stress.  
They have no control over when and where this is going to happen."

"Okay," I muttered.

"I think you fall into that category right now.  The second, of 
course, is someone trained as a clairvoyant and they can control 
when and where it happens."

I had my doubts that there was any such thing as being trained as a 
clairvoyant.  "How do you train?  I mean, someone can either do it 
or not, right?"

He smiled.  "We'll get to that later."

I acquiesced and he continued.  "So there are categories as well, 
three of them in fact.  The first category is simply called 
clairvoyance.  These people can see an event or situation happen.  
It may be in the past, present, and even, in some case, in the 
future.  They can see clear details.  The stickier point is whether 
they are seeing the material world or the world of spirits."

"You can't be serious," I said again.

He smiled.  "You know I'm serious.  I know you've never believed in 
this stuff, Scully, but even you can't deny something happened to 
you while you were in that coma.  You woke up with the ability to 
read people's minds."

"To read YOUR mind," I corrected him.

"I think you could read anyone's, but you're blocking it because it 
scares you and you don't want to."

"I'm not blocking anything."

"Not consciously, no," he scolded.

I wanted to be angry at him about that comment but couldn't find it 
in myself to be mad.  He was trying to help me.  It wouldn't be the 
first time one of these way-out theories couldn't be disproved but 
turned out to be right.  This was scarier than usual though, because 
we were talking about me personally.

"Last detail on that category is that there is no help from the 
outside, or the spirit world.  It just comes to the individual."

"Okay, and the next one?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know, but 
knowing I had no choice but to hear him out.

"The next category is called Seeing.  It's less clear than straight 
clairvoyance because it involves spiritual help.  The problem with 
this is that the messages that are transmitted are usually in the 
form of symbols or vague visions.  They are also short in duration, 
depending on the strength of the spirit sending the message."

"This is getting weirder," I commented idly.

He merely smiled.  "The individual views these visions like a movie 
and they often require interpretation because of the symbolism."

I nodded, not daring to open my mouth.  I didn't want to believe 
this.  My mind was already throwing up barriers.  I forcefully 
pushed them away and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.  
"What is the third kind?" I asked with resignation.

"The third category is called Seeing Voijora.  This one is the 
scariest because the clairvoyant views the events as if they were 
actually there, as if the event were happening to them."  This last 
was said with emphasis and my eyes got locked into his and couldn't 
pull away.  I knew what he was saying.

"No, Mulder," I whispered.

He nodded and smiled sadly.  "I think that's what you're 
experiencing, Scully."

"That doesn't explain the blood on my hands."

"I don't think there is actual blood, Scully, although I haven't 
seen it.  I think it is part of a vision.  You are seeing something 
that is happening and you are there.  A piece of it is following you 
into wakefulness.  Is there actual blood when you wash your hands?"

I thought for a moment and realized there wasn't.  "No, it just sort 
of fades away, but it feels so real.  I can even smell it," I told 
him again.

He nodded.  "All forms of clairvoyance can be experienced in a wide 
range of skill levels from quick, faint visions at lower levels to 
long lasting, extremely detailed visions at a higher level of 
skill."

"This sounds like hocus-pocus."

"Okay, let's look at the science, not that there is much of it on 
this topic."

"There's science on this?" I asked.  My curiosity was now peaked.

"Yes, there is my little scientist," he teased.

"Tests have been done that show abnormal electrical activity in the 
brains of clairvoyants.  Not only is there activity but also it is 
located in an area of the brain that is not normally associated with 
cognitive thinking, learning, etc.  It's in the memory section of 
the brain."

"Memory?  You're not going to tell me that all time runs parallel 
and past, present, and future are all happening at the same time," I 
said with finality.

He grinned.  "I don't know about that, although it is one theory.  
On the science-end of things though, it does pose some questions.  
One theory is that the world is made up of energy, right?"

"Right."

"Every living thing has energy and when it passes, it leaves a 
footprint, for lack of a better word.  That energy reacts to the 
electromagnetic fields in that area and leaves a 'memory' if you 
will of what happened.  Many, who study paranormal events such as 
hauntings, etcetera, believe this theory.  You've heard stories of 
people seeing a ghost doing the same thing over and over again in a 
haunted house.  Experts believe that this is because of the energy 
footprint left there at the time of the event.  If the event was 
traumatic and unexpected, the energy signature is much stronger.  
That's when those that are tuned into it can see it."

"Why can't everyone see it?" I asked.

"Because of the second theory, that every human being has the 
potential to exercise this ability.  The problem is, and we know 
this from science, that the average person uses only ten to twelve 
percent of their brainpower.  Think about that.  There's another 
eighty-eight to ninety percent lying there dormant that is either 
unused, or only used on an unconscious level.  The predominant 
theory is that people with clairvoyance, extra sensory perception, 
precognition, etcetera, are able to tap into a portion of the brain 
that most of us don't use."

"Why can some tap it and others can't," I asked.

He took a sip of his coffee.  "Well, there are several theories on 
that, too."

I smiled.  "Which one do you subscribe to?"

"I believe that in order to have the ability, you first have to 
believe that you do."

I looked down at the couch.  "That doesn't work in my case, does 
it?" I mumbled.

"I don't know.  Sometimes our subconscious can accept things that 
our conscious mind can't.  That's where the conflict comes in."

"My gigantic character defect, right?"

He smiled.  "Not a defect, no.  It's just the way you are, Scully.  
Because of your background in medicine and science, you like to see 
evidence.  There's nothing wrong with that, per se.  It's only a 
problem when it prevents you from accepting something that is real."

"And you think this is real?"

"Yes, I do," he said without hesitation.  "You can hear my thoughts 
and receive pictures from my mind.  You now believe that's real.  Is 
it such a leap that that you might have an ability larger than that, 
or one that extends beyond me out into the world?  I think you're 
getting signals from out there."  He waved his hand negligently to 
indicate the outside world. 

"Are there tests for this?"

He grinned now.  "That was what I was going to look for next."

"I'm not going to some dark lady madam in a kimono sitting in a 
tent, Mulder."

He laughed outright now.  I knew that was a stereotype of psychics 
but I couldn't help it.  When his mirth died down he said, "I 
wouldn't expect you to, Scully.  You know that police departments 
around the world have used psychics from time to time to help solve 
crimes.  That's no secret.  Obviously, they have a good handle on 
who is legitimate and who isn't.  The proof is the pudding, as they 
say."

"You were thinking of tracking one of these people down?"

"That was my idea.  I figured they could then lead us to someone 
that does test for this type of ability.  There has to be someone 
somewhere that can help you with this."

Little did I know that the person we sought was right under our 
noses, and had been for some time.


PART 3 (PG-13)
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, D.C.
ONE WEEK LATER
MONDAY - 6:00 AM

The following Monday, it happened again.  Only this time, I was 
there to look at her hands.  I was unable to stop my gasp of 
surprise, having really wondered up to that point, if she was 
'seeing things'.  Nevertheless, I could see the blood, bright yet 
dry.  I, however, couldn't smell a thing. 

I followed her as she leaped out bed and ran for the bathroom.  I 
watched in awe as the blood disappeared, fading gradually until all 
I could see was her hand, red from the heat of the scalding water.  
I turned off the tap and kissed each of her fingers.  I sat on the 
toilet and she sprawled into my lap, straddling my legs and 
collapsing onto my chest crying.  

"Again, it happened again.  Oh Jesus, Mulder, I don't think I can 
take this.  Oh God, again," she muttered.

I petted her hair and cooed to her meaningless words of reassurance 
as I kissed her forehead, eyes, and cheeks.  She finally stopped 
sobbing and babbling and I stood without a word and undressed myself 
and then her, turning on the shower.  She wouldn't look at me.

"Scully," I said softly.

She raised her eyes to me and I saw fear in them.  She was afraid of 
my reaction.  "How can you be so calm?"

"It didn't happen to me.  I'm not as calm as I look," I admitted, 
taking her hand and placing it on my chest so she could feel the 
hard and rapid beating of my heart.

"I'm turning into a freak, Mulder."

"You're a lot of things, Scully, but a freak is definitely not one 
of them.  Come on, get in the shower."

"You're not appalled?" she asked.

I scrunched up my brows in confusion.  "Why would I be appalled?  
You never left the bed, Scully."

"This is so strange, Mulder.  I'm supposed to be the logical one, 
the scientific one, the st ..." she said, and stopped short.

"The strong one?" I asked, finishing her sentence with what I knew 
was a teasing expression.

"I'm sorry, Mulder.  That sounds awful, doesn't it?  Nobody knows 
better than I how strong you are."

"Scully, you just hate losing control.  I understand that.  I don't 
mind having to be strong once in a while.  When you let me help you 
I feel like I'm pulling my weight in this relationship."

"You always pull your weight, Mulder," she assured me. 

We kissed gently and got into the shower.  We helped wash each 
other, enjoying the right to touch and fondle one another.  We got 
out and dried off.  "Should I call into work?" I asked.

"No.  I was thinking maybe we could talk to Skinner."

"Skinner?" I asked, surprised that she would want to pull him into 
this.

"Well, maybe he can help us find someone that can help us understand 
what is happening.  We've been searching for nearly a week, and we 
can't find one legitimate psychic that will talk to us.  It's weird.  
I always thought those people jumped at the chance to show off their 
skills or preach to the public about the possibilities that most 
don't accept."

"Is that what you want to do?" I asked gently.

She looked up, startled and then said, "You've got a point."

I chuckled.  "You're not the only one that feels they will be 
persecuted and called a nut-case if they talk about their true 
beliefs or something strange that is happening to them, Scully.  I 
happen to be intimately acquainted with the feeling myself," I 
reminded her.

She looked chagrined and came over to me and hugged me fiercely.  "I 
love you, Mulder.  I don't know what I'd do without you."

I felt a lump form in my throat.  I thought about all the years that 
I yearned to hear those very words come out of her mouth.  Now, she 
said them with increasingly regularity.  I still had a hard time 
believing it sometimes.  However, I was a selfish man.  As long as 
this dream continued, I was going along for the ride.

"All right.  We'll talk to Skinner," I agreed.

XXXXXXXXXX
HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C.
MONDAY - 9:00 AM

We'd arrived at eight and called Skinner's office.  Kim had advised 
us that he had some free time at 9:00 AM.  So we made our way 
upstairs.  I could tell Scully was nervous but determined.  She 
trusted Skinner.  I did too, although I knew he respected Scully 
much more than he did me.  I didn't mind that though.  It only made 
sense.  This time, it was going to be Scully with the wild tale.  I 
was definitely curious as to how he would react.

Skinner didn't know for sure that we were involved, but he 
suspected.  I knew that now.  He dropped hints all the time.  
Although I wouldn't confirm or deny, my reluctance to flat-out deny 
his subtle questions most likely gave him his answer.

Kim waved us in as we entered her office area and I knocked once, 
before ushering Scully in with my hand in its usual place on the 
small of her back.

"Have a seat," Skinner said distractedly as he read something on the 
desk in front of him.

He sighed, closed the folder in front of him and laced his fingers 
together across his stomach as he leaned back in his chair.  He eyed 
us speculatively as we sat down.  "Kim said you needed to see me.  
Do you need a 302 for a new case?" he asked, referring to the 
paperwork we always had to do to request permission to investigate a 
new case.

"Uh, no, Sir," I answered.  "Scully has been having some 
difficulties and we wanted to get some advice from you."

"Difficulties?" he asked, looking truly confused.  His attention 
shifted to Scully.  "Agent Scully?"

She looked up at him.  Whatever he saw in her face concerned him.  I 
could tell.  He leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk.  
"What is it?"

She didn't answer right away and he looked at me.  "I think she 
should explain, Sir."

So she did.  I was surprised.  She didn't try to downplay it and she 
didn't sensationalize it, but she simply told the facts as she saw 
them, relating all my research and our attempts to contact a 
psychic, and how we were striking out on all counts.

He didn't react with incredulous disbelief as I had expected.  He 
merely sat back in his chair with his hands flat on his blotter and 
stared at Scully for several long moments when she came to the end 
of her story.

"I know it all sounds crazy, Sir," she began.

He held up a hand to silence her propensity to defend herself and me 
about anything weird or extraordinary.  "I believe you," he said 
simply.

Her eyes were wide and she asked, "You do?"

He smiled and nodded.  "If it were Mulder coming to me with this 
story, I might be less inclined to believe.  However, if I know 
nothing else about you, Scully, I know you've exhausted all the 
conventional methods of investigating this matter."

"Yes, Sir.  I had my doctors run blood tests, and take an MRI and a 
brain scan, looking for abnormalities."

"What did they find?"

"Nothing."

I scowled at her.

"Well, nothing conventional.  No tumors, hemorrhages, and not even a 
varicose vein."

He smiled.  "But they found something."  It was statement.

Her voice was barely above a whisper.  "They found irregular brain 
waves on the left side of my brain."

"Irregular, how?" he asked, wanting more detail.

She swallowed.  "They said I had nearly twice the amount of 
electrical activity in my brain than a normal person has, at least 
on that side.  And the brain waves were functioning faster than 
normal."

He cleared his throat.  "That is interesting."

"I feel foolish now," Scully admitted.

"Don't feel foolish.  I must say, you two always keep me guessing."

We both chuckled a little bit at that.  "Do you know anyone, Sir, 
that might be able to help us?"

He was quiet for a few more moments and I was sure he was going to 
say he didn't.  After all, who was more staid, by the book, and 
conventional than Walter Skinner.  The idea that the man had ever 
visited a psychic was completely ridiculous to me.  So I nearly fell 
out of my seat when he said, "I think I do, actually."

Scully's eyes were wide and riveted on my face.  "You do?"

It was Skinner's turn to chuckle and, I must say, I liked the look 
on him.  He rarely smiled, let alone, chuckled.  "I have some of my 
own surprises," he said.

"You believe in this stuff?" Scully asked carefully.  She was 
clearly unsure of his response.

He smiled.  "You'd be surprised at the things I believe.  Working 
with you two has expanded my horizons as well, I must say."

We both smiled.  "So, you do know someone?"

"Yes, I do.  Have you heard of the Special Crimes Unit?"

"Here at the Bureau?" Scully asked, looking afraid all of a sudden.

I frowned.  "Yeah, it's a sub-department of BSU, right?"

"Right, it was only formed a couple of years ago," Skinner informed 
us.

Scully said, "Aren't they agents called in to solve serial murders 
when all else has failed?"

"Yes, they assist local law enforcement in solving unsolvable 
crimes, much like you two do, although they don't deal with 
paranormal cases."

"I see," Scully said.  "Sir, I'm reluctant to let this information 
get out to many people.  I can't tell just anybody about this.  
They'll think I'm crazy!  I'm sure you understand where I'm coming 
from."

"They'll think I've infected you," I said, not without a little 
sarcasm.

"Indeed I do, but Noah Bishop is not just anybody," Skinner said, 
ignoring my comment.

"Noah Bishop?" I asked.  "I've heard that name.  He's a 15 year 
veteran of the Bureau, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's well known, for his longevity in profiling, which burns 
most people out, but also for his extraordinary solve rate."

"Is he a logical man?  A conventional man?" Scully asked.  She knew 
someone like that, a by-the-book veteran agent, would scoff at her.  
She was terrified of it.  I was used to it, but I didn't want it 
happen to Scully.

That was when we got to experience Skinner's full-blown smile.  
"Noah Bishop is a lot of things, but ordinary, logical, and 
conventional are not terms you'd use to describe this man."

I was surprised to hear a note of awe and respect in Skinner's 
voice.  He didn't give reverence to many people, but it sounded like 
he really admired this man.

"What's so special about him?" I asked.

"You know how the inner workings of the X-Files are mostly top 
secret and we don't divulge most of the paranormal aspects of your 
cases to the Bureau at large?"

"Right," I said, knowing that despite the rumors, most people didn't 
really understand what we did on the X-Files.

"Well, Special Crimes Unit, which is headed up by Noah Bishop, 
created by him, in fact, operates under much the same umbrella of 
secrecy.  The Bureau at large does not know the investigative 
techniques that he uses to solve crimes."

"This sounds spooky," I joked.

Even Scully smiled.  "Unconventional methods of investigation," 
Scully said, as if by rote.  It was the phrase we used to describe 
what we did on the X-Files.

"Exactly."

"I don't get it," Scully said flatly.

Skinner smiled again.  "You use unconventional methods of 
investigation to investigate the paranormal.  Noah Bishop uses the 
paranormal to investigate conventional crime."

"What?" Scully cried, clearly flabbergasted.

I, however, was smiling my ass off.  'Well, what do you know?' I 
thought.  'I might not be the biggest weirdo in the Bureau.'  I 
couldn't imagine what he meant by using the paranormal to 
investigate conventional crime, and then it dawned on me.  My mouth 
dropped open and I asked, "Are you saying Noah Bishop is a psychic?"

Skinner nodded once, firmly.  "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Scully hadn't said anything.  We both turned to observe her.  Her 
mouth of open, her brows scrunched in disbelief.  She licked her 
lips and her brow smoothed out.  She blew air out of pursed lips and 
said, "Can my life possibly get any weirder?"

Skinner and I both started laughing.

When our mirth died down, Skinner leaned forward again and picked up 
the phone.  He hit a button and said, "Kim, get Noah Bishop up here, 
ASAP."

"Yes, Sir," came her calm reply.  He hung up and looked at us.

"If Noah can't help you, nobody can."

That was a strong statement for Walter Skinner to make.  It told me 
how much faith and respect he had for the man.  I personally 
couldn't wait to meet him.  I could tell Scully was scared though.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this," she said.

Skinner said, "Should I wait and schedule an appointment for later 
today or another day?"

She sighed.  "No.  No time like the present, right?  I don't think 
I'll ever be ready for this."

I few minutes later, two sharp, crisp knocks sounded on the door.  
"Come in," Skinner said, raising his voice to be heard through the 
door.

The door opened and a man stepped into the room.  He turned so that 
he was in three quarter profile and we were looking at his left 
side.  He shut the door quietly.  

On first glance, he was a big man, easily six feet, four inches 
tall.  He had dark Mediterranean skin and black hair with a shock of 
white running from his widow's peak to the back of his head.  I'd 
heard of that mark, but had never seen one.  I wondered if it meant 
what I thought it meant; that he had died at some time and been 
brought back to life.

He was unbearably handsome and I tensed.  Even knowing Scully was 
mine, I was still wary of smooth talking, good-looking men.  They 
usually took one look at Scully and fell on their ass, 
metaphorically speaking.  I was forever giving them the evil eye to 
get them to back off, even before we'd gotten together.  Now, my 
feelings of possessiveness were even worse sometimes.

Then he looked up and faced us, a solemn expression on his face.  
Both Scully and I suppressed a gasp, but not the looks of 
astonishment on our faces. 

He smiled, totally relaxed as we peered at his face.  A long, stark-
white scar ran down the right side of his face from his hairline, 
through his eyebrow, around his eye and down across his cheek to end 
near his mouth.  Jesus Christ, it looked liked someone had taken an 
ax to his face and cut a clean line down the side of it.

"Shocking, isn't it?" he asked, sounding amused.

Scully cleared her throat and looked away, muttering, "I'm so sorry.  
I'm a doctor.  I should know better than to stare."

He chuckled.  "Forget it, I'm used to it."

Skinner stood up and held out his hand.  Noah stepped forward and 
shook his hand firmly.  "I should tell you why I called you up 
here," Skinner began.
 
"You don't have to," he said with eerie calm.  "She's been 
broadcasting all over the place.  I wondered how long it would be 
before you sent for me."

We both stood, still staring at him.  He held out his hand and 
Scully shook it, her eyes staring at his face again, this time in 
fascination.  I felt a twinge of jealousy but held out my hand as he 
dropped hers.  When our eyes met, his were dancing with humor and I 
knew he had detected my spark of possessiveness where Scully was 
concerned.  Without warning, he said, "Not to worry, Agent Mulder."

I nodded, feeling foolish as Scully looked from him to me in 
confusion. 

"Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, this is SAC of Special Crimes 
Unit, Noah Bishop.  Have a seat."

"Just Bishop, please," he said as he sat down in a chair that he 
snagged from near the wall.  He sat on the other side of Scully and 
turned to her.  He smiled and then looked at Skinner.

"How much time do I have?"

Skinner smiled.  "As much as you like.  Would you rather do this in 
private?"

His head tilted oddly to one side as he stared at Scully.  I was 
watching him like a hawk.  "No, not yet.  Eventually, but not just 
yet," he answered.

Skinner nodded and leaned back in his chair, clearly turning the 
meeting over to Agent Bishop, which surprised me.  The deference 
going on here was a bit unnerving.  "Dana Scully and Fox Mulder," he 
began.  "I've followed your work, amazing stuff."

I was surprised to hear that.  "Amazing good or amazing bad?" I 
asked, automatically skeptical of anyone who praised the X-Files.  
We were so used to rejection and incredulity.

He smiled wider, making the scar stand out on his face.  "Amazing 
good, Agent Mulder.  Seems we have something in common."

"The paranormal," I stated.

He nodded.  Scully cleared her throat.  "All A.D. Skinner told us 
was that you are a psychic."

He pressed his lips together as if in thought.  "I have many gifts, 
and I've learned to use all of them.  It wasn't easy though."

Scully nodded.  "Well, I have a problem."

He held out his hand, palm up, clearly asking her to hold his hand.  
I stiffened but forced myself to let this happen.  She was hesitant 
but placed her hand in his.  His hand dwarfed her tiny white hand.  
He curled his hand around hers, as if in a loose handshake.  

She gasped and I saw a spark of static electricity jump from her 
hand to his.  He smiled, his eyes locked on her.  She began to 
hyperventilate.

I put my hands on her shoulders, wanting to comfort her and suddenly 
not giving a damn whether it was appropriate or not.  She jumped a 
little but didn't protest.  I sent a mental picture of love and 
reassurance toward her, hoping she knew I was trying to help and not 
interfere.  Her breathing did not slow down and when her head bobbed 
as though she would faint, I ground out through clenched teeth, 
"Agent Bishop?"

He let go of her hand and she slumped in the chair, putting both 
hands up to her mouth, to catch her breath.  She slowly stopped 
hyperventilating and then sat up straight in her chair, her eyes 
never leaving his face.  "What just happened?"

"You were hyperventilating, Scully," I stated the obvious.

"I know that.  I have a serious problem, Agent Bishop.  A.D. Skinner 
said that you might be able to help me."


PART 4 (PG-13)
HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C.
9:30 AM

He smiled.  "You don't have a problem, Agent Scully," he stated 
calmly.  "You have an extremely rare form of clairvoyance."

"Rare?  What do you mean rare?"

"Not only do you have Seeing Voijora, you have a rare form of it."

"What does that mean?" I asked, butting in, even though I knew I 
should keep my mouth shut.

Bishop merely looked at me and said, "It means that occasionally, if 
the traumatic event is close enough, she experiences a physical 
manifestation of the event.  In other words, Agent Scully, you not 
only experience visions as though you there, you experience events 
as though you are a part of them."

All the color had drained from her face.  "What does that mean?"

He swallowed and looked at Skinner.  Skinner nodded, apparently 
giving him permission to tell us whatever we wanted to know.  "It 
means that occasionally, you may actually feel what other people 
feel.  If someone nearby is highly charged emotionally, that can be 
very scary."

"No shit," she said.

He chuckled.  "I can help you, Agent Scully."

"You can?"

"You'd have to train with Miranda and me."

"Train?" she asked.

"Who's Miranda?" I asked at the same time.

"Miranda is my wife.  She also works in the Special Crimes Unit."

I felt relief flow through my body and he grinned at me, clearly 
amused again.  "Does that make you happy, Agent Mulder, that I'm 
married?"

I bit my cheek.  Scully had whirled to stare at me, clearly annoyed, 
knowing that I must have displayed some kind of jealousy.  "Mulder!"

"Yes, it does," I admitted quietly.

He chuckled.  "No worries here," he said.  "I like them big and 
brunette."

Skinner started chuckling softly under his breath and I gave him a 
death glare.  That only made him chuckle harder and a bit louder.  
Scully ground out, "I don't think this is funny."

Bishop redirected his attention to Scully.  "It's all right.  Walter 
knows you two are a couple."

Scully cast a frightened glance his way.  He was smiling at her and 
nodded to confirm it.  "That doesn't bother you?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged.  "I've never been one to get involved in my agents' 
private lives unless I'm invited in.  If it doesn't affect their 
work, I figure it's none of my business.  So, no, it doesn't bother 
me.  In fact, I'm happy for you both."

Scully was stunned.  I was a little too, but not as much.  I had 
figured that he knew and just adopted the don't ask, don't tell, 
method of management when it came to personal relationships between 
his agents.

Scully looked at her lap, shaking her head.  "I'm having a hard time 
taking all this in."  She looked back up at Bishop.

"To answer your question, Agent Scully, you need to learn to control 
your gift and to shield yourself from it if need be."

"Shield myself," she said, sounding like the skeptic I knew and 
loved.

He nodded, unflustered by her tone.  "Yes.  Gifts like these can be 
a blessing or a curse, depending on how you handle them and how you 
use them.  I can make you one promise, though."

"What's that?" Scully asked, nervousness clear in her voice.

"If you don't do anything about it, it will be a curse for sure.  
I've known you gained ability weeks ago.  You're psychic energy is 
spraying out all over the place.  I knew every morning the moment 
you walked into the building."

She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes.  I reached out and took her 
hand.  Her fingers grasped mine tightly.  Fuck it, everyone here 
knew we were involved.  I wasn't going to pretend in front of 
Skinner anymore.

He laid a gentle hand on her other forearm that rested on the arm of 
her chair.  "Look at me," he said.

She did and he looked deeply into her eyes.  "I can help you.  Don't 
be afraid."

She blinked rapidly and said, "How do you know what I have?"

He smiled.  "One of my gifts is the ability to sense gifts in 
others."

"What are your other gifts?" I asked.

The corners of his mouth turned up.  I got the distinct impression 
that I amused the hell out of him.  It prickled my ego, but I was 
determined to get help for Scully, even if it meant placing her in 
this man's hands.  "I have a form of precognition, a form of 
clairvoyance, and some extra-sensory perception, what I call my 
Spider Sense.  Plus, I have the ability to spot psychic ability in 
others and identify it ninety-nine percent of the time."

"That's a long list," I commented, trying to sound calm.
 
"It gets even worse when I team up with Miranda," he chuckled.

My eyes widened.  "Can I be there when you ... train?" I asked 
carefully, not wanting to offend him.

"Of course," he said.  "She will need Miranda too, maybe some other 
members of the team.  We'll decide as we go."

"Other members?" Scully said.

My antenna went up.  "Wait a minute.  Are you telling me that there 
are more of you in Special Crimes?"

He nodded.  "The entire unit is made up of agents with one psychic 
ability or another."

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, unable to hide my delight.

He and Skinner chuckled together then.  Scully was merely staring 
with her mouth hanging open.  "What did I say?  How can my life 
possibly get any weirder?" she repeated.  "It's only 10:00 AM and 
I'm exhausted."

Bishop stood up and nodded at Skinner.  Some sort of silent 
communication went on there and I wondered what it was all about.  
He turned to Scully.  "Why don't you contact me and we'll set up a 
series of appointments.  My schedule can be rather wild at times, 
but I'm always interested in helping and studying psychics of any 
kind.  So is my wife."

Scully smiled.  "Thank you, Agent Bishop."

"Just Bishop, please," he repeated.

He turned on his heel and left.  It was a like a cold draft went 
through the room, and I wondered that I hadn't noticed the rise in 
temperature since he'd entered.  "Jesus, he's a compelling man," I 
blurted out.

"No one to fuck with either," Skinner said.

Scully and I both stared at him with expressions of surprise.  He 
never swore like that.  He smiled.  "Noah Bishop knows that you are, 
in large part, responsible for him being able to form his Special 
Crimes Unit under BSU."

"Us?  Why?" I asked.

"He's under my direct supervision.  He reports to no one but me."

He watched me as I let that sink in.  "You went to bat for him with 
the brass," I said.

He nodded.  "Yes, he came to me with the idea, knowing that I 
supervised the X-Files, knowing that you were a former profiler.  He 
figured if anyone would listen to him, it would be me."

"How come you never told us about this?" I asked.

He shrugged.  "I keep his confidences just like I keep yours."

My respect for the man went up a notch.  "Wow."

"Why don't you two go home if you want?  Make those appointments 
with Bishop, Agent Scully."

"One more question," I requested.

He nodded.

"Are you saying that he was able to convince you to let him form 
this unit because of your work with us?" I asked for clarification.

He nodded.  "You made a believer out of me, Mulder," he said simply.

I smiled and so did Scully.  "I'm tired," she said again.  

Just then the phone rang.  Skinner picked it up, listened for a 
couple of seconds and then handed the receiver to Scully.  She 
tentatively took it from him and said, "Yes?"

I couldn't hear what was said, but it was man on the other end.  She 
said, "Uh, thank you."  She handed the phone back to Skinner and he 
hung it up.

I was staring at her, waiting.  She turned to me.  "It was Agent 
Bishop."

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He said whenever your abilities get used, it's not unusual for it 
to exhaust you."

There was dead silence in the room as we all took in the fact that 
he had known what we were talking about, even though he had left the 
office. 

"Spooky," I whispered.

Skinner smiled as if this confirmed his judgments about Bishop's 
authenticity.  

Scully said, "Well, shit."

XXXXXXXXXX
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, D.C.

We grabbed a few files that we wanted to look over and finalize 
expense reports on and then we went home.  I was exhausted.  My head 
was spinning from all that I had learned today.  I had a pounding 
headache.  We entered my apartment to find the phone ringing.

I ran to it and picked up.  "Scully."

"Agent Scully, it's Bishop."

"What now?" I asked.

He chuckled.  "It can also give you a pounding headache.  I 
recommend stocking up on Ibuprofen or whatever pain killer you 
normally feel does the best for you."

"You're freaking me out," I said without hesitation, almost unable 
to wrap my mind around what was happening.

I could almost hear him smile on the other end of the phone.  "It 
won't get better," he said.  I knew that was a promise.

"Thanks for that bit of encouragement," I said sarcastically.

He chuckled again.  "If you think I'm bad, wait till you meet 
Miranda."

I smiled then, relieved myself that he had a wife.  I knew how 
possessive Mulder could be.  That would go a long way toward 
allaying his fears.  I knew his concerns were irrational, but he 
didn't quite have a handle on it yet.  I also knew Mulder was 
possessive and clingy at times.  It was something I'd accepted about 
him long ago.  'Gotta take the good with the bad,' I reasoned.  I 
knew it was because he loved me and because of his own insecurities 
and fears, not because I did anything per se, that was worthy of 
mistrust.  He trusted me; he just didn't trust other people, 
especially men, very much.

"I'll call you later," I promised.

"Do that.  Here's my cell number.  Got a pen?"

"Yes," I replied, picking up the pen I always left by the phone with 
a message pad. 

"428-5923," he recited.

I wrote it down and scribbled his name above it.  "Will do."

"Till later, Agent Scully."

I hung up and turned around to find Mulder staring at me.  He was 
upset.  "What's wrong?"

"Is that the way it's going to be?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Him, calling every two minutes with some bit of information that 
just simply can't wait?" he asked.

It dawned on me that he was feeling excluded.  "Mulder, come here."

He approached and we met in front of the couch.  I snaked my arms up 
over his shoulders.  His hands wound around my back.  "Don't be this 
way," I said.

His jaw muscle twitched as he clenched his teeth and his lips almost 
sneered.  "Scully," he began.

"I love you, Mulder."

His face softened.  "I know, Scully."

"This is just beginning.  I don't know what I feel yet.  I'm happy, 
I'm scared, and I'm relieved, all at the same time.  What I know is 
that for some strange reason, I trusted that man right away."

"That's what scares me," he admitted.

I smiled at him and kissed him softly on his warm, dry lips.  He 
accepted the kiss but made no move to deepen it and I frowned.  
"Mulder, I'm going to have to spend time with that man.  I don't see 
where I have a choice.  It's the first thing that seems like a 
viable option to help me."

"I know that.  This thing between us, it's just so new, and I can't 
help it, Scully.  I'm so afraid something is going screw it up."

"If it does, Mulder, it won't be another man.  I can promise you 
that.  Look how long it took me to give in to you."

He smiled at that.  "You are a tough nut to crack," he teased.  I 
felt the tension leave his body and pulled his head down to mine.

This time he kissed me back, with tongue.  I moaned into his mouth.  
I never got tired of kissing Mulder.  It was a very sensual 
experience.  Never mind that he was good at it, I supposed that it 
was simply because it was Mulder.  He was a sensual creature at 
heart and when that attention was directed at you, it was hard not 
to be swept away by it.

"Do you want to take a nap?" he asked, when we finally broke apart.

I nodded.  "I feel silly, but I do.  God, why am I so tired?"

"He told you why."

"Because it happened today?" I said.

"I'm sure that's what he meant.  What did he say just now?"

I felt a flash of annoyance but then realized I was going to have to 
share every bit of this experience with Mulder.  He would settle for 
nothing less.  I didn't want him to be afraid of losing me.  It 
boggled my mind slightly that this was a fear of his, but I had to 
remember his past, and all the abandonment it included.  "He said it 
would often give me a headache and I should stock up on Ibuprofen."

Mulder huffed out a breath and said, "Do you have a headache?"

"A first class one," I admitted.

"And he knew that," he said carefully.

"Apparently."

"That doesn't upset you?"

"I don't know yet.  I told him he was freaking me out."

"What did he say to that?"

"He said wait until I meet his wife."

Mulder just looked at me for a second and then said, "Go take a nap, 
Scully."

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He hugged me to him again. "Yes," he answered, burying his nose in 
my neck.  "I guess I'm scared that others will learn too much about 
us," he whispered.

There it was, his true fear.  "I have the same fear, Mulder, but I 
don't know what else to do."

"Me either, Scully.  Me either."

"Just stay with me, Mulder.  Believe that I love you and nothing is 
going to screw that up."

"I'll try," he said.

"I guess that's all I can ask for," I replied.  "Now, I have to lie 
down."

"Go," he said, releasing me and patting me on the butt.

I smiled at him and turned to go.  He stopped me by saying, 
"Scully."

I turned and waited.  "I'm here for you.  You know that don't you?"

"I know Mulder.  No one, and I mean NO ONE, will ever take your 
place."

He smiled at that.  I could see wetness pool in his bright, hazel 
eyes.  "I love you so much it hurts sometimes," he whispered.

I blew him a kiss.  "The door swings both ways, Mulder."

He didn't say anything and I wasn't sure if he believed me.  I 
turned and went into the bedroom to lie down.  I couldn't think 
anymore. 


PART 5 (NC-17)
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, D.C.

I made myself a sandwich and settled myself at her computer again.  
I spent some of my time looking up Agent Noah Bishop.  I'd heard of 
him but never laid eyes on him before today.  I knew he was one of 
the top profilers in the Bureau.  He'd been with the Bureau three 
more years than I had, but he had transferred to Washington only two 
and half a years ago from San Diego.  Apparently the purpose of that 
move was to pitch his Special Crimes Unit to Skinner.

His record was spotless, naturally.  I had almost wanted to find 
something dirty on him and then I felt a stab of guilt.  What was 
wrong with me?  This man could help Scully, or he said he could, 
anyway.  This was just another circumstance where I couldn't help 
her and someone else could.  It hurt.  I wanted to be all things to 
Scully, but I knew that wasn't possible.

The irony didn't escape me that the skeptic of this team was the one 
that was turning up with psychic abilities.  Breaking through 
Scully's walls of skepticism had taken me almost six years.  She was 
still a logical, science-driven person, but she was now willing to 
believe that there were things that could not be explained by 
science as we know it.

She told me she loved me and I knew Scully never lied to me.  She 
might leave things out that she wasn't ready to share with me, but 
she never overtly lied to me.  So why was I so afraid?  I felt like 
a kid that finally got the one toy he wanted for Christmas after 
years of waiting, only to wake up and find out it was a dream.  I 
was afraid I would find out this was a dream.

I realized what a stunning lack of faith in Scully that might seem 
to exemplify, but I truly did trust her.  I didn't trust anyone else 
the way I trusted her.  Although I knew she could take care of 
herself and I couldn't protect her from the big, bad world, the urge 
to try would not go away.

The phone rang and I leaped for it, not wanting it to wake Scully 
up.  "Hello," I answered.

"Agent Mulder?" a low-pitched, female voice inquired.

"Yes, who's calling please?"

"Miranda Bishop," she answered.

I sighed.  "What now?  Some new bit of absolutely essential 
information to impart that couldn't wait until later or tomorrow."

She chuckled and I liked the sound of it, despite my really not 
wanting to like Bishop.  "Bishop can be a pain in the ass," she said 
bluntly.

I let out a bark of laughter at that.  "I don't even know the man 
yet."

"And he's pissed you off already, right?"

"How do you know?" I asked cautiously.

"Don't worry, Agent Mulder.  I'm not over here reading your mind or 
anything.  I just know my husband better than any woman alive.  He's 
a genius with gifts that most people can't even comprehend.  No one 
walks away from the first meeting with Bishop without a lot of 
questions and weird feelings.  I just wanted to tell you something 
so that you didn't spend the night worrying about it."

"What's that?"

"No matter how it may seem at times, Bishop only has the best 
interests of others at heart.  He is a hard man, but he's a 
brilliant one, and he can help Agent Scully.  So can I.  We will do 
everything within our power to help her manage this ability so that 
she can live with it.  We will never hurt her intentionally, Agent 
Mulder."

"Just Mulder, please."

She chuckled.  "Now you sound like Bishop."

"Bishop?  You don't call him Noah?"

She laughed.  "He hates his name.  He's always insisted that 
everyone call him Bishop, so I do too.  It makes people wonder.  
Most spouses don't call their mates by their last name."

I laughed now.  "You're not going to believe this," I began.

She interrupted.  "She calls you Mulder and you call her Scully."

I went silent, disturbed for some reason by that pronouncement.  It 
was a little thing, but the fact that she knew it bothered me.  

I heard her sigh.  "I don't know that because of my abilities, Agent 
Mulder."

"No?" I asked.

"No.  I don't probe into people without permission.  I know that 
because the two of you are a bit of legend in the Bureau."

"Oh joy, oh rapture," I said sarcastically.

She laughed now.  "You're a bit of a legend in BSU as well.  They 
still talk about you at the academy."

"Oh great," I replied.

She laughed again.  "It's not a bad thing, Agent Mulder.  You may 
not know it, but there are many of us who admire you."

"I don't see them putting out any signs," I replied sarcastically.

"Well, no one likes to be shown up, do they?"

"What do you mean?"

"Many people scorn what they don't understand.  Bishop and I are 
intimately acquainted with that scenario.  Both of us have dealt 
with it our whole lives."  She paused.  "Give us a chance, Agent 
Mulder."

"Just Mulder," I repeated.

"Okay.  Give us a chance, Mulder, before you make any judgments, all 
right?  Is that too much to ask?"

"No.  No, it's not.  This thing, with Scully and and me, it's fairly 
new."

"Ah, I see.  Well, have her call us later or tomorrow and we'll get 
started.

"I will.  Thanks for the call."

"You bet," she said, and hung up without saying good-bye.  

I thought that was odd.  I thought only Scully and I did that.  
Maybe we had more in common with these people than I realized.  In 
truth, I didn't really know anything about either one of them.  I 
needed to reserve judgment, she was right about that.  This was one 
time where I couldn't jump to conclusions.  Scully's mental health 
might depend on it.

XXXXXXXXXX

I made my way to the bedroom and stood in the doorway, watching her 
sleep as I leaned on the doorjamb.  She looked like an angel, her 
auburn hair spread out on the pillow behind her.  Her hand was up by 
her face, fingers curled delicately.  The other one draped over her 
stomach.  The covers had slipped down and her breasts were 
uncovered, pebbling up in the air-conditioned air.  I felt my 
heartbeat quicken and my groin tingle.

Jesus, what this woman did to me.  She looked like a little sprite 
lying there, just waiting to be ravished.  I removed everything but 
my boxers, figuring I would just lie down next to her for a while.  
I knew I wouldn't sleep, but watching her sleep was fast becoming 
one of my favorite activities.  

I sat on the edge of the bed at her hip, careful not to jostle her 
and wake her up.  She smacked her chops a bit and I smiled.  She 
could look so innocent sometimes.  I felt something warm spread 
through my chest.  God, she made me feel things I'd never felt 
before with any other human being.  

I couldn't resist and bent down and carefully took one of her 
hardened nipples into my mouth and sucked gently, wetting it with my 
tongue.  I was careful to barely touch her.  That's all it took 
though.  She moaned and arched her back.  I looked up and she still 
had her eyes closed.  I waited, but she had relaxed back onto the 
mattress and was breathing normally.  She was still asleep.

I wanted to feel her skin on mine.  She was nude, so I stripped off 
my boxers and went around to the other side of the bed.  I crawled 
in carefully, again trying not to wake her, and scooted up close on 
my side.  I rested my head on my hand, my elbow taking my weight.  
The other hand reached out and slid over her stomach.  I felt the 
goose bumps rise in my wake and smiled, still amazed that her body 
reacted to me, even in her sleep.  

She squirmed a little bit and I froze, watching her kick her legs 
slightly.  The covers slid down to her thighs and revealed her sex 
to me.  She spread her legs slightly and her scent traveled to my 
nose.  I inhaled and nearly moaned at the smell of it.  She was 
excited.  She was asleep but aroused.  My fingers very gently 
pinched and rolled her nipple.  I loved playing with her like this.  

XXXXXXXXXX NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXX

She made a humming sound but didn't wake.  I slid down and placed 
myself between her legs.  I lifted them over my shoulders carefully 
and she slept on.  It was amazing what this woman could sleep 
through.  I was constantly surprised.  I lowered my head and inhaled 
again, feeling a little dizzy.  My cock began to harden.

I used my thumbs to open her up and lapped gently at her center.  
"Ohhh," she moaned quietly.  

I gently pushed my tongue into her, tasting her juices.  I drew back 
and blew gently on her curls.  Her hips flexed up into the air, 
seeking more contact.  'Your wish is my command,' I thought.  I ran 
my nose up and down over her slit lightly.  She began to squirm and 
I used one finger to gently coax her clitoris out from under its 
hood.

I explored her crevices with my tongue, rubbing gently beside her 
now exposed clitoris that was engorging and swelling up.  She moaned 
in her sleep and I felt her channel flood with juice and hit my 
tongue.  I lapped it up gently, enjoying her taste and being able to 
do this to her.  I had the right to do this now and it thrilled me 
to no end.  I'd been worried the first time.  I'd thought she might 
be mad at me when she woke up and found me assaulting her body. 

Instead, she'd told me it was a fantasy of hers.  She loved waking 
up aroused and finding me there to take care of her.  Well, that was 
all I needed to hear.  I slept much less than she did, so I often 
woke her up with arousal, every chance I got, as a matter of fact.

A small sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead and her mouth was 
open now, her breathing rate increased and her hips were squirming 
on the mattress.  I held her steady and slipped one finger into her 
canal.  She bucked lazily into my hand and I lowered my mouth to her 
bundle of nerves, now spongy, red, and swollen from my 
manipulations.  I sucked and flicked my tongue over it, around the 
sides of it, circling it as fast as I could go with my tongue, while 
still sucking.

My free hand left its position near her clitoris and reached up, 
pinching and rolling her engorged nipple.  She came with a cry and 
her eyes snapped open.  She had woken up right in the middle of the 
orgasm.

The look on her face was priceless.  It was shattered by a grimace 
of ecstasy as she bucked into my mouth and pushed her breast into my 
fingers.  She was mewling and her wetness poured out of her in a 
wild burst to coat my hand.

I kept pumping my finger into her, and sucking and pinching, until 
she shuddered violently and retreated back into the mattress.  She 
was panting like crazy and when she caught her breath, she said, 
"Good lord, Mulder.  How can you make feel this good?"

I chuckled, inordinately pleased with myself.  I needed to reassert 
my place in this relationship.  I knew it was childish but I felt an 
overwhelming need to connect with her.  I moved up between her legs, 
feeling my cock throb and sway.  I was so hard it was nearly 
painful.  I licked her wetness off my hand and fingers and she 
moaned, watching me do it.  

She reached for me and I stopped her with a hand on my wrist.  "I'm 
too excited," I explained.

She nodded and teased, "Want me to take care of that, Mulder?"

"Oh, you're going to," I informed her.

She grinned and pointed to her mouth, "I meant with this."

I groaned at the thought of it.  I'd never had a blowjob like a 
Scully blowjob.  She took me to heights I'd never imagined with 
those plump lips and her tight throat that contained virtually no 
gag reflex.  "No," I hissed with regret.  "Inside you.  I need to be 
inside you, Scully."

She simply laid back and spread her legs.  I moaned again.  "Is this 
what you want, Mulder?"

I didn't answer.  I just lowered myself between her legs and prodded 
her entrance.  "I'm so hard, Scully."

"Mmmm, I like you that way," she informed me.

"Ready?" I asked, even knowing she was coated with the juices from 
her orgasm and plenty wet for me.

"Yes, give it to me."

"Oh Christ!" I shouted, my cock head parting her wet, slick folds 
and I slammed into her to the hilt, feeling my balls press up 
against her ass, and my cock head against her stretched cervix.

"Oh fuck!" she cried out.  

"Tell me, talk to me Scully.  Tell me what you want."

"You!" she cried.

"What do you want, Scully?"

She still had a hard time with this, but she knew how much it turned 
me on so she was trying.  It was hard for her to abandon the 
clinical terms of sex that she was raised with, but when she did, I 
completely lost control.

"Mulder," she whimpered.  I pulsed my cock in and out of her, not 
really pulling back, just rocking back and forth as I waited.  I 
knew she wanted me to stroke.  She needed the stimulation to come, 
especially in the missionary position.

"What?" I asked innocently, secretly glad that this little rocking 
exercise was giving me a chance to regain some of my own control.

"Please!"

"Please what?" I asked, determined not to give in.  I needed it.  I 
needed this from her today.

"Oh God!  Please fuck me!"

"That what you want, Scully?"

"Yes!"

"Fuck you with what?" I pushed.

"Oh God, you fucking tease!" she shouted.

I chuckled.  "Such language, Scully."

"You love it," she grunted.

"Yes, I do.  So say it, Scully.  What you want?"

"Fuck me with it!"

"With what?" I demanded.

Her head shook in the negative but her sex was betraying her, 
squeezing my shaft.  She was so aroused, and I angled down a bit to 
press on her clitoris, but not enough to make her come.  "Oh God!"

"Say it," I growled.

"Your co ... YOUR COCK!" she blurted out. 

I thought I was going to come right there.  I grunted, and pulled 
back, nearly coming out of her and then I rammed back in, grinding 
myself against her clitoris.

"Oh Jesus, yes!  Fuck me!" she nearly screamed.

I loved to see her lose control like this.  I began to pound in and 
out of her using long, deep, hard strokes.  I felt her walls 
tightening against me and I went up on my hands, preventing myself 
from hitting her clitoris.  I wanted this to last.  I wanted her 
insane.  I couldn't get enough of her.

"How does that feel, Scully?"

"So good, so good.  So good," she chanted.  "Oh God, more!"

"You want more, Scully?"

"Yes!  Yes!  Yes!" she cried.  "So good, so good, so good."

I went back down on my elbows and buried my nose in her neck, 
finding her ear.  I kept pumping, slowing down and grinding into her 
with a twist of my hips at the bottom of every stroke.  "You like 
the way that feels?"

"Yes," she whimpered.

"You love it, don't you?  You love the feel of my cock stuffed deep 
inside your tiny pussy, don't you?"

She groaned and I felt another gush of liquid in her vagina, coating 
my cock and making my strokes glide with more ease.  She would never 
admit it, but it excited her.  She loved the dirty talk as much as I 
did.  Her brain wouldn't allow her to admit it, but I saw the effect 
it had on her, and she never complained when I did it.

Her eyes were shut, so I sent her images of my cock sliding in and 
out of her.  My memory banks were now full of these images.  She 
groaned, "Ohhhhh, gaawwwdd!"

"You love it.  I can feel it when your little pussy gushes around 
me."

"Oh shit!" she whimpered as I kept up my verbal, physical and mental 
assault.  

"You love it, don't you?  You love being fucked, don't you?  You 
love the feel of me filling you to the brim," I kept murmuring in 
her ear. 

She went nuts, thrusting her hips up against me with an intensity 
that bordered on violence.  She was moaning constantly now and I was 
reaching the end of my endurance.  

I raised her legs up higher on my waist and went back down on my 
elbows, pulling my knees up and began nailing her to the mattress.  
"Oh yeah, gonna fuck your little pussy so hard you're sore for 
days!" I ground out.

Not that I wanted to hurt Scully.  There was something slightly 
sadistic though, about the fact that, God help me, I loved to see 
her walk funny because she was sore from our love making sessions.  
I loved that she'd never had a cock bigger than mine.  She'd never 
had one longer or thicker, she'd told me.  I loved that gave her 
pleasure no one else had ever given her.  I loved the idea of her 
walking around with a constant reminder of my cock buried deep 
inside her.  I could imagine her little pussy twinging with soreness 
and lame muscles that had stretched beyond their normal capacity.  I 
loved that she could feel the ghost of my cock in her while she 
walked around at work.

These thoughts must have communicated to her.  I still could forget 
in the throes of passion that she could read my mind as well as see 
images I sent her.  She screeched and let out a blood curdling 
scream as her walls collapsed around my cock.

"Oh Jesus, you're squeezing so hard!" I cried.  I kept pumping her, 
as she shuddered, and wailed beneath me.  I grunted like an animal 
and she twitched and jerked through her orgasm.  She was winding 
down when I felt my balls tighten and the familiar tightening in the 
back of my legs.

"Oh fuuuuccckkkk, I'm coming, Scully!"  I came deep inside her, 
pressed as deep as I could go, buried to the hilt.  She spasmed 
around me one last time.  I went boneless and looked up to see tears 
streaming down her face.

XXXXXXXXXX END NC-17 PORTION XXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh my God!  I didn't hurt you, did I?" I blurted out.

She shook her head and cupped my face.  She drew me down for a kiss 
and I responded, keeping it this side of obscene.  I pulled back.  
"Why are you crying?"

"It was just so intense, Mulder.  Jesus, I can't believe how much I 
love you."

I smiled and kissed her again.  "I love you more," I whispered.

"This isn't a contest, you know?" she teased.

"You sure?" I asked, joining in.

She grinned.  "I'm sure."

"Well then, maybe I shouldn't try so hard."

She smacked my butt and I yelped.  I rolled off her and we cuddled 
up spoon-style.  She yawned.  "Sleep, baby," I said.

"Mmmm," she hummed.  Like somebody flicked a switch, she was dead 
asleep again.

I chuckled and brushed her hair out of her face, kissing the 
delicate shell of her ear.  "I love you, Scully," I whispered into 
the quiet of the room.  "You'll never know what you mean to me," I 
added.

I closed my eyes, knowing I wouldn't sleep, but wondering if I could 
send her images, even in her sleep.  I decided to hold off.  If her 
abilities tired her out, I didn't need to add to the exhaustion.  Of 
course, that's exactly what I'd just done.  I smiled.  That was one 
thing I certainly wasn't going to stop doing though. 

I had no idea what tomorrow would bring.  As I lay there, hearing 
only the tick of the clock, I vowed to stand by her, wherever this 
adventure took us and not get jealous if I could possibly help it.  
I had to trust her.  I did trust her.  I didn't need to trust them.  
It was so hard to remember that sometimes, though.

I squeezed her tightly and she didn't seem to mind, squirming 
against my body but then relaxing again in her sleep.  "Mulder," she 
murmured.  I smiled, knowing I was in her dreams too.  I couldn't 
ask for anything more.


PART 6 (PG-13) 
BISHOP & MIRANDA'S TOWNHOUSE
GEORGETOWN, D.C.
TUESDAY - 6:00 PM

Come to find out, Noah and Miranda Bishop lived right here in 
Georgetown, a mere five blocks from my apartment building.  The 
first appointment was set for the following evening after work.

We arrived at 6:00 PM on the dot.  I was nervous, but something had 
happened to Mulder over night.  He was relaxed and seemed to be 
looking forward to this meeting.  I wondered if the powerhouse sex 
from the evening before had anything to do with it.  Or perhaps it 
would be the slow, lazy lovemaking of this morning.  Waking me up 
with sex was starting to become a habit with him.  Although I liked 
it, I might have to put some boundaries on it, once a week or 
something.  It was almost embarrassing how easily he aroused me in 
my sleep.  Hell, it was embarrassing how easily he did it when I was 
awake.

We were both in casual clothes, turtlenecks and jeans and sneakers.  
We'd been told to dress comfortably.  I knocked and a lovely woman 
with long, salt and pepper hair opened the door.  She was tall, 
probably five feet, ten inches tall, which made her a good match for 
Bishop.  "Hi, I'm Miranda," she said, introducing herself as she 
waved us in.

The townhouse was tastefully decorated but simple.  She led us into 
the kitchen where the table had been set and a huge pan of lasagna 
was waiting.  My mouth started watering and I said, "God, that 
smells good."

She chuckled.  "Sit down and eat."

We sat and then heard the patter of feet coming down the hall.  A 
young girl with gangly legs and a backpack over her shoulder 
appeared in the doorway.  She had dark hair and green eyes.  "I'm 
going to Julie's to study," she announced.  I wondered if she was 
their daughter.

"This is my sister, Bonnie.  These are Agents Mulder and Scully," 
Miranda said.

Sister?  I figured there was a story there, but for another time.  

"All right.  Home by 9:30, remember," Bishop said.

She nodded.  "Of course."

She jogged out and Miranda shook her head.  "Oh, to be 17 again," 
she murmured.  We all chuckled and she dished up delicious lasagna, 
after pouring us glasses of iced tea.  Now neither one of us had 
mentioned that we loved iced tea, so I had to assume this was one 
more thing they had gleaned from us without our knowledge.  I 
decided not to question it for now, but it was really spooky how 
these little things kept popping up and we'd only met him once and 
her just now.

We ate for ten minutes or so, making small talk and complimenting 
the food.  I was finally full, and pushed my plate away, sighing 
with contentment.  "That was great."

"Glad you liked it," Miranda said.

"It's her specialty," Bishop announced.  "She wants to impress you.  
She doesn't make this for just anyone, you know?"

We all chuckled at that.  "Why on earth do you want to impress me?" 
I asked.

"It's more a matter or wanting you to like us."

"Why wouldn't we?" Mulder asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him.  "You should know better than anyone 
how difficult it is to form lasting friendships with people when you 
deal in the type of stuff we do."

Mulder nodded solemnly.  I had never even thought about that aspect 
of it to this point.  She was right though.  We knew all about that.  
That gave us one more thing in common.  "So, what happens now?" I 
asked, eager to end the anticipation.

Bishop smiled.  "Well, first, we'll test you some.  Send things your 
way and see what you pick up and what you don't.  We'll give you 
pointers on what to do to send images and see if we pick them up or 
if you're shielding them."

"Explain this shield," I said.

"It's a barrier in the mind," Miranda said.  "It's especially 
important to clairvoyants.  If they don't have a shield, they are 
inundated with voices and events from all sides.  It can literally 
drive you mad.  There's a constant background hum of noise.  It can 
also be impossible to single out any one voice or event.  The shield 
enables you to block others out, and it's important.  You can't use 
your abilities 24/7.  You always need a break in between."

"And this is in my head?"

"Yes," she replied.  "I don't think that's going to be a problem for 
you, especially after we explain it a little better.  Without even 
trying, you have a very solid shield over your mind."

"How do you know?" I asked.

She smiled subtly and said, "Because I can't read you."

"Didn't know you were trying," I snapped, feeling a trickle of 
unease.

"Relax, Agent Scully.  I'm not actively trying to read your mind.  
However, I'm a powerful clairvoyant, and I generally pick up bits 
and pieces from everyone I stand near, without even trying.  They 
are throwing off thoughts without even realizing it."

"And I'm not?" I asked.

"No, you're not.  Agent Mulder on the other hand," she said, 
trailing off on the last word.

He startled and looked up over the rim of his iced tea glass.  "What 
about me?"

Bishop laughed now.  "You broadcast like a radio, Agent Mulder."

I laughed out loud.  I couldn't help it.  He made a sour face and I 
laughed even harder.  "I'm sorry, Mulder, but it's true."

Miranda and Bishop were grinning.  Bishop cleared his throat.  "Is 
it hard to block him out?"

I looked at him.  I could feel Mulder peering at me intently.  
"Extremely hard.  He's usually the only one I hear."

Bishop nodded.  "You're close and that's important.  That's why you 
pick him up so easily.  You're tuned into his body language, his 
facial expressions, and the tone of his voice.  All these things 
enhance your ability to read someone.  You're intimate as well, and 
that heightens it tenfold, the clarity of it, I mean," he added.

I nodded.  "Why can't I hear you?"

Miranda answered.  "Because we are experts as shielding ourselves as 
well.  We work with a group of psychics of various levels of skill, 
and unless we want our entire lives laid bare, we had to learn to 
slam the door shut on our minds, so to speak."

"That must be hard," Mulder commented.  "I mean, it's disconcerting 
to me that Scully knows what I'm thinking, and I trust her 
implicitly.  I can't even imagine working with a roomful of you 
people."

Bishop chuckled again.  Mulder seemed to amuse the hell out of him 
and I could tell it annoyed Mulder.  

"What's so funny?" he asked, trying not to sound defensive, but it 
crept in there anyway.

Bishop lost his smile.  "I'm not laughing at you, Mulder.  I'm 
laughing at your statement.  It's indeed a wild ride to sit in a 
room full of adept psychics."

"Did these agents find you or did you find them?" Mulder asked, 
changing the subject.

"A little of both," Miranda replied.  "Bishop and I met working on a 
case when I was a local Sheriff in a small town that had never seen 
a serial murderer.  We requested FBI help and they sent Bishop.  Not 
only did he whip up a dandy profile, but also he stayed in town and 
helped us catch the SOB.  He also awakened something in me that I'd 
been trying to hide for years."

"What was that?" I asked.  I was truly curious.  I wasn't sure if 
she was talking about her abilities or her love life.

"I'd always just known things at times and didn't really know why I 
knew them.  I was a latent clairvoyant and had no clue.  I was 
afraid to tell anyone because I figured they would think I was stone 
crazy.  So I kept it to myself.  It was, however, one of things that 
enabled me to solve cases.  I knew instantly if someone was lying to 
me, and immediately following that, I usually knew what the truth 
was as well, even if they didn't say a word.  I didn't realize at 
the time that I was reading their thoughts.  I creeped myself out 
sometimes."

We chuckled at that.  Mulder cut in and said, "Bishop knew that you 
had abilities right away, right?"

Bishop smiled.  "Yes, I did, and it turned me on," he joked.

She smacked his arm and we all laughed.  He took up the story.  "I 
knew she was scared, but I'd also had enough experience to know that 
an untrained clairvoyant, especially one as powerful as Miranda was 
a danger to herself and others."

I frowned at that.  "A danger?"

"We'll get to that later," Miranda replied cryptically, giving 
Bishop a significant look I couldn't identify.

"Yes, well, anyway, I coaxed her into opening up to me and we began 
to work together on controlling her abilities and those of her 
younger sister."

"Your sister is Clairvoyant?" Mulder asked.

Miranda cut in.  "No, she has another ability.  I'd rather not talk 
about her."

I sensed instantly that this was a taboo subject.  Bishop said, 
"Bonnie saved my life due to her ability, which I won't discuss with 
anyone.  I hope you understand.  We need to protect Bonnie.  She is 
a child still and very vulnerable to people that would take 
advantage of her."  Mulder and I both nodded firmly.

"Of course," I said vehemently.

"That, however, made me feel indebted to Miranda and Bonnie and I 
took them under my wing while I tried to romance Miranda."  He 
winked at her.  

I was relaxing more and more as he talked.  Out of the blue, Miranda 
said, "You've lost a child."

I gasped and felt the traitorous tears sting my eyelids.  I blinked 
rapidly to keep them from falling and felt Mulder's arm go around 
me.  "Did you get that from me?" I asked, my voice almost sounding 
like a whimper and I was once again embarrassed and uneasy.

"No, I got it from Mulder," Miranda replied.

"Shut the damn thing up, would you?" I snapped at Mulder.

He looked down at me sheepishly.  "Sorry," he said quickly.

Miranda smiled but it was not amused, it was sad and sympathetic.  
"Don't worry about it, Agent Scully.  I won't tell anyone and I'm 
sorry.  I shouldn't have blurted that out, but it surprised me.  I'm 
even sorrier though that it happened at all.  I can't imagine a 
worse pain," she said sincerely.

I nodded at her.  "Yeah, well, I'll make you a deal.  I won't ask 
questions about Bonnie, if you don't ask questions about Emily."
I realized I'd just given her name, something they might not have 
already, but then decided I was going to have to get used to this.  
These people were going to know more about us before we done than 
anyone else on earth.  There was no way around it.  That scared me 
but I didn't see any alternatives.

"It's a deal," she replied.

"And please, call me Scully or Dana, whichever you prefer, but can 
we drop the Agent for now?"

They all smiled.  "Of course," Bishop replied.  "First, I figured I 
would answer any questions you have," he continued.

So the evening went.  We asked questions, they gave us answers.  As 
outlandish as some of it seemed, it made a weird kind of sense.  
Bishop went into detail about the fact that it was frontier 
territory and the study of paranormal or psychic abilities was in 
its infancy.  He also explained that they had made progress though 
and developed several helpful scales to measure people's abilities 
and test them.  

We then spent a mere fifteen minutes or so, while he tried to throw 
images and phrases at me.  I caught a few, to my surprise, but I had 
a headache in no time. 

"Let's stop for tonight," Miranda announced. 

Bishop nodded.  "We covered a lot of ground for one night.  You did 
well," he complimented me.

I smiled, and cringed at the pain in my head.  Before I knew it, 
Miranda was there with a glass of water and three Ibuprofens.  "I 
recommend aspirin if you can take it, if you haven't eaten," she 
said.

I nodded.  "Yeah, I know.  It can upset your stomach.  I'm a 
doctor," I said stupidly.

She smiled.  "I know that.  I don't mean to patronize."

"I know you didn't."

Bishop said, "Let's give it try to stop apologizing to each other 
every few minutes and just take it at face value that we will take 
things in the spirit in which they are meant."

Miranda frowned at him.  "Quit being so uptight, Bishop."

He sighed and we chuckled at their interplay.  They were much like 
us.  The silent communication was going on all the time.  We'd never 
met anyone like them.  Despite my reservations, I liked both of 
them.  I felt an odd kinship with them and I hoped that Mulder did 
too.  It would be nice just to have another couple as friends.  

We got up to leave and Bishop said, "Who knows?  In the future, 
maybe the Special Crimes Unit and the X-Files can help each other 
out."

I looked hesitant about that, and so did Mulder.  Miranda said, 
"Comparing notes and such."

"You won't take her away from me," Mulder stated emphatically.

I looked up at him surprise.  "Mulder!"

Bishop smiled.  "I wouldn't dream of it, Mulder.  Please, I'm 
begging you.  Relax about me.  I won't hurt her, I won't hurt you."

He swallowed and nodded.  "I'm sorry.  No offense meant."

"None taken," Bishop replied.  "Let's do this again on Friday.  Give 
yourself a couple of days to assimilate what we went over tonight."

I nodded.  "Take me home, Mulder.  I have a wicked headache."

He ushered me out the door and into the car.  The ride home was 
silent while we both absorbed what we had learned.  Once inside, I 
locked the door behind us and headed for the couch.  I knew we 
needed to talk.

XXXXXXXXXX
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, D.C.

I knew exactly what he was thinking.  I wanted to put an end to it 
right now.  "It won't happen, Mulder."

"What?" he asked innocently, too innocently.

"I won't leave you or the X-Files, as long as they exist and you 
want to be there.  Where you are, I am, end of story."

"They'll try to recruit you for their unit, Scully."

"Maybe, maybe not.  Don't you think we're getting ahead of ourselves 
a bit?"

"I don't know.  I'm willing to bet they don't have psychic agents 
falling into their laps every other day."

"No, but you heard them.  Some they discovered along the way and 
recruited them, encouraging them to go through the academy to join 
the Bureau.  Others, a few, came forward from within the Bureau, 
when they heard about the unit, or Bishop detected them."

"I don't like this detecting thing."

"Neither do I, but I don't think there's anything to do about it."

"I feel naked," he admitted.  "They both make me feel naked.  I 
don't like the feeling."

"I like the feeling of you naked," I quipped.  

He chuckled.  "You're the only one I want to feel when I'm naked."

"I better be," I joked.

He smiled and his shoulders relaxed a bit.  He reached over with his 
right hand and I laced my fingers through his.  "I love you, Mulder.  
This isn't going to be easy, but I need to tell you something."

"What?" he asked, sounding nervous.

"I can't do this without you, Mulder."

He sighed.  "Sure you can, Scully," he said quickly.

"No!  Listen to me.  I need you.  I will always need you, Mulder.  
Please believe that.  I need to know you'll stick by me with this.  
Don't let Bishop get to you.  He's no threat to you, Mulder."

"I know that, intellectually.  I guess I just feel," he began, 
trailing off.

"Feel what?"

"I feel left out," he admitted.  "That sounds juvenile, doesn't it?" 
he said immediately.

"No, I understand it.  You've gone places where I couldn't follow, 
Mulder.  At those times, I've felt the same way, like I couldn't 
keep up, or I couldn't join you."

"You never said anything," he said quietly.

"You never asked," I replied calmly.

"That's a cop out, Scully, and you know it."

"Maybe, but remember, we've only become really open with other about 
our feelings a month ago.  I was hiding as much as you were.  I was 
as afraid as you were.  That's changed now but I remember what it 
felt like.  Your brain is like a damned computer, Mulder.  Many of 
us feel like we've been passed out and left choking on your dust."

He laughed at my analogy.  "You're good for my ego, Scully."

"You're good for mine."

He made a sound of disbelief and I squeezed his hand tightly.  He 
squeezed back.  "I don't know if I'm happy about this or not," he 
said.  "In one way, I'm glad it happened to you."

"Because I have no choice now but to believe in the paranormal?" she 
asked.

"Sort of, yeah.  You already believed some though, right?"

"Yeah, but this is definitely pushing me farther into the extreme 
possibilities column."

He smiled.  "In another way, it scares the shit out of me."

"Are you jealous?" I asked mildly.

His head whipped around to look at me again.  "I don't know.  I 
don't think so.  I meant that it scares me that you have this thing, 
and I can't share it.  Whenever that happens, I get scared."  He 
paused.  "I don't know if you understand, Scully."

"I think I do."

"I'm still afraid of losing you," he whispered.

I squeezed his hand again.  "Not going to happen, Mulder."

"You sure?" he asked.  I knew he needed the reassurance.

"Till death do us part, Mulder."

He gasped.  "Don't even think that way," he said.

"About death or don't think in wedding vows?" I asked.

"Death," he said quickly.  Then he smiled.  "Are you thinking in 
wedding vows, Scully?"

"I'm afraid I just did," I deadpanned.  "Does that scare you?"

He laughed.  "No.  Not at all."

"It doesn't?" I asked tentatively.  We were talking in the abstract 
again.  Something we tended to do when one or both of us was nervous 
about a particular topic.  As early in our new physical relationship 
as we were, I'd thought about marriage.  I knew it was too soon.  
Then again, we'd been partners for seven years and been through more 
than most married couples would ever endure in a lifetime, God 
willing.

He turned to face me fully and said, "It would be a dream come true, 
Scully."

"Really?" I squeaked out.

He nodded and winked.  "I'm greedy," he declared.  "I'll take 
whatever you'll give me."

"Even that?" I said, sounding surprised even to my own ears.

"Especially that," he said without hesitation.  "Just say the word, 
Scully."

'Well, wasn't that interesting?' I thought.  I knew this topic 
wasn't going to leave my brain too easily.

"What's it like?" he asked softly.

I smiled.  "Well, the hands thing was scary."

"Besides that."

"Like seeing things in a mirror, Mulder.  It's a little distorted, 
yet you can see it clearly."

"Hmmm, mirror images," was his only reply.

XXXXXXXXXX

DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN, D.C.
10:00 PM

We decided to make an early evening of it and moved into the 
bedroom.  We stripped down, crawling immediately into bed.  To my 
surprise, Mulder fell asleep before me.  That rarely happened.  I 
turned on my side and watched him sleep, a rare opportunity having 
presented itself.

He was so handsome and sexy.  The best part, or the annoying part, 
depending on how you looked at it, was that he had no clue how 
appealing he was to the opposite sex.  Despite my jealousies of days 
gone by, they had evaporated when we got involved after my accident.  
His eyes told me everything I needed to know.  If that wasn't 
enough, he told me every day, without fail, that he loved me.  I 
didn't doubt it anymore.  I didn't feel a need to compete with the 
other women in his life, and I didn't feel threatened by the women 
that still perpetually gave him the eye.

'Why couldn't it be the same for him?' I wondered.  I'd given him no 
reason to be jealous.  It always came back to his past.  Everyone he 
had ever loved had hurt or abandoned him.  Love didn't mean security 
for Mulder the way it did for me.  I had to remember that when I was 
ready to take his head off for being an alpha male.  Jesus, at one 
point, I thought he was going to pee around me on the couch.  He was 
so wary of Bishop.  I knew where it came from.  He didn't want me to 
have a connection over something this important with another man.

I didn't know what to do to allay his fears.  All I could do was 
continue to reassure him and show him that I loved him.  I could do 
at least what he did and tell him every day that I loved him.  He 
obviously needed the reminders!

I was still scared, but feeling a tad more confident that this new 
development in my life would not bury me, mentally, and it wouldn't 
ruin my relationship with Mulder.  I needed to learn to control it.  
Being the control freak that I knew I was, I knew I could settle for 
nothing less than everything I could learn about controlling this 
ability.

It was so ironic.  Mulder, the believer in all things paranormal and 
out of this world, now had to stand by and watch me struggle with a 
psychic ability.  He should have been the one to attain it.  It 
would have been validation of many things for him, including his 
life's work.  Not that he needed it.  He believed anyway.  Maybe 
that was why God chose me.  I needed that push to be a true 
believer.  'Thanks a lot,' I thought sarcastically, glancing at the 
ceiling.  Then I smiled, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead.

"Scully," he whispered in his sleep.  I smiled so hard my cheeks 
hurt.  I loved that he thought of me in his sleep, dreamed of me.  
He was always waking me up with that talented and sneaky tongue of 
his.  Perhaps I should do the same.  He'd just fallen asleep though 
and I didn't want to wake him.  He slept so little, I couldn't bear 
to interrupt.  I might later if he was still asleep when I woke up.  
I felt my eyelids droop.

"I love you, Mulder," I whispered into the silence of the room.

"Love you," he mumbled.  I turned over and he sought me out like a 
heat seeking missile, pulling me into the cradle of his body and 
wrapping himself around me.  I had no idea what was going to happen 
tomorrow, but that was what made life with Mulder so appealing.  I 
didn't need to know anymore.  All I needed to know was that he loved 
me and would be by my side.  Of that, I had no doubts.

I realized that the blood I saw was probably from a real murder here 
in Georgetown.  I wondered if Bishop would try to recruit me to 
solve that case.  If it came to that, I didn't see how I could 
refuse, particularly if children were involved.  Somehow I knew, no 
matter what happened, Mulder would stay with me.

THE END.

DISCLAIMER 2:  I blatantly stole the idea of physical manifestations 
of clairvoyance from Kay Hooper, one of my favorite novelists, who 
has written a series of novels about a special secret unit of the 
FBI that is composed of psychics with various abilities.  So credit 
for a good deal of my "facts" or "research" comes from her books.  
Other research was done on the net, but the idea comes from the 
novel, "Touch of Evil", "Whisper of Evil", and "Sense of Evil".  The 
books contain absolutely fascinating characters and I recommend the 
books highly.  I have also stolen the characters of Noah and Miranda 
Bishop, who were created by the same author.  No copyright 
infringement intended.