Title: But I'm Here
Rating: PG-13
Category: MSR, but classier
Spoilers: Small Potatoes, Je Souhaite, HTGSC, all things
Summary: Mulder finds Scully in Barnes & Noble and discovers that
there's more to her than who she is at work. They investigate a murder
in San Francisco and learn more about each other. But someone is
watching. 
Notes: I'm writing this off the top of my head. Making it up
as a go along. Where it stops, nobody knows! Wheeeeeeeeee!
Disclaimer: If I did, I would, but I don't, so I can't.


He saw her from across the room, an essentially empty Barnes & Noble
in the middle of town. She stood at the bargain book table, thumbing
lazily through a large book, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings.
The weather was cold outside; she was wrapped in a black wool coat
with a scarf bundled about her neck and a fleece hat pulled over her
head. Her lips, slightly parted and often creasing to grin at what she
saw in the pages, were a dark red and her eyes a deep blue. Her hair,
set ablaze in a thousand shades of auburn, clashed with her fair skin.
He'd never before seen so much color in her. She put the book down and
turned away, having not seen him, and started to another section then
stopped, turned and picked the book up again. He could read its title
now: Confrontations. A crude picture of a UFO glared from the cover of
the book and he began to chuckle, amused by the sight-and the thought.
She was thinking of him. 

She ran a hand over the cover of the book, grinned to herself again
and turned on her heel with a shake of her head.  He followed her,
maintaining enough distance so as not to blow his cover. The long wool
coat made her appear taller than she actually was. One would guess her
to be in her early twenties, though she carried herself with the
confidence and security of a woman of years even beyond her own. She
sauntered slowly past rows and rows of books, scanning haphazardly the
myriad of titles glowing from the shelves. He watched her as she
stopped suddenly and immediately pulled a book from a shelf and
proceeded to the nearest reading area. He moved to an aisle just out
of her sight and continued to observe her as she hung up her coat,
hat, and scarf and plopped into a big chair with the energy of a child
and began to devour the book she had selected. He moved back to the
bargain table and snatched up the copy of Confrontations, grabbed a
coffee from the Starbucks, and nonchalantly headed for the same
reading area while half-reading the first few pages of the book. 

Feigning deep interest in his reading, he absentmindedly sat down in a
chair opposite hers. She didn't look up. He took a drink of the coffee
and let the hot liquid scald his mouth. "Ow!" he seethed. "Shhhhit."
He swiped at the stain on his shirt and cursed the burns in his mouth.
He looked up in time to see her bright eyes become alive with
recognition and worry. "Mulder?!"
"Scully!" he feigned surprise. "What are--?"
"Are you okay?"
He forced a blush of embarrassment and gestured at his coffee. "Yeah,
it's just... hotter than hell." "What are you doing here?" she asked,
knowing that he had just as much right to be in the bookstore as
herself. "Just hanging around," he replied, trying to sop the stain
out of his shirt with a napkin. "Reading," he grinned at her.
"I just-" she stammered. "I didn't expect to see you here."
He shrugged, keeping himself busy with the spilled coffee. "I come
here every once in a while." A complete and total lie. He'd stopped in
on his way home from the Gunmen's office to find a book that he had
since forgotten the name of. He stopped and looked at her. She had
abandoned her book and was leaning towards him with concern.
"You're sure you're okay?" she prodded.
"Scully," he said in an airy laugh. "You can check me out and if it's
bad enough, we can sue them." She chuckled and looked at the floor.
"What are you reading?" he gestured to the book with which she had
been consumed just minutes before. Scully turned to the book and
picked it up as if it were delicate. "Moby Dick," came the reply.
"Hey, that's a good one!" he said enthusiastically and a bit
sarcastically, knowing she's read it a thousand times already. "Want
me to tell you the ending?" That got a full-wattage smile, with
teeth. "What about you?" she nodded towards his book. He held it up
for her to see, grinning from ear to ear and nodding his head
excitedly. Her forehead creased and her eyebrows furrowed. "Did you-?
I-?" "Huh?" he inquired innocently. She shook her head once, as if to
clear her brain. "I uh... I saw that on the bargain table and..." she
trailed off. He dipped his head to catch her eye again. 
"And?"
"And I thought of getting it for you." She shrugged and smiled shyly.
"Great minds," he said softly and deliberately, smiling back. He was
moved.



Two hours later, the two were situated at a small table in the dimly
lit Starbucks caf_. She talked incessantly. He was amazed. He sat back
in his chair, one arm thrown across the back of it and the other
poised at this lips thoughtfully, hanging on the cadence of her voice
as her words flowed freely from her lips. His eyes smiled, but he
suppressed it from his mouth so as not to cause attention to himself.
He was hypnotized. She looked so young and alluring, in a white
collared shirt and jeans. He was sure she'd worn the shirt with
numerous suits to work, but oh, how deliciously fresh it looked with
the faded blue jeans and boots she wore. He watched her in slow
motion, the movements of her hands in time with her lips, the
expressions on her face and the ways she turned her head. He wanted to
listen; he really did. Rarely did she open up to him, but he was
intrigued wholly by the new entity seemingly dropped before him. She
was outgoing and relaxed, her face looked lighter.

"And ever since then my heart still starts racing when I hear fire
engine sirens Mulder why are you staring at me?" Scully asked in one
long sentence, leaning forward to emphasize her insistence that he
answer. He snapped out of his Scully-addled reverie quite quickly, and
quite to his chagrin. "Ah, Scully," he replied, grinning and reaching
for his coffee. "Just listening to you." "Then what did I say?" she
countered. "You said that ever since then your heart starts racing
when you hear the sound of fire engines. Very Pavlovian," he grinned.
"Before that." He studied her face. She looked tense again. She
thought he wasn't listening. You weren't, he told himself. "Scully-"
"I'm boring you," she said sadly and began to collect her things.
"No!" he half-shouted with such energy and insistence that she stopped
and caught her breath. "No, Scully. You are =definitely= not boring
me. I swear to you." "What, then?" she asked weakly. 
Oh, man, he thought. How to get out of this one? "You just... I've
never seen you like this before, so open and animated and beaut-" he
stopped short, "iful." Her eyes widened and her eyebrows furrowed. Her
lips parted slightly and her resolve weakened. "It just caught me off
guard," Mulder continued. "I'm sorry." Her eyes moved over his face,
searching, delving for information, something he wasn't saying. "And
you were talking about the time you got busted by the fire department
when your friends built a bonfire after your high school prom.
Something about how you never got to tell the real me." He smiled and
took another drink. She broke and smiled, ashamed of her unwarranted
anger, flattered by his uncharacteristically flattering confessions,
and unnerved by his attention. A voice from the counter broke the
tension. "We're closing in five," said the waiter. Mulder paid the
bill and they gathered their things.


He watched them as they walked through the parking lot in a
half-hearted search for their respective vehicles. Normally-at work,
that is-they walked closer than he thought two platonic friends should
walk, but now they seemed to keep a kind of safe distance.
Undoubtedly, this was a new and unusual situation for the pair. He'd
never seen them together outside of work before. They stopped by each
other's apartments sometimes. Once she went there and they ate popcorn
and drank beer and watched television. Once on Christmas. And one
time, he saw her enter his building and not return to her own abode
until early the next morning. But he was certain now, from reading
their body language and judging by the distance they kept, that they
had not slept together. He didn't doubt that they trusted each other
exclusively, and that said trust ran deeper and connected them more
strongly than any romantic love that had ever existed. But love? Did
they love each other? He was sure of it. In love? Maybe. In denial?
Definitely.

He watched as they stopped by their cars, parked near each other on
opposite sides of the row. He could see their breath as they said
their goodbyes and she waved at him before settling into her car. At
the last minute, he ran to her window and knocked. He couldn't hear
what the man said to her, but could hear her laugh and could see her
smile at him and nod. What are they up to now? he wondered. He snapped
a picture and moved back to his own vehicle, intending to find the
answer to that question.


Scully took her time. She picked each one up and carefully weighed and
examined it, feeling it in her hand before making a decision.
"For the love of god, Scully, just pick a cue and let's play," Mulder
whined half-jokingly. "Leave me alone, Mulder," she defended herself.
"The right cue is essential to winning the game. In other words,
kicking your ass." She looked up and smiled innocently at him. He set
up the balls on the pool table and twirled his own cue in his hand.
"Bring it on," he said as he took the first break. The balls went
flying in a million different directions.  "Impressive, Mulder,"
Scully admitted. "But you didn't sink anything." She leaned across the
table, zoning in on the yellow stripe. He stood propped against the
wall at her side. Her foot came off the ground as she leaned across
the table. Through her shirt he could see the muscles in her back and
her jeans-God, don't look at her jeans, Mulder he scolded himself. He
allowed himself one obligatory glance at the curve of her backside and
missed the shot she'd just made. "Heheheheeeee," she giggled
demonically.  "What?" Mulder snapped back into reality as she looked
for another shot. "Did you make it?" "You should be paying attention,
Mulder," she chided as she glanced up at him knowingly before smacking
in another ball. "I was...paying attention," he countered weakly. She
raised an eyebrow and sunk another ball. 

The arcade was pretty well populated. There was pool and air hockey
and a thousand video games in the dimly lit building. The smells of
hot dogs and pretzels wafted from the bar, but Mulder came here for
the ice cream. The curator Eddie made it himself using his
grandmother's recipe. The place was famous for the ice cream. In
reality, it was probably what kept the place in business. The local
kids had better things to do most times, like drugs and vandalism and
such, so mostly college students and middle agers like Mulder and
Scully were the only ones with much interest in the place. Eddie,
however, was nowhere to be found tonight. The kid behind the counter
read a magazine and smoked a cigarette. Mulder thought his name was
Mike, but wasn't sure.

Mulder's thoughts were interrupted by Scully's voice. "Mulder?" He
turned to look at her. Her eyebrows raised, she gestured to the table.
He grabbed his cue and took aim. "Solids, right?" he asked teasingly.
"Guess I'll have to catch up." He smacked the red in and strutted
around the table with exaggerated arrogance. She couldn't help but
laugh. He leaned down to take aim at another ball. "Yellow, corner
pocket," he announced. It was an easy shot. The balls were lined up
beautifully. She moved to lean against the wall right behind the
corner pocket for which he was aiming, taking a sip from the straw in
her diet soda. He glanced up at her only for a second. He took the
shot. He missed. The cue ball knocked the yellow at the side, sending
both balls away from the intended target. His head hit the table and
stayed there. Scully began to giggle.  "The funny thing is," she said,
moving to stand by his side. "I actually kinda feel sorry for you." He
stood up and she took another shot and missed. "Did you do that on
purpose?" Mulder asked defensively. "Why would I do that?" she
teased.

The game continued back and forth until Scully finally sank the eight
ball, much to Mulder's embarrassment. "Scully, I do no believe you
just kicked my ass at pool," he said sadly. The door chimed and a
burly man of about sixty years entered, shaking off the snowflakes
that had fallen on his coat. "Eddie!" Mulder exclaimed with a big
smile as he hurried to the old man to shake his hand. "Fox, my boy!"
Eddie pulled Mulder to him and slapped his back. "Too damn long, son,
too damn long! You never come see me anymore." Mulder looked at his
feet. "Well, you know, Ed... work and all." "Aw, bullsh*t, boy," the
old man laughed heartily. "Can't work all the time."  Scully appeared
and stood next to Mulder, pool cue still in hand. "Oh, yes, but he
can," she interjected lightly, grinning up at her partner.
"Eddie, meet my partner Dana Scully," Mulder introduced them. "Scully,
this is Eddie. He owns the place." "Oh! Great place," Scully reached
out to shake the man's hand.  "Well, I must say," Eddie replied, eyes
scanning Scully up and down. "He was wrong."  Scully raised an
eyebrow. "I'm sorry, sir?" "Eddie, no, you-" Mulder started.
"He said you were beautiful," Eddie continued. "By god, he didn't
mention prettier'n hell, too." Scully flushed and looked to the floor
before turning her gaze to Mulder. "Yeah, so Eddie, how about some
goods?" Mulder quickly changed the subject. Eddie headed toward the
counter door and the Mike kid quickly put down his magazine.
"Eddie, hey man," said Mike. "Thought you were taking the night off."
"Creature of habit," replied the old man. "Just couldn't stand it."
Mulder took a seat on a bar stool and gestured for Scully to climb up
next to him.  "Scully, you're going to love this stuff," Mulder nodded
towards the ice cream that Eddie was dipping into bowls. "Not your
typical tofutti rice airsicle. Once you've had this, you'll never go
back," he grinned. Eddie placed the bowls before them and Scully
spooned some of the creamy substance into her mouth. "Mmmm," she
mumbled with her mouth full. "This is delicious." "You're wasting it!"
Mulder declared indignantly and reached over to her. He wiped a drop
off of her chin and licked it off his finger. She stared at him
open-mouthed. "S'good, huh?" he asked with a chuckle, somewhat
embarrassed. 


"So," Scully said as they walked to her apartment. "Where's Mulder?"
He stopped and watched her as she walked on a few feet before turning.
"What do you mean?" he asked, a bit defensively.  "The last time
Mulder made me feel like a woman again, it wasn't Mulder," she said as
she looked to the ground and fiddled with her keys. "The last time I
had this much fun... it wasn't Mulder." He moved to her. Snow fell
around them and between them. Flakes gathered on her scarf and in her
hair. She must have left her hat in the car, he thought. 
"Scully, I know I'm not... always a blast to be around," he started.
"I know that most times, I'm even a jerk. I know it." Her face creased
and she began to protest but Mulder stopped her. "And I had every
intention of even being a jerk tonight, just like usual. When I sat
down next to you, I hadn't expected anything different. I hadn't even
planned on staying." A look of misunderstanding crossed her face. "I
saw you, thought I'd say hi, chat a while, then go. Go home, watch TV,
try to sleep, the usual." "But...when you sat down..." she said
thoughtfully. "You spilled the coffee and you acted like you hadn't
known I was there." Mulder flushed and chuckled as he looked down and
kicked the snow. "Yeah, you know... I didn't exactly-" he stammered.
Scully began to laugh and she playfully punched him in the shoulder.
"You brat!" she squealed. "You knew it was me the whole time! You even
spilled coffee on yourself?!" She laughed heartily now. He watched her
as she doubled over laughing, the lamplight glowing in her hair and on
the snow.  "That's-yeah. That's funny, huh?" he asked lightheartedly.
"I'm glad I could bring some joy to your life." He looked down at the
coffee stain on his shirt. Scully turned, still laughing, to go into
her apartment when a small pang of pain burst in her left shoulder.
She turned to look down at it and saw the remnants of a snowball
plastered to her wool coat. Mulder stood on the sidewalk still,
grinning at her victoriously.  "I'll get you back, Mulder!" she
shouted to him. "Not tonight, but soon." She looked down to find the
key to her door and heard Mulder come up behind her.  "Can't wait," he
whispered in her ear, his breath scalding against her cool skin. She
suppressed a shudder and opened the door, turning to find him standing
so close that she had to tilt her head back to look in his eyes.
"Do uh... do you want to come in, Mulder?" she asked hesitantly.
Mulder looked inside her apartment, warm and inviting as always. 
"That's probably not the best idea in the world, Scully," he said
wistfully. Her forehead creased and her lips parted in silent protest.
He leaned down and kissed her not on the cheek, but just under her jaw
line. Her eyes closed and she barely suppressed a moan of pleasure
before he pulled away. He looked into her eyes and smiled before
turning away without another word.


----One month later----
	Steam rolled into the room as Scully stepped out of the shower. She
looked around the room and sighed. Another motel room, thousands of
miles from home, as anonymous as all the others. Pulling her bathrobe
tightly to her, she plopped onto the bed and stared at the cracked
ceiling. She heard the TV come on in the room adjacent to her own, and
the ensuing sounds, which she'd heard on the other side of a thousand
motel rooms across the country. She tracked his movements now. After
the TV comes on, he'll move to the mini fridge to grab the leftovers
from dinner last night, which will then serve as breakfast. She heard
the mini fridge open. Microwave, she thought. A door opens, a few
beeps, then the whir of the microwave. Bathroom. A few seconds later,
a toilet flush, timed perfectly with the beep of the microwave. Bed.
The bed creaked under his weight as he sat down to watch TV and eat
his breakfast. At which point, she would normally get up and continue
her own routine. Today, though, she desired to do nothing more than
stay exactly where she was and sleep. The case was a dead end and she
had no idea why she and Mulder were even assigned in the first place.
Shower. The last time she checked, being a narcissistic, cold-blooded,
depraved killer wasn't considered paranormal phenomenon. Okay, so it
was a bit weird that the guy is ripping out a few vital organs along
the way, but not paranormal. Actually, she thought, why the hell am I
bitching? Finally get a nice, normal case. She stared at the ceiling
some more, listening to the sounds of the shower next door, and
eventually started to doze.  	She was awakened suddenly as Mulder
barged into her room through the connecting door. She sat up quickly
and tightened the tie on her robe, as it had become loose in her
sleep. "Jesus, Mulder," she scolded angrily. 	"What, Scully?" he
retorted lightly. "I've seen you a lot more naked than that." She
blanched at his comment and stood up quickly.  	"What do you want,
Mulder?" she asked wearily as Mulder kicked back on her bed and popped
some sunflower seeds in his mouth.  	"Our man's not keeping to his
pattern," he said around a mouthful of seed shells. "It's been three
days, Scully. He should have killed again by now." 	"And you're upset
that he hasn't?" she mumbled while brushing her teeth. 
	"No, I mean, that's definitely a good thing. Never want more people
to die." 	"Then what?"
	"Well... doesn't it just seem weird to you? I mean, we've exhausted
everything we have, and we've still not got him." He piled sunflower
seed shells on the nightstand. "I mean, as bad as it sounds, we were
kinda relying on one more murder to give us a bit more to go on. It
seems like we're just waiting for him to come up and bite us on the
ass now." 	"Maybe he's done, Mulder," she suggested as she flossed. 
	"I don't think so," he said, watching her now.  He began to think out
loud. "Every two days...he should have done it again by now."
	"Maybe he did."
	"And we just don't know yet." They looked at each other. 


	Scully watched him peripherally, not so that he would notice, as he
drove. All traces of the Mulder she'd met in Barnes & Noble were gone.
She hadn't seen him for a month. She didn't understand; how can he be
so attentive and sensitive and so... fun, for one night, then it's all
gone again? The more she thought about it, the more the negativity and
anger built up in her. She'd thought about that night quite often in
the past month. Even when focused on a particular task, he was never
far from her thoughts. His face as he'd leaned down to kiss
her...where? She didn't know exactly where he'd kissed her that night,
but by god, she knew she wanted him to do it again. Since that night,
she'd had very little interest in working. She'd mill about the
office, moping to herself that she never got out, never did anything,
never had any fun. Ah, but you did, once. That night, didn't you,
Dana? Paperwork was put off until the last minute, in favor of
daydreaming of adventures she'd yet to have. It was times like these
when she felt like writing, and she'd made several entries in her
journal to Mulder. If anything ever happens to me, he'll have a blast
reading those, she thought with a grin.  	"Penny for your thoughts,"
he said softly, glancing at her in the passenger seat. She gasped
softly as his voice snapped her back to reality.  	"No, it's nothing,"
she said dismissively, hoping he'd pursue it a bit further. 
	"Something bothering you?" he asked with concern. She looked at him,
then away. Her every wish, every desire, every instinct wanted to ask
him why he had been so different that night, what had happened, and
why it all had gone back again. Her professionalism told her not to.
Never one to let her emotions get away from her, she declined to
indulge them now. 	"I'm fine, Mulder," said gently, reassuringly. 
	"Yeah, well, when you want to tell me, the offer stands," he said,
smiling at her. 	"Thanks, buddy," she answered with a sarcastic
emphasis. 	"Anytime, partner," he said with a wink. Scully resisted
the urge to reach for her gun.  	Instead, she turned her mind back to
the case at hand. She opened the file for the millionth time and
rifled through the photographs and the paperwork and the reports and
the evidence. Still nothing. They had waited all day at the local
police department for a report of another murder. Nothing. Scully had
to admit she was a bit perplexed with the case, but still felt bitter
over the fact that it wasn't an X-file. 	"So, Mulder, why are you so
interested in this case?" she asked as she read over a report. Again.
	"People are dying, Scully," he replied weakly.
	"And from what I can tell, by no paranormal means," she pointed out.
"So why are we here? The San Francisco field office could have handled
the matter just fine if the local PD couldn't." 	"You don't wanna be
here?" 	"Well..." she started, followed by a dramatic pause. "No." He
looked at her for a moment. She continued, "Given the choice, I'd much
rather be in my own bed, in my own home, in my own surroundings, on
the other side of the continent, than out here doing a job that a
thousand other people could be doing." 	"I never imagined you a
slacker, Scully," he teased.  	"Mulder, I just don't understand why
you're so consumed with this." 	"God, Scully, don't you ever get tired
of the same crap?" he said in huff. She stared at him open-mouthed.
"Chasing vague leads that eventually lead nowhere, winding up right
back at the beginning, no closer to finding the truth than when you
first walked into my office." He gathered his thoughts and looked out
the window as she continued to stare at him. "I just want something
normal every once in a while; something with real evidence, something
that I can actually solve. I guess it just reassures me that I haven't
lost my abilities as a real investigator." 	Scully was shocked.
"Mulder, I-" 	"Don't."
	"I'm sorry. I had no idea. You're always so passionate and..." she
let it go. She didn't know what else to say. 	"No big deal, Scully."
	They drove the rest of the way to the motel in silence. Scully
mentally kicked herself for her attitude towards the case. She
understood his desire for normalcy all too well. She just never
realized that such a desire lived in Fox Mulder. 


	Scully sat cross-legged on her bed, tapping away at her laptop. She
really didn't want to tell Skinner that the case was unresolved,
especially not when it seemed so straightforward. We can hunt down
mutants who set people on fire with their minds, she thought. But we
can't put together enough to track down a nice, normal murderer. She
heard the TV come on in Mulder's room and looked at the clock. 10:15.
There was a loud knock on the wall behind her. 	"Hey, Scully, wanna
get a pizza?" Mulder asked through the wall. Scully often forgot how
thin the motel walls were. She shuddered with the realization that
Mulder was sitting-in reality-less than two feet away from her,
undoubtedly shirtless and chomping on sunflower seeds. Damn wall. In
the early years of their partnership together, if they discovered that
their beds were close enough together, they used to lie awake at night
and talk through the walls. It had seemed easier to talk to him
without seeing him. It seemed they knew everything about each other
now, and that didn't leave much to discuss in those late night
conversations. They could talk about their current cases, but they did
that all day anyway. So they just said goodnight and kept quiet.
Sometimes she'd hear the unmistakable sounds of Mulder's nightmares
and if they got really bad she'd rush in to wake him up. Sometimes she
heard other unmistakable sounds, but she didn't hazard a guess as to
what they were. 	"Sure," she answered. "You call it in." She heard him
pick up the phone. 	"You want your usual?" he asked as he dialed.
	"Yup." She heard his muffled voice giving the order and noticed that
he gave her room number as the delivery address. Which means he'll
come over here to wait for it. She looked down at herself. She had
discarded her dressy blouse but had left on the white tank top she'd
worn under it and the black slacks. She considered dipping into the
bathroom to lose the pantyhose. She hated pantyhose. But at that
moment the connecting door swung open and a shirtless Mulder sank into
the easy chair by the window. 	"You get drinks?" she asked, not
looking up from her laptop. 	"At your service, Miss Scully," he said
teasingly. "Ordered a two-liter of diet." 	"You hate diet, Mulder."
	"You don't." She glanced up at him and did a double take. He sat
slumped in the chair, his arms thrown over the armrests, long legs
stretched out before him.   	"Thank you, Mulder," she said.
	"Working on the report?" he nodded towards the laptop and eyed her
carefully. She sighed and pushed her glasses to the top of her head,
rubbing her eyes. "I figured," he said with a grin.  	"I don't
understand it, Mulder. Why can't we find this guy?" He detected the
frustration in her voice, but there was something else as well.
Regret? Defeat?  	"You wanted for us to find him, huh?" he asked. Off
her "no duh" look, he added, "I mean, did you want to find him for my
benefit? After what I said about wanting to solve something?" She
studied her hands. 	"Maybe that was part of it," she admitted. 
	"Eh, I'm okay, Scully," he sighed. 
	"But he's still a murderer," she pointed out. "And he's still out
there, and he will kill again. Our job was to stop that from
happening." 	"Scully, we did all we could. We've been here for two
weeks. It's been a week since the last murder, there's nothing else to
go on." 	"Maybe we missed something," she said, picking up the file
again. Mulder rose to his feet and crossed to her, gently taking it
out of her hand. 	"Don't do this to yourself," he whispered, then
added with a smirk, "The guilt trip is my thing, not yours." In her
bare feet, she had to lean back to look up at him, her eyes searching
his face. "Besides, wouldn't you rather be in your own bed, in your
own home, on the other side of the continent than out here doing a job
a thousand other people can do?" he asked with a smile in a husky
voice. She dropped her head and wrung her hands. 	"Mulder, I didn't
mean to-" 	"Shhh," he quieted her, placing a finger on her lips. She
stared up at him and fought the desire to kiss his finger. He held her
gaze and moved his finger slowly, beginning to outline her lips.
	The knock on the door caused her to jump, breaking their contact.
Mulder let his eyes linger on her a moment longer, then turned to
answer the door. He paid the delivery boy and left him a pathetic tip
before turning back into the room and closing the door with his foot.
	"Ah, your cuisine, madam," Mulder said in his most outrageously
exaggerated French accent, setting the food on the bed where she had
again taken up residence. He held the bottle of diet soda as if it
were a fine wine. "And your beverage, my dear, chilled to the finest
perfection." She chuckled at him in spite of herself, only
half-thankful that he had changed the mood and let the awkward moment
pass. 


	She was awakened before sunrise when Mulder barged suddenly into her
room and turned on her light.  	"Morning, sunshine!" he said loudly.
"We gots to go." He went about her room, gathering a pair of jeans and
a miscellaneous t-shirt and plopping them down on the bed next to her.
She rubbed her eyes, not wanting to know how she looked. A glance at
the clock told her it was just after 5:00 in the morning.
	"What-" she began to ask.
	"We got another murder," he answered quickly, still running around
the room, gathering papers and files. "No body at the scene, but there
was some blood that didn't match the victim's." 	"Mulder, s'not his
m.o.," she mumbled sleepily. 	"This was found at the scene," he said,
and tossed a plastic jar at her as he walked out of the room. She
lifted it up to the light. She immediately recognized its contents as
a typical human kidney. 	The remainder of the day was spent sitting
about the local police station, waiting for the results from the tests
on the blood recovered at the crime scene. The victim's body had been
easily recovered from the dumpster behind her apartment complex, and
Scully wondered why the killer bothered to hide the body at all.
	"It doesn't make sense, Mulder," she said while stretched across a
few chairs at the station. "Why try to hide the bodies now?"
	"Maybe he thought there was something about the body, on the body,
that could identify him as the killer," he said with a shrug.
	"You mean, aside from his blood being present at the crime scene?"
she asked with an eyebrow raised. 	"The woman was a martial arts
instructor," Mulder pointed out. "It's possible that she put up a
fight. I'm betting when you do this autopsy, you'll find skin or blood
under her fingernails or something. She must have maimed him badly
enough to spill his blood." 	"Autopsy?" she said inquisitively. "Me?
Why? When those blood tests come back, we'll have our guy, then it
should be pretty easy to determine what killed the woman. Why can't
the local ME do it?" 	"The local ME isn't as good as you are," Mulder
rationalized. "Plus, we don't know who we can trust here." Scully
sighed. 	"Mulder, there's nothing to hide here, nothing to cover up.
It's a murder, plain and simple. I mean, I can probably tell you right
now what killed her." 	"What's that?"
	"She was most like incapacitated before removal of the kidney, and
she had the same abrasions and contusions around her throat as the
other victims. I'd put cause of death at asphyxiation due to
strangulation, secondary cause as complications and blood loss due to
barbaric removal of the kidney."  Mulder sighed. "It's over, Mulder.
Let's go home." 	"Don't you want to see the blood tests?"
	"Our plane leaves in two hours."
	"I cancelled our flight." Scully sat up in shock. 
	"You what?!"
	"I thought we could use some time."
	"For what?" Scully half-shouted. "Mulder, I'm ready to get home!"
	"Relax, Scully," Mulder said with a calm smile. "It's freezing and
snowy at home. Might as well stay in sunny California as long as we
can." 	"Mulder, we're in San Francisco," she stated irritably. "It's
still cold." 	"Plane leaves tomorrow around 5:00 in the afternoon," he
said, spitting a seed shell into a nearby trashcan. 	"What the hell do
we do until then?" He paused for a moment, thinking. 	"Ever been to
Fisherman's Wharf?"


	He watched them stroll down the sidewalk, more at ease with each
other now than they had been in Washington. He had thought that
something like this might happen when Mulder called and cancelled
their tickets. It was warmer in San Francisco than in Washington, but
there was still a bite to the night air with the breeze coming off the
bay. She was huddled in her wool coat while he coolly strolled beside
her in his leather jacket, which couldn't have been as warm. He
snapped a few pictures here and there, but mostly was fascinated just
by watching them. Though he longed for better views, better angles, he
maintained his cover behind the bushes, knowing that he would be
easily recognized. The camera had enough zoom to get pretty good shots
anyway.  	They stopped at a stand outside of a tourist shop and
browsed the trinkets and such there. Through the zoom lens he could
see her pick up a small snowglobe and shake it, turn it around in her
hands, and replace it on the stand. She turned to see him standing
behind her in a whirlygig cap and laughed out loud. He smiled at her
reaction and replaced the outlandish hat on the rack before they set
out again. He snapped one last picture before relocating.

	Scully strolled with her hands clasped behind her back, taking in the
sights, the sounds, the tourists, and the bay. He warmed his hands in
the pockets of his jackets, matching her slow stride. They walked past
the shops, the restaurants, and the street peddlers. 	 	"When I was a
kid and Dad was stationed in San Diego, we'd take weekend trips up
here," Scully said wistfully, out of the blue. Mulder was pleasantly
surprised by the volunteered information, but wasn't sure how to
encourage it. "Dad would take us all to Ghirardelli Square and get us
all chocolate. The best," she remembered with a smile. "Mom wanted to
strangle him. Four little kids hyped up on the world's best
chocolate." Mulder chuckled lightly. "We'd have all day picnics and
field days in Golden Gate Park. We'd play volleyball and ride bikes
and swim in the bay..." she trailed off, remembering a time when
things weren't so complicated; a time when she didn't second-guess
everything and everyone, a time when she trusted with a blind faith in
the people around her.  	Mulder watched her as they walked along. Her
eyes were wide and her entire body alert, but relaxed. She looked
around and took in everything, as if storing it for later retrieval.
Her red hair shined in the streetlights and her blue eyes sparkled as
she looked around. She looked at him suddenly and caught him staring.
He quickly looked to the ground. She didn't comment, but smiled to
herself and indulged herself in a peek at him as well. They were
nearing Ghirardelli Square now. There was a small stretch of sand
beside the sidewalk right underneath the Square. Mulder suggested
silently that they sit there to rest for a while. Sitting on the cool
concrete, Scully scooted closer to Mulder, sitting slightly behind his
shoulder. She looked out at the lights of the tour boats on the bay
and listened to the waves. In the distance she could see the Golden
Gate Bridge lit up like the stars that twinkled above it. She sighed
contentedly.  	"Everything here is so beautiful," she said more to
herself than to Mulder. 	"Yes," Mulder answered. "Yes it is." She
turned to look at him and found his intense gaze fixed on her, his
face mere inches from her own.


	He sat transfixed, petrified by the sight before him. Will they or
won't they? he asked himself in frustration. Do it! Do it now! He
clicked away at his camera as his heart raced in his chest at a
thousand miles an hour.  They were soooo close now, he could just feel
it. The lights from the Square behind them cast the entire scene in a
bluish light. The small waves from the bay washed almost silently to
the shore. There was the bridge and the boats and the stars and if he
didn't know better he would have thought he was on a movie set. It was
perfect. No better time than now. A song ran through his head that
he'd heard on a Disney movie once: "And you don't know why, but you're
dying to try, you wanna kiss the girl." He chuckled at the silliness
of the tune and continued to will them together. If they didn't, if he
didn't get this shot, there would be hell to pay when he got back to
Washington.

	Mulder could feel her breath warm against his lips. Too close! he
thought. He willed himself to back away, to turn his head, to say
something before the moment dragged too long and there would be no
other way out. Time seemed to freeze, and he looked at her face, tense
with anticipation, fear, and desire? He wasn't sure. She didn't move.
Though he ached with wanting her, though he was sure she felt the
same, though it took every ounce of energy he had and left him spent
and breathless, he turned from her to look at the water.
	Scully thought she should have relaxed, but her body tensed up even
more when he turned away. She felt slightly rejected, but tried to
convince herself that he was being professional; that they were still
on assignment and that maybe when they got back to Washington... she
let the thought go. She felt like a high schooler again. When's he
gonna call, when's he gonna kiss me? she thought disdainfully. She was
beginning to tire of this elaborate game, yet they both continued to
play. She allowed herself to imagine what their relationship would be
like if it ever did happen. Everything would change; nothing would
ever be the same. In her experience, relationships quickly took a
downhill turn after physical aspects were introduced. She thought back
to the earlier years of their partnership, when the emotional and
sexual attraction had not yet developed, but they both recognized its
potential. Mulder's lighthearted flirting had been a welcome reprieve
from the heavy-laden solemnity that overcast their work. It had been
fun and humorous. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when the same comments
began to stir butterflies in her stomach. She wondered when he first
noticed it as well, if he ever did. She remembered a time that it
might have started to emerge; an offhanded comment that she'd been
neither expecting nor prepared for. "I think it's remotely plausible
that someone might think you're hot," he said. Her heart had jumped
into her throat but she quickly pushed it back down where it belonged
and breathlessly changed the subject. She hadn't slept that night in
favor of lying awake wondering about the comment. After hours and
hours of professional rationalization, she decided that whatever the
reasons for his comment, the best thing for all involved would be to
ignore it and get on with the work. Which was just what she intended
to do now.


	Until Mulder turned back to her. Her emotions must have been apparent
in her face, because a look of concern crossed over his. He opened his
mouth in what she anticipated to be an apology. 	"Do you dance,
Scully?"

	The club was sparsely occupied. After all, it was a weeknight. Scully
didn't feel like dancing. Drinking, maybe, but not dancing. The bar
was a typical seedy place. There wasn't a band, and the DJ only came
in on weekends, they heard from a nearby patron at the bar, but there
was a jukebox and one hell of a sound system, Mulder observed, and
there was a dance floor which Mulder fully intended to make use of
later. Mulder and Scully got their drinks from the bar and settled
into a dark corner booth. Scully sat despondently as she nursed her
beer and stared at the people on the dance floor. Mulder felt uneasy.
He had a clear idea of what was upsetting her, but he had no idea how
to bring it up or resolve it. 	"Scully..." he started timidly. "I get
the impression that something's wrong." She said nothing, but looked
at him squarely now. "And I'm pretty sure I know what it is," he
continued. "But I don't know what to do about it. I know what I want,
and I know what you want, but I'm not sure that what we want is the
best thing in this situation." His voice was soft and deep and she
knew that what he was saying was true. She also knew that, like
herself, he didn't care. "Scully, I value our partnership and I know
you do as well. I'd gladly put aside any feelings in favor of
preserving what we have now. But eventually, I think we both know that
any other feelings we could possibly have for each other will begin to
affect our partnership as well. It will either drive us apart or drive
us insane. And I'm not so sure about you, but I know that last one is
not a long drive for me," he added with a grin in an attempt to
lighten the mood. Scully raised an eyebrow with a weak smile and took
another drink from her beer.  	"Do you ever think about that night we
met at the bookstore?" she asked him quietly as she turned her
attention back to the dance floor.  	"Every day," he answered
immediately and sincerely, never removing his eyes from her face. She
looked back into those eyes and continued her inquiry. 	"What happened
there?" she asked. "It was one incredible night, and then everything
was the same again. It was as if the clock struck midnight and you
turned into a pumpkin again. I didn't understand it. We never talked
about it, never mentioned it." 	Mulder looked at the table, turning
his bottle in circles. "I went out of my way to not mention that
night; to avoid it at all costs," he admitted. 	"Why?"
	"Because of what I just said. I stayed awake that night, thinking
about everything we'd done. Damn photographic memory; I couldn't get
you out of my head. Every time I'd try to sleep I'd see you..." he
stopped and swallowed. "See you standing in the snow." He glanced up
and saw her watery eyes and quickly averted his eyes again. "But I
also knew that, as much fun as it was, as much as we enjoyed it, it
was dangerous. The relationship we have now is more stable than that
of lovers. Once physical attraction and emotions enter into the
equation, that foundation becomes shaky and is more easily broken." He
stopped and looked straight into her eyes. "And I'd rather have you in
my life as my partner, albeit platonically, than not at all. And I
don't know if this means anything to you, or if it even matters, and
you can stay or go as you please. But I'm here." 	She continued to
stare at him, unblinking as she let his words wash over her. She knew
what he was saying; in a sense, he was admitting his feelings for her,
though they were very cleverly veiled, she thought, and he was giving
her the opportunity to take them or leave them for later. It was a
decision that she was scared to make on her own. The implications were
incredible. Within the next five seconds, she could say one word and
change their entire lives. But before she could, Mulder was on his
feet with her hand in his, pulling her out of the booth and onto the
dance floor as a bluesy tune filled the air. 	*Crazy... how it feels
tonight. Crazy how you make it all alright, love* She hesitantly put
her arms around Mulder's neck and laced her fingers and began to move
with him, very nervously, keeping what she considered to be adequate
space between them. *Crush me...* Mulder pulled her body into his
suddenly, eliciting a small gasp. *With the...things you do* Scully's
eyes were wide, staring into Mulder's like a beacon. Her mouth open in
an awe-filled half-smile and she moved her face closer to his until
her skin seared where their cheeks met. *Lovely lady...I am at your
feet, oh god I.. want you so badly...* Mulder grazed his lips over the
exposed skin of her neck lightly, his hands moving down her sides to
encircle her waist. He could feel the softness of her breasts pressed
against his chest and suppressed the moan of pleasure that was
building up inside of him. *Crazy, I'm thinking... just knowing that
the world is round and here I'm dancing on the ground...* Scully
unlaced her fingers and instead entangled them in Mulder's hair.
Mulder's hands moved from her waist to travel slowly up her back and
ultimately to pull her even closer to him. He wanted to consume her,
to be enveloped by her. *Am I right side up, or upside down, and is
this real...or am I dreaming?* Mulder dropped his head down to rest on
her shoulder and breathed deeply, savoring and storing the smell of
her. *Lovely lady, let me drink you, please...* She moved a hand from
his neck down to rest on his chest just above his heart. He reached up
to cover it with his own and moved his free hand to the small of her
back. *Lying under this.. spell you cast on me, each moment the
more..I..love..you...* She pulled back to look at him and he held her
gaze now as they began to move more quickly as the music picked up
tempo. *It's crazy, I'm thinking just as long as you're around and
here I'll be dancing on the ground... am I right side up or upside
down?* Their gaze held. *To each other, we'll be facing by love... my
love, we'll beat back the pain we've found* He moved his cheek back to
rest beside hers. *You know I mean to tell you all the things I've
been thinking deep inside, my friend, with each moment, the more I
love you...* They had essentially stopped moving and simply held each
other, closer than ever, on the crowded dance floor, oblivious to the
envious stares of the other patrons.


	He had waited in the cold outside the club while they were inside. He
cursed them silently for such an evasive maneuver. He couldn't go
inside; they'd spot him immediately and his cover would be clown.
Finally, they emerged from the place, walking very closely. Mulder
walked with his hands in his pockets, while Scully's hand clutched his
elbow as they walked.  Their expressions were difficult to read. He'd
never seen their faces so full of...what? He didn't know. His camera
clicked away. He wondered what had happened inside the club. He had
hazarded a peek through a window and had seen them dancing rather
closely, but immediately took cover so as not to be noticed. He wiped
sweat from his brow despite the cool air and watched them until they
turned a corner and disappeared from his view.

	They walked in silence. No words were needed. Scully felt an
unfamiliar, but welcome calm wash over her as she clung to his arm.
Rather than attempt to trek up the frighteningly steep hilly streets
of San Francisco, they took a cable car back to their hotel. As the
crowded car began a steep ascent, Scully was crushed against Mulder.
Rather than fight it, she laid her head on his shoulder and leaned
into him. He put his arm around her to shield her from the cold and
they rode like that until their stop. They walked the three blocks to
their motel exchanging glances and blushes like school children. They
swung their clasped hands between them and took in the view of the
bay. Mulder walked Scully to her room first. She turned to look up at
him. She wanted to speak, but somehow did not have the power. The
messages her brain was sending were not reaching her mouth. She parted
her lips in a weak attempt to say something, but Mulder's hand on her
cheek quenched the urge. He closed the space between them and stood
tall over her. His thumb moved across her cheekbone as he leaned
closer to her. 	"Can I kiss you, Scully?" he asked softly, lowly, in a
voice that combined with the context of his request sent a million
volts of electricity soaring in her stomach and caused delicious
sensations to lick at her thighs. Her mouth opened, her eyes wide in
shock, and she managed to utter a response. 	"Yes." His mouth
immediately descended on hers, but the kiss was not rushed, not hard.
His lips opened slightly over hers and his tongue lazily outlined her
mouth. Her lips parted and she did the same to his. As quickly as it
had started, the kiss ended as he pulled away from her. She stared up
at him, breathless, her eyes full of wonder. He still held her cheek
as he stared down into those eyes with so much desire he thought it
would pour out of him. His thumb traveled over her lips, and he smiled
at her softly. 	"Goodnight, Scully," he said lowly, letting his
fingers linger just a moment longer before turning toward his own
room. She stared after him before unlocking her own, and they shared
one last look before disappearing through the doors.

	He had used the remainder of his film to capture the kiss, his heart
beating, his breathing heavy, adrenaline rushing. He noted that they
did indeed, go to separate rooms and intended to point out that fact
to Assistant Director Skinner when he got back to Washington. He
pulled out his phone and booked himself on the next flight back to DC.


	Mulder lay awake and stared at the ceiling in his room. The TV was
on, but muted, so that he might hear any and all sounds in the room
next to his. He heard her bed squeak with her movements and wondered
if she was already asleep or having trouble sleeping. He replayed the
moment a million times in his head. Her eyes had widened for a moment
and he had thought maybe she had changed her mind, but they closed
immediately and her lips had been just as active as his own, he
rationalized. He had meant it to be a simple, chaste connection
between friends, but he couldn't help himself. Somehow, he knew that
everything would be different now. He didn't care. Just as long as she
was there, he could deal with it. A car passed outside and the lights
cast a shadow on his walls that moved with the car. He reached in the
bag for more seeds, but found it empty. Tossing the bag to the floor
in frustration, he sat up and held his head in his hands. What was she
feeling? What was she thinking? Was she sleeping, or lying in
frustrated agony like him? He wanted more of her. He had thought that
the kiss would be enough, but it hadn't been. A thousand and one
emotions and desires that he had kept in check for eight years were
stirred up in him like the embers of a fire leaping again into flames.
He stood up and stretched and heard the sound of water running in her
room. Probable cause, he said to himself and moved to the connecting
door. He stepped just inside her room and watched her at the sink,
splashing water on her face. She blindly reached for a towel and
blotted at her face, turning around. She lowered the towel from her
eyes and saw him, leaning against the doorjamb in his drawstring
pants, hands in the pockets. He curled one side of his mouth up in a
half grin. She froze where she stood, the towel still at her face.
Words were superfluous.  He crossed to where she stood and she knew
that more was being crossed than simple space, that somehow the rest
of their lives depended on the next few moments. He reached up and
took the towel from her hand and dropped it on the floor. His hand
came up to cup her jaw as his arm encircled her waist and crushed her
to him. He kissed her harder now, with more urgency and pure animal
lust.  	Dizzy, her knees buckled and she dangled on the strength of
his arm around her waist. She opened her mouth under his, her tongue
begging entrance. He granted it quickly and delved more deeply into
the soft velvet of her mouth. She gripped his arms to maintain her
balance as he pulled his mouth from hers and kissed her jaw, her neck,
and down to her shoulders. He pushed the fabric of her pajama top off
her shoulder to kiss there and moved his lips along her collarbone. As
he worked at the buttons on her pajamas, he moved them both, still
embraced, slowly toward the bed.


---One week later---
	The morning had been awkward at ease, if there was such a thing.
Neither had known what to say, so they had simply acted as if it were
any other day and had gone about their routine as always, stealing a
kiss here and there. It was new and different and a bit exciting, but
Scully wondered how things would change now.  	It doesn't matter now,
she told herself, and piled a few more of her things into a box before
turning and taking one last look at the office she had shared with
Special Agent Fox Mulder for the past eight years. 

	That night she woke to the sound of knocking-rather pounding-on her
door to find that she had fallen asleep in her clothes on the couch.
She got up and walked to the door, knowing whom she would find on the
other side. He stood sadly, shoulders slumped, but full of energy. 
	"Can I come in?" he asked hurriedly as he brushed past her. She
closed the door and locked it without turning to him. 

	In Assistant Director Walter Skinner's office, a man of about sixty
sat in a chair opposite the Assistant Director. Next to the old man
sat the man whom Skinner had come to know as Cancerman. Skinner
scanned the photographs with increasing interest as well as worry.

	"Mulder, I-"
	"Why do this, Scully?" he fumed, shifting from one foot to the other
in the middle of her living room. She turned to him and saw him cast
in the bluish shadows created by the light and snow outside the
window. She looked at her hands. 	"You could lose the X-files, Mulder.
You have to understand that. We could both lose everything." He
crossed to her. 	"I don't give a damn about the X-files, Scully!" he
said loudly. 	"That's a lie!" she shouted back. "It's all you've
worked for, it's your whole life!" 	"And I shared it with you," he
said, pointing at her. "And without you, I don't want or need them
anymore. What can I do alone? Not a damn thing!" He was shouting now
and mentally scolded himself for yelling at her.

	Skinner sorted through the pile of photographs. He saw his agents
strolling along beside the ocean, standing at their cars outside a
bookstore, flashing their badges as they entered a crime scene, arms
locked and hands held as they walked down a street. He exchanged
glances with Cancerman. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

	"Mulder, it's too risky!" she said quietly but firmly. "We don't know
what could happen, who could find out. We don't know-" He cut her
off. 	"I know that I'm useless without you, and so are the X-files,"
he spat out. "I know that I'll never find anyone in the whole world
who I trust like I trust you, and I know that I'll never be happy if
you're not in my life." She stared at him.

	Cancerman turned to the old man sitting beside him. "Eddie, you've
done a fine job," he praised. "We'll not be needing your services any
longer." 	Eddie seethed with hatred as his gaze bore into the
cigarette-smoking bastards head. "You're a coward and a blackmailer!"
Eddie spat at him.  	"You were given a choice," Cancerman stated
calmly. 	"I can't lose that arcade," Eddie pointed out. "You knew
that! It's my livelihood. How would you have done it? A fire? How?!"
Eddie shouted. 	"Enough!" Cancerman scolded. Eddie's demeanor shifted
as he looked hesistantly at Skinner. 	"What's going to happen to
them?" he asked, his voice full of concern. In response, Skinner
looked at Cancerman, and then at the photograph of the two agents, lip
locked outside their motel in San Francisco. He leaned across his desk
and handed the picture to Cancerman. He took a drag from his
cigarette, and then put the blazing filter to the edge of the photo,
watching the edges curl and the burn in a nearby ashtray.

	"I know that I don't care what the repercussions are, what other
people think, or who finds out!" Mulder continued. "I know that you're
smart and amazing and..." He stopped, letting his shoulders fall and
his resolve weaken. "And when you stand in the snow you look like an
angel." Her forehead creased and she felt the tears coming. She chewed
her lip to ward them off. He began to slowly walk toward her. "Don't
do this, Scully," he pleaded. "Please... come back to work." He picked
up her hand and held it in his. "I don't know what it will be like,
Scully," he whispered. "But there is a way we can have both, and we
will. I promise you. We'll be great." She let the tears fall now as
she reached up to pull his head down to hers in a small kiss and
settled into his arms. Cancerman watched through the window from his
car. He took a drag from a cigarette and flicked the butt out the
window before driving away, leaving the two embraced in her
apartment.