TITLE: "Can a Leopard Change Its Lies?" (1/2)
BY: Ten
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au

CATEGORY: V, A, MSR
RATING: PG-13 (for brief, non descriptive mentions of
nudity and consensual adult situations)
SUMMARY: The moment of truth - and FOR truth - arrives.
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Set at a point where Mulder has
come back to work after the "Biogenesis" trilogy - the
story branches off into alternate universe from that
point. Mention of "Beyond the Sea", "F Emasculata",
"Piper Maru" and "Demons".

ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be
archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer
stay intact.
FEEDBACK: I love to know who is out there in the ether!
THANKS TO: Gerry, Debbie, Mac, Sally, Suzanne and Judie.

My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the
wonderful Arria, is at:
http://bitter-moon.com/tenxffic/index2.html

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder
and Scully and all other characters from the show belong
to Chris Carter and his team of writers, Ten Thirteen
Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without
permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no
profit will be gained. Characters not recognised from the
show are mine.


The X-Files: "Can a Leopard Change Its Lies?" (1/2)
By Ten, 18 March - 27 May 2003

xXx

It is nearly 3.00 in the morning. I should be asleep. I'm
in my own bed. It's not like I'm in a strange motel. And
it's Saturday.

But I keep remembering the look on Mulder's face at
Quantico yesterday, and that keeps me tossing and
turning. His face, and the whole situation....

This whole thing has its beginnings when Mulder returned
to full field agent status after that terrifying period
of abnormal brain activity and its aftermath. His hair
had grown back, hiding the scar from the non-consensual
surgery. You couldn't even tell where the shaved area had
been. But often I found myself thinking back to when that
patch was visible and what it framed, and I was reminded
of just how close I had come to losing him. Again.

On weekends and after work I had spent a lot of time at
his apartment, making sure he was recuperating properly
and just being with him.

Then things were just getting back to normal in the
office for both of us when I caught a bad cold. I think
all the stress and worry made me an easy target for one.

I was going to soldier on at work anyway, but I didn't
want Mulder catching it and Skinner said I could do with
a little time off myself after everything that had
happened. I was still hesitant, so Skinner suggested that
I do paperwork from home, which was a good compromise.

During that time Mulder's mother contacted him. They had
spoken often since I liberated Mulder from the Department
of Defence - I'd spoken with her too about how she got
Mulder out of the hospital in the first place. But of
course Mrs Mulder 'couldn't remember' signing her son out
of the hospital against medical advice or talking to
'that man'. She went on about how it had been a difficult
time for her with Fox so close to death and her memory
wasn't as good since she had that stroke and she was old
now and so on...

Sigh.

Mulder isn't sure what to make of what his mother did,
but he's alive and all right and she is his mother....
The crisis and its fortunate happy ending have brought
them closer together. That is a relief to my partner,
because things had been somewhat strained between them
ever since he went and got that hole drilled in his head
and confronted her, demanding to know what her
relationship was with the Cigarette Smoking Man.

Anyway, Mrs Mulder had recently purchased a house at a
very well-to-do retirement complex in Greenwich due to
her health and age. She wanted to remain in the area
instead of moving closer to her son - her friends and
social circle were in Greenwich. The house was ready to
move into, so she asked Mulder for his help in going
through the contents of her large house to pack things up
for the move into her new, smaller home or to give to
charity.

I told my partner to make sure not to overexert himself
with moving boxes, etc. He promised he'd be careful. I
just hoped that he wouldn't find anything while sorting
through his mother's past that had the potential to
explode in his face and devastate him again....

So Mulder was about to go on leave. He was prepared to
stay in Greenwich for however long his mother needed him.
Then Skinner phoned me while I sat at home nursing my
cold - I had paperwork in front of me, the phone in one
hand and some tissues in the other.

"I have an assignment that you might find interesting
while Agent Mulder is away and when you come back," our
boss said. He named a major magazine and asked if I read
it. I replied that I did occasionally.

He said, "They want a story about women in the FBI from
when they were first allowed to become agents to the
present day - including information and interviews with
everyone from recruits to veterans. And for a new angle
they would like it written by an actual FBI agent. Cara
Bennington is the editor - she asked specifically for
you. I believe you know her from your contributions to
'Q'."

That was the monthly magazine that Quantico put out, with
articles that covered a wide range of topics and styles,
plus other information, like lists of people promoted or
transferred, positions open, upcoming in-house training,
and so on.

"Yes, Cara used to be on the publishing team there," I
said. We used to talk occasionally on the phone and via
email about the articles I was doing, and found we were
on the same wavelength. We even caught up for lunch a few
times. But we had hectic schedules, so our developing
friendship sort of petered out, and about six months ago
I saw in 'Q' that Cara had resigned and then I was
contacted by a different editor in regard to my next
article.

Skinner said, "She's now with this magazine and wants you
to do this article. The timing seems perfect." He
mentioned the number of hours the magazine thought it
would take to do the article and that he would authorise
that. If I needed more time, I would have to come back to
him. "And it has to be written to their specifications,
but those seem reasonable enough. I can get Kim to fax
you the details and see what you think."

He gave me a brief verbal summary. The specs and
timeframe for the production of the article sounded good,
but....

"Sir, I've written articles before, but nothing quite on
this scale," I commented.

I could hear a smile in his voice as he said, "I am
confident that you're quite capable. Cara said that some
of the articles you did for her were for issues relevant
to female agents, not just to do with science or medicine
or procedure. This would be great publicity for the
Bureau. You can use a desk at Quantico when needed for
interviewing people there and for any research that can't
be done at HQ. And I can authorise a set amount for
travel, if you need to go talk to someone who can't come
to you."

I sat and considered. It would fill in the gap while
Mulder was away, and, apart from paperwork, nothing else
was happening on the X-File front at the moment - just a
heap of dead ends left over from that last case. Plus,
due to the cold, not racing off on a case at that point
was appealing. And it would be good to catch up with
Cara.

Mulder left on the Wednesday night. We were going to keep
in daily contact through various means, which we started
doing almost immediately when Mulder called me to let me
know that his flight had arrived safely.

We enjoyed the contact and some light-hearted teasing.
When stricken by the abnormal brain activity, he could
read minds. And he could not have possibly missed picking
up how I felt about him when I stood beside his bed and
begged him to hold on. Now he knew for sure and there was
a confidence in him with regard to me. We both knew that
it was only a matter of time before our relationship
would move up to the next level, and that the countdown
was now definitely not in maybes or years or never.

Happy with such knowledge and with the sound of his voice
still in my head, I slept well that night.

Thursday I still felt a bit under the weather, on the
tail end of the cold, as I finished off what X-File
paperwork needed doing, while reaching for a tissue every
so often instead of what had seemed like every single
minute in the preceding days. Then I went to Quantico to
start researching the article and consider which women
would be good to talk to. I wasn't planning on
interviewing anyone just yet.

Then I got a nosebleed.

It happened in the ladies' room near the office I was
using at Quantico. Fortunately it started while I was
washing my hands, leaning over the basin, so the blood
ended up on my face and in the sink instead of on my
clothes. I just stared at the blood in the water, for a
moment hoping it was rust coming from the tap.... Or
something similar. Even possessed pipes oozing blood
would have been a welcome source at that point instead of
my nose.

My brain just went into denial, even as I raised my head
and saw the evidence in the mirror.

Oh God.

Immediately I thought the worst. And I found myself
wondering what I was going to tell Mulder....

It was a quiet time of the day - no one else was in the
bathroom, but as my hands automatically reached for some
paper towels, one of the lecturers walked in and stopped
dead. Joan Callighan, known to fellow staff and students
as 'Mam', short for 'Mile A Minute'. And that wasn't
referring to how fast she could run.

"Dana, oh my god! Are you all right? Here, let me -"

"I'm okay! I've got a cold and that's probably what led
to this." My repeated nose blowings could have damaged
blood vessels in my nose. That was a very likely
possibility, I told myself firmly. I shouldn't jump to
the worst scenario.

But with my medical history.... Everything that I had
gone through came flooding back into my thoughts.

I reassured Joan and asked her to keep this to herself,
and she promised. The woman's tongue may go like
lightning, but from what I knew of her, she didn't spread
confidences.

My mind shot off in so many different directions at
once.... I was going to phone my oncologist, but then I
decided to hold off and make the decision that night
whether to have any tests. Logic was telling me that the
nosebleed was just due to irritation from my cold.

I returned to my research, doing my best to push
everything else out of my thoughts.

That night at home I didn't feel hungry, but knew I had
to eat something.

I was making dinner when a second nosebleed hit. A more
serious one.

Trying to hold down a surge of panic, I resolved to call
my oncologist first thing in the morning.

An hour later I was alone on the sofa with my thoughts,
worrying about how dark they were getting, despite
telling myself over and over that both nosebleeds were
still most likely nothing major. Then Mulder phoned.

I tried to keep up my facade, but something must have
slipped through. There was a brief pause on his end of
the line, then his voice asked in concern, "Are you okay,
Scully?"

"Yes." I searched for a diversion and continued in a
light tone that I definitely didn't feel, "Just worried
that I won't do a good job with this assignment."

"Why not? You're great at writing articles!"

"But most of those were about science and medicine...." I
said, deliberately leading him so that his worry would be
focused in the wrong direction. "This is different. I
don't want to screw it up."

"No way! You'll do fine and wonder what you were worried
about. But, having said that, don't get too comfortable
on that task, partner. Soon we'll be X-Filing again."

I hope so, I thought. Prayed. Please don't let this be
cancer.

I found myself thinking about the computer chip, the
miraculous nature of my 'cure'. I believe in miracles,
but in the back of my mind I never fully trusted this
chip. Considering where it came from and that I could
never explain how it actually worked - those reasons have
always made me fearful that the cancer was only dormant,
waiting to come back and steal my life...

Somehow I managed to get through the rest of the
conversation with my partner without incident.

After saying goodbye to Mulder, I felt guilty. I wanted
him with me. But it was probably nothing, so there was no
sense in worrying him when there was no need. Especially
when he wasn't in D.C. - he needed to spend time with his
mother. Also, he'd been through enough lately without me
adding to it. And I wasn't going to tell my mother
either.

The next day I called my oncologist to schedule the
necessary tests.

In light of my medical history, I made sure all the bases
were covered. X-ray, CAT scan, MRI of the face and brain.
EEG. Blood tests.

I was lucky that Mulder was not around during the time I
was taking off to have tests run. I had to tell Skinner
that I needed sick time and when, but not the whys. I
just indicated that it was for necessary check ups,
regular enough after my remission. I knew he would not
mention it in conversation with Mulder. Thankfully.

My blood pressure was normal. No swollen lymph nodes in
my neck to suggest an infection or a cancer. Preliminary
tests were coming back fine, but I had some of them run
twice - done and processed by people I trusted, and I
kept a 'hands on' contact to ensure accuracy.

Oblivious to my internal dramas, Mulder continued to help
his mother get her old house ready to sell. Thank God he
couldn't still read minds....

I kept busy, performed my duties, caught up with Cara,
talked to Mulder on the phone - but kept my mouth shut
about my health - and subconsciously waited for more
nosebleeds that did not come.

When my partner arrived back in D.C. I had fortunately
finished the last of the tests.

The final results came back clear. Just like the rest.
The two bleeds were most likely due to nasal irritation
from my bad cold.

On the night I got the final all clear, I treated myself
to a big tub of mega-rich chocolate ice cream and a long,
luxurious bubble bath. After that I found myself phoning
Mulder at his apartment and being ultra flirty. Well,
that's probably not the right description - it was almost
phone sex....

I was alive, I was all right.

But I still didn't tell him about the nosebleeds. To my
way of thinking - my justification to myself - there was
no need. The worry and uncertainty were over. A false
alarm. And if I told him now, he would ask why I didn't
tell him sooner. Dangerous waters. Especially when we
were finally in the same boat, were agreeing on what
direction to steer in and had a chance of finding
paradise....

I was sure my behaviour on the phone had his brain
buzzing enough anyway. He'd certainly risen to the
occasion, bantering up a storm right back at me.

Now that Mulder was no longer recovering from his ordeal
and my own health scare was over, I was ready to take the
next step in our relationship. Especially now that he was
back in town.

That confidence he had with me when he was recovering was
still evident - he was ready too. We just needed the
right setting to let our passion flare and set off the
fireworks. I found myself thinking about making plans for
a romantic dinner at my apartment for when we next had a
free weekend. Hopefully it would be soon.

By the next day my article obligations were over and
Skinner had a case for us. So back to business instead of
pleasure, but it felt great.

After the completion of that case - with Mulder amazingly
uninjured - Skinner called us into his office. The A.D.
told me that Quantico had requested me to give some
lectures.

"You're in demand lately," Mulder told me with a smile.

One lecture was to be about field pathology and the other
about what evidence to preserve to help a pathologist
establish time of death. They wanted me instead of their
regular lecturers or pathologists because I have field
agent experience on top of lecturer and forensic
pathology experience.

"Quantico is doing a series of short courses for ongoing
training and think those topics would be beneficial for
recruits, police and members of the Academy. You will be
required to deliver both lectures three times over, if
you accept the assignment. Think about it."

Our boss handed me the relevant memo from Quantico's
pathology department, then turned to my partner. "And the
annual head of department report is due in soon, Mulder,
so while Scully is giving those lectures, you can spend
the time working on that. There are some meetings here
that I think would be beneficial for you to attend, too."

"Oh joy," Mulder said with plastered-on enthusiasm.

It took an effort for me to hide a smile. When we headed
back to the basement I asked if he was going to suddenly
develop hemorrhoids in an attempt to get out of the
meetings.

I decided to do the lectures. It would be a chance to
reach a wide audience with useful information. So,
yesterday - Friday - I was still feeling very happy. My
stint as a lecturer was nearly over. It had been
enjoyable, but I was missing Mulder and the excitement
and unpredictability of our work.

Then I couldn't find a particular model human skull with
detachable pieces that I had used during the last few
days and wanted for my afternoon lecture. Georgia, one of
the lab assistants at Quantico, told me she had put it
away in a cupboard in Lab E by mistake. But she then had
to rush off on some other task, so I ended up alone in
the lab, looking for the skull myself.

A few minutes later, Mulder walked in.

I stared at him, happy but surprised. "What are you doing
here?"

"Let out early for good behaviour. My report is done, the
paperwork is up to date and I've endured the meetings, so
I thought I'd drop in and surprise you. See how you were
finding the hallowed halls."

"Nice to visit, but I'm not setting up shop here." I made
no effort at masking the pleasure on my face as I looked
at him. Mulder didn't need mind reading skills to pick it
up, but he appeared a little surprised since we were
still 'on duty'. Then a smile stole over his face and the
light in his eyes seemed to magnify. I could look at him
all day. His suit jacket was 'hanging' better now - he
was regaining the weight he had lost during his ordeal.

It was nearly midday, so he had probably timed his visit
so that we could go to the cafeteria for lunch and to
catch up. Perhaps he's going to ask me out for dinner
too, I thought. And if he doesn't, I will.

And tonight might be THE night.... Circumstances and work
commitments had thwarted my plans for that romantic
dinner in the interim.

I was still kneeling down at a cupboard, and Mulder asked
what I was looking for. I explained and he offered to
help. So I described the skull and we set to it. I would
ask him about dinner before I had to conduct the lecture,
if he didn't raise it first.

A big counter took up a lot of space in the middle of the
room. It had wooden cabinets in it, so Mulder took one
side and I took the other. We were chatting comfortably
as we opened cupboard doors and looked in.

After a few minutes I heard my partner say, "I think I
can see 'him' at the back here...."

I was on the side of the counter nearer to the door, and
I started to walk around to reach Mulder, but then Joan
Callighan entered the room and closed the door behind
her.

"Hi Dana! I was going past and thought I'd ask how you
were. I know you said everything was fine, but have you
had any more nosebleeds?"

I stared at her, horrified. Couldn't she see that Mulder
- ? No, she couldn't. Not from her angle, I realised in
alarm, with the huge counter between them and Mulder down
on his knees with his head probably in the depths of the
cupboard as he tried to reach the skull....

But there was no way he could have missed what she said,
even at a mile a minute.

I glanced over the counter, but Mulder did not appear as
Joan chatted on. But then she faltered, most likely
sensing that something was up. I wasn't exactly being
Miss Congeniality with her.

"I'm sorry, Joan, but I'm getting ready for my lecture
and have to fit lunch in as well, so I'm pressed for
time. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

"Sure." She hastily exited.

There was a long beat, then Mulder stood up behind the
countertop. He was holding the model skull, and staring
at me in worry and fear, his jaw set, eyes examining me
for any sign of a relapse.

"You had a nosebleed. Or more than one?"

"Two. On the same day," I admitted. "But I had tests done
and I'm fine."

His eyes closed briefly, then opened again with relief in
them, but I could see other emotions were still churning
away. He set the model down on the corner of the counter.
"When did you get the nosebleeds?"

"When you were in Greenwich."

I saw the hurt flaring in his eyes, the knowledge of the
time that had passed, and I found myself saying quickly,
"But I'm fine. Really. I got myself thoroughly checked
out and got the all clear. I'm sure they were just due to
that cold and I haven't had any more since. I didn't...."
I finished lamely, not really sure *how* to finish.

His face had gone blank but in his eyes I could see that
he was going back over our time apart. The times that he
had asked me if I was okay. The opportunities when I
could have told him what was going on.

His voice was quiet and somehow more unnerving than if it
were raised. "That must have been very frightening for
you. I'm glad you're okay, Scully." He walked around the
counter and paused briefly on his way to the door. "I'll
see you on Monday." Then he was gone.

So I had a solo lunch and last night ended up eating
alone and unhappy. In fact, I couldn't finish either
meal; I just picked listlessly while feeling guilty. And
here I am and it is after 3.00 am and my brain keeps
going over the same ground.

We've lied to each other before. Both of us, on various
occasions for various reasons. And sometimes we have
gotten busted, just like this time. Somehow we manage to
work around it and keep on going. And rarely discuss the
incident again.

But this time.... I don't know.

Perhaps I'm feeling like this because we're closer than
ever before in so many ways, and now for this to happen -
suddenly a chasm has appeared.

I'll go and see Mulder in the morning. Perhaps by then
I'll have got some much-needed sleep and also worked out
what to say to him. I hope.

END PART ONE OF TWO.

2/2

xXx

There is no answer to my knocking on his door. I use my
key and find him lying on the couch, staring up at the
ceiling. Uh oh. There is a bottle of scotch on the coffee
table and a glass next to it, but then I see that the
scotch is full, unopened.

I look at Mulder again and only his eyes move, regarding
me. He is pale and tired and it's a pretty safe bet that
he got about as much sleep as I did, for the same
reasons.

The expression on his face worries me. He isn't drunk,
but I can sense that the exhaustion and situation have
him in a state where whatever comes out of his mouth is
going to be as bluntly honest as only a drunk can get.
Consequences be damned.

And I don't say anything. I just stand and wait for it.

It comes. Mulder remains lying down, and remarks in an
eerily conversational tone, "Albert Schweitzer once said
that truth has no special time of its own. Its hour is
now - always. Well, that hour is upon us. I've had a very
insightful night, Scully, marvelling in the paradox that
is us. We're dedicated to finding and uncovering the
truth, but we're always lying to each other. Ironic,
don't you think?"

My tongue kicks in, panic sending me into 'Mam' mode.
"Mulder, I know I should have told you that I had those
nosebleeds. I know how I would have felt if the situation
was reversed. I'm sorry."

He nods solemnly. "I know you are. And I know I'm feeling
a lot of things about it, including anger, but what can I
say without being a hypocrite?" His piercing gaze goes
back to the ceiling and he laughs, folding his arms
behind his head. "Lies are our trade. Your classic
assurances that you're 'fine'. My ditchings. Name a type
of lie, and we've done it. Or even created some new ways
to do so. By omission, by white lies, by distraction,
diversion, avoidance, non-answers, going on the
defensive, skirting, misleading, minimising, flat
out...."

"Often our intentions are noble - thinking that the truth
will hurt the other. We could be scared or don't want to
cause worry or conflict.... Overprotective," I say
quietly.

"Exactly. I know why you didn't tell me. But are we being
noble or selfish or stupid? Scully, you're the only one I
trust, but when it comes right down to it, we certainly
don't *act* like we trust each other. Even after all this
time and how we feel.... We're supposed to uncover
secrets, but we keep more!"

More visibly agitated now, he sits up, continuing his
discourse before I can get a word in. Not that I have any
idea what that word would have been.

"We're doing the Consortium's work for them! This is how
they operate. Deception. It's got to stop."

I stare at him, at the conviction in his eyes. The way he
said.... Even as my jaw drops, I manage to say, "You're
not just thinking 'stop' as in 'stop lying', but as
in.... Stop being partners? Mulder, that's a total
overreaction!"

He meets my wild gaze calmly. "Is it? It would be much
more achievable than 'stop lying to each other'. You
don't have to be a psychologist to know that even well-
meaning lies build up walls and misunderstandings that
could explode at any moment and ruin trust. One lie leads
to another and then look what happens. Hell, I'm the
psychologist - I know it, but I keep doing it!" He sighs.
"We can't go on like this."

So many thoughts are racing through my head, packed
closer together than a stack of playing cards.

I have kept so many things to myself over the years.
Seeing my father's ghost in the first year of our
partnership. The time in the second year where two
escaped prisoners were infected with that deadly
contagion - Mulder was trying to track them down while I
was trying to find out more about the disease in the
prison. One escapee was found, dead. Then I was
potentially exposed to the contagion, but when talking to
Mulder on the phone, I didn't tell him. He asked if I was
all right and I replied: "Yeah. I'm okay. All I want you
to worry about is capturing that fugitive."

The time in the third year when Skinner told me that the
investigation of my sister's murder was being made
inactive. Mulder could tell I was upset when I went to
the basement office, but I told him it was nothing and
distracted him onto other matters.

Three random examples out of countless others. And those
were relatively early on. Even now, this far into our
partnership, how much have I really changed in that
regard? The same with Mulder. Like he said, he's hardly
an innocent at the lying game either.

As I was thinking last night - we're closer than ever
before in so many ways, but what happened yesterday just
highlighted how far apart we still are in others. I don't
want those canyons or chasms to be there anymore. These
truths are as important as any others we have sacrificed
so much to uncover.

Some of my lies have come about because of trying to
survive in the boys club - both in my childhood and then
in my career. Not wanting Mulder to feel that he has to
protect me or be distracted from the task at hand. But I
can't keep hiding behind that excuse.

It sort of became a habit due to growing up with Bill the
Tormentor - it was never a good thing to let him find out
that something was bothering me. I learnt that very early
on. Now I have to let go because it isn't healthy and
Mulder is not Bill.

Although ironically sometimes when Mulder or I have tried
to 'open up', the timing has been bad or the other
distracted and we've given up too easily, stepping back
into that familiar, safe protective shell.

That shell has just been shattered.

I step out of my introspection, back into Mulder's living
room, into our crisis at hand. "You're right - we can't
go on like this. And we won't," I answer firmly. The hour
of truth is at hand. "But there has to be another way
apart from splitting up. The only thing that I know for
sure at the moment is that I am feeling so scared at the
thought of losing you." My voice starts to shake too. "It
was bad enough when you were catatonic and then
kidnapped. I don't want to lose you. You mean so much to
me. That is the complete truth. I will do whatever it
takes, and I hope you will too."

Mulder reaches out and takes my hand. He gently pulls me
down to sit beside him on the couch and does not let go.
"I don't want to lose you either, but.... Where do we go
from here?"

There is a pause, then I get an idea. "When I drove over
here, I saw that there's a market or fair in the park
down the block. Let's go and have a look."

"Retail therapy?" he asks. "Is that a woman's answer to
every problem in the universe?"

I smile. "I don't think they have malls on Mars. No - we
can enjoy the day; enjoy each other's company. And every
question you ask me, I'll answer honestly. The same for
you. Every one of them, from whether one of us likes a
particular piece of pottery on display at a stall,
through to the real soul-searching queries."

He looks intrigued, but then asks, "The whole and total
truth just during that time? Does that policy expire the
second we step out of the park or back into my
apartment?"

"Hopefully not. But let's see how we go in the park.
It'll be a start and we can build on it. There's a lot of
habit and reflex and fear to get past. But we're worth
it."

"Definitely."

"And I promise not to use the f-word unless I absolutely
mean it," I say.

For a moment he looks confused, then realises and laughs.
"Okay, it's worth a try. Let's go. Some food and fresh
air will go down well too. And an early night."

We stand, still holding hands.

As we head for the door, Mulder makes an early start on
our honesty policy, asking me: "What are you thinking?"

I meet his gaze. "About St John's Gospel. 'You shall know
the truth and the truth will set you free.'"

He smiles and nods. We go out to enjoy the park and each
other's company.


EPILOGUE

Weekend
Scully's apartment
Several months later:

We've had some hiccups along the way due to now being so
truthful with each other. Some hurt feelings and
temporarily bruised egos. But, on the whole, a form of
relief and a wonderful openness have prevailed. Truth be
told, our relationship is a lot healthier, happier and
deeper.

Now Mulder knows that I don't like it when he gets a crew
cut - though I know he couldn't help that shaved patch
where he was operated on.

And I know that he is really sick of seeing me wear
black.

But those examples are very flippant ones in the grand
scheme of things. Naturally there are more important
issues that we have discussed and confessed and realised.
The truth is out there, and it is also in here, with us.

"Mulder, you know that list of types of lying that you
came up with? Ones that we were doing or had done in the
past?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, we can add another one to the list. This type.
Physical instead of verbal."

"Smart alec," he says with a grin, holding me closer.

Our naked bodies aren't generating the heat that they
were producing half an hour ago, but a nice languid
warmth instead. I am very, very content. "Well, lying in
bed or on the couch together, holding, is certainly a
welcome change from the other stuff," I remark. "And
we're very good at it. I do like our 'lie ins'."

Mulder's grin increases. He kisses me, then settles
against me, closing his eyes. I follow suit, happy that
this is the only form of lying we're going to do in
regard to each other from now on.


THE END. (PART TWO OF TWO.)


Notes: One of the last stories I posted was one I started
in 1995 and finally got around to finishing in March
2003. This one is a spring chicken in comparison - my
outline and notes about Mulder and Scully's ironic little
'paradox' are dated 1999 <G>.

'Q' is my own invention - I have no idea if Quantico
actually publishes a magazine.


A beta reader's comment in regard to a paragraph located
midway through one of the drafts of this story: "If
Mulder knows how she feels, why are they waiting? Let 'em
boogy!!!! <G> Hell, they're not getting any younger!!!"

My reply: "I was GETTING them there!!!!"