TITLE: Notorious
AUTHOR: Jenna Tooms
EMAIL: jenna@exeter.simplenet.com
SUMMARY: Say Scully is asked to play a dangerous game. Say the game
is more dangerous than anyone imagined. Say there's no way out . . .
RATING: NC-17
KEYWORDS: Scully/other, MSR, adventure
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, and I have the student loan payments to prove
it. The original "Notorious" is by Alfred Hitchcock, with Cary Grant,
Ingrid Bergman, and Claude Raines.
HOMEPAGE: http://exeter.simplenet.com


1--The assignment is given.

When the knock came at her door, Dana Scully put down the pillow
she's been crying into and wiped her face with impatience. There was
no one she wanted to talk to, no one she wanted to see. No one could
make better what she'd done wrong.

But she opened the door anyway, because when she peered through the
peephole she saw the one person she knew would help her, in his own
awkward way. "Mulder," she said quietly, and he put his arms around
her at once.

"I came to see how you're doing," Fox Mulder said, after dropping a
kiss onto the top of her head. "But you've answered my question."

Scully shook her head, not looking up from the comfortable and safe
haven of his chest. She loved how he could wrap his body around her
like paper around a package. Totally insulated, totally protected,
hidden from view by his long arms.

Finally she looked up and said, "I've really screwed things up,
haven't I?"

"Well . . . "

"Don't sugarcoat it, Mulder. What did Skinner say?"

"When he was done lecturing me about corrupting you, he said there
would probably be a disciplinary hearing, but he said off-the-record
that he's just glad you're safe."

"Oh." That was better than she'd dared to hope.

"You know I'll stand up for you."

"I know."

"I mean, I know it was self-defense. Just because you couldn't see
his weapon . . ."

"So you're going to convince the board that he put the whammy on
me?" She tried to smile, but couldn't.

"I'm going to convince the board that he possessed the ability to
turn his enemy's hatred against themselves, yes."

"I'd almost rather you stuck with the whammy." She sighed and
stepped out of his arms, rejuvenated, for the time being. "They'll
put me on probation, at the very least, and I'll have to take
counseling. You know what happens to agents who shoot an unarmed
suspect."

"It was you or him, Scully. We can make the board see that."

"How? Be practical, Mulder. I had the gun."

"Tell them what you told me. That you felt his hatred pushing on you
like a fist. That you couldn't breathe, that you were starting to
black out. He'd already knocked me out, that ought to count for
something. The medic didn't find any signs of injury on either of us,
but there was evidence of asphyxiation. That's got to mean something,
Scully. He wasn't helpless. You didn't gun him down in cold blood."

Scully wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold again. Mulder
must have seen the shiver, because he strode to her and took her in
his arms again. "It'll be okay," he murmured gently. "I promise." He
rocked her for a moment, then said more lightly, "Are you hungry? I
thought I'd make you dinner."

She smiled wearily, but affectionately. "You can't cook, Mulder."

"Yeah, but I order a great pizza. We won't get sausage this time.
Just your favorite stuff."

"You hate veggie pizza."

"I'm willing to make the sacrifice."

He was trying so hard. "Thanks," Scully said, "and get it from Papa
John's this time, the last place's crust was too thin."

***

They were halfway through the pizza and engaged in their ongoing
Warner Bros vs. Disney cartoons debate when Scully's phone rang. "I
still say Bugs Bunny is an anarchist," she said, wiping her mouth
with her napkin as she got up to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Agent Scully, it's Kimberly. Assistant Director Skinner want to
meet with you and Agent Mulder tomorrow at nine-fifteen."

Scully winced. "All right," she said. "We'll be there."

"Oh, is Agent Mulder there with you?" There was a wistful tone to
her voice. Scully glanced at Mulder, who was watching her and still
innocently eating pizza. Clueless. Hopelessly dense. But, dammit, he
was her hopelessly dense.

"Yes, he's here. I'll relay the message."

"Good luck tomorrow, Agent Scully," Kimberly said, and both women
hung up.

"What message?"

"We're to meet Skinner tomorrow at nine-fifteen. Wear steel-plated
underwear." She sat down despondently on the floor, and Mulder put
his hand on her back reassuringly.

"Maybe he talked to the board. Maybe he's going to tell us what they
decided."

"Which means I don't get a chance to defend myself."

"Maybe he stood up for you."

Scully gave him a "get real" glare and lay down, curling up beside
him and putting her head in his lap. "I'm sunk," she said. "It'll be
wiretap detail until I retire."

"You'll learn some great jokes." His fingers moved slowly through
her hair. "Want to hear one I learned? What do you call a nun and a -"

"Heard it."

"Aw, Scully. It's not hopeless. I promise."

"I wish I had your confidence."

Mulder said nothing, but went on gently stroking her hair. Scully
blinked back tears - okay, he was obsessive and self-absorbed, but he
knew when to shut up and just comfort her. Every time she wanted to
bash his face in, he'd go and do something sweet like this. Someday,
maybe, he'd figure out the real reason she stuck around had nothing -
okay, very little - to do with the work.

At last, reluctantly, she sat up and kissed his cheek. "Go home,
Mulder. Early morning tomorrow."

"You'll be okay?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Really fine or Scully fine?" His forehead was furrowed with concern.

"Really fine. Good night."

Mulder stood up and gathered the used napkins and empty pizza box.
"I'll throw this out on my way. Good night, Scully."

"'Night." She watched him go, then locked the front door behind him
and turned off the lights. Alone in the dark apartment, she suddenly
felt strange. Vulnerable. Afraid. She almost wished she'd asked him
to stay -it wouldn't be the first time he's slept on her couch - but
she gave herself a mental shake and went to bed, determined not to
worry.

So, of course, she didn't sleep a wink.

*****

At nine-fifteen, two pressed and proper FBI agents sat waiting in
their superior's office, watching him read a file and ignore them.
Mulder crossed and recrossed his legs. Scully sat with her hands
folded in her lap, wishing she could bite her nails. If he doesn't
look up by the time I count ten, she thought, I'm going to start
screaming. One . . . two . . .

Walter Skinner looked up and put the file aside. "According to Agent
Mulder's report, the suspect was capable of strangling his victims by
telekinesis."

"Yes, sir."

"And he had already knocked out Agent Mulder by this method, and was
starting to use this on you."

"Yes, sir."

"That's why there were no bruises found on either of us," Mulder said.

Skinner didn't spare him a glance. "So the shooting was a matter of
self-defense."

"Yes, sir." Scully wondered if this was going to lead anywhere, or
if her place could be taken by someone whose palms weren't sweating
so badly.

Mulder said, "If you'll recall the Modell case, sir -"

"I recall the Modell case, Agent Mulder," Skinner said testily. "I'm
just trying to decide what to do with the assignment you've been
given."

"Assignment?" Scully said. She had a terrible vision of wiretapping
an embezzlement case. . .the horror, the horror. . .

"Yes. It's primarily for you, Agent Scully, but Agent Mulder will be
involved as well. Do you know the name Vincent MacPherson?"

"No."

"I do, sir," Mulder said. "He's been under investigation for selling
state secrets for the last three years."

"We can't pin anything on him," Skinner said. "The agents
investigating him feel he keeps the most incriminating evidence
against him in his house, but they can't get a search warrant. They
want someone to get into the house and look around."

"But if we can't get a search warrant -"

"Not in an official capacity, Agent Scully."

Scully glanced at Mulder. She didn't like the sound of this, and by
his expression, neither did Mulder.

"Sources indicate that MacPherson has seen you, Agent Scully, and
expressed interest in you personally."

"You mean MacPherson has a crush on me?"

Was that a smile? "You could say so," Skinner said.

"So, in other words you want me to seduce him."

Mulder shifted in his chair but said nothing.

"Well, as far as you feel comfortable going. Just get in the house
and find whatever you can." He handed the file he'd been reading to
Scully. "Agent Mulder will be your liaison to the Bureau. In the file
you'll find all the information we've compiled on MacPherson." He
pressed his intercom. "Kimberly, is Agent O'Connell here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Send him in."

The door opened and Agent O'Connell came in, a brown-haired man in
his late thirties. He shook hands with Mulder and Scully and said, "I
see Assistant Director Skinner has told you our plan."

"It's a little unusual," Scully said.

"These are unusual circumstances. We believe MacPherson is lining up
a deal with the Iraqi government, and we have to move fast. When our
wiretap detail heard him mentioning you -"

"Where had he seen me?"

Skinner and O'Connell exchanged glances, and Mulder said abruptly,
"The benefit last month."

"Oh." She'd convinced Mulder to go with her to an AIDS benefit
dinner, and she'd worn her one evening gown, a black strapless that
she'd known, from Mulder's expression, flattered her unbelievably.
Apparently Mulder hadn't been the only one to notice.

"He managed to find out your name but nothing else. As far as we can
tell, he's done nothing more than pine for you some. It's actually
been kind of sweet."

Scully decided not to comment on that. "So your plan is for me to
walk into his life, and then what?"

"We'll figure that out as we go."

"I don't like this," Mulder announced. "Agent Scully isn't trained
in espionage."

"Agent Scully is trained and capable for work like this," Skinner
said. "And you can refuse the assignment, if you're too uncomfortable
with it. Of course," he added, "that means disciplinary action for
the shooting of Calvin Darius."

"That's blackmail," Mulder exclaimed.

"Mulder," Scully said quietly, and he met her eyes and sighed. "I'll
take the assignment," she said to him, and he nodded reluctantly.

"Agent Mulder, since MacPherson has already seen you with her,
you'll be Agent Scully's liaison to the Bureau."

"In what capacity?"

"A friend or close acquaintance. Something believable but
unthreatening," O'Connell said. Mulder scowled but said nothing.

O'Connell went on, "We'll put Agent Scully in a safe apartment and
give her a non-government job, possibly even a small back-story. All
precautions will be made, Agent Scully, to keeep you safe at all
times. But we cannot stress enough the need for you to get inside his
house and uncover anything you can."

Scully looked up from the file she'd been leafing through, and said,
"I understand, when's the first meeting?"

***

"I don't like this," Mulder said as they were going back to their
office.

"You've made that abundantly clear, Mulder," Scully replied dryly,
though in truth she didn't like it much either. At least MacPherson
wasn't bad-looking . . .

"It seems awfully Mata Hari." Mulder stopped walking and put his
hand on Scully's arm. "Scully, I want you to keep a cell phone on you
at all times, and I want you to call me at any time, day or night,
for any reason."

"Do you think I'll need to call?" Scully smiled with amusement.
Mulder and his sense of chivalry.

"I just want you to be safe."

Oh, she loved when he was like this, his voice soft and rumbly like
a teddy bear's growl, his eyes soulful, his lips turned down in a
sweet and sexy pout. She smiled and patted the hand that sill rested
on her arm.

"I promise I can handle it, Mulder."

"Scully . . . I . . ." He played with a crease of fabric at her
elbow, frowning, and he looked at her though his eyelashes. "I'm just
worried about you. I don't want you to . . . you know . . . get into
trouble."

"Mulder, please. It's just an assignment."

He shook his head, still frowning. "Read the file carefully,
Scully," he said softly, and then, still holding her elbow, he leaned
forward and kissed her forehead. "Call me later," he said, and
continued down the stairs to his office.

Scully watched him for a moment, puzzled. Then she shrugged and went
to her own office, eager to read the file on MacPherson.


2--Contact is made.

Somehow it made sense that Mulder owned his own golf clubs. Scully
had never cared much for golf so they had to rent her a set at the
clubhouse, but Mulder's clubs were gorgeous, titanium-centered and
carried in a soft leather bag. "Don't tell me," Scully said, "you
bought those in Oxford."

"Close. Scotland. Home of the oldest golf resort in the world. One
of my friend's fathers was a member, so we'd go up to play once in a
while."

It also made sense that his golfing clothes were simple and crisp,
Dockers pants and a polo shirt. Even his unruly hair had a model-esqe
look to it today, and instead of his normal yellow sunglasses he'd
chosen a dark-lensed pair with tortoiseshell frames. He looked like a
J. Crew ad.

Scully looked down at her pale legs and sighed. He was a J. Crew ad
and she was . . . the "before" picture in a makeover episode of Ricki
Lake. Mulder hadn't said anything when he picked her up at her
apartment, but now, at the fifth hole, she understood the look he'd
given her. Denim shorts and a Graceland t-shirt were not proper
country club attire. Even if the t-shirt was a gift from him.

She was feeling frumpy and clumsy, so of course today was the day to
make first contact with MacPherson.

Everything they knew about MacPherson and the best scenario they
could come up with was golf.

She hated golf.

And Mulder was great at it, of course.

Her intention, when she got dressed that morning, was to look the
part she'd been assigned: an emergency room nurse from Baltimore,
with an urban background and not much interest in wealth. Mulder's
money, according to the story, paid for the AIDS benefit dinner, the
country club membership, the fancy restaurants where they'd been sure
MacPherson had seen them.

It had been difficult for Scully to feign the disinterest in Mulder
the assignment required. She was supposed to be bored with him, she
was supposed to be itching for a new relationship. She'd already made
up the slights and irritations that she would tell MacPherson if the
subject ever arose. It actually wasn't hard to exaggerate Mulder's
faults into something worth breaking up over. Once she had cataloged
them, in fact, she'd studied Mulder thoughtfully and wondered, not
for the first time, why she put up with him.

But she knew the answer to that one.

MacPherson was in a foursome behind them. She didn't know who the
other three were, but she suspected O'Connell - who was watching them
along with four or five other agents - would know, and would compile
dossiers on them and have the files to her before midnight.

She had to admit it, MacPherson looked almost as good as Mulder in
his subdued golf clothes. He was forty-two, according to the file,
six feet tall and around 160 pounds, black hair, brown eyes, no
tattoos, no distinguishing birthmarks. Originally from Oakland,
California, studied physics and chemistry at UC Berkeley. Had worked
for various defense contractors before striking it out on his own . .
. committing treason, apparently.

Well, at least they'd have things to talk about.

"Hey, Scully. Aren't you going to play anymore?" Mulder grinned and
flicked a finger on the brim of her sun visor.

"Just thinking. Did you go already?"

"You missed my perfect shot? My hole-in-one?" His grin widened.

"You are such a bad liar."

"Okay. I'm just over on the green." He pointed, and she saw the
speak of white that was his golf ball. It would take her at least
three shots to catch up with him.

Again she sighed, and resisted the urge to chuck her clubs at his
head. Why did it have to be golf? Why couldn't it be something she
was good at?

She set her ball on the tee and gripped her club. She set her feet
apart carefully, the way Mulder had showed her, and took a deep breath.

"Scully, relax. It's just golf."

"Yeah, but you're winning." She lined up the club and took another
deep breath, preparing to swing.

"He's watching you," Mulder said after a pause.

"And laughing, too, I'll bet."

"No. Just watching." He swung the club loosely in his fingers.
"Repeat to yourself: I am one with the club. I am one with the club."

"Stop distracting me."

"All part of my insidious plot."

"Stop talking, please." She lined up the club to the ball and took a
swing. She missed.

"Mother of -" She grit her teeth and glared at Mulder, who had the
bad taste to laugh.

"Scully, loosen up, okay? The purpose of golf is to relax. It's
supposed to be soothing. Just hit the ball. It doesn't have to go
far, just get it off the tee already."

"I'm nervous."

"Maybe we should tell O'Connell to come up with something better, if
you can't act the part here."

"It's not that. Look, he's here, we're here - let's just get this
over with. Start yelling at me."

"I don't want to yell at you."

"Well, do something to get him over here. O'Connell thinks a fight
will do it."

"O'Connell has no imagination," Mulder said, but stepped close to
her and said, in a voice so loud several heads turned, "Why is this
so hard for you? It's just a game - all the money I've spent teaching
you this and you still screw up!"

"I never asked for you to teach me golf," Scully said with a real
edge to her voice. "I never asked for anything from you. The only
thing I've ever wanted from you was consideration and you can't even
give me that!"

"Whew," Mulder whispered, then said harshly, "Fine, you want to
stop? Fine. Fine. We'll go back to the clubhouse -"

"I don't want to have dinner with you. I don't want you to drive me
home. You know, I would be perfectly happy if you got out of my life
for good. All you do is criticize and I am damn sick of it." She
threw her golf club back in the bag. "You are the most self-centered,
inconsiderate jerk of a human being I've ever met and I am tired of
being your whipping boy."

"Girl," Mulder said quietly, and Scully realized with a start that
there was genuine hurt in his eyes. Maybe she'd gone too far. Too
late now.

"Your anything," she said, and hoped he knew her well enough to know
it was just an act.

"Excuse me."

They had been glaring at each other, and now looked at the newcomer
with the sheepishness of people caught being too private in public.

It was MacPherson. The rest of his foursome were hanging back,
looking uncomfortable, but MacPherson lay his hand on Mulder's arm
and said soothingly, "This is a private conversation, it sounds like.
Perhaps you ought to take it indoors?"

Mulder shook off his hand and shoved his finger in Scully's face.
"We're not through," he said, picked up his bag of golf clubs and
stalked off the course.

Scully took a deep breath and smiled uncomfortably at MacPherson.
"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're more than welcome." His voice was deep, soothing. "Would you
like to join us?"

"Oh, no, thank you. I'm no good at it. That's what caused our little
- fracas - to begin with. I'll get out of your way." She bent to pick
up her ball from the tee, but MacPherson beat her to it and held it
out.

"Yours, I believe?"

"Yes, thank you. We rented - he rented - all this stuff for me and I
haven't any idea what goes back to them and what I'm supposed to keep."

"You haven't golfed much, I take it."

"Never. Well, except for mini-golf."

MacPherson smiled. "Ah, yes. Windmills and Godzilla and prizes for
the daily hole-in-one. That's the best way to learn to golf, I think."

"Vincent," one of the partners said, "we've still got the six
o'clock meeting."

He waved them on and picked up Scully's bag. "I'll meet you later,
right now I'd like to help this young lady out." One of the foursome,
an older woman with iron-grey hair pulled severely back, glared at
Scully, and Scully smiled uncomfortably again. This was going almost
too well.

They started walking off the course, when MacPherson said, "Oh, how
rude of me, I haven't even introduced myself. Vincent MacPherson."

"Dana Scully. I can carry that, you don't need to -"

"Oh, no, it's quite all right. My caddy has my bag and I can't let a
lady carry this while I do nothing. I haven't seen you at this club
before."

"I'm not a member. I'm a guest."

"Your boyfriend's?"

"Friend's. Uh-huh."

"He left you in a bit of a jam."

"He's like that."

"Perhaps, then, I shouldn't say I'm sorry to see him go." He smiled
at her kindly. "Did his leaving spoil your plans for the evening?"

"Such as they were."

"May I make it up to you, then? I assume you haven't eaten at the
clubhouse before."

"No, I haven't."

"And we could probably find something else to amuse you. Do you
swim, or ride?"

"Both, actually. Well, I haven't ridden in a long time."

"And he chose golf." MacPherson shook his head.

Because you golf every Tuesday at eleven, Scully thought, and
sighed. "I'm really not dressed for any of that, though," she said.
"I didn't bring a swimsuit or something I could wear in the dining
room."

"Allow me to treat you to lunch," MacPherson said. "Poolside. What
you're wearing is just fine."

"Thanks. Mulder said it wasn't, but -"

"Is that his name? Mulder?"

"Yes."

"Hm. I haven't seen him at the club much, either."

"He's been ill recently," she said, preparing to launch into the
story they'd concocted.

MacPherson, however, didn't seem interested. "So? Would you like to
have lunch with me, Miss Scully?"

She smiled at him brightly. "Call me Dana." And let the games begin.

* * *

They were about halfway through lunch when MacPherson said, "Dana, I
have to be perfectly honest with you. I've noticed you before today."

"Oh?" Scully said, though the only thing that surprised her was how
soon he admitted it.

"I saw you about two months ago at an AIDS benefit dinner, with your
friend Mulder."

"Oh . . . I remember that. I'm afraid I didn't notice you."

"No, you only had eyes for Mulder that night. But you stayed with me-
-your face stayed with me. I have a few friends who make their living
by finding out things, and I had them find out a few things about you."

I only had eyes for Mulder? she thought, wondering if it were true,
and asked, "So, what did you find out?"

"Well . . . " He reached over and took her hand. "I liked what I saw
. . . I liked even more what I learned. I've always admired the
medical profession. I think it's wonderful that you're a nurse, and
in the ER, that must be exciting."

"It is."

"Do you hate me now, Dana?"

"Well . . . it's a little unnerving, to learn that you've been
spying on me."

"If you have any skeletons in your closet, they're still safe. I
asked my friends to stop looking. It felt wrong. I just decided if I
ever had the chance I'd meet you, but other than that . . ." His
voice trailed off, and he smiled at Scully hopefully.

Scully pressed her lips together, trying not to smile back. Acting,
she reminded herself, is nine-tenths real experiences. She said
quietly, "I can't say I'm happy with that, Vincent. I feel a little
invaded."

"I don't know where you live," he said quietly. "I only know where
you work. I know where you went to school. And I know you've been
dating a man who isn't worth your attention. Please, Dana, I'm not a
stalker. I don't believe in love at first sight. But ever since I saw
you I haven't stopped thinking about you. If you'd allow me to see
you sometimes that would make me very happy man."

"I have to think about it."

"I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I
only want to see you, Dana." He was looking at her seriously, and his
thumb gently rubbed the web of skin between her thumb and first finger.

Scully drew in her breath sharply. Amazing how such minimal contact
could feel so . . . intimate. It's been too damn long, she thought
wryly, if that's all it takes to get me started.

She said softly, "I do want to see you, Vincent."

His smile broadened. "Perhaps I could take you to the symphony
Friday night. It's an all-Schubert program."

"All right."

"I promise, Dana, you won't regret this."

She smiled hesitantly. I hope not. "I'm sure I won't."

* * *

MacPherson drove Scully home in a BMW convertible. He even had
driving gloves, and talked to her about his favorite driving
experience, taking this car on the German Autobahn. He also owned
classic Harley-Davidsons, and offered for her to teach her to ride
them. "I have a small one that you could handle," he said.

"That sounds like fun."

"Have you ever ridden a Harley?"

"Once in college, on the back."

"They're wonderful machines." They pulled up in front of her
apartment building, and he shut off the engine. "I'd like to walk you
to your door."

"Um . . . maybe next time. Thank you for lunch."

"I'll come at seven on Friday."

"That should be fine. Thank you, Vincent." She opened the car door
and got out, turned back to smile at him and went up to the front
door of her building. He didn't drive away until she was inside.

Scully dug her keys out of her pocket and unlocked her front door.
She felt tense, even though the hard part was over. No, she thought
as she closed her door behind her, the hard part is just beginning. I
have to be someone completely other than myself-

"Scully?"

She jumped. "Shit, Mulder!" She hadn't even noticed him waiting on
her couch.

"Sorry. Are you okay? How did it go? Do you want me to beat him up
for you yet?"

"Don't be stupid. It was fine. We had lunch and talked. He collects
Harleys." She sat down on her armchair and pulled off her shoes,
stretching her toes.

"I guess that's better than pepper shakers."

"If I didn't know what he does for a living I'd find him a very nice
guy."

"But you do know what he does for a living."

"I'm not going to forget what this really is, Mulder. And it's
probably not a good idea for you to show up here unexpected-what
would he think if he knew you have a key?"

"He'll think what you want him to think, Scully." He didn't move
from her couch.

"Well, I don't want him to think we're lovers. I don't want to
explain that."

Mulder said nothing, but his lips turned down and he sighed.

"Anyway, I'm fine. It went very well. I expect it won't be very long
before I'm . . ." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. His
what, exactly? Girlfriend? Mistress?

"A major part of his life," Mulder said softly. "His best friend and
his confidante." He raised impossibly sad eyes to look at her.

She hated it when he did this. Sometimes she thought he wasn't aware
of how this look affected her-sometimes she thought he knew perfectly
well. "Go home, Mulder. I need to go find something I can wear to the
symphony."

"With a wire."

"I know, with a wire. Go home."

He stood up reluctantly and started towards the front door. He
paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Scully . . . you'll call me, won't
you, if anything happens? Anything that scares you, you'll call."

"I'll call, Mulder. I'm not going anywhere without backup."

He nodded but still didn't open the door.

"Mulder. I have things I need to do."

"Yeah. See ya." He finally opened the door and left.

Scully locked the deadbolt and leaned back against the door for a
moment. Of all the times for Mulder to choose to get possessive . . .
damn it, she did not want to deal with this right now.

A bubble bath was in order. Maybe then she could think.



3--Surprises are witnessed and experienced.

Scully had to admit it, she was nervous as she stood in front of
Vincent's front door. He had sent a limousine for her, telling her he
had a business meeting that was sure to run late and he didn't want
her to worry about her driving herself. "I don't want you to get
lost, dear," he'd said.

She suspected it was more like he didn't want her to learn the way
to his house just yet, but of course she didn't let a hint of that
drop. Instead she acted exciting about riding in a limo-it wasn't
hard, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been in one-and told
him how much she was looking forward to meeting his friends.

She knew already, though, who they were. O'Connell had given her
detailed files on them the first day she met MacPherson, and more
information after every date she had with him. Names, political
affiliations, areas of specialization. It was just a question who was
in charge and what they were doing.

She wasn't convinced that Vincent was the head man in this group. He
seemed to lack a certain . . . ruthlessness.

O'Connell had also recommended the dress she was now wearing, a pale-
pink strappy number that revealed a lot more skin than she was
accustomed to show. Three spaghetti straps from each shoulder cris-
crossed in a complicated network across her back to the low waist. It
required a lack of underwear to which she was also unaccustomed, and
she felt extremely naked: no bra, no slip, just panties and thigh-
high stockings and barely-there shoes. "Why not paint 'desperate' on
my forehead?" she'd said at the time, but O'Connell thought things
were progressing too slowly. She was wearing a pale-pink merino wool
wrap over it. It would be interesting to gauge Vincent's reaction
when she took it off. She had her hair up with wisps curling about
her neck, and no jewelry but her cross and tiny gold hoops. She hoped
she looked . . . ready.

The door finally opened. Good lord, Vincent actually had a butler.

"Miss Scully. Do come in." He stepped aside to let her in. "May I
take your wrap?"

"Thank you." She took it off and handed it to the butler. One
eyebrow went up and she had the distinct feeling he was scoping her
out, but he said nothing and put her wrap over his arm.

"Mr. MacPherson is still in meeting. Would you like to wait with
Mrs. Gill in the library?"

"Yes, thank you." She started to follow him across the vast hall to
one of the closed doors, when a door up the stairs opened and she
heard men's voices.

"It appears the meeting is over," the butler said to her, and she
smiled, deciding she liked him.

The men came downstairs, Vincent at their head, and he smiled
broadly when he saw her. "Dana. You're here. I'm sorry we kept you
waiting." He held her lightly by the shoulders and kissed her
briefly. "You look lovely, my dear," he whispered, and held onto her
arm as he introduced her to his friends. "Dr. and Mrs. Sutterfield,
Paul Udy, Robert and Ally Pack and Tripp Highwood." She shook hands
all around and made the smallest of small talk, hoping her voice
didn't tremble too much. They seemed like such nice, ordinary people-
how could they be traitors?

The library door opened and the same grey-haired woman she'd seen at
the golf course came out. "And my dear sister, Mrs. Dorothy Gill,"
Vincent said, and kissed her cheek as well.

"Hello, I'm pleased to meet you," Scully said, holding out her hand,
and Dorothy touched it lightly without attempting to smile.

"I've heard a great deal about you, Miss Scully," she said, giving
her a once-over. "I see my brother has not exaggerated."

"Thank you," Scully said, deciding it was best to play innocent.

"Dinner is served, Mr. MacPherson," the butler said.

"Thank you, Stevens. My dear, will you walk with me?" He put his
hand over Scully's on his arm.

"Of course." She smiled up at him.

*****

Scully was glad, as dinner progressed, that her mother had taken the
time to teach her how to use a formal place setting, though she'd
rarely had the chance to use it. Three forks, two knives, two spoons,
two glasses, a knife rest, a new plate for every course, and finger
bowls. She had to smother the smile that wanted to rise when she
wondered what Mulder would think of this. He'd probably use the same
fork all through the meal, not caring if the others stared; whisper
dirty jokes to her whenever the conversation got dull, and suggest
they leave before dessert to go get something hearty and greasy at an
all-night diner. He loved his diners, which she found--and never told
him--utterly charming.

But this was all right. The conversation was easy and entertaining,
the food was good, and Dorothy didn't give her too many dirty looks.

Something odd happened, though, when the meal was nearly through.
The butler brought up another bottle of wine and when Paul Udy
noticed it he nearly went into a panic until Tripp Highwood calmed
him down. And she noticed, too, that Highwood and Dr. Sutterfield
exchanged looks that seemed overly significant.

It's the wine, she thought, it has something to do with the wine.

They were having coffee in the library when Mrs. Sutterfield asked
her, "So what do you do, Miss Scully?"

"I'm an emergency room nurse at Baltimore General."

"Oh, how exciting. An evening like this must seem awfully dull."

"I like it, it's different from my normal evenings." In more ways
than one, she thought, and smiled to herself. Vincent caught her eye
from across the room and his own smile broadened.

"Paul," Highwood said, "you must let me drive you home tonight.
You've had more to drink than your usual, I think."

"Oh." Udy nodded nervously. "Yes. You're right. I shouldn't be
driving."

"We'll be off, then," Highwood said, putting his cup aside. "See you
tomorrow, Vincent. Good to meet you, Miss Scully."

"Yes, Miss Scully," Udy said hastily, "I hope to see you again soon."

Everyone bid them goodnight, and she thought Vincent looked
unusually sad to see him go. She shivered, and Vincent came over to
sit beside her.

"Cold, Dana?" Vincent said.

"A little."

He leaned closer to her and said softly, "Will you stay a while
after everyone has left, Dana? There's something I'd like to ask you."

"Sure, Vincent." She stayed on the sofa with him while the other
guests said goodnight, and soon it was only herself, Dorothy, and
Vincent, sipping coffee.

"Paul seemed a trifle nervous tonight," Dorothy observed.

"He's had a hard past few months. He works with a Defense Department
contractor," he explained to Scully. "With budget cutbacks he's had
to do some hustling."

"I'm sure Miss Scully doesn't want to hear about that boring
business."

"Actually I find politics very interesting," Scully said.

"HMOs affect you, I suppose. The health care plan."

"They affect us all, Mrs. Gill."

She smiled slightly and said, "My private physician would sooner
shoot himself in the foot than join an HMO."

"Forgive me--they affect the rest of us."

"Dana," Vincent interrupted, "would you like to take a walk with my
in the garden?"

Both women looked at him, and he smiled, standing, and held out his
hand to Scully. "It's a fine night. Come for a walk with me."

She took his hand and stood. "I'd love to see your garden."

"I'll be off to bed, Vincent. Early day tomorrow. Good night, Miss
Scully." She gave Scully a cold smile and left the library.

Vincent led her through the house out to the gardens. They walked
holding hands, saying little. Vincent pointed out some of the flowers
he was particularly proud of, and the vegetable garden and their
small orchard. "Dorothy likes her vegetables fresh," he explained.

"Vincent, where is Mr. Gill?"

"Dorothy's husband? He died a few years ago. Tragically, too, he was
murdered."

"Oh, dear."

"Yes, it was sudden. Their house in San Francisco was broken into
one evening while Dorothy was away. They killed Andrew, took all the
cash he had on him, his watch, his wedding band, some of the more
precious items of his coin collection--it was terrible. Dorothy was
in shock for quite some time. That's why I had her move in with me--
and of course she didn't want to be alone in that big house anymore.
They hadn't been married long, only three years."

"That's terrible. Poor Dorothy."

"She's a survivor. She does all right. She has her committees and
fund raisers and charity work to keep her occupied."

I'd go nuts, Scully thought. "And they never found who did it?"

"No, never. His jewelry never turned up in any local pawn shops and
of course you can't trace cash. As for the coins, Dorothy thinks they
may have been sold to a private collector--or that a private
collector may have hired them to break into the house in the first
place. She's a little paranoid," he added with a shrug.

Just a little, Scully thought. I know the champion and the runners-
up. She shivered again, hoping Mulder was all right tonight. She
hadn't worn a wire-there was no place to put it beneath this dress,
and O'Connell thought it was iffy jurisdiction to wear one to the
house anyway, at this point.

"Dana, you're shivering. Here, take my jacket." He shrugged his
jacket off and lay it over her shoulders.

"Thank you." He kept his arm around her shoulders and she leaned
against his chest.

Kissing him for the first time hadn't been difficult, but it had
gone no further than that. And Scully had admitted it to O'Connell,
she was sure how far she could let it go. For all Vincent's kindness
and gentleness, it remained that he was a criminal--and, she said to
O'Connell, "I don't know if I'm really that dedicated."

"No one will blame you, Scully, if you don't want to. We'll figure
something out. Tell him you're practicing secondary virginity or
something."

And Mulder, at this particular meeting, had sat in the corner
scowling, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands in his
armpits like a sulky child. Poor Mulder. He worried so.

But maybe it wouldn't be so hard, after all.

Or maybe it had just been too long.

"Dana," Vincent said softly. "There's something I want to ask you."

"If you're worried if I liked your friends, I did. I like your
gardens, too."

"What about the house?"

"It's very pretty. I hardly get to the country--it's so peaceful
here."

"I'm glad you like my house, Dana. I wonder if . . . if you'd like
to spend more time here."

She smiled slightly and said, "You want me to make a daily playdate
with you?"

"Dana, I'm not joking here. Damn it, Dana, I don't know how to say
this. I've never asked someone this before." He stopped walking and
took her hands in his. "I know this is sudden and probably impetuous
and foolish, but I don't care. I've never felt this way about anyone.
You move me, Dana. You stay with me whenever we're apart. Whenever
something good happens to me I can't wait to tell you about it, and
whenever something bad happens I know you'll comfort me. The past few
weeks have been the happiest of my life. And I don't want it to ever
end."

"Oh, my God," she said softly. This was insane--he had to be joking--
he couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying--

"Marry me, Dana," he said earnestly. "Let me take care of you, let
me make you happy. I know I can make you happy."

"Vincent--I don't know--we've only known each other a few weeks--"

"But I feel like I've know you forever. Don't you feel it, Dana? The
connection, the pull? We weren't strangers even when we first met. If
you need time I'll give it to you, but please, promise you'll think
about it. Tell me you'll think about it."

"I'll think about it," she whispered. She kissed him, standing up on
her toes. "I'll think about it." O'Connell and Skinner were going to
love this--and Mulder--oh, Mulder, he'd go berserk--

Vincent was kissing her, more deeply and more fully than he had
before, over her face and down her neck, and he paused at the thin
straps at her shoulders. "Dana," he whispered, "stay the night with
me. If we work--you and me--would that convince you?"

She couldn't do this. She couldn't do this to herself. She couldn't
do this to Mulder.

She looked into his eyes and whispered, "I'll stay the night with
you. But I'll need more time. Please don't press me, Vincent."

He smiled and kissed her, holding her face in his hands.

She wondered, as they walked back to the house, arms around each
other, if she would be able to fake an orgasm. She'd never tried. Her
past lovers--all three of them, she thought wryly--had had to ask if
she'd come, and she'd always been honest. She was quiet when she
came, she had never been loud or showy. She wasn't a screamer. Would
he expect her to be a screamer?

It turned out her worries were unnecessary.

*****

It was just past seven in the morning when Scully let herself into
her apartment. Vincent had lent her jeans and a white button-down
shirt, but didn't have shoes small enough for her to wear so she'd
had to ride home barefoot. The chauffeur has actually smiled at her
when she got into the limo, after being thoroughly kissed be Vincent.
"Don't stay away from me long, darling," Vincent has said.

He'd also lent her a garment bag for her dress and shoes, and she
hung it on her coatrack when she came inside. She had to smile at her
reflection in the mirror-she looked flushed and happy and like she
got well and truly fucked. It should be wrong, she thought, but right
now . . .

"Well. Look who decided to roll in."

She whirled. Mulder sat in one of her armchairs, his gun loosely in
his hand, his eyes were bloodshot and his tie hanging around his neck.

"Mulder. You scared me."

"I waited for you. When you weren't home by midnight I called
Skinner. When you weren't home by two I called O'Connell. When you
weren't home by four I called the police."

"No one asked you to keep tabs on me."

"I'm your backup, Scully. I'm supposed to know where you are at all
times."

"You knew where I was. At Vincent's."

"At MacPherson's, you mean. Can't be getting too close, you know."

"Whatever. Go home, Mulder. I'll call the others and tell them
what's going on."

"So what is going on? Did he lock you in the attic?"

"Don't be stupid, Mulder."

"Are those his clothes?"

She sighed. "Yes. These are his clothes. He didn't want to send me
home in the dress I wore last night so he lent me some clothes. Now
go home, Mulder. You need to sleep." She started to her bedroom.

"Scully."

His voice stopped her, and he stood up and walked to her. He went on
softly, "Promise me you won't sleep with him, Scully. Promise me it
won't go that far."

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I already have."

She said it flippantly but as soon as the words were out she
realized how dark and painful his eyes were, that his lips were
turned down the way they would just before he started to cry. She
reached for him, not knowing what to say.

It surprised her sometimes, how Mulder could move so quickly for a
big man.

His arms bound around her and before she could protest or even ask
what he intended the hard floor was beneath her and his hard body was
above her, and his mouth clamped down on hers. His big rough hands
stroked her sides, her breasts and buttocks. Scully heard herself
whimpering like a wounded pup even as she sucked on his tongue and
scrabbled her fingers over his scalp. She knew she should tell him to
stop, that she was tired and wanted to sleep, but she wanted this too
much. She'd dreamed about this too often to say no.

His mouth left hers and moved wetly down her neck and chest, where
it fastened onto her breast through her shirt. He yanked her shirt
open to reveal her breasts, and he kissed and sucked them fiercely.
He kissed down between her breasts to her belly, where he paused for
a second to rest his cheek against her stomach. He raised his head to
look at her.

When he started to speak, though, she lay her finger over his lips.
He sucked them into his mouth and she moaned, and began tugging on
his clothes with her other hand. The damn knot in his damn tie--

He yanked it off for her and pulled at his shirt. They both were
whimpering now. They forgot the buttons on his cuffs, his hands shook
too much to unbutton her jeans, her own hands fumbled at his belt.
They couldn't get undressed fast enough and so buttons popped off,
zippers jammed and fingernails accidentally scraped fragile skin.

Foreplay was, by necessity, brief. Kissing, mainly, tongues down
each other's throats. His mouth fastened onto her neck. Her legs
wrapped around his waist and her head tossing back and forth. Moaning
as they swarmed over each other's bodies, licking and biting. His
mouth between her legs and her legs sprawled wantonly open, and then
his tongue down her throat as he finally thrust into her.

Oh my God oh my God this is Mulder inside me Mulder fucking me
Mulder Mulder Mulder

His face was strange when she finally dared open her eyes. Tense, of
course, sweaty, but also as if he was as surprised by this as she was.

And he tenderly touched the side of her face and she turned her face
into his hand and kissed it.

And tears fell on her face, and she wasn't sure if they were his or
her own.

And for the first time in her sexual life, Dana Scully screamed.

******

Five years of nothing and then twice in twelve hours. Amazing.

Make that three times.



4--Circumstances change abruptly.

Scully opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn't. Every
major muscle group ached and for some reason she felt vaguely
hungover. She could remember Mulder picking her up and carrying her
to her bed, but everything after was a blur of sex and skin and
saliva. And then sleep, Mulder's body heavy and warm, his heart
pumping steadily beneath her ear, his arms so tightly around her she
could barely move.

That much was still true, though now instead of his body beneath her
he was now pressed against her back as they lay on their sides. One
arm was over her waist and the other was around her shoulders, and
one leg was thrown over her hip. A straightjacket couldn't have
restrained her more fully.

She wondered if she could work herself loose without waking him up,
and then wondered if she really wanted to. She decided she didn't.
She could happily stay in Mulder's arms until the end of the world,
consequences be damned.

He stirred behind her, and said, his voice thick with sleep, "You
awake?"

"Yeah."

He buried his face in the curve of her neck, and she smiled as she
felt his erection begin against her back. "You smell good," he
muttered, and Scully laughed softly.

"That's your doing."

"I know--wanna see if I can do it again?"

"So far you seem to be able to." She wiggled her tush against his
hips and felt a chuckle rumble through him.

"Time to play, Scully . . ." His hands cupped her breasts and his
thumbs brushed over her nipples, and his lips closed around her
earlobe.

Scully closed her eyes and reached behind herself to thrust her
hands into his hair, and he moved enough to kiss the side of her face
and run his tongue over the whorls of her ear. "What do you want,
Scully?" he whispered. "Do you want it slow, or fast? Gentle or
rough? What do you like? What do you need?"

"You," she breathed, "just you. I need you."

He moaned into her ear and rolled her onto her stomach, kneeling
above her. He kissed down her spine to her ass, which he kneaded and
kissed repeatedly. "So beautiful, Scully, so beautiful," he murmured,
and turned her over again and buried his mouth between her legs.

Scully groaned and thrust her hands into his hair, urging him
deeper. No one had ever done this for her, no one had ever offered
and she hadn't known how to ask, but Mulder seemed to know it was
what she wanted and needed, and he knew exactly how to do it, too.
Even Vincent in all his gentleness--

Oh, God. Vincent.

"Mulder," she gasped, tugging at his hair. "Mulder, stop."

He raised his head at once. "Am I hurting you?"

"No--no, it feels wonderful, but we need to talk and I can't think
with you doing that."

"What's there to talk about?" He kissed her inner thigh gently,
still kneading her ass.

"I still have an assignment to complete."

Mulder sighed heavily and started licking her again.

"Mulder, stop, I mean it."

"No. I'm turning you into my sexual slave. I'm keeping you in such a
state of arousal that you can never get out of this bed again." He
added a finger to the work his tongue was doing, and Scully moaned.
She didn't want him to stop--being his slave sounded like a good idea--

The phone rang. "Ignore it," Mulder muttered.

"It might be O'Connell--" She fumbled for the phone and picked up
the reciever. "Scully."

"Dana? Darling? Are you okay?"

It was Vincent. She swatted Mulder's head and he finally backed
away. "Hi, I'm fine, why?"

"You sound out of breath."

"You caught me, um, exercising. Aerobics." Mulder was not giving up.
He had moved down to her feet and now started sucking her toes. Stop
it, she mouthed at him fiercely, and he grinned and closed his eyes.
He had too firm a grip for her to jerk her foot away.

"I won't keep you long, then. I was just wondering when you're going
to have an answer for me."

She looked at Mulder and thought for a moment that she just might
cry. "I don't know, Vincent. It's such a big decision. I don't want
to make it lightly."

"I know, darling, but have you considered all the pros and cons? I
bet there are many more pros. You'll never have to worry about money
again--you'll have a loving husband all your life, children, if you
want them--"

Oh, God. She didn't want to go into this with Mulder there.
"Vincent, I know the pros and cons. But it's not something you decide
with logic, don't you think?"

"What does your heart tell you, then, Dana?" he said in a low,
pleading voice.

"It tells me to be sure of my answer when I give it."

Mulder ran his tongue over the sole of her foot.

"All right. You take all the time you need, darling. I love you."

Mulder took her toes into his mouth again.

"I love you too, Vincent. I'll call you later." She hung up the
phone and looked down at Mulder again, because he had released her
foot and was staring at her with the eyes of a lost man.

"You--you love him, Scully?" he choked out.

"No, of course not, but he has to think so."

"You said--you said--"

"It's a job, Mulder! Please keep that in mind." She crawled to him
and put her arms around his waist. "It's a job. Just a job."

"What decision is he waiting for you to make?"

"He wants to marry me."

His eyes narrowed as if he were looking at a specimen under a
microscope. "And you didn't tell him to get lost?"

"And risk the assignment?"

"Dammit, Scully! This is your life, not some job! You can't marry a
man you don't love even for the sake of your country. It's insane. No
one would ask this of you."

"Mulder, the only woman he has lived with is his sister. The only
way I'm going to get into the house enough is to move in, and he's
not going to ask me to live with him unless we're married."

"And when the assignment is over, then what? Conjugal visits in
prison?"

"I don't know--I haven't thought ahead that far."

"Well, you've got to think ahead that far. Don't sacrifice yourself
this way."

"Mulder . . ." She leaned her head against his chest and sighed. "I
can't think about this now. I want to talk to O'Connell and Skinner."

"If they say you should do it, I'll change your mind." He started
kissing her again, and he pulled her into his lap. "You can't marry
him, Scully. You can't." His lips closed around her breast and Scully
closed her eyes and arched her back.

She'd decide later. When Mulder wasn't around.

*****

Skinner was frowning, but O'Connell couldn't look happier. "What
does Mulder think of this?" O'Connell asked.

"He thinks it's a bad idea."

"On the one hand it is . . . but on the other, it would make things
easier for you. He'd tell you things he might not if you were just
his girlfriend."

"That does raise the question of privilege, though, later on,"
Skinner said. "A husband expects what he says to his wife to be kept
in confidence."

"So I won't ask him directly. Look, you wanted me in the house, this
is how I get in the house."

"It is the best method I've ever heard," O'Connell said. "We can bug
you, if that's okay, and you can-"

"Scully," Skinner interrupted. "Have you thought this through?
Seriously considered this? Something tells me this won't be a
marriage in name only."

Scully felt herself blush. "I know, sir. It won't be."

The two men exchanged glances. "I see," Skinner said softly. "Well.
Agent O'Connell, I'd like to speak to Agent Scully in private for a
moment."

"Oh, sure." He got up from his chair. "Agent Scully, if my opinion
makes a difference, I'm all for it. We could have our case against
him by the end of the year." He left Skinner's office.

Skinner stood up and walked around his desk, to lean against the
front of it. "Scully," he said quietly, "I have been uncertain about
this assignment since its beginning, but this is too far. Much too
far. No one would expect it of you-no one would blame you if you want
to step away. You say the word and I'll remove you from the
assignment."

"But then I'll have to face the inquiry board, and censure. Weren't
those the terms?"

"I never expected this."

"Sir," she took a deep breath, "you assigned me to seduce a traitor.
I have done so. In order to complete the assignment I have to marry
him. I will do so. It's just a job."

"Why isn't Agent Mulder here?"

"I didn't want him present while we discussed this. He doesn't know
I'm here."

He shook his head slowly. "I don't like this. I don't like this at
all."

"You don't have to like it, sir, you only have to authorize it."

He sighed. "I have half a mind to suspend you until this mess is
sorted out."

"Then you get to explain to MacPherson what happened."

A smile at last, even if it was small. "All right. I'll authorize
it. But I want daily reports and backup nearby you at all times.
We'll work out an emergency means of communication so that you can
reach us if anything goes wrong. And I mean anything, Agent Scully."

"Yes, sir. I do have one favor to ask."

"Yes?"

"Agent Mulder isn't to be told that I've married him until after the
wedding."

Skinner nodded. "I understand."

*****

She unlocked her apartment door and stepped cautiously inside.
Empty. Thank God, he'd gone home.

She checked through the apartment, just to be sure. It wouldn't have
surprised her much if he was still asleep in bed or even whipping
something up in the kitchen. No Mulder.

There was, however, a note on the fridge. "Baby-call me when you get
back, okay? I missed you. M."

Baby. She smiled and put the note on her desk. She picked up the
phone and dialed.

"MacPherson residence." Steven's crisp voice.

"Dana Scully for Mr. MacPherson."

"One moment." His voice warmed up at once. Scully smiled again and
caressed Mulder's note.

You'll get me through this, baby.

"Dana, darling, I'm so glad you called."

"Hello, Vincent. I've made up my mind."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

He laughed. "Dana, I--oh, darling, I'm so happy. So glad. Let's go
tonight, Dana, let's go to Vegas and get married there, and I'll take
you anywhere you've ever dreamed of going for your honeymoon."

"Tonight?" she said uncertainly, then shrugged. Tonight would be
best, after all. Get started right away. "All right. Tonight. What
should I bring?"

"A swimsuit?" he said, and they both laughed.

*****

Mulder stared at Skinner, pale with shock. "You're lying," he said
finally.

"I'm afraid not, Agent Mulder. She called me from Las Vegas just an
hour ago."

"Las Vegas? He married her in Las Vegas?"

"Yes."

Mulder stood up and paced the office, his fists opening and closing.
"Las Vegas. He took her to Las Vegas. A good Catholic girl and her
married her in Las Vegas." He whirled to face Skinner. "You can't
expect me to believe this was entirely voluntary."

"Scully had to convince me it was a good idea. No one pressured her
into it."

"So when do they come back?"

Skinner could hear the words behind his question, the naked need.
When do I see her again? "They're going on a honeymoon in the
Caribbean for two weeks. She'll call us when they return."

"This is so wrong."

"I believe Agent Scully is capable of taking care of herself."

"I hope for her sake you're right." He sighed, deflating. "Thank you
for telling me, sir."

"The VCS would like you until Agent Scully returns," Skinner said,
and Mulder nodded absently. Skinner thought, I could ask him to paint
his dick right now and he'd say all right. He rubbed his forehead and
said, "Or maybe you ought to take a vacation."

"All right."

Yes. Definitely a vacation.


5--More questions are raised.

The motorcycles stood in a neat row, like a dealer's display.
Classic low-riders, chrome-encrusted hogs, anniversary reissues.
Monuments to the open road, Scully thought, and smiled at Vincent
when he squeezed her hand. It hadn't taken much convincing for her to
join him at the auto show, and as it was a beautiful day and the
crowd wasn't too thick, she was happy to spend the day with him. She
hoped it showed.

"That's the one I'm looking at," he said, pointing to a low-rider.
"Do you think you'd like that one, Dana?"

"For me, Vincent? I don't-"

"If you think you can handle it, of course. It does take some muscle
to ride these." He caressed her upper arm, smiling at her.

Impulsively she stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank
you," she said softly, "but I don't need a new motorcycle. I like the
1964 just fine."

"Why won't you let me buy you things, Dana? I want to shower you
with everything you never had, everything you always wanted."

"All I want is right here," she said quietly, and kissed him again.

Someone cleared their throat and Scully looked up guiltily. Dorothy.
Of course.

"If the two of you are quite finished," she said, "Vincent, Dr.
Sutterfield wants to speak with you."

"Of course. Excuse me, darling. I'll tell him and Mrs. Sutterfield
hello for you."

"Say hello to Mr. Udy, too."

He paused. "Oh, my dear. You haven't heard. Poor Paul. He died while
we were away, it was a car accident. Very sudden. Very tragic."

"Oh. That's terrible," Scully said softly, and wrapped her arms
around herself. She watched Vincent walk away, and after a moment
Dorothy walked away as well.

Scully walked slowly down the line of motorcycles. She'd suspected
as much. Poor Paul Udy. Dead because of a bottle of wine.

She was allowed into every room of this house but the wine cellar,
but she never asked about that. When they wanted wine there were
bottles in the kitchen, and she thought asking about the cellar would
be too suspicious. Stevens didn't have a key to it, and she figured
only Vincent did. And he watched his keys closely.

"Hey, Scully."

His voice sent a shiver through her, and she smiled at Mulder
helplessly as he played with the fabric of her sleeve at her elbow.
"You were in another world, there."

"I was thinking. How are you?"

"Lonely," he said softly, and she could see the truth of it in his
eyes. "How are you doing? Is he treating you okay?"

"He treats me just fine."

"You've got a nice tan going on. For you."

"Yes, I've gone from pale to slightly less pale."

They smiled at each other painfully.

"So," he said, "what are you doing here?"

"Vincent wants to buy me a bike of my own. I'm trying to talk him
out of it."

"I can just imagine you on a Harley. Do I get to ride on the back?"

She laughed. "That spot's taken, Mulder."

He nodded, pressing his lips together. "Right. I forgot. Look," he
said in a rush, "we need to talk and I don't want to do it here, can
we meet someplace private?"

"About what?"

"O'Connell has some stuff for you. My place, tomorrow?"

"Mulder, I couldn't possibly--" She could see Dorothy approaching,
and she said hurriedly,"All right, tomorrow, when?"

"Anytime. I'll wait for you. Bye." She knew he wanted to kiss her,
but he only smiled sadly and walked away.

"Who was that?" Dorothy asked her as she walked up to her.

"An old friend. Mulder."

"Oh, yes," Dorothy said. "That terrible man Vincent rescued you
from. Dana, you do realize the position my brother holds in this
community, don't you?"

"I-I really wasn't. He hardly seems concerned with social position."

"He is concerned. As am I. And it would hardly be proper for the new
bride of Vincent MacPherson to be seen flirting with other men, don't
you think?"

Scully clenched her jaw and said tightly, "Mulder is a friend. I
don't desert my friends just because someone else disapproves."

"I think you need to reconsider that attitude. Your behavior
reflects on my brother. And I love my brother."

"I love your brother too," Scully said. "I'd never hurt him."

Dorothy studied her, and said softly, "I wonder." She turned on her
heel and walked back to Vincent's BMW.

Scully sighed. She'd hoped her feelings for Mulder wouldn't be
obvious, but apparently they were. She did not regret sleeping with
him. Never that. But it had only made the longing worse . . . just
the taste of his mouth . . .

An arm went around her shoulders, and she looked up to see Vincent.
"Darling? Ready to go? Dorothy says she has a headache."

"I'm ready." She slung her arm around his waist and they started
walking back to the car.

"I'm sorry we didn't find you a bike."

"I don't need one, honey. The 1964 suits me just fine. It's very
easy for me to handle."

"Tell me what else I can get you, then, something no one else has
given you."

"Vincent . . ."

"When we were in Tiffany's last week I saw a diamond as blue as your
eyes. Maybe I should buy you that."

Scully glanced down at the enormous rock Vincent called her
engagement ring and said, "I'll think of something."

*****

The next day she told Vincent she was going shopping, and went to
see Mulder. She still had the key to his apartment, but she knocked
anyway. She didn't want to just walk in. She took a deep breath as
she waited for him to answer, and smoothed down her hair. This felt
almost decadent, which she knew was ridiculous. She was meeting her
partner, not her gigolo.

The door opened, and Mulder smiled at her. Damn, she thought. He was
wearing his glasses, his jeans and one of those grey mock-turtleneck
shirts that made him look so bookish and sexy, like he needed a nap
after reading too much. A nap with company, of course.

"You came," he said softly, and Scully felt her knees buckle. He
caught her arm and pulled her inside the apartment. "Are you okay?"

"I'm-yeah, I'm fine. Just, um, a little tired."

"Long night?" he said, and there was no humor in his face.

"I'm all right, Mulder."

"Here, sit down." He led her to the couch and had her sit. "Do you
need something to drink?"

"I'm fine, Mulder. What does O'Connell have for me?"

He went to his desk and got out a small manila envelope, which he
handed to her. She opened the flap, and shook out several small metal
buttons.

"Bugs. He wants you to put them wherever you think they'd do some
good. The car, his office, wherever." He swung into his desk chair,
his arms folded over the back.

"Okay. I think I've figured something out, but I haven't put all the
pieces together yet."

"Tell me."

"The first night I was there, one of his friends freaked out over a
bottle of wine. This friend is now dead."

Mulder picked up his notebook. "What's his name?"

"Paul Udy."

"I'll look into it."

"He died in a car accident, but I get the feeling it wasn't
completely accidental. Anyway, about the wine: whatever they're
planning has something to do with the wine cellar. Vincent is the
only one who has keys to it."

"Is it big? What could they be storing down there?"

"I haven't been in it. I only know where it is."

"Do you think you can get the key and have a look around?"

"I'll try. I'd have to do it while he's away, or when he has a big
distraction."

"Would you feel better about it if I came with you?"

She laughed shortly. "No, I think I can do it. I'll figure something
out."

"Just don't put yourself at unnecessary risk."

"Never, Mulder." She put the bugs into her purse. It made her smile-
she was carrying an actual purse for the first time in years. "Well,
I should go. I told Vincent I was going shopping, I guess I should go
buy something."

"What? A Harley?"

"A fabulous dress to wear to a fabulous party." She paused. "Mulder.
Come to our open house. It's Saturday night, to celebrate the wedding."

"I'll pass, Scully."

"I'll get the key and find a way to get down to the wine cellar.
It's the best way I can think of to get you into the house."

"You could say I'm the tennis pro and move me into the guest house."

"Very funny. I'll just tattoo 'Property of Dana Scully' on your butt."

"That's even funnier." He caught her hand and pulled her into his
lap. "I'll just leave you a leave you a hickey or two and let him
think he's a better lover than he actually is."

She caught his head and pulled it up before he could kiss her. "Stop
it. I'm serious. You can't do this, Mulder."

"What are your feelings on adultery, Scully? I think it's just a bad
name for a good thing."

"Stop it. Stop it." Her arms slid around his neck as he kissed her
face. "Please stop, Mulder, I can't think when you kiss me."

"Good. That's the idea." He kissed her ear and ran his fingers
lightly over her hair. "Look at you. So smooth, so polished. They're
turning you into one of them. If this thing goes on long enough
you'll turn into one of those brittle women with too much plastic
surgery and too many Chanel suits."

"I'll never get plastic surgery . . . I don't think I'd mind a
Chanel suit or two . . ." His fingers were deftly opening her blouse,
and he bent his head to kiss her breasts above her bra. "You don't
think I'm brittle, do you?"

"Never. Never. My sweet pretty Scully." Her bra clasped in the
front, and he undid it and gently caressed her breasts.

"Mulder, I'm serious." She caught his hands and held them firmly.
"No. I mean it. I'm not going to cheat on him. Even with you."

"Oh, even with me? Is that so?" He kissed her mouth gently. "Are you
sure about that, Scully? I'll be quick, I promise."

"Dammit, Mulder." She didn't let go of his hands.

"Yeah, you can't resist me." He kissed her neck slowly. "You want me."

"I need you . . . but this is wrong, Mulder."

"Yeah, you took a vow before Elvis and the Nevada gaming
commission." His lips closed around her nipple and she moaned. She
had makeup in her purse . . . maybe she'd stay, just a little while .
. .

She finally let go of his hands.

*****

She'd never made love in a chair before.

She'd never seen his bed before, either, when he finally took her
there. It was big and comfy, with crisp cotton sheets and a down
comforter. His pillows were amazingly comfortable, just firm enough,
even more comfortable than her own at home.

He, however, seemed to prefer her stomach for his pillow, and every
time she said she had to go he would start kissing her again.

But he was finally asleep, his head on her navel and his arms
loosely around her waist.

And she had been there for nearly four hours. She had to go.

Scully slipped gently from the bed, kissed Mulder when he stirred,
and hastily pulled on her clothes. She ran a brush through her hair,
trying not to notice that she looked very much like she'd just gotten
laid, and ran down to the car.

Vincent has insisted she take the BMW, and she hadn't argued. She
loved the Beamer, she'd never driven a car so responsive and
sensitive. Driving the Beamer, she thought as she started it up, was
like making love to Mulder.

That alone made her laugh out loud.

She drove to the snootiest, most expensive dress shop she knew of
and went inside. She saw the dress at once, and said, "That, size
six," to the startled salesgirl. There were advantages to Vincent's
money-she had the dress tried on, wrapped up, and paid for in ten
minutes.

She floored it home. It was only two in the afternoon. That wasn't
so bad, was it? It wasn't like she was coming home at eleven at night.

She was about to get out of the car when she remembered the bugs.
She took out one and placed it carefully on the dashboard, behind the
rim of wood that surrounded the gauges. She didn't know how many
confidential conversations he had in the car, but she'd soon find out.

"Darling," Vincent said when she came in from the garage. "I was
starting to get worried."

"It took a long time to find what I wanted."

"I see you found something. May I see it?"

"I'd like to surprise you. It's for Saturday."

"I'll look forward to Saturday, then." He kissed her briefly, then
paused, his brow furrowing. "New perfume?"

"No, the same thing. Do I smell different?"

"You smell . . ." He leaned in and sniffed deeply. "Like you were
shopping very hard."

"Yes. I was." He could smell it on her, he could smell Mulder. Damn
it. "I'm going to go put this in my closet."

Vincent nodded. "I have a meeting later on. Is a late dinner all
right with you?"

"Sure." She started up the stairs.

"Dana."

She paused, then turned, her hand on the banister. "Yes?"

"I love you," he said softly.

Scully had never hated herself as much as she did then. "I love
you," she answered, and continued upstairs.

*****

Scully planted the bugs, trying not to think about it much.

She put one in the library, one in the dining room, and one in
Vincent's office. She thought about putting one in the bedroom, but
she didn't want to subject anyone-Mulder-to listening to them make
love.

She sent her daily report to Skinner by email, the safest method
they had found. He couldn't send her a reply, of course, but there
was no point in his replying anyway. If he had anything to tell her,
he'd tell her through Mulder. The reports were only to let them know
she was all right.

As an excuse to shower, she went swimming. Dorothy was sunning
herself and reading by the poolside, and almost smiled when Scully
came out and lay her towel and coverup on the deck chair. Scully had
to wonder if it showed, that she had been quite thoroughly loved that
afternoon-where there bruises on her thighs, a hickey on her neck?
She'd looked carefully but she might have missed something . . .

She dove into the water. If Dorothy saw anything, she probably
thought it was from Vincent. And it just felt good to swim, to do
something physical and not think for a while.

And it came to her suddenly, as she was swimming, how she would get
the key from Vincent.



6--Saturday

Vincent was so handsome in his tuxedo. The black pants, the crisp
white shirt with tiny pearl buttons, the silver-grey jacket and the
halves of the bow tie hanging around his neck. He caught Scully
watching him as he tried to tie the bow tie, and said, "What are you
smiling at?" smiling somewhat himself.

"Oh . . ." She ran her fingers lightly over his shoulder. "I just
love the sight of a man in a tux. Here, let me help you with that."

He lowered his hands from his tie and raised his chin so she could
tie it for him. "I wish your family could be here," he said. She'd
told him half the truth, that her brothers were at sea and that her
sister was dead. She'd said both her parents were dead too-she didn't
want her mother to be any part of this.

"We'll have them over on their next shore leave." She pulled the bow
tight and stepped back to check it was even. "There. All dressed up."

"Speaking of which, when are you getting dressed?"

Scully looked down at her bathrobe. She'd already done her hair and
makeup, leaving her bathrobe on so that her dress wouldn't get dirty.
"In a minute. Stevens said everything is ready downstairs."

"Wonderful. I hope we brought up enough champagne. Do you think
forty bottles is enough?"

"Forty? It sounds like we're going to be bathing in it."

"Well, if we need more there's plenty downstairs." He started to
lean towards her, then paused. "May I kiss you? I don't want to muss
anything."

"Kiss away. It's industrial strength lipstick." She smiled at him
and held his face between her hands to kiss him.

"I wondered how it was you never smeared." He kissed her again,
gently. "Hurry down, darling. I can't wait to see your new dress."

"I'll be right down." She watched him leave and close the bedroom
door, and she got her dress from the closet and put it on. It was
pale-blue silk, with a high Empress waist and delicate embroidery
around the low neckline. She hoped it didn't make her look dumpy, but
she loved the color. With her hair up and low-heeled shoes on her
feet, she felt like a character from a Regency romance.

But she hadn't gotten dressed in front of him because the key to the
wine cellar was hidden carefully in her bra, tucked between her
breasts. She had taken it off the ring while he was in his shower,
having already taken her own, and kept it hidden where, she hoped, he
would not be looking, at least for a while.

Getting it to Mulder was going to be interesting. That was assuming,
of course, that Mulder was coming tonight. If not, she'd just look
through the cellar herself.

She checked herself in the mirror-every hair in place, nothing
showing that shouldn't, and she actually didn't look dumpy-and went
downstairs to join Vincent.

*****

She had met many of Vincent's friends already, and even managed to
remember their names most of the time. Harder, though, was
remembering the names and faces of the people she had supposedly
worked with at the hospital-but they were instead O'Connell and
members of his staff, and there were just a few of them. She'd told
Vincent it was difficult for emergency room staff to get time off,
and he was not expecting many of her friends. O'Connell had told them
to get their stories simple, and they did just that, giving people
their names and how they knew the bride, and whatever else they
talked about was unrelated to hospitals, medicine, or Scully.

Scully wandered through the party, a glass of champagne in her hand,
stopping in on a few conversations and accepting compliments on the
party as graciously as she could. Everyone was drinking a lot of
champagne, and she had yet to get down to the wine cellar.

It was nearly one and Mulder still had not come.

This is silly, she thought, I can't wait on him all night. But she
had so wanted to see him again, hear his voice, touch his hand. Hold
him in her arms and kiss him until there was a smile in his sad
sleepy eyes.

Stop it. Missing him is pointless.

She drained her glass and put it on the tray of a passing waiter,
noticing with some dismay that all the other glasses on his tray were
empty as well. Enough waiting-it was time to do some snooping.

Scully started drifting towards the back of the house, towards the
kitchen. She could say she was checking on the food, making sure they
had enough hors d'oeuvres and cake, that the band had eaten and
gotten enough to drink . . .

"Scully."

God! Did he have to keep sneaking up on her like that? Did his voice
have to send shivers through her entire body, making her nipples
stand at attention and her toes curl?

"Mulder," she said softly, and smiled up at him. It had been years
since she'd seen him in a tuxedo, but he looked as marvelous now as
he had then. He smiled back, and she realized dimly that there were
other people in the room but she would have, at that moment, been
hard-pressed to prove it. "I was hoping you'd come."

His smile broadened and she knew there was an innuendo just waiting
to be spoken. But he only said, "Could I stay away from the wedding
reception of my best girl?"

A waiter passed by and Scully stopped him and took two glasses from
the tray. "Here. You missed the toasts."

Mulder took the glass, and she smiled when she felt him shiver at
her touch. "I'll always drink to you, Scully." He paused, the glass
at his lips, and said, "How many of those have you had tonight?"

"This is my third, why do you ask?"

"You just seem a little light on your feet tonight."

"It's the shoes." She lifted the hem of her dress to show him.

"Go easy, would you, Scully?"

"Relax, Mulder. I'm Irish, remember?"

He sighed and drank the champagne. She drank hers and put the glass
on one of the tables, then took his free hand. "We need to go down to
the wine cellar, Mulder. We may need more champagne and Vincent will
need the key."

"Lead the way." He put down his wineglass and followed her to the
kitchen and down the stairs to the wine cellar.

It was dark and cool, and Scully felt a giggle bubble up. Mulder
glanced at her. "What?"

"I feel like I'm in a Nancy Drew novel."

He smiled slightly and said, "If I see a mysterious shadow or hear
phantom barking, I'll let you know."

"Thank you. Here it is." They stopped in front of the wine cellar
door. "Hold on a second." She reached into her blouse to get the key.

"Ingenious, Scully. The one place your husband has no interest in."

"Hush." The key was still warm from her skin, and Mulder took it
from her fingers.

"Later on I get to hide this again." He unlocked the door and they
went into the wine cellar.

At first glance nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Row upon row of
bottles, organized by vintage and label. Mulder stepped up to one
shelf and took down a bottle. "I have to say, he does have good
taste. I looked up your friend Udy, by the way."

"Oh?"

"He died the night you went to Las Vegas. Car accident. There was
another passenger, a Theodore Highwood?"

"Tripp. Yeah."

"Tripp? His name is Tripp?"

"His name is Tripp. Go on."

"Highwood said in the accident report that Udy was driving, that he
was wild, swerving all over the road, and that Highwood finally
jumped out of the car before Udy crashed it into the center divider."

"When they left, Highwood said he was driving Paul home. He said
Paul had been drinking too much."

"See, that's where forensics doesn't match the story. Udy was thrown
from the car-to the right. Passenger side. Highwood may have jumped
out of the car, but my guess is from the driver's side."

"They killed him." She shook her head. "I don't even know why but
they killed him."

"You said it yourself-because of the wine. Something to do with the
wine." He had been walking up and down the rows, and now he stopped
and backed up. "Look at these labels."

"Moet & Chandon Brut. So?"

"So. Look at these." He pointed to the row below them.

She looked. More Moet. "I don't get it."

"See where it says 'reserve?' There's no such category with French
champagne."

"Do I want to know how you know this?"

Mulder shrugged. "I grew up in my father's house." He picked up a
bottle and scraped at the label with his fingernail, and it peeled
off easily. "Cheap."

"Homemade, it looks like. So if it's not champagne, what is it?"

"Only one way to find out." Mulder took his handkerchief out of his
pocket and wrestled the cork out of the bottle. The loud pop! Scully
expected didn't come, or even a muffled one. Mulder poured what was
in the bottle into his cupped hand, and got a palmful of fine white
powder. He put the bottle down and licked his finger, and tasted the
powder.

"Cocaine?" Scully whispered.

"Heroin, I think."

"Jesus, Mulder." She looked at the row of bottles. "There must be
millions of dollars' worth here."

"Mm-mm. Which makes me wonder, does he pay in heroin or get paid?"

"It's probably part of a long chain of merchandise." She watched
Mulder get an evidence bag out of his jacket and shake some of the
powder into it. "Drugs for guns for secrets, or vice versa."

"Molasses to rum to slaves. I'll take this to the lab and have it
analyzed. Look, Scully . . . "

"Don't start, Mulder."

"I have to. Leave me with tonight. You shouldn't be here, not with
this kind of shit going on. What if he is dealing, right out of this
house? You could get killed."

"I could get killed if he finds us here. Let's go upstairs."

He worked the cork back into the bottle and put it back on the
shelf, and dusted off his hands, a look of distaste on his face.
"This guy keeps getting better and better. It does explain something
the wiretap picked up yesterday."

"O'Connell said they weren't getting anything on the wiretap."

"Nothing we knew was useful, no. But yesterday in their meeting with
Escalante, Sutterfield asked for a bottle of Moet and told the butler
to make sure it was the reserve."

"I saw Escalante leave with a bottle of champagne yesterday."

"So now we know why he took it."

They had reached the front of the wine cellar, and Scully looked out
into the passage to see that they were alone. There were shadows on
the wall by the stairs, and voices. Vincent's voice.

"Dammit! He and Stevens are coming down. Quick, back into--"

"No, he'll discover he doesn't have the key." Mulder pushed her out
of the wine cellar and closed the door behind them. He turned her
against the wall and kissed her.

"He'll see us--"

"That's the idea." He kissed her again. Not an invasive kiss, a
tender one, gently teasing her lips open with the tip of his tongue.
Scully pressed her hands against his chest but didn't push--her hands
were shaking too much, she felt weak and hungry as if she'd been
starving and only now was allowed to eat.

She heard the approaching footsteps stop, and then Vincent said
softly, "Go back upstairs, Stevens. I'll be up presently."

"Right away, sir." The butler left.

Mulder ended the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers for a moment,
and Vincent went on in the same soft voice, "Mr. Mulder--it is
Mulder, isn't it--would you have the courtesy not to kiss my wife in
front of me."

Mulder stepped away, but kept his arm around Scully's shoulders.
Scully knew she was blushing furiously, and she couldn't look at
either of them. She wanted to hide her face in Mulder's chest until
she disappeared.

"Vincent, I--"

"Later, Dana. Please. Mr. Mulder. Get out of my house."

"This is a mistake, Dana," Mulder said softly, looking into her
eyes. "Leave with me. Now."

"Go home, Mulder."

The blank mask descended on his face, and he nodded once. "Right.
Goodbye, Dana." He turned and went up the stairs.

Vincent looked at Scully with more pain than she thought she could
bear. "Do you care to explain that?"

"I don't know why he came. I was trying to talk him into leaving
without causing a scene. He says he wants me back, that he's changed."

Vincent thought this over. "Do you believe him?"

"No, of course not. I told him I love you."

Vincent frowned, leaning against the corridor wall. "Is he a good
kisser?"

"Vincent, please--"

"You weren't fighting him, Dana."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "It was always more chemical than
anything else. He's very . . . charismatic."

Vincent sighed. "Our guests are starting to leave. Will you come up
with me to say goodbye?"

"Yes. I'll be right there."

He nodded, turned and went back upstairs.

Scully stayed down for a few more minutes, until she was sure she
was no longer blushing and that her heart had calmed down from
Mulder's touch. She tucked the key back in her bra and went back to
the party.

*****

The party over and the guests gone, Vincent went for a walk in the
garden. He could see the light on in their bedroom, and he could
faintly see the shadow of Dana moving back and forth. For the first
time he had no desire to join her.

Everyone had told him he hadn't known her long enough, that it was
asking for trouble to marry someone who was a virtual stranger. He'd
thought he knew her well enough that the length of time hardly
mattered. But now he was beginning to wonder if she wasn't a stranger
after all.

He went back into the house and walked slowly through the main
rooms, watching the servants clean up. He went into the bedroom and
watched Dana sleep. He went into his office and sat down at his desk,
and ran his hands restlessly over the finely polished wood.

I bring her into my life, I tell her the most important things I can
share, I give her everything she desires . . . "What have I done?" he
muttered. "What have I done?"

His fingers passed over a lump on the wood, and he paused. It wasn't
a peg cover. It came off when he pushed it, and fell into his palm.
He looked at it with wide eyes.

Bugged.

His house.

Bugged.

"Dana," he whispered hoarsely, and closed his fist around the tiny
piece of metal.

He put the bug in one of the cubbyholes in his desk, and got up from
his chair. He went to his sister's room and shook her shoulder.
"Dorothy, wake up."

"Vincent, what time is it?" She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What's
happened?"

"I've discovered something disturbing. I seem to have married a spy."

She was awake at once. "That bitch! I knew it! I knew it was too
simple! What did she do?"

"My office is bugged. Probably more rooms, too. Our meeting, our
marriage--it was all a setup, from beginning to end." He stood up,
rubbing his hands together, and started to pace. "If the others find
out, what am I going to do?"

"Calm down. Now is not the time to panic. If the others find out,
there isn't anything you can do, so it's a matter of making sure they
don't find out."

"They killed poor Udy over nothing--if this comes out--"

"Vincent!" She got out of bed and grabbed his arm. "Calm down. It
won't come out. I'll take care of it."

He sank down into an armchair, and nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes. I know.
God, Dorothy, I thought she loved me, I loved her, I would have given
her anything she asked for."

"That was your mistake, Vincent. And once again I'm left to clean it
up. Well, don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"I know you will. Thank you, Dorothy, thank you. But please, don't
make it too painful."

"I know what I'm doing. A situation like this calls for finesse."
She stroked his hair and kissed him gently. "Leave it in Sissy's
hands. All right? Now go to your bride, Vincent. Enjoy her while you
can. Remember who knows best."

"You know best." They kissed again and Vincent went to his bedroom.
He undressed quietly and got into bed beside Dana, but did not touch
her. Instead he lay awake until dawn.



7--The truth comes out

Vincent had come to bed after Scully went to sleep, and left before
she got up. That alone was not a good sign. But he smiled at her when
she came down to breakfast, and kissed her gently. "Did you sleep
well, darling?"

"I was lonely," Scully said.

"I had to do some soul-searching," he said quietly, and sipped his
coffee. "I made up my mind about last night."

"Oh?"

"I trust you and I love you," he said. "And if he ever sets foot in
this house again I'm getting my gun. All right?"

"I hardly think--"

"Metaphorically speaking, of course. I wouldn't shoot him. Not to
kill, anyway." He smiled without humor and Scully repressed the urge
to shiver.

"I understand," she said softly, and reached for the sugar bowl.

"I want you to stay in touch with your friends, of course. It's not
that. But since he seems to think he's in love with you, I hope
you're not too surprised by my . . . jealousy."

Scully sipped her coffee and grimaced. Too much sugar. Vincent was
watching her closely. Waiting for her answer, she supposed. "No," she
said quietly, "I'm not surprised."

"I mean, how would you feel if you saw me kissing another woman? A
woman with whom I had a history?"

"I'd be upset."

"Of course you would be."

She added more coffee to her cup and tasted it. Better.

"But," Vincent went on, "I also realize that you are young and
perhaps I rushed you into a relationship for which you're not ready."

"It's not that," Scully said. "It's like I said last night. My
relationship with Mulder was mainly hormonal. Maybe I'm not quite,"
she cleared her throat, "free of that yet."

He nodded. "I understand, Dana. I hope you understand, too, that I'm
not going to bring this up again. I consider the matter closed. If
you see him again, however, we may need to seriously re-examine our
own relationship."

"I see." She wondered why she sounded so cowed. Because she had done
the wrong to him, she supposed. If he knew the whole truth he
wouldn't be so understanding.

"I only want you to understand, Dana. My family does not take to
adultery kindly."

"I see." You can deal drugs and sell state secrets, but heaven
forbid anyone commit adultery. "It won't happen again. I won't be
seeing him anymore."

Vincent nodded, and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "Would you
like to come for a walk with me, dear?"

All right. She'd been forgiven. "Yes, I would," she said, and
finished her coffee quickly before putting her hand in his and
getting up from the table.

They were halfway down the back stairs and into the garden when
Scully felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She tightened her hand
on his and leaned against him, and he looked down on her with
concern. "Dana? Darling? What is it?"

"I feel strange-just a little dizzy-there, it's passed." She looked
up at him and smiled. He smiled back, the same strange humorless
smile he had given her earlier, and they continued their walk.

*****

It was like having a stubborn case of the flu. Her head felt heavy
and spun at the slightest provocation, her limbs ached continually,
it took tremendous effort to wake up in the morning and she fell into
bed at night at earlier and earlier hours.

"Maybe you're pregnant," Dorothy said, and Scully noticed that the
delighted smile she expected from Vincent was not forthcoming.

She went to meet Mulder one afternoon, after nearly a week of this,
at their familiar bench by the Jefferson Memorial. He was waiting for
her, and she could see the worry on his face from ten yards away.
"You don't look so good, Scully," he said, taking her hand.

"I don't feel so good, either. What's up?" She leaned her head on
her hand. It hurt too much to hold it upright.

"The stuff in the wine bottles was heroin. Grade-A stuff, too, not
cut with anything. O'Connell thinks that alone could get MacPherson
ten years."

"Hm. Have the wiretaps picked up anything else?"

"No. They talk about you a lot. That you haven't been yourself
lately. Look, Scully, if you have to drink just to get through the
day-"

"What are you talking about, Mulder?" She looked at him without
lifting her head.

"I thought-I mean-aren't you hungover?"

"No, Mulder. I'm not hungover." Why would he think that? But then,
the way her life was going, why wouldn't he? Just one more charming
addition to the mess she was living.

"Oh. Okay. I guess coming back to my place for a while is out of the
question."

"Definitely. I'll see you in a few days." She started to stand, but
lost her balance.

Mulder caught her and lowered her to the bench again. "Scully, this
isn't good. You should go to a hospital."

"Vincent is having Dr. Sutterfield watch over me, and he says I just
need to take it easy."

"Since when do you let anyone else tell you how you're doing?"

"Since it keeps my home peaceful, Mulder. Let me go."

"Wait a minute. I looked something else up, too, your sister-in-law
and her husband. It turns out Andrew Gill wasn't her first."

"So she's been married a few times. So?"

"So, her first and second husbands died under questionable
circumstances. She was never charged with anything, though."

"So what, Mulder? So she's had some bad luck. Look, I have to go.
The car is waiting for me."

He let go of her hand. "All I'm saying is be careful, okay?" he said
softly, and she could see the sorrow in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. That was the last thing she needed right
now, Fox Mulder and his guilt complex. She forced herself to her feet
and made her way back to the car, and sank gladly into the back seat.
"Wake me when we get back," she told the chauffeur, and slept all the
way home.

****

Mulder felt edgy, like a trapped animal. Skinner's silence wasn't
helping, either, and O'Connell hadn't offered anything helpful.
"Well?" Mulder said. "Is it just me or does this sound suspicious?
That she suddenly gets sick, that she suddenly can't leave the house,
that she suddenly has lost all interest in this assignment?"

"MacPherson has given no indication that he's discovered who she
really is," O'Connell said.

"If he's smart, he wouldn't."

"We can't find any discernable change in his activities or his
attitude towards Agent Scully. He's worried about her, of course, you
heard the tape yourself when he was discussing her with the doctor."

Mulder ran his hand over his face. He knew O'Connell was neither
blind nor stupid, but good God, did he have to be so dense?

"We know that we're dealing with ruthless people," he said quietly.
"They killed Udy, I'm certain of that. And I believe MacPherson's
sister killed or had killed all three of her husbands."

"As far as we can tell, she's not involved in their project,"
O'Connell said.

"I don't think it has anything to do with the project. I think it
was in Agent Scully's email from last Sunday, that the family doesn't
take to adultery well. Maybe her husbands cheated on her and she took
her own revenge. I think MacPherson is hiding Scully to keep her from
me, that he perceives me as a threat."

"Are you, Agent Mulder?" O'Connell asked cooly, and Mulder felt his
face flush.

"I don't think that's any of your business," he began.

"Agent Mulder!" Skinner said, and both agents looked at him,
waiting. "My first concern is Agent Scully's health and safety. I
didn't get a report from her last night," he added, and the look he
gave Mulder spoke volumes.

"I'll do what I can, sir," he said.

"Director Skinner, taking Agent Scully out now would seriously
compromise our investigation."

"Agent Scully is not expendable," Skinner said quietly. "Get her
out. Do what you must. Get her out."

Mulder nodded and stood. "I'm right on it," he said, and left the
office.

*****

"My dear," Dr. Sutterfield was saying, "I think the mountains would
help you more than any pill. A few weeks and you'll be bright-eyed
and rosy-cheeked again."

"Thank you, Doctor," Scully said. Vincent's friends did charm her
with her old-world graciousness, even if it was old-fashioned as well.

They were in the sitting room, drinking coffee, and Vincent had
thoughtfully laid a blanket over her lap. It was one of her better
days, and despite everything she was glad for the company, even
though she was having trouble following the conversation.

"Don't you think so, Vincent? A quiet vacation for the two of you?"

"Yes," Vincent said, "perhaps we ought to get you away for a while.
No interruptions. Would you like that, Dana?"

"Hm . . . I love the mountains."

"I know of a lovely resort in the Appalachians that should be just
the thing," Sutterfield said. He was walking around the sitting room,
and he paused in front of a framed photograph of Scully and Vincent.
He set down his coffee cup on the end table and picked up the
picture. "They should get you back to our sweet girl," he said,
smiling down at Scully.

Scully smiled at the compliment, and risked a look at Dorothy-who
was, however, paying her no attention, watching the doctor instead.

Mrs. Sutterfield said, "Do you mean that place we staying at in
1994, Jack? The service was wonderful, and the staff was so kind. And
the scenery, of course, was just breath-taking. What was it called,
Jack? I've forgotten."

"Goldenridge." He set down the picture. "I believe it was called
Goldenridge. I've got the address in my book at home."

Scully picked up her coffee cup from the end table. "Is it a spa?"

"Of sorts-it has mud baths, masseuses, dieticians, that sort of
thing."

"I loved the mud baths, it was the first time I'd taken one," Mrs.
Sutterfield said.

"I think I've been there," said Dorothy. "It's just the thing for
you, Dana."

"I'll call this afternoon and make the reservation for you," Dr.
Sutterfield said, picking up his coffee cup again.

Vincent's eyes grew wide and both he and Dorothy cried, "No, that's-"

"What?" he said, holding the coffee cup to his lips.

"That's-that's Dana's," Vincent said with a shaky laugh. "We'd hate
for you to come down with this as well."

"Oh, of course. Forgive me, Dana."

"Hm," Dana said, and took the cup with numb hands. She couldn't
believe how blind she'd been-suddenly it all made sense-Dorothy
getting her coffee in the morning and making sure she sat at a
certain place at the table-their careful watchfulness-their refusing
to send her to a hospital, wanting instead to take care of her at
home-I'm a doctor and I didn't see it-

The cup fell from her hands and she got to her feet. "I don't feel
well," she said in a shaking voice. "Vincent, I want you to call me
an ambulance."

"Oh, darling, you just need to lie down. Here, put your arm around
me. Don't they have a name for this, when doctors self-diagnose?"

"No," Dana whispered, even though the room was beginning to blur and
spin and she felt she would burst into tears if she had the strength.
"I want a hospital. I want a doctor. Vincent, you can't keep me here."

"Come up to bed, darling. I'll get some ice for your forehead."

"I want a hospital!" She took a step and her knees sagged.

"Careful-"

"She's going to faint."

"Should we call an ambulance?"

She felt herself being lifted into someone's arms. "No, I'm sure
that's not necessary," she dimly heard Vincent say. "She's just
overtired. She needs to rest."

"Oh, did we stay too long? Poor dear," Mrs. Sutterfield said.

"No," Scully whispered. "No." She felt Vincent lay her down in her
bed and his cool hand against her cheek. "Vincent-please-"

"Sh, darling, you're just frightened. It's nothing to worry about.
You're over-reacting. You're going to be fine. Sh. Just rest." He
stroked her cheek. "Just rest."

I'm dying, she thought. Oh, Mulder. I'm sorry.

*****

Mulder rang the bell impatiently. Scully had missed their meeting
earlier-she hadn't sent a report to Skinner in days-for all he knew
she could be in a Swiss sanitarium or a pine box-and he was tired of
waiting for news. Skinner had given him the go-ahead, and he intended
to take full advantage of it.

He rang the bell again, and the door open to reveal the cadaverous-
faced butler. "I'm here to see Scu-Mrs. MacPherson," Mulder said.

"I'm sorry, sir, Mrs. MacPherson isn't receiving visitors. She's
very ill. Good evening, sir."

"She'll see me." He shoved the door open as the butler tried to
close it and entered the house.

"Sir!" the butler protested.

"Where is her room?"

"Stevens, what's going on?" MacPherson came out of his study,
followed by Highwood and Sutterfield and other men whose names Mulder
didn't know. O'Connell would know-but he wasn't there.

"This gentleman forced his way in, sir."

"Mr. Mulder, I thought I told you, you aren't welcome here."

"Where is Dana? Where is she, dammit? What have you done with her?"

"Mr. Mulder, if you'll just calm down," one of the others was
saying, trying to take his arm, and Mulder shook him off.

"I'm not leaving until I see Dana."

"Damn you, get out of my house!" MacPherson roared, and Mulder found
himself being unceremoniously shoved out into the night, and the door
slammed shut behind him.

All right. This called for some Yankee ingenuity. Mulder walked
around to the back of the house and looked at the walls. Drainpipes,
ivy, oak trees. There was one tree whose branches reached very
closely to a balcony. It would have to do.

Pity he didn't wear climbing shoes-and this suit was probably going
to be ruined, too. Oh well.

He swung up onto the lowest branch and started to swarm up the tree.
If he got caught again he probably wouldn't be just thrown out of the
door. He should have called for backup.

Oh well.

The branch he'd been aiming for was close to the balcony, but not
hanging over it. He hung onto the branch over his head, closed his
eyes, and jumped.

He landed hard, with a soft "oof!" and waited for a reaction from
inside. Nothing. Okay. Now to get inside.

He jiggled the balcony door handle, and the door drifted open. He
stepped into the room and looked around in the darkness. Empty-no,
there was someone in the bed, a tiny, slight figure.

Scully.

Mulder went to the bed and knelt down. He touched her face and her
hands and her hair. "Scully. Scully, baby, wake up. C'mon, Scully."

Her eyes opened and slowly wandered to him. "Mulder?" she whispered.
"Mulder? Is that-are you really here?"

"I'm here, baby, I'm here. What's going on? They wouldn't let me see
you."

"I'm dying." She licked her dry lips. "They're poisoning me."

"Who is?"

"Vincent and Dorothy. Arsenic, I think."

"Okay, baby, okay. I'm getting you out of here." He kissed her
forehead and started to stand.

"Mulder, don't leave me."

"I'm getting you a coat and some shoes. I'll be right there." He
kissed her again and went to her closet, found her coat and a pair of
shoes, and went back to the bed. "Scully? Still with me?"

"Mm."

"Hold on, honey. I'm getting you out of here." He pulled back the
blankets. "Can you sit up?"

She tried, and fell back on her arms. "No. Too tired."

"Okay. I'll do it. Don't worry." He put the shoes on her feet and
sat her up carefully, and put her arms into the coat.

"They won't let me leave, Mulder."

"Yes, they will. They have no choice. Can you put your arm around my
neck?"

"I think so." Her arm went weakly around his neck, and he put one
arm under her legs and the other around her back. He lifted her up
from the bed-she'd lost a lot of weight, lifting her barely required
any effort.

"Okay. I've got you. I'm taking you home."

"Mulder."

"What, precious?"

"Thank you. Thank you for coming for me."

"Always, baby, always."

"Talk to me, Mulder. It keeps me awake."

"Everyone is so worried about you." He glanced out at the balcony.
There was no way he could get her down that tree. He'd just have to
brave it out the front door. "Skinner sent me to find out what's
going on."

"Nothing on the wiretaps?"

He smiled. Ever the professional. "Nothing. They're not saying jack
shit. But I knew there was something wrong with my Scully." He looked
out her bedroom door. Nobody. He started down the hall, towards the
stairs.

"What gave it away?" she said dryly, and for that he had to kiss her.

"I know. I know. I'm dense, I'm stupid, I can't see what's in front
of me. Forgive me?"

"Always."

He stopped where the corridor turned and peered around it. Still no
one. Maybe they'd gone back into MacPherson's office. He took a deep
breath and keep walking. "But I'm getting you home, love, and I'm
taking care of you. You're going to be just fine." He got no answer,
and he said, "Scully? Come on, honey, don't fade out on me now. Stay
with me." He got no answer, and he stopped and looked into her face.
So pale, so drawn, she looked like--

He knelt down on the floor and propped her up against the wall. He
shook her lightly, then not so lightly. "Scully! Come on! Stay with
me, Scully! You can't die on me now. Open those baby blues, come on,
come on--you can't leave me now, Scully, not now, not when we love
each other and we've got so much to do still--"

Her eyes fluttered open and she almost smiled. "You love me, Mulder?"

"Of course I love you."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

She smiled and her eyes closed for a moment. "Let's go home, Mulder.
I love you too. Keep saying it, it makes me feel stronger."

He smiled and got to his feet again. "I love you, Scully. I love you
forever. I know I should have told you a long time ago but I didn't
know how. Nothing's going to stop me from saying it now."

"You love me."

"I love you."

They reached the stairs, and Mulder could see the butler waiting at
the door, looking out the front windows. This was going to be
interesting. He straightened his shoulders and tightened his hold on
Scully.

He was halfway down the stairs when he heard the doors open and
MacPherson said, "What the hell is going on?"

"She's dying," Mulder said tersely. "I'm taking her to a hospital.
And you're going to have some explaining to do, buddy."

MacPherson's face paled, and he went to Mulder quickly. "Please," he
said in a low voice, "I can't let the others find out what she knows
or who she is."

"That's your problem. Tell your butler to let us go."

"Stevens, open the door for Mr. Mulder and Mrs. MacPherson, and tell
Jeffries to get the car."

"I brought my own," Mulder said.

"Vincent, what's going on?" someone said from the office upstairs.

"Is everything all right?"

"Mr. Mulder and I are taking Dana to the hospital. She's gotten
worse."

"Vincent." The sister. "Vincent, what's happening?"

"Don't worry, Dorothy, we're taking care of it."

They were outside now, nearly to the car.

"Open the car door."

Vincent hurried to obey, and Mulder set Scully into the seat. He
kissed her and put the seatbelt on her. Vincent started to reach for
the backseat handle, and Mulder stopped him.

"You're not coming," Mulder said to him, and Scully nodded wearily.

Vincent paled visibly and said, "But if I stay I'll have to explain
why-please, you can't leave me here-" He whispered hoarsely, "They'll
kill me!"

"Like I said," Mulder said coldly, "that's your problem."

"Vincent," one of the men called from the house, "would you come
inside please?"

"Mr. Mulder-I beg you-"

Mulder got into the car and started it, and Scully reached over and
put her hand on his leg. MacPherson pounded on her window, but Mulder
still drove away.

In the rearview mirror, he saw MacPherson slowly turn and walk back
into the house. He let out his breath slowly, and looked at Scully.

"I love you," he said again, and she smiled.

*****

When Scully opened her eyes, they fell on Mulder, asleep in a chair
beside her bed. She smiled and reached out to touch his arm.

He startled awake at her touch, and smiled when he saw her. "Hey,
you." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?"

He chuckled and took her hand in both of his, and kissed the back of
her hand. "You must be feeling better."

"I'm okay. How is Vincent?"

A shadow crossed his face and he said, "Don't worry about that now,
Scully. Concentrate on getting better."

"He's dead, isn't he."

"Yes."

She nodded, and sighed. "I can't say it's a surprise."

"I understand his sister is contesting the will. He left you
everything."

"She can have it."

Mulder raised his eyebrows. "It's a substantial amount, Scully."

"It's blood money, Mulder. I don't want it."

"Well, considering that she's in custody for attempted murder, I
don't think she's going to do anything about it soon."

Scully closed her eyes and turned her face away.

"Tired, honey?" he said softly.

"Very."

"Okay. Do you want me to go?"

"No. Stay."

"Okay. I'll stay." He held onto her hand, stroking it gently, until
she fell asleep.

End.