SPOILER WARNING: Little Green Men (very oblique; a virtual cookieto the first person who spots it); Small Potatoes; The End; FTF. I think that's it.
RATING: PG-13, mostly for language (the "f" word).
CONTENT WARNING: None
CLASSIFICATION: SRHA; UST, then MSR
SUMMARY: Mulder can't get Diana Fowley to leave him alone, soScully pitches in to help.
NOTE: *sigh* I hate it when the characters take over thestory. I was all set to do a short, comic hit piece on Diana Fowley,but she insisted on morphing into a human being instead. Hopefullythis will still entertain. I guess you can chalk this up to the sameimpulse that has made me try to humanize Bill Scully, jr.
UMMERS
by Brandon D. Ray (publius@avalon.net)
SUNDAY, 11:05 p.m.
Dana Scully sat on her sofa, her left knee drawn up so that she couldget at her toenails with the nail polish applicator. It was importantto have a steady hand, and one of the side benefits of her pathology trainingwas that she was able to apply the polish in smooth, even strokes. There; that foot was finished. She admired her handiwork for a moment,then let the foot return to the floor and drew up the other one.
Another weekend shot to hell,>> she thought as she rapidly butcarefully painted the toes on her right foot. She'd spent the lasttwo days right here at home, filling out expense reports and reviewingback issues of professional journals that she'd fallen behind in reading. And to cap it all off, I have the hectic excitement of doing mynails. Lovely.>>
Finished. She let her right foot drop back to the floor and leanedback into the sofa cushions and closed her eyes. She really oughtto get to bed; work would roll around far too early in the morning, andScully was not one who did well when she was short of sleep. Theproblem was that she wasn't really tired. Maybe a cup of decaf teawould help her get ready for bed.
Before she could act on that thought, there was a knock on the door. Scully started, and glanced reflexively at the clock. 11:15. There was only one person it could possibly be at that time of night. The knocking was repeated, and she heard a muffled voice calling, "Scully,it's me! Let me in!"
"You've got a key!" she called back. "Use it."
A few seconds later she heard the key in the lock. The door swungopen, and Fox Mulder stepped across the threshold. He shut the doorbehind him and leaned back against it, eyes closed, a strange mixture offear and relief on his face.
"Mulder?" Scully said, reflexively rising to her feet. "Mulder,what's wrong?"
Her partner didn't say anything, but opened his eyes and turned andset the deadbolt on her door. He then turned again and purposefullystrode past her to the window, where he cautiously nudged the drapes apartand peered out through the gap.
"Mulder!" Scully said again. "What are you doing? What'sgoing on?"
Mulder turned to face her. There was a look of wildness in hiseyes, and now she also noticed that his hair was even more disheveled thanusual. "You've got to protect me, Scully," he said. "You'vegot to save me."
This is sounding ridiculously melodramatic, even for Mulder,>>Scully thought. Aloud, she said, "Save you? Save you from what?"
"Not from what," he whispered, running his hand through his hair. "From whom."
"Mulder, if you don't stop talking like a Grade B horror movie and explainyourself, you're going to need someone to save you from ME." Shewalked over to stand in front of him, and crossed her arms across her chest. "Now cut the crap. Who, exactly, are you hiding from?"
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Diana."
Scully raised an eyebrow at him. "Special Agent Fowley?" She kept her tone carefully neutral. "Why are you hiding from HER?" And why did you come HERE to do it?>> a voice in her head added.
"She's after me, Scully," her partner replied, a note of desperationin his voice. "She wants me." He walked over to the sofa andsank down on it.
Scully followed him, but did not sit down. "Mulder, every womanyou have ever met wants you." Whups. A bit more truthin THAT statement than I intended.>> Fortunately, Mulder appearedto be in no condition to notice. Quickly, she went on, "Why shouldAgent Fowley be --"
"Because she KNOWS me," he said, cutting her off. "She knows meScully, better than anyone but you. That's why she's dangerous."
Now THERE'S an interesting set of assertions,>> Scully thought. I know him better than she does, but I'm safe and she's not.>> She wasn't sure how much she liked that. Scully had never been oneto be coy, or a tease -- but she didn't like to be taken for granted, either. Then it occurred to her that maybe it wasn't MULDER that Fowley wasdangerous to, but something else. Let's not go there, shallwe?>>
"She's stalking me, Scully," Mulder went on. "She's trying totrap me. Last week she popped into our office four separate times,and always when you were out for some reason. She always had someexcuse, but it was utterly transparent. And tonight," he drew ina breath, and Scully almost laughed out loud. The poor man was onthe verge of a panic attack! "Tonight I went out running, and whenI got back she was waiting for me. INSIDE my apartment."
This time Scully raised both eyebrows. "And how did she get INSIDEyour apartment, Agent Mulder?" she asked.
"She has a key," he replied guiltily. "I, uh, gave it to her,years ago. I had no idea she still had it."
"What did she want?"
"She said she came over so I could refresh her memory about one of theold cases she and I worked on." He looked at Scully soulfully, hiseyes begging for understanding. "But I ask you, Scully -- who woulddo a thing like that? Would YOU drop by a fellow agent's home atten o'clock on a Sunday evening just to talk BUSINESS?"
No, Mulder, *I* wouldn't,>> she thought, struggling to keepa straight face.
"I had no idea she still had her key," he repeated, shaking his head. "I asked her to give it back to me, but she said she might need it again,if she had to feed my fish or something. I told her it's YOUR jobnow to feed my fish, but she just laughed."
Scully felt a slight flush spreading on her cheeks, and turned awayfrom him and walked back to the window. "So to get back to the mainpoint," she said, "why are you here? And what do you expect ME todo?" Having regained her composure, she turned back to face him again,and smirked slightly. "Want me to scratch her eyes out?" Shemade a clawing motion in the air.
Mulder raised his eyebrows, and she could almost hear the wheels spinningin his head. Uh, oh,>> she thought. She wasn't surewhat was coming, but she didn't think she was going to like it.
"You know," he said slowly, "maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea." He stood up and walked over to stand in front of her. Placing hishands on her shoulders and looking deeply into her eyes, he said, "Scully...Dana. Will you be my steady?"
Her eyes widened, and in her mind, alarm bells were ringing. "WillI WHAT?" This isn't happening, and he did NOT mean what hejust said!>>
Mulder's eyes were twinkling. "I asked you if you'd be my steady,but if you don't like that word, we can find a different one. Girlfriend? Mistress? Main squeeze?"
"What are you talking about?" Scully was deeply confused. Her partner's chains of logic often veered wildly from what most peoplewould consider normal, but this was pretty weird, even for him, and shecouldn't for the life of her figure out how he'd gotten from Diana Fowleyto -- Oh. I get it.>> She shook her head. "No, Mulder. No fucking way." She broke away from him and wentover to the sofa and sat down; he followed and sat down next to her.
"Aw, c'mon, Scully," he pleaded. "You've got to. You oweme." He leaned closer. "Didn't I save you from Eddie Van Blundht?"
Her cheeks colored again. "Mulder, that was completely different. Van Blundht was a mutant --"
"So's Diana," he insisted, cutting her off. "You don't know herlike I do." He winced at his own phrasing. "Please, Scully. I'm begging you."
Scully knew she needed to think clearly, and that was not being madeeasier by having her partner leaning into her personal space, his warmbreath brushing against her cheek. She got up from the sofa and walkedback to the window, then turned to face him. Treat it likea case, Dana,>> she thought. Work it out logically.>> "Let's see if I've got this straight," she said. "You want me topretend that we are...involved. And your reason for this is...what? That you hope that Agent Fowley will decide you are spoken for and leaveyou alone?" He nodded. "Mulder, you're nuts! That's notreal life; that's the plot of a Doris Day movie! You can't possiblyexpect it to work."
"I've always been partial to THE GLASS BOTTOMED BOAT," Mulder commented,getting up off the sofa and moving towards her. "Scully --"
"What about our reputations in the Bureau?" she interrupted. "Canyou imagine the gossip?"
"People already gossip about us, Scully. You know that. We haven't got anything to lose in THAT regard." His face took onthe pathetic, yearning look that always drove her mad, and she felt herinsides start to melt. "Please, Scully," he repeated. "Pleasehelp me."
She stared at him for a long moment. Finally, she said, "Ummers."
Mulder looked confused. "Ummers?"
She nodded. "Ummers. Don't you ever read Miss Manners?"
"I have to admit that Miss Manners is not part of my usual --"
She waved him to silence. "Never mind. Someone wrote toMiss Manners once asking how she should introduce her lover. Theletter writer thought 'lover' was too explicit, 'boyfriend' too juvenile,and 'significant other' too trendy. One of Miss Manners' suggestionswas 'ummer', as in, 'I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Jones. And thisis Fox Mulder, my, um, er....' So we'll be ummers."
"Does that mean you'll do it?" he asked hopefully.
Scully sighed. "Yes, Mulder; I'll do it." She waved a fingerat him. "But not one minute longer than necessary; you hear?" But her heart wasn't in the last statement. She wondered if he knewthat.
# # #
MONDAY, 7:43 a.m.
Scully stepped across the threshold into their basement office and lookedaround. Empty. Good. For once she had beaten Mulder towork. She smiled wryly to herself. Of course, she'd had towalk out of her apartment while he was using her shower in order to doit, but at least it was a victory of sorts. .
After hanging up her coat, she placed her briefcase on her desk andsnapped it open. Inside was the usual collection of casefiles, half-finishedreports, and other miscellaneous bits of this and that. This morning,there was also a photograph of herself, as well as a paper bag holdinga picture frame she had picked up at Wal-Mart on the way to work.
Scully picked up the photograph and looked at it for a moment. It was a candid shot her mother had taken the previous summer, when thetwo of them had taken a picnic lunch to Assateague. It had been awonderful day, and mother and daughter had figuratively taken their hairdown and shared their memories of the past, as well as their hopes forthe future. Well, SOME of my hopes for the future,>> Scullythought as she looked at the picture.
At one point, the older woman had produced a camera and taken severalpictures of her daughter, saying that she didn't have any recent ones "toshow to prospective buyers". Scully had been embarrassed, but allowedthe pictures to be taken; much to her surprise, they had turned out prettywell, especially this one. It showed Scully standing at the water'sedge, gazing out to sea, her hair in slight disarray from the light breeze.
Scully liked the picture very much. It was very dreamy and romantic;much better than the stiff, posed portraits produced by commercial studios. She thought it looked like the sort of picture a man might put on his deskto remind him of his sweetheart, and so she'd brought it to work this morning.
Now she was having second thoughts. This WAS all a game, wasn'tit? A make-believe? A pretense, to make that damned bitch Fowley-- in the privacy of her thoughts she did not bother to conceal the disdainshe held for the woman -- leave her Mulder alone. MY Mulder? Now where the hell did THAT come from?>>
Scully shook her head. Her first instinct, the night before, hadbeen the correct one: This was a really bad idea. Unfortunately,she'd already promised Mulder that she'd do it, and Dana Scully was notone to break promises, especially to people she cared about. Sighing,she took the picture frame from its bag and slipped the photograph intoit, finally placing the entire assembly on the corner of Mulder's desk,angled to be easily visible from his chair, as well as to any visitor hemight have.
A few moments later her partner breezed into the office. He bustledaround for a few minutes, hanging up his coat, drawing a cup of coffeefrom the coffee maker in the corner, and finally settling down at his desk. Neither of them were much for small talk, especially first thing in themorning, and for a few minutes it was quiet, with only the creaking ofMulder's chair and the shuffling of papers to disturb the silence.
Scully knew the precise instant when he spotted the picture: Thepaper shuffling stopped, and she heard him draw in a short breath. Using all of her willpower, she resisted the urge to look up at him, butsimply sat there, pretending to be absorbed in a memorandum, waiting tosee what he would do. She was surprised to feel her own heart beatingfaster; that was ridiculous. She'd only brought the picture as partof this little melodrama they'd agreed to put on, after all. It didn'tactually matter what he thought of the picture.
Did it?
Mulder cleared his throat. "Uh, Scully?"
"Yes, Mulder?" she replied, not looking up from the memorandum she wasnot reading.
There was a moment of silence. Then: "Why is there a pictureof you on my desk?"
Now she did look up. Keeping her face expressionless, she said,"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right," she said. "Don't most men keep pictures of their...special friends --"
"Ummers," he interjected with a smile, and she flushed.
"--of their ummers on their desks?"
He shook his head, still smiling. "I wouldn't know. I'venever had an ummer before."
Jesus. How had this conversation gotten so far out of controlso quickly? She knew that she was blushing, and that knowledge simplymade it worse. Composure,>> she thought. Composure. I've got to keep my composure.>> It would help tremendously if Mulderweren't so obviously enjoying the situation.
"Look, Mulder," she said, trying not to let the confusion she was feelingenter her voice. "If you don't want the picture on your desk, youdon't have to have it there. I'll just take it home." And shereached out to pick it up.
He was quicker, and moved it out of her reach, setting it down on hisdesk again. "Uh uh," he said. "You're right; it is appropriate. Thank you." He studied the picture for a moment, then added, "I likethis picture, Scully. You look very...soft in it. Wistful. I don't get to see that side of you very often."
Trying very hard to control her breathing, she nodded. "I wasfeeling wistful," she admitted.
"What were you thinking about?"
Dammit, Mulder, even if YOU don't have any boundaries, don'tyou think other people do? You'd think a trained psychologist wouldknow better!>> "I -- I don't remember," she lied, and she lookeddown at the memorandum on her desk again, hoping that he would take thehint and drop the subject. She knew just exactly what she'd beenthinking about when that picture was taken, and she had no intention whatsoeverof sharing THAT with him. Not now. Probably not ever.
He didn't say anything further, and after a moment she heard the paperrustling resume.
The rest of the morning passed quietly.
# # #
1:05 p.m.
Scully stepped off the elevator into the basement corridor and walkedrapidly down the hallway toward their office, the bag holding Mulder'slunch swinging easily at her side. As she approached the open doorwayshe heard voices, and slowed to a halt to listen. Mulder. AndFowley.
"Really, Diana," Mulder was saying. "I don't have any idea. That was a long time ago."
"Only six years, Fox." The woman's voice sounded low and....slinkywas the adjective Scully settled on. Like a snake. "That'snot THAT long." She laughed softly, and Scully wanted to strangleher. "Whatever happened to that eidetic memory of yours?"
"I guess there's a limit to the number of bytes even *I* can absorb,"he replied.
"That didn't used to be a problem for you, Fox."
"Times have changed, Diana," Mulder replied. Scully wondered ifFowley still knew Mulder well enough to detect the agitation in his voice. "A lot of things have changed."
"So they have," Fowley replied. There was a moment's silence. "But they could change again."
"Put that down, Diana!" Scully jumped at the sudden sharpnessin Mulder's voice. A brief pause. "I said put it down!"
"All right, Fox." Scully gritted her teeth at the indulgent "motherknows best" tone in Fowley's voice. What the hell were they talkingabout? "There. It's right back where it belongs. Evenif it wasn't there on Friday."
The picture. It had to be the picture.
Scully suddenly realized she'd been standing outside the office listening-- eavesdropping -- for far too long. For some reason she felt likea trespasser, which made absolutely no sense at all. It was, afterall, her office as much as it was Mulder's, and she had a perfect rightto be there. And besides, this was exactly the problem Mulder hadenlisted her to help him with. Taking a deep breath and putting acheerful smile on her face, she stepped across the threshold.
"Hi, Mulder!" she said brightly. "I'm back."
Mulder was sitting at his desk, facing the doorway, and looking acutelyuncomfortable. The reason was obvious: Diana Fowley was perchedon the corner of his desk and leaning forward into his personal space.
Mulder looked so pathetically grateful as he registered Scully's presencethat she almost laughed out loud. Struggling to keep a straight face,she walked around the desk and stepped directly between Fowley and Mulder. Placing the bag of food on the desk in front of her partner, and screwingup all her courage, she bent over and kissed him lightly on the brow. "Here's your lunch."
Scully could feel Fowley's gaze burning into the back of her head. Good. Meanwhile, Mulder's eyes were glinting with a mixture of shockand appreciation. Also good. Of course, he hadn't looked inthe bag yet to see what she'd brought him for lunch. After the fiascoover the photograph this morning, Scully was determined to play this rolefor all she was worth, for as long as it lasted -- and hopefully have alittle fun along the way. Mulder's lunch was the first step in thatplan.
Mulder was rooting around in the bag, no doubt looking for the dagwoodshe normally would have gotten for him. But not today; that wasn'tan ummerly sort of thing to do. She waited in silence while he tookeach item out of the bag; then, as he raised his eyes to her in puzzlement,she said, "I got you your favorite, Mulder -- pasta salad."
"Why...how thoughtful," he replied, staring at her. "You knowhow much I love that pasta salad." He popped the lid off of the plasticcontainer and eyed its contents as if it were a nest of snakes. "Whatdid you get to drink? Some root beer, maybe?"
"Sorry, Mulder, they were all out." She waited a few seconds whilehe picked up the drink container and examined it. As he was aboutto cautiously pop the lid off of the drink, she added, "So I got iced teainstead."
Mulder froze, and his eyes got big and round. Scully was rapidlycoming to understand why he had appeared to enjoy the conversation abouther photograph so much. The control freak inside of her was eatingthis up; she almost thought that if she peered deeply enough into his eyesshe would be able to see all the little furry animals frantically racingabout, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
Time to settle Agent Fowley's hash. Scully swung around, acknowledgingthe other woman's presence for the first time. With a sweet smileon her face, she said, "Agent Fowley, I believe you're in my spot."
Fowley stared at her for a moment, then smiled slightly, and said, "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you." She slid off the deskand looked over Scully's shoulder. "I'll talk to you later, Fox." Her eyes shifted back to Scully. "Take care, Dana." And sheturned and walked out of the room.
Scully stood looking at the empty doorway for a minute, trying to figureout who had won that round. She thought things had gone fairly well,up to the point where Scully had asked Fowley to move, but the direct challengehad somehow seemed to give Fowley strength. Let's call ita draw,>> Scully decided.
She heard Mulder clearing his throat, and she turned to face him.
"Scully." He paused.
"Yes, Mulder?"
She could almost hear the wheels spinning in her partner's head; finally,he apparently settled on the least threatening of the possible topics ofconversation.
"Scully, why am I eating pasta salad for lunch?"
"You haven't actually eaten any of it yet," she pointed out.
He nodded, and looked down at the salad. Picking up a plasticfork, he scooped up some salad and put it into his mouth and started chewing. Scully found herself mesmerized by the process, and watched in fascinationas he finally swallowed the mouthful of food. There was just a littlebit of sauce clinging to his lower lip. All she would have to dowould be to bend forward....Scully jumped as his tongue flicked out andlicked off the bit of sauce.
Mulder cleared his throat again, and repeated, "Scully, why am I eatingpasta salad for lunch?"
"Well, Mulder," she said seriously, "you have to understand that asyour ummer it is my responsibility to see that you get nutritious meals."
"I see." He scooped up another forkful of the pasta salad andate it, then said, "You know, this isn't actually that bad. Thankyou."
"You're welcome." After a moment, she went on. "Also, itoccurred to me that Agent Fowley is probably well aware of your eatinghabits." He nodded slowly. "But now your favorite food is pastasalad instead of cheese steaks, and she DOESN'T know about that. It reinforces the underlying point: Things have changed, and youare no longer the man she once knew."
"I see." He nodded again. "That makes sense." He tookanother bite, then said, "Does that mean no more cheese steaks?"
She nodded. "No more cheese steaks. Not as long as *I'm*your ummer. You want cheese steaks, talk to Agent Fowley about it."
He nodded. "That's what I figured. I can live with that." Another bite of salad, and he actually smiled a little. "I don'tthink Diana would make a very good ummer."
# # #
Wednesday, 10:38 a.m.
Scully shifted uncomfortably in her chair and tried to concentrate onthe casefile in front of her. She had court testimony coming up nextweek, and she really needed to refresh her memory before she was put onthe stand. Unfortunately, her mind didn't seem to want to cooperate,and her thoughts kept wandering all over the lot.
And it was all Mulder's fault.
She sighed, put down the folder, and took off her glasses and rubbedher eyes for a moment. When she had agreed to help her partner fendoff Special Agent Fowley, she hadn't realized quite how much of a fulltime job it was going to turn out to be. Three times in the lasttwo days she had broken up some ploy or other hatched by Mulder's old flame. Couldn't the woman take "no" for an answer?
You're a fine one to talk, Dana.>>
That was another thing. The whole process of pretending that sheand Mulder were involved was becoming increasingly taxing on Scully's ownreserve and self-control. The wall of propriety and discretion whichshe had spent five years putting into place had been deliberately breached,and she was finding it more and more difficult to tell where the game theywere playing left off and reality began. On more than one occasionshe had caught herself casting him unpremeditated looks of affection, evenlonging, or dreaming up an excuse to walk over to his side of the office,just to be a little bit closer to him. And this morning she had spentan unprecedented 25 minutes going through her closet, trying to decidejust which suit she was going to wear for him today.
For him.
Still another thing she hadn't figured on when she agreed to this wasthat Mulder had essentially moved into her apartment, and had been sleepingon her sofa for the last three nights. Of course, this was not thefirst time he had stayed over at her place -- from time to time in thepast, when they had been up late doing paperwork, or even just watchinga movie, she had invited him to crash on her sofa rather than try to drivehome in the middle of the night. But never for more than one night,and never when she had been feeling so open and vulnerable to him.
For her own peace of mind, Scully knew that she should call it off. She should look Mulder in the eye, and tell him what a really bad ideathis had turned out to be. She should point out to him that it wasunprofessional and immature, and that on top of all that it clearly wasn'tworking. She should remind him that all he really had to do to keepFowley out of his apartment was to throw the deadbolt when he got homeat night. She knew she should say those things, and she knew sheshould do it soon -- now -- before their friendship and partnership wasirrevocably damaged.
The only problem was that she didn't WANT to call it off.
She sighed again, and opened her eyes and looked over at her partner. Mulder was sitting at his desk, bent over some paperwork of his own. His brow was furrowed in evident concentration, and he seemed to be completelyoblivious to everything in the room other than the paper he was perusing-- including the emotional turmoil which was currently enveloping his partner.
How can he not have noticed?>> she wondered. She feltas if everything she did, everything she said, must surely be telegraphingher true feelings to him. The little looks; the soft sighs; the seeminglyincidental body contact when they walked down the hall together, or saton her sofa watching television in the evening.
The answer, presumably, was that he HAD noticed, and had simply writtenit off as part of the game they were playing. Which was a perfectlyreasonable assumption, but happened to be dead wrong. Or, worse,he had noticed, and did not reciprocate her feelings, but couldn't bringhimself to tell her that to her face. It was not lost on Scully thatMulder was taking such a circumlocutious means of showing Fowley the door. He just wasn't very good at dealing with personal issues.
And you are, Dana?>>
She had to tell him. She had to end it. This was ridiculous.
She looked over at him again and cleared her throat. "Mulder,"she said.
He looked up from his paperwork, question marks in his eyes.
Oh, god...those eyes. They were hazel this morning, with flecksof gold and green floating in them. His pupils were dilated, presumablydue to the low light level they maintained in their office. She feltherself sinking into his eyes, losing herself in them, drowning in them....
"Scully?"
She shook her head sharply. Damn the man!>> Shedidn't know if she was angry because she had been captured by his eyes,or because his voice had pulled her back out again. She felt herselfstart to blush slightly, and looked away.
"Scully? Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine, Mulder," she replied automatically. "I just...haveto go to the bathroom." And she got up from her desk and fled fromthe room.
# # #
10:52 a.m.
Scully stood in one of the stalls in the women's restroom, trying toregain her composure. A wadded up Kleenex was clutched in one hand;from time to time she used it to dab at the tears which insisted on leakingout.
This is absurd,>> she thought. How did I everget myself into this? More to the point, how do I get myself out?>>
There was really only one way: She had to take the Mulder by thehorns and tell him....tell him what? Tell him that she didn't wantto do this anymore, because it was making her crazy? She damned wellknew he wouldn't let it go at that. No, he'd insist on knowing allthe details, and she wouldn't be able to resist giving them to him; shewas never able to resist him when he focused all of his relentless andsingleminded attention on her. No, if she opened this can of worms,he was going to poke and prod and chivy her until she came completely clean,and had no secrets left.
And then it would all be over.
The certain knowledge hovered over her like a crushing weight, readyto descend on her at any moment. She knew -- she was positive --that if Mulder felt about her the way she felt about him, he would havetold her about it long since. HE wouldn't flinch, no matter how difficultthe task; HE wasn't afraid of the truth. The truth was his religion.
She dabbed at her eyes again. Damn; she was going to have to spendsome time repairing her mascara before she dared return to the office. One look at her in her current condition would tell Mulder that she hadbeen crying, and that just as surely would lead to him asking dangerousquestions and her giving all the wrong answers. Even if they weretruthful answers, they were still the wrong ones.
Scully heard the restroom door swing open, and then the clicking ofhigh heels on the tile floor. And a voice. A familiar voice.
"--just don't understand it, Eileen," Diana Fowley was saying. "Eileen", Scully surmised, must be Eileen Ramirez, one of the team leadersin the VCU. "I thought...I don't know what I thought." Thetwo women stopped walking, and Scully heard the sound of running water. Then Fowley continued, "I guess I thought that if I came back everythingwould be the same as it was before. I was such a fool."
"You're not a fool," Ramirez replied. "You'd just been away fora long time. You didn't realize how much things had changed."
"I wish I could understand what he sees in her!" Fowley exclaimed, andScully was startled to hear what sounded suspiciously like a tremor inthe woman's voice. "I just don't get it."
"A lot of people have asked that question," Ramirez said quietly. "I've never heard a really good answer to it."
"I suppose I should be happy for him," Fowley said, her voice very low. "I know that's the right thing to do. I knew it the first momentI laid eyes on...on THEM, last spring." Scully heard a snifflingnoise. "But I can't Eileen; I just can't. It hurts too much. I'm such a fool. Such a fool." There was a muffled sob.
"Come on, Diana; don't be so hard on yourself. You didn't know--"
"Yeah, yeah, I didn't know," the other woman said, bitterness in hervoice. "But I should have known. I should have."
Scully was feeling more acutely embarrassed with each passing moment. Unlike the incident in the X-Files office on Monday afternoon, this wasa clear and unambiguous invasion of privacy. It wasn't Scully's fault;it had just happened. But that didn't make it any less of a violation. Desperately, Scully wondered just when exactly her life had started toresemble the plot of a "B" movie.
Fortunately, the conversation then turned to other topics, and a coupleof minutes later the other two women left. Scully sagged thankfullyagainst the side of the stall and closed her eyes.
# # #
8:59 p.m.
Scully lay on her sofa, hands clasped behind her head, staring at theceiling. Wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now.
After the incident in the bathroom, she'd stopped back in their officejust long enough to tell Mulder she wasn't feeling well and needed to gohome. He'd seemed to accept it -- he hadn't even called during theafternoon to check up on her, which she'd half expected him to do. Finally, around five o'clock, he'd called to let her know he was goingout with the Gunmen for the evening, which suited her just fine. She needed time to think.
Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be getting much of anywhere. In her mind she kept playing over the conversation she'd overheardbetween Fowley and Ramirez. Scully had pretty much discounted thethings Ramirez had said. As Mulder had reminded her on Sunday evening,there was always plenty of gossip about the two agents assigned to theX-Files unit, and Ramirez was one of the leading promulgators of such rumors.
Fowley was different, though. What was it Mulder had said? "She knows me Scully, better than anyone but you. That's why she'sdangerous." If he was right -- and Scully had no reason to doubthim -- then Fowley's words had to be taken more seriously. Whichmeant that Scully couldn't just assume that Mulder was as uninterestedin her as he appeared to be. Fowley thought that Mulder was in lovewith Scully -- that much was pretty clear from the conversation she hadoverheard. On the other hand, this was just exactly what Scully WANTEDto think, and she therefore had to be wary of it, at the very least. And Scully herself was the world's leading expert on Special Agent FoxMulder, and SHE had certainly seen no signs of such an attraction.
Of course, it was hard for her to be objective in the matter...but itwas probably just as hard for Fowley to be objective.
She shook her head angrily; this way lay madness.
Fowley herself was yet another problem. In the course of thosefew minutes of eavesdropping this morning, Scully had found her image ofthe woman being rapidly unraveled. Instead of a wanton, cold-bloodedseductress, Diana Fowley had unwittingly revealed herself to be a humanbeing, complete with her own unique set of wants, needs and insecurities. All of which was making Scully feel pretty bad about some of the thingsshe'd said and done, especially in the last few days.
She wished Mulder would come home, so she could cut off his ears andfeed them to him. This whole ridiculous situation was really hisfault, anyway. It had been his idea in the first place, and it hadbeen his inability to deal with Fowley on an adult level which had madeit necessary. She didn't really understand how he'd managed to talkher into it.
Oh, come on, Dana -- when was the last time you were able torefuse Mulder something he really wanted?>>
Scully sighed again, and smiled sadly. One thing was for sure: The game was over. Finished. Kaput. There was no possibleway she could continue with it. Not after the things she'd overheardFowley telling Ramirez. She could only hope that she and Mulder wouldbe able to salvage their friendship and their partnership when she finallybroke the news to him.
She was startled out of her reverie by someone pounding on her door. She sat up and looked at her watch. What the hell? Maybeit's just a drunk at the wrong door.>>
The pounding continued, and then she heard a woman's voice. "Dana! Dana! Lemme in!"
Scully's scalp prickled. It sounded like -- but it couldn't be. Why would SHE be here? She crossed the room and pulled open the door.
"Agent Fowley," she said faintly.
The other woman blinked owlishly at her, and swayed slightly. She seemed to be having trouble focusing her eyes. After a momentof silence, she said, "Oh. Dana. You're here."
"You've been drinking," Scully observed.
"Bravo!" Fowley patted her hands together in mock applause. "Brilliant diagnosis, Dr. Dana." She pushed her way past Scully andinto the apartment. "Why don't you come in, Diana," she muttered. "Thank you. Don't mind if I do." She stood for a moment inthe center of the living room, looking around. Then: "You havea nice place, Dr. Dana."
"Thank you."
The other woman's gaze fell on the sofa, and she scowled and walkedover to it and kicked one of its legs. "Is this where he sleeps?"
"When he stays here," Scully said coolly.
"Which has been pretty frequent lately, hasn't it? In fact, hehasn't been home all week." Fowley walked back over to stand in frontof Scully, and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. "Knowhow I know? Because I'VE been staying at HIS place." She giggled. "At the Fox den." She giggled again, and then went through an obviousstruggle to squelch herself. "I fed his fish. If it wasn'tfor me, th' little buggers'd be dead by now."
"I'm sure he appreciates that," Scully said.
Fowley shook her head. "Nope. Nope. Nope. Hedoesn't want me to feed his fish." She jabbed her finger into Scully'ssternum. "He wants YOU to feed his fish. He tol' me so." She leaned even closer, and Scully could smell the alcohol wafting overher, almost like a physical assault. "But I fed 'em anyway. Hope you don' mind. Little buggers'd be dead by now if I hadn't."
The two women locked eyes for a moment; then Fowley turned abruptlyaway and stalked into the kitchen. Scully finally closed and lockedthe front door, then went after her.
Fowley was methodically if somewhat sloppily going through all of Scully'skitchen cabinets. Rooting around, obviously looking for something. As Scully walked up behind her, Fowley said over her shoulder, "Where d'youkeep your liquor?"
"Don't you think you've had enough, Agent Fowley?"
Fowley swung about and glared at her. "Don't call me that!"
Scully blinked. "Don't call you what?"
"'Agent Fowley,'" the other woman replied, mimicking Scully's tone. "Don't call me that. You always sound like you're talking about somekind of lizard, or a spider, or something."
Scully thought about that for a moment, then said, "What should I callyou?"
"How 'bout 'Diana'? It's my name, after all."
"Okay...Diana."
The other woman turned back to the cabinets and continued her search. "Dammit, Dr. Dana, whereinthehell's the liquor?" She looked backover her shoulder at Scully. "Or....you're not a teetotaler on topof everything else, are you? That would be just too fucking perfect."
With a sigh of resignation, Scully walked down to the other end of thecounter, opened a cabinet Diana hadn't gotten to yet, and pulled down thebottle of brandy she kept stashed there. It was about three quartersfull, and gurgled slightly as she turned and handed it to Diana.
"Ooh, an import," Diana said. "You've got 'spensive tastes, Dr.Dana." And she turned and led the way back into the living room andflopped down on the sofa.
"I still think you've had enough to drink, Diana," Scully said, movingto stand in front of the sofa.
Diana rubbed her nose, then shook her head. "Nope. I canstill feel the tip of my nose. You're not really blitzed until thetip of your nose gets numb." She patted the sofa next to her. "Siddown, Dr. Dana; less chat. But first you need a drink of this." She held out the bottle.
"I don't want a drink," Scully replied, reluctantly sitting down nextto the other woman.
"Oh, yes you do," Diana said, forcing the bottle into Scully's hand. "And you're going to have it, too. Now drink up; you'll thank mein the morning."
"Diana, I really don't want --"
"This is not about what you want, Dr. Dana," Diana interrupted. "This's not 'bout you at all." She hiccupped. "'Scuse me. This's about Foxy boy. But before I bare my soul for you, you arefucking well going to have some anesthetic." The woman stopped andseemed to consider something. "Tell you what -- I'll sweeten thepot a little. You take a drink -- a good,healthy slug -- and I willanswer any one question of your choosing."
"Diana, you don't have to --"
"Yes I do!" she insisted. "Yes I do! An' I am going to doit, and if you don' take a drink NOW, I'm going to do it anyway, and it'sgoing to be hell for both of us. Now drink up."
How did I get into this?>> Scully wondered. She seemedto be asking that question of herself a lot this week. With a shrugof resignation, she lifted the bottle to her lips, took a swallow, andthen leaned forward to put the bottle down on the coffee table. Theliquor trickling down her throat gave her a warm, tingly feeling. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"That's not TOO bad," Diana said judiciously. "Not really whatI'd call a slug, but it's a start. So go ahead: Ask your question."
"You were serious?"
"I was serious. One question. Any topic." She giggled. "If you want, you can ask me why I used to call him 'swizzle stick'. But I bet you can think of a better question than that."
Scully thought about it for a moment. There were so many thingsshe wanted to know. She didn't want to be intrusive -- anymore thanshe already had been. But Diana was inviting it. On the otherhand, Diana was clearly four sheets to the wind; she wasn't responsible,and it was wrong to take advantage of that.
"Why did you and Mulder break up?" she suddenly blurted out.
Diana clapped her hands in approval. "Oh, well done, Dr. Dana! You hit the target on your first try. You want to know why I brokeup with Fox Mulder?" She grabbed the bottle off the coffee tableand took a short swig. "A little liquid courage," she muttered. Then she leaned in close to Scully, and said, "I broke up with Fox Mulderbecause I am the stupidest woman on the face of the planet."
Scully sat waiting for a moment, but Diana didn't seem inclined to elaborate. Finally, Scully said, "That's not much of an answer."
"Not, but it was one hell of a question." Diana leaned back intothe sofa cushions and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she openedthem and looked back at Scully. "Okay, here's the real answer," shesaid. "I left Fox because I thought he'd follow me."
Another silence. Then Scully said, "That's not much better thanyour first answer."
Diana stared at her for a moment, then said, "Take another drink."
"But --"
"I answered your question, Dr. Dana; if you want the all the messy details,you have to take another drink."
Scully hesitated just an instant, then took the bottle from Diana anddrank from it again. She didn't normally drink very much; maybe aglass of wine if she and Mulder went out someplace for dinner. Alreadyshe was starting to feel a little bit tipsy.
"That's better," Diana said, and sighed. "Okay, here's what happened. Fox and I met at the Academy, and became close. We continued to beclose after we graduated, and when he discovered the X-Files he somehowmanaged to rig it so that I was assigned to work with him." She closedher eyes for a moment and smiled. "Those were the good times."
Scully nodded. "Go on."
"After awhile, though, I started to realize that things weren't goingas well as they'd seemed at first. Oh, we were solving cases -- someof them, anyway." Tears started to leak out from beneath her eyelids. "But the more we worked on the X-Files, the clearer it became that I wasmore of a hindrance than a help."
She opened her eyes and looked around. "Where's that fucking bottle?" Wordlessly, Scully handed it over. "Thanks." Diana took a deepdraught, then lowered it to her lap and looked over at Scully. "Y'see,"she said, "I don't have your skeptical mind, Dr. Dana. I'm more likeFox: I want to believe. I thought that through acceptance Icould help him find the truth that he was searching for. I was wrong." She shook her head and smiled bitterly. "Do you know why?"
Scully shook her head.
"Oh, come ON, Dr. Dana! You can't be THAT stupid. Now lookme in the eye. Look at me!" Diana waited until Scully had reluctantlycomplied. She was feeling decidedly woozy, but somehow she was havingno trouble at all focusing her thoughts. Quite the contrary; hermind seemed to be exceptionally clear tonight. The physician partof her knew that this was an illusion created by the alcohol, but thatknowledge was way down deep, and barely impinged on her consciousness.
"What is the one thing that you give to Fox that I don't?" Diana wenton. "The one thing that I CAN'T give him?" Scully didn't sayanything. "Okay, fine; play dumb. I'll tell you anyway. The one thing I couldn't give Foxy-woxy, the one thing he needed aboveall else, was a challenge." Her voice took on a sneering tone. "I was too easy, too compliant. I accepted everything he said andbelieved at face value. I was his sidekick, not his partner."
Diana took another hit from the bottle, then continued. "And sowe started drifting apart. Day by day, I could feel him drawing awayfrom me, losing interest. At the time, I didn't know what was wrong,I didn't have a fucking clue, I didn't know how to fix it. So I justhung on for dear life, which of course just made matters worse, and prayedthat somehow things would get better again, and we could go back to theway we had been."
She held out the bottle to Scully. "Take another drink. We're about to do the really intimate part." Without argument, Scullytook the bottle and drank from it, then handed it back.
"Then came the explosion," Diana said. "I don't even rememberwhat it was about -- some damned mutant, or a UFO sighting, or Bigfootor something."
Scully smiled and nodded, trying to establish a connection with thewoman. "I know what those are like."
Diana glared at her. "No you don't. You don't have the slightestfucking idea, Dr. Dana. When you fight with Fox, you fight aboutfacts and evidence. Don't try to deny it; I've seen you. When*I* fought with Fox, it was about trust." Again tears welled up inher eyes. "He didn't trust me. He COULDN'T trust me, becauseI didn't give him the challenge he needed." She buried her face inher hands and sobbed.
Scully sat watching her for a moment, acutely embarrassed, not knowingwhat to do. Hesitantly, she reached out and laid a hand on the otherwoman's shoulder, but Diana knocked it away. She looked up at Scully,a look of pure hatred on her face. "Don't touch me!" she snarled. "Don't you dare touch me! I don't need your pity. That's notwhy I'm here."
"Why ARE you here?" Scully asked softly.
Diana stared at her for a long minute, then gave a "what the hell" sortof shrug. "I'm here because he needs someone, and it can't be me." She took another swig from the bottle and passed it over; Scully followedsuit.
"Let's see...where was I?" Diana stopped and rubbed her nose. "Ah. I do believe I am drunk," she announced.
"The fight," Scully prompted.
"Ah, yes, the fight," Diana said. "It was a hell of a fight. Screaming, yelling, broken crock'ry...the whole nine yards." Herlips quirked. "Foxy-woxy and I never did anything by half measures.
"Anyway, there was the fight. He said a bunch of stuff at me;I said a bunch of stuff at him. It ended when I stormed out of hisapartment in tears, expecting him to come after me. That was my bigmistake."
"He didn't come after you?"
"Nope." The other woman shook her head. "I hung aroun' inthe parking lot for maybe an hour. No Fox. Finally, I got inmy car and drove away.
"At first I just drove around, nowhere in partic'lar. EventuallyI wound up at Headquarters, and I went inside and went down to his office." She hiccupped, and made a face. "It was always HIS office, you see. Never OUR office."
Scully nodded. "I know how THAT is."
Diana shook her head again. "Would you PLEASE stop trying to 'relate'to me?" she said querulously. "You really don't get it. Hegot you a desk, and he got you a nameplate. I'm sure you had to puthim through the wringer to get him to do it, but he did do it. Henever did that for me."
Scully nodded. She was feeling pretty buzzed from all the drinking,but she thought she was starting to get an inkling of what Diana was drivingat.
Diana drew in a deep breath, then expelled it. "So I went downto Headquarters and went downstairs to his office. And waited. It was almost 10:30 at night when I got there; I was sure he would comeafter me, if I just gave him enough time."
Her face was no completely expressionless, and her tone of voice matchedit. "So I waited for him. I waited. Nine. Fucking. Hours. Finally, I realized he wasn't coming. I went and checkedinto a motel, and called in sick for the day. I lay there on thatratty, lumpy bed all day, staring at some stupid picture of some fuckingbirds that was hanging on the wall, trying to think things through. The next day I called the A.D. and requested a transfer, and went on leavestatus until it went through. And that's how I came to spend sixyears of my life in Europe chasing tourists and making the world safe forDemocracy." She frowned and looked puzzled. "Tourists. Terrorists. You know what I mean."
Diana shook her head and laughed bitterly. "And you know, thereally pathetic thing is that I never stopped believing he was going tocome after me." Another deep breath. "Then last spring, aftermore than six years, it occurred to me that *I* could go after HIM." She smiled sadly. "But when I got here, it was too late. Somebodyelse had already taken my place."
Scully shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Actually, Diana, thingsaren't quite --"
"Oh, shut the fuck up, Dr. Dana," Diana said tiredly. "Yeah, yeah,I know -- the picture and the pasta salad and all that crap was all a setup. I may be stupid, but I'm not THAT stupid. But, you two are so fargone on each other it's sickening to watch. And if you and Fox don'tknow it, you're the only ones in the entire fucking Bureau who don't."
Scully shook her head, only to find that it made her dizzy. Sheheld still for a moment, waiting for the room to stop spinning, then said,"But there's not really that much difference, Diana. You said Mulderdidn't come after you, but he ditches me, too. All the time."
"I'm not talkin' about ditching, Dr. Dana," the other woman insisted. "That's just the ol' Mulder monomania at work. I'm talkin' aboutwhat he does after a fight. Does he come after you? Or doeshe make you come to him?" She looked at Scully for a moment, thenshook her head. "Sorry; stupid question. You don't have thatkind of fight, do you?" She tipped her head back and stared up atthe ceiling. "Do you know that when I was in the hospital, afterI was shot last spring, he never came to visit me? Not one singletime. Not even a phone call."
"We were busy on a case, Diana," Scully protested. "I'm sure hethought about you --"
"Oh, cut the crap," Diana interrupted. "Don' try to bullshit abullshitter. I got the same line of shit from Skinner, but I askedaround, and I found out what happened." She pulled her head uprightand looked at Scully. "You disappeared, and he had to go find you,"she said accusingly. Scully didn't say anything, and Diana noddedto herself. "That's what happened, Dr. Dana. Of course, I couldn'tget all of the details, but I found out enough." She leaned forwardand looked into Scully's eyes. "Tell me, Dr. Dana. How fardid he have to go to find you? Just exactly how far?"
Scully stared back at her for a moment. Finally, she said, "Antarctica."
Diana stared at her for another minute, then she whooped with laughter. "I think you've just proved my point," she said. "ANTARCTICA? Fucking unbelievable, Dr. Dana. Fucking unbelievable. He couldn'tdrive across town to visit me when I was in intensive care, but for youhe travels to the fucking end of the planet." She shook her head,and repeated, "Fucking unbelievable."
At that moment, Scully heard a key in the lock, and she swung aroundto look just as the door swung open and Mulder stepped into her apartment. He took one look at the tableau on the sofa, and froze.
Diana was the first one to regain her composure. She struggledto her feet and stumbled across the room to stand in front of Mulder. "Hiya, Foxy-woxy," she said, giggling. "Bet you wonder what I'm doin'here." She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big kisson the mouth. Scully noted with interest that Mulder didn't seemto know what to do with his hands -- either that, or he was suffering froma grand mal seizure.
Finally, Diana broke the clinch. "That was just for old times'sake, Foxy-woxy." She withdrew her arms from around his neck. "And now I am going to get out of your life and leave you in Dr. Dana'scapable hands." And she brushed by him, pulled the door shut behindher, and was gone.
Mulder just stood by the door, staring at Scully, a stunned look onhis face. She stared back at him, thinking warm, comfortable thoughts. Finally, she realized that she was going to have to do something, or Mulderwould wind up standing there all night and probably into the next day.
She rose to her feet and weaved across the room to stand in front ofhim. "Hi there, partner," she said. She suddenly felt veryshy. "Did you have fun with the Gunmen?"
He looked down at her, and she saw his eyes widen. "Scully," hesaid. "You're drunk."
"I am?" She rubbed her nose with her fingertips. Completelynumb. She nodded solemnly. "I think you're right, Mulder."
"What...uh, what was going on here tonight?"
Scully smiled slightly. "Oh, just this and that. Diana droppedby to visit. We had a nice chat." God his eyes were beautiful. As had happened earlier in the day in their office, she felt herself fallinginto his eyes. She could get lost in those eyes, and never come outagain. She felt herself start to tremble. She was so lonely;she'd been denying her feelings for so long, and she just wasn't goingto do it anymore. She didn't know where it was heading, or what theoutcome would be, but she was past the point of no return.
"Mulder," she said.
"Yes, Scully?"
"Mulder, I think she's gone."
He nodded slowly. "I think so, too."
"That means we can stop pretending."
He continued to nod, a sad look in his eyes.
"I mean we can REALLY stop pretending, Mulder," she said.
He gave her a confused look. "What -- what do you mean?"
She took another step towards him, until their bodies were almost touching. She had to crane her neck in order to keep looking into his eyes, but shedidn't care. "I mean," she said, "that we can stop pretending thatwe're pretending." And she closed the final gap, wrapped her armsaround his neck and went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips againsthis.
It took only a few seconds, yet it seemed to last forever. Hismouth was warm and soft, and the sensation of his body pressing againsthers, and the uniquely musky Mulder smell combined to assault her sensesand send her mind reeling. At last she broke the kiss, and restedher head against his chest, eyes closed, just listening to his heart beating.
Finally, she drew back a little. Her partner was staring downat her, eyes wide and pupils dilated. She smiled at the expressionon his face. "I think I surprised you," she said.
He nodded solemnly. "I'd say that's a safe assumption." He cleared his throat. "Um, should I assume this is just the liquortalking?"
She shook her head, still smiling. "If you do, I think I mightcry."
"I wouldn't want to make you cry, Scully." He nuzzled his facein her hair.
"Oh, good." She kissed him again. "Mmmm. I could getused to this."
After a few moments of silent cuddling, he said, "Scully?"
"Yes, Mulder?"
"Does this mean I get to keep being your ummer?"
She chuckled. "I insist on it."
"Oh, good." Another moment of silence. "So do I have tokeep eating pasta salad?"
"Every day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner."
"I guess I can live with that. As long as there's plenty of icedtea to wash it down with." And this time he initiated the kiss.
It was a long time before either of them spoke again.
Fini