As Scully and Nathan rode the elevator, she wondered if, with a little effort on her part, she could fall in love with this man. He was kind and thoughtful, accomplished and intelligent, a real catch. Which begged the question, why hadn't he been caught? Furthermore, why was she so unwilling to reel him in?
Scully filtered out the questions with a deep breath and refocused on the detailed description of symptoms Nathan had already imparted to her. All six male patients showed the bodily manifestations of syphilis, but unusual (and similar) erratic behaviors.
"I'm confused," she told him. "This sounds less like syphilis and more like rabies. "
"Meredith went with 'demon possession,' but yes, the outbursts are bizarre."
"Do they say anything specific during these manic periods?"
"Oh, yes." Nathan answered without offering more information. "You'll see."
Their elevator reached its destination and gave out a ding as the doors parted for the pair of well-dressed doctors. Scully followed Nathan out in silence, still processing his account of the symptoms of the men currently under his care. They had no discernible connections and came from unrelated geographic locations. The very best Nathan had come up with to link them was food or medication contamination, but, thus far, nothing had surfaced.
Medically, they exhibited the physical symptoms of patients in stages one and two of syphilis, but their behavioral indicators were hard to explain even if they were diagnosed stage four, which didn't make sense anyway considering it would take decades without treatment to bring on such advanced symptoms. One young man, Henry, was just seventeen. And then there was the severity of the outbursts Nathan described. The men had to be restrained and sedated because of the episodes. And sometimes even that wasn't enough.
Her own scientific explanations severely lacking, Scully went down the Mulder checklist. There were aliens, of course. Perhaps some government drug trial or experimental germ warfare, dispersed throughout the country (and Canada) to avoid attention. Maybe these men had some sort of psychic connection that led to a physical manifestation. Meredith's suggestion of demon possession was definitely on the table.
Scully, of course, believed in none of these things, but this was now a part of her process. When the logical explanation was flimsy or even altogether nonexistent, she went through Mulder's own paranormal checklist. She knew it well enough by now, and it was the only way she had any hope of staying aboard or derailing, if needed, the Mulder train of crazy.
She and Nathan had already deduced that their partners had disappeared to this place, but when she turned the last corner of the lab's labyrinthine hallways and saw Mulder standing so troublingly close to Meredith, Scully second-guessed her assumption that it had been the carrot of a case that had lured him there.
Mulder and Meredith, just done discuss ing the final freakish part of what Mulder had already mentally coined "rabid syphilis," turned in tandem at the sound of the footsteps behind them.
When Mulder saw Scully again, so pretty and feminine in her dress and heels, he couldn't remember a time when she'd looked more beautiful. Even the hospital lights—the unflattering fluorescents that could make the healthiest of visitors look as sallow as the ill patients upon whom they called—couldn't wash out her vibrancy.
Mulder felt just fine with thoughts like this floating around in his head, but when he had to catch himself from uttering his observation aloud, he started to do a quick sanity self-assessment. Just the inclination made him feel rational enough, but then why was he having such a hard time keeping his contemplations to himself?
"Only you would bring your date up here," Nathan ribbed Meredith.
"Well, that's just bull dust, there." Meredith threw out her Aussie slang and grinned at Nathan, her eyes drifting to Scully with and accusatory raise of her eyebrow.
"Fair enough, but we were only looking for you two."
"A likely story." Meredith winked at Mulder. "Nathan's as obsessed with these guys as I am. Probably looking for a second opinion from Agent Scully."
"I must say, I am intrigued," Scully admitted as she walked toward the glass.
Mulder and Meredith moved down and made room for the other couple, leaving Mulder and Scully next to one another.
"He gets 'intrigued'? I usually just get 'oh, brother,'" Mulder complained to Scully.
If he'd meant to sound playful, he'd failed completely, so much so that Scully had to look at him to get a better read, but it was too late. He was again staring into the patient ward. A second later, Scully's head snapped back in that direction as a scream pierced her ear drums.
Young Henry was sitting straight up in bed, fighting his restraints.
"Where is she? Why are you doing this to me? Please, just let me see Katrina. Katrina, can you hear me? I love you! I need you, Katrina."
Mulder and Scully were momentarily stunned and semi-permanently stumped.
"Who's Katrina?" Mulder quietly asked one of the many questions that came to Scully's mind as they glanced at one another, finding solidarity in their confusion.
"His chemistry teacher," Nathan answered.
"Wait, but I thought he was sedated," Scully interjected.
"He is," Meredith confirmed.
"Was he sleeping with the teacher?" Scully wanted to know.
"I thought he was a virgin," Mulder said.
"He is," Meredith smiled at Nathan as she spoke. The two of them had already gotten to wherever they were trying to lead the FBI agents, and they were having fun doing it.
"Has anyone thought to talk to the chemistry teacher?" Mulder questioned the smug pair.
"Mm hm," Meredith answered, "She barely knew Henry. He'd just transferred into her class a few weeks before he got sick."
"But," added Nathan, "she did admit she suspected he had a little crush on her."
"And his mother shared a couple of drawings she found in his room. Sketches of Katrina. Quite the artist, our Henry," Katrina told them with the put-on tone of a proud parent.
"And the other guys? Similar infatuations?" Mulder asked.
"Yes and no," Nathan said.
"Of the three married men, only one seems to be hot for his wife," Foster explained.
"Sounds about normal," Mulder joked, anticipating the elbow he got in the ribs from Scully. He loved how predictable she could be. He loved… he loved… really, what didn't he love about Scully?
"One babbles on only about his high school sweetheart, and the other is apparently madly in love with his co-worker." Nathan stared through the glass at his perplexingly lovesick patients. "Damon, the thirty-year-old plumber, talks non-stop about a woman he saw in the grocery store. And Father O'Shea…"
"Is in love with the priest who molested him as a kid?" Mulder suggested.
"Nah. An altar boy," Meredith told him with a smile that told Mulder she was all too pleased to go full circle with an allusion to his previous joke.
"I'm sorry, but am I really understanding this right?" Scully wanted to know. "You're saying all these men show the physical signs of syphilis, but their behavior is more akin to… "
"Someone dosed with Love Potion Number Nine," Mulder filled in. "Interesting."
"Completely illogical," Scully corrected. "It must be a drug."
"Tox screens came back normal," Nathan promised.
Scully's brow crinkled as she stared in at the sedated men. The Mulder checklist was gaining ground, but with the twist of a reasonable explanation. Maybe these men had been subjected to hypnosis or subliminal programming of some sort. Then Scully thought of the physical symptoms and was back to square one.
Mulder watched Scully think. She didn't put things together as quickly as he did only because she limited herself to what was in the box, never realizing every puzzle they encountered had missing pieces that had to be dug out from the couches and crevices of each individual case. But he didn't think this was a flaw. On the contrary, it kept him grounded and, amazingly, credible because when she put her logic together with his divergent thinking, they almost always solved the case.
But that thought suddenly meant nothing to Mulder at this particular moment. He couldn't care less about the medical anomaly before them, didn't know if Riley and Foster were still hanging around, was completely distracted from everything… except Scully.
He thought of his feelings for Scully as a sort of courtly love, chivalrous. Sure, he thought she was beautiful, but it was a respectful appreciation. Or, so he thought before he realized he was at just the right angle to see straight down her dress. Suddenly, he wanted to do more than just look. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, there and everywhere. He wanted… Hell, he wanted… her. Plain and simple.
Distracted by desire more intense than he could ever recall feeling at any moment in his life, he forgot to filter himself, forgot everything but Dana Scully standing before him.
"Mulder? Are you all right?" Scully asked when she noticed his stare.
"Scully, you're beautiful, you know that?"
The other three turned to Mulder, no one more surprised by this out-of-place comment than Scully herself.
"Huh?" was all she could manage.
"No, not beautiful," he corrected, leaning close to her. "Hot."
Scully's eyes grew wide. "Um… excuse me?"
"You're incredibly sexy. Always, but especially tonight. I mean, that dress, Scully, you had to know how crazy that would make me, right?"
"Uh… Mulder?" Scully asked, looking into his eyes, surprised to find a seemingly lucid Mulder staring back at her. He smiled a lopsided, heart-throb grin that made her wish they were without an audience… and that he wasn't… what, drunk?
Mulder knew exactly what he was saying to Scully. He meant it, too. What he couldn't understand is why he was sharing it, saying it out loud to her or before the small audience who watched in shocked silence as he leaned even closer to Scully, his nose just a few inches from hers. "I wish we could have danced earlier. Your cheek to mine… instead of Dr. Perfect's. Maybe a little Eskimo kiss, huh?"
Mulder leaned closer to Scully, his nose nearing hers, but Scully put her hands against his chest and pushed him gently back. "Have you been drinking?"
Mulder stepped back from her and shook his head. "No. Well, not really."
"Has he been drinking?" Scully asked Meredith.
"Glass of champagne's all," Meredith promised.
"I'm not drunk, Scully. Scout's honor." He held up two fingers to emphasize his pledge, but then changed to three... then back to two. "Well, anyway, I promise."
"In that case, Mr. Mulder, you're way out of line," Nathan said, for the first time interjecting himself into the conversation.
"Just Mulder, Dr. Nathan. Dr. Nate. Dr. Nate Dog. Dr. Nate Diggity Dog Dog."
Scully glanced at Nathan whose fists were clenched, but looked otherwise composed. He raised his eyebrows, asking for permission to intervene.
"It's okay, Nathan," Scully said, not so sure she was telling him the truth.
Mulder looked over at Foster. He'd forgotten she was there. "You know, you're not so bad yourself, you little Aussie vixen."
"Thanks, love."
"But you're no Dana Scully."
"Okay, Meredith, are you sure he only had a glass of champagne?" Nathan asked.
"Unless he took something," she said with a shrug.
"He doesn't do drugs," Scully defended Mulder.
Mulder folded his arms across his chest and stood up straighter, trying to look sober despite the fact that he felt beyond intoxicated. "Thank you, Scully."
"Shut up, Mulder," Scully silenced him and moved in on him, getting in his face, but not how he had gotten close to her. She was angry. "What the hell is wrong with you, Mulder?"
"Nothing," he said until he actually considered it. What the hell was wrong with him? Could he really be drunk? From one glass of champagne? It made no sense.
"Mulder. Think."
"Okay. Something. Something's wrong. I'm saying stuff I don't mean to say."
"Don't mean or don't mean to say?" Nathan questioned.
Mulder glared at Nathan. "You know, I really don't like you."
"Seriously, though," Meredith spoke up, "it's a good question. You can't help what you're saying? Really?"
"I can't control it unless I'm really, really focusing on it."
"I'm going to take you home." Scully said, focused on Mulder.
Mulder pressed his lips together and nodded. He didn't want to say how he'd go anywhere she wanted and for whatever purpose, that he was all hers wherever they ended up. He didn't want to mention how nice she smelled or how appealing her lips were this close up. But, yet, he felt compelled to say it all. And more.
"Scully, get me out of here."