Title: A Man Who…: Of Love and Lipstick

Author: DC Luder

Disclaimer: FM, DS, MS, WS belong to them crazy CC and Co. out in LA.

Summary: Well, we haven't heard from Dr. Baker recently….

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Being the head of emergency medicine at the hospital, I actually had an administrative office on the second floor. Since the ground floor had been so tight for space with the ER and the clinic, the director of the hospital thought it best to provide offices for all the division directors on the second floor. Whether it was so they could keep a better eye on us or to just have an excuse to tighten the already choked budget was the question.

I didn't mind in the least. Although nothing spectacular, I had a nice view of the town's main park a well as air conditioning and heat. Med students in my charge often frequented my office with their dilemmas instead of handling them on the floor below.

Dana helped me redecorate after we were married. She picked out a nice rug and a new chair that better complimented my ancient oak desk. The file cabinets were replaced with newer versions and then the near bare walls were filled with framed photographs of my family. I would spend my office hours and lunch breaks in their, studying every feature of my wife and child.

That day, I simply glared at the door.

I was a rational man who tended to analyze things a bit better than others. I rarely jumped to conclusions, nor did I ever assume things. I was a fact-finder, a truth-seeker, and always had been. As a child, I solved the mystery novels well before the protagonist.

But I could not get the image of my wife's lipstick on the lips of another man.

They were close, I knew that much. She had entertained us all with her unbelievable tales of her days in the FBI. Her infamous partner who had given up everything to seek out his abducted sister with the uncanny ability to profile the insane. Fox Mulder. She had told me very little of his life since she left the bureau. Perhaps she didn't know, having lost touch with him over the years. It had always boggled me, especially after talking to police officers I knew, how that tight of a bond was lost by her simply leaving the Bureau. When partners were separated on the force, it was heartening and they kept in touch socially if not in the workplace.

So why was my wife's ex-partner kissing her in my kitchen?

Relationships in any work situation were dangerous. If they had become involved, perhaps that was why she had left. Not wanting the burden of having to work aside him after a nasty break up. Perhaps he had become jealous over the man that had impregnated her.

I sat back in the over stuffed chair and stared listlessly at the med charts on my desk. I had come in on a Saturday in hopes of finishing up loose ends before next week. Working overtime, especially on a weekend, bothered me. I loved going out with Will or taking Dana out to dinner and a movie. The thought of being in my quaint office all day was usually nauseating.

But right then and there, I couldn't possibly think of anything I'd rather do.

Aside from beating up Mulder. No, rational as I was, violence wasn't the answer. Moping about in my office was satisfying my urges to pummel a complete stranger to near death. I would take my anger out of filing away charts. Maybe hit the gym and take on the Stairmaster.

I picked up the phone suddenly and dialed Dana's cell. I listened to it ring three times before her voicemail connected, "Hi, this is Dana Scully-Baker. I'm unavailable but please leave your name and number and I'll call you back as soon as I can."

After taking a deep breath, I spoke, "It's just me. I should be home around noon, didn't know if you wanted to get something to eat with me or not. Call me, I have my phone and pager. Bye."

Without thought, I called the house and found a similar situation, a few monotonous rings followed by an answering machine. However, the second time, I left no message.

I returned my attention to my charts, finalizing documents before filing them away for my records. Upon entering med school, my dream had always been to have a small private practice with a beautiful wife and loving children. Well, I was on my way to that goal.

Dana had told me her conceiving of William had been a miracle, especially after intensive radiation treatments for her cancer. It was so odd that she had survived such a harsh disease, but even more so that she had succumbed to it in the first place. I would have given anything to have been there by her side at those painful moments of her life. Other things as well, such as her father's passing and her sister's death. How she had survived it alone I would never understand. Sure she had her family and Margerat, but without true companionship, sometimes the pain is hard to deal with. My brother had died of leukemia when I was eighteen, pushing me into the field of medicine. I had no love interest to share the burden with and I ended up bottling it inside.

But Dana was a fighter, and was a survivor in any scenario.

"Dr. Baker?"

I looked up to see an Emily Carver, a second year intern at the hospital. She was a nice young woman, over-excited and stimulated by her work but also an intelligent and accomplished doctor. Having a hand in her training was an honor.

"Yes?" I asked as I set my pen down.

She stepped into my office, her brown hair in a frazzled bun. She had pulled off the night shift many times before, and somehow she tried to keep her spirits up running off of no sleep in thirty hours. Her green scrubs were wrinkled and bore a small bloodstain on the sleeve. She smiled, "There's someone downstairs looking for you. I was on my way up here anyway so I figured I would save the desk from having to page you."

My mind sparked in memory of a elder man who had planned on bringing his grandson back to have his stitches checked. He was a friend of my father's and I generally was the only one who treated him and his family in the ER. I stood and donned my doctor's coat over my khakis and polo shirt, "Mr. Hendricks is here already?"

Emily shook her head, "No, he said his name was Fox Mulder."

My heart skipped a beat and I involuntarily clenched my fists, "He's downstairs?"

"Yes, he wanted to talk with you if you had time available. Do you want me to send him up?"

I almost declined, then realized the territory of my office was more intimidating with the layering of family photos. I nodded, "Sure, send him up."

Emily smiled again and nodded diligently. While I awaited my guest, I pulled out more files to clutter my desk and ran my hands through my hair to mess it up a notch. I heard solid footsteps on the quiet corridor and then proceeded to furiously scribble on charts as he paused at the door. He cleared his throat, "Dr. Baker?"

I looked up to see his solemn face. The cut on his forehead wasn't too bad and there was a small bruise on his face where I had struck him the night before. Other than that he was the same, sporting casual dress of dark blue khakis with sandals and navy and gold checked polo. To others, we would have both appeared to be ready to hit the golf greens together.

I nodded and gestured to a small leather chair that Will frequented when he came to visit me after school. He offered a quiet "thanks" and sat down, his eyes never leaving my face, "I'm sorry to interrupt you at work…"

"Quite all right. I hate working on Saturday. C'est la vie."

An awkward silence fell between us. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he studied the pictures, his facial expression filled with more despair as he analyzed each one. I decided to step forward, wanting him out of my office as quickly as possible.

"So, you wanted to talk?"

Mulder nodded, "Yes, about last night. I want you to know what happened was my fault entirely, Scully… Dana had nothing to do with it."

"What exactly is 'it', Mr. Mulder?"

"I… I kissed her, and I shouldn't have. I don't know the extent of what she told you about us, what we were, but…"

I cut him off, "She told me you were partners in the FBI for seven years. You were great friends and worked very well together."

A sly smile fell on his lips, probably recalling one of their extravagant adventures. "Yes, we did. But…" he stopped and studied his hands.

"I really don't need to hear if there was anything more than just a friendship. Dana and I are married, we have a family. I'm sorry you two broke up and separated…."

His eyes jumped up suddenly, filled with a mixture of anger and insult, "We didn't break up, I was kidnapped. She left me."

Interesting turn of events. His entire form changed before me. Muscles tightening in his arms and twitching around his eyes, his color intensifying in his cheeks and on his neck as his heart raced. I suddenly wondered if he was going to retaliate in Round Two.

He took a few deep breaths before I stated, "Well, then perhaps she needed to escape from her old life. To move on, so to speak. And maybe you should as well." My words were unkind, but I also didn't want this nut to be chasing my wife around behind my back.

He stood suddenly and stepped towards my desk as if her were going to grab me. I appropriately moved back in my chair and looked up at him in confusion. He pointed at a family portrait, specifically at Dana. His eyes were wild as they darted form the phot to my face. He opened his mouth in a snarl. As quick as he had changed, his face loosened and returned to its sober state as he dropped his hand to his side, "I'm sorry. I need… I need to go."

I watched as he turned on his heel and sped out the door. After a beat, I rose and followed him into the hall and watched as he got into the elevator and selected a floor. As the doors closed, the look on his face was something I hadn't seen since my internship on the psych wards.

One of my first psych patients on that rotation had been a young woman who had witnessed her father's suicide. Although she could be reasonably calm and collected, anything that remotely sounded like a gunshot would set her off into a manic state. With a cocktail of drugs, they were able to maintain her outbursts, but not all the time. Cupboard doors shutting and gunfire on televisions would still set her off. As a learning study, I, who had never witnessed violent trauma, was unable to understand the severity of her condition. I had never been interested in psychiatry because I never could understand why people wouldn't just get their act together.

And as I studied Mulder's lifeless blue eyes, I wondered what traumatic event he saw.

When the elevator car closed and began its descent, I stood in the hall, unsure as to my next move. Surely, the FBI wouldn't have hired a disturbed individual to work on such extensive cases. Would they? And aside from that, let them work with a female partner? Dana was a doctor; did she know of any mental illness? He had seemed unusually placid last evening, and then over-anxious in my office mere fourteen hours later. On and off again on his medication? Split personality?

Or was paranoia creeping under my collar, trying to find the worst in the infamous Fox Mulder?

I just hoped, for the first time in my life, that I was wrong.

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"I made this!"

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