Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Don't claim to. Just for fun.

CHAPTER 3

Frohike watched as Mulder got in his car and pulled away with little or no concern for the blue Ford Taurus that he cut in front of. The Lone Gunman shook his head and pulled his coat tightly around him as he walked toward his own van, parked a block away.

While he walked, he took a moment to marvel at Mulder and what he had going for him. Frohike wasn't envious, per se, he was more baffled at how someone could act so confident yet be so confused, be it consciously or not.

As he got into the driver's seat of the van, he sighed and scratched his head.

"Sorry about that," he said to his passenger.

The dark, yet slightly lit street illuminated her profile only somewhat, but he didn't need light to tell she was scowling.

"No, I'm sorry Melvin," Scully said. "I didn't want to put you into the middle of something like this."

Frohike opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and started the engine. The drive to Dulles was silent, despite his desire to speak some kind of comfort to her. He wasn't very good with these types of situations.

"I wouldn't take it too personally Dana, he has always had a blind spot for women who like to walk all over him."

As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. At of the corner of his eye he could see Scully shift in her seat. Her now obvious discomfort wasn't physical, it was clearly emotional…and that made it all the worse for her.

"Duly noted," she said flatly.

Frohike mentally berated himself for rubbing salt into what seemed to be a pretty nasty wound and adjusted his rearview mirror, if for no other reason than to avert his concentration. Scully had been very specific when she left her apartment: "I can't even look at him right now. I need some time."

Seconds later, a shrill ringing sound came from Scully's pocket. She leaned to her left to fish it out, giving Frohike a chance to take in her perfume, looked at the caller identification on the phone, frowned, and quickly pressed the "End" button to power the phone off.

"What an idiot," Frohike thought to himself as he pulled off the freeway to the Dulles International Airport exit. He hoped the note he had given Mulder would be enough to make the man pull his head out of his ass.

Mulder hit the "Send" button on his phone again, but this time the call went straight to voicemail. He knew this meant her phone had been turned off.

He slammed the phone against the steering wheel, as if sheer will power alone would alleviate the problem and cause Scully to answer. That, however, didn't seem to be in the cards on this particular night.

The parking garage at Dulles was, of course, almost full and it took Mulder several minutes before he could find anything resembling a parking space. Muttering an obscenity under his breath, he slammed the door closed and practically sprinted to the nearest elevator.

The information on the piece of paper Frohike handed him was sparse but it was enough:

Americana Air FLIGHT 1013

7:45 p.m.

Gate 22A

He knew he would only be able to get so far before the security checkpoint would cut him off, his only chance to catch her would be if he could find her before she went through it.

Up to this point, he hadn't given much thought to what Frohike had said to him earlier. He had more or less been concentrating on getting here in one piece without killing anyone else. But now, as he stood waiting and watching, his short friend's words invaded his conscious.

The statements were disturbing to him, to say the very least. Who was he to judge the quality of his partnership with Scully? There was no way he could even try to fathom all that they had been through together.

Noting that, he grew more annoyed at the thought that Scully could so easily dismiss him. "Doesn't she owe me the benefit of the doubt at least once in a while?" he thought to himself as he strained his eyes over the crowd.

Whatever her rationale, or "ir-rationale," he thought, he couldn't let this volatility sit between the two of them. Especially since he had no idea where she was going or when she would be back. He glanced at his watch: 7:30.

Minutes seemed to last hours as he continued his impromptu surveillance until finally he caught sight of her familiar figure walking towards the security checkpoint, a carry-on slung over one shoulder. She was moving quickly, obviously trying to make her flight causing Mulder to have to push his way through the gathered crowds. However the more he pushed through it seemed, the further away she got.

"Scully!" he yelled, resorting to making a scene in order to get his partner's attention. "Scully wait!"

For a moment, he saw her pause and he expected her to turn back and meet his gaze. Instead, her shoulders tightened and she began to walk faster toward the security screener.

"She's walking away from me," Mulder realized, shocked at her ambivalence. "She had to have heard me."

His frustration and confusion then turned into anger as he watched her walk through the metal detector, grab her carry-on on continue to the gate, all without so much as a turn to acknowledge his presence.

In the back of his mind, a memory pushed through.

"After all you've seen you can just walk away?"

"I have. I did, it's done."

Mulder paused.

"Please don't do this to me."

He couldn't tell if it was his memory of Scully's words or his own thoughts.