Hi all! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and thanks for the reviews. Here's the next chapter.

Viorna

Disclaimer still applies

Chapter 6

It was a loud, persistent ringing and sunlight in my face that woke me up the next morning. I groaned and clumsily hit the off button on my alarm clock and then buried my head under the pillow. Why couldn't the sun just go back to bed for the day? It didn't have any pity for anyone.

Then it occurred to me that the sun shouldn't be as bright as it was and I sat up with a gasp as I looked at the clock. It was eight in the morning, not six like my clock had been set for. Had I slept right through my alarm and the snooze just kept kicking in?

I tumbled off the bed and grabbed some clothes, and then headed for the shower, stripping off my clothes as I went.

I felt about ninety percent better when I got out. My head still ached some but, with an aspirin and a cup of coffee I figured I would be good to go.

I was just finishing blow drying my hair when there was a knock on my door. I slipped on my shoes and hurried to answer it. There stood Mulder, with a peculiar little smile on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Morning," he said. "Thought you might like some coffee."

"Thanks," I replied, taking the offered cup and standing back to let him in, although I couldn't on earth figure out why.

"How ya feeling?" he asked as he seated himself on the bed.

"Better than I was last night, but my alarm clock didn't go off until eight this morning. I think it must be broken."

Mulder flushed ever so slightly and shook his head. "No, it wasn't broken. You left your door unlocked last night, so I came in to make sure you were okay. You didn't hear a thing. I figured you were bushed and I set the alarm for eight," he explained, sounding a little guilty.

"Oh." That was the only thing I could think of to say. Mulder irritated me so much and then he would go and do something so incredibly sweet that I wanted to strangle him. Yes, strangle him. It made me so mad that here was this sweet, handsome and completely endearing guy that seemed so perfect, and yet I couldn't have him. He was off limits, both because of our job and the fact that despite all our problems, we were still good friends. I didn't want to risk our friendship by telling him how I felt.

"Look, um, about last night," Mulder began. He looked incredibly uncomfortable and uneasy.

"Mulder, um, I'm sorry for walking in on you guys. Seems like I have a propensity to do that. Just, let's forget about the whole thing," I said, cutting him off before he could go any further. I didn't want to know if he had slept with her. In fact I didn't want to hear anything about the whole incident. I just wanted to put it out of my mind and get on with things. The sooner we finished this case and got back to DC, the better.

"Well, how 'bout some breakfast," he suggested.

"No, thanks. I just need to get to work."

"You sure you're not hungry?"

"Positive." Actually, the truth be told, my stomach was a little queasy, and the thought of breakfast wasn't very appealing.

On our way down to the station house, Mulder told me that they had gotten Mr. Monterale's financial records and at the moment Nicole was going over them to find out anything she could. Maybe we would get lucky and find the name of the hotel where Mr. Monterale and his mistress had stayed.

When we got to Nicole's desk, she looked up and her cheeks flushed a bright pink, but other than that there was no indication that she was upset about last night. She handed Mulder a file and explained that it was Mr. Monterale's credit card receipts. She then gave me a file that was full of his debit card receipts and we both sat down to get to work.

About an hour later we were still at it when Mulder exclaimed, "Jackpot!"

"You got something?" I asked and he nodded, handing me a piece of paper. On it was the name of a hotel that wasn't too far from the one we were staying in.

"I've got more," he said. "He was using different hotels all around the city. It doesn't look like he stayed in the same one twice."

"Well, he wasn't that dumb," Nicole remarked. "A lot of guys just go to the same hotel."

"I wonder if he paid, or if she paid using his card," I said and both Mulder and Nicole looked over at me curiously.

"What'd ya mean?" Mulder asked.

"If she paid, then people would probably remember her better than if he paid. After all, it would be a woman using a card with a man's name on it."

"He obviously wasn't that smart," said Mulder. "They should've used cash, like guys with hookers do it."

"Well, they must've had quite a thing going," said Nicole.

"Why'd do you say that?" I asked.

"He took her to a bed and breakfast several times, according to these receipts."

"Yeah, and I have receipts for flowers, candy, jewelry, stuff like that," added Mulder.

"Maybe he was buying some of that stuff for Mrs. Monterale," I suggested.

"Maybe, but I doubt it."

"Well, what do we do next?" asked Nicole.

"We hit the hotels and see of anybody remembers them, and if they can give us any description of her," Mulder said.

"How 'bout we split up," Nicole suggested. "That way things'll go faster."

"Good idea. Me and Scully'll let you know if we find anything," Mulder told her, and I saw an almost undetectable slump of Nicole's shoulders. I guess she was counting on getting him all to herself for the day. Well, she thought wrong. Mulder was still my partner, and we worked together.

Still, as we walked out to our car, I couldn't help but ask, "Why didn't you want to go with Nicole?"

Mulder gave me a weird look and then asked, "Why do you want to know why I went with you?"

Geez, it seemed like I couldn't keep my mouth shut these days. And then against my own better judgment I went on to say, "Oh, I dunno. I thought it was just a little strange to give up a whole day to be alone with Nicole."

"Okay, this conversation isn't going to go anywhere good, so I'm not saying anything else," Mulder said with air of finality, and I figured I should drop the subject. It wouldn't be very productive anyway.

We spent the day going to all the hotels on the receipts. It was a hot muggy day, and the heat from the sun radiated back up from the pavement, making everything wavy and rather distorted.

Six in the evening and all the hotels we had hit either didn't remember the couple, or they didn't remember the woman. Now we had two hotels left, but we were both getting tired and cranky. I hoped with all my being that these last two would have something for us.

"May I help you?" the gray haired woman behind the desk asked with a pleasant smile as we walked in.

"Yeah, I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully from the FBI. We have a receipt that shows a Mr. Phillip Monterale stayed here two weeks ago," Mulder said, getting right to the point.

"Phillip Monterale," she repeated, pondering the name. Then her eyes lit up. "I do remember them, but the last time he stayed here was a week ago. He was here with a very attractive young woman."

Mulder and I exchanged a glance. Maybe we'd get lucky this time.

"Can you remember what she looked like?" I asked.

"Well, she had brown hair, but that was about it. I really don't remember what people look like, but I do remember what I hear."

"And did you hear something?"

"Well, they came in and they looked alright with each other. The woman paid cash, and I gave them a key to one of the rooms. They weren't in there more than fifteen minutes when the woman came storming out. She was yelling and screaming something awful. Mr. Monterale came out after her and he tried to get her to calm down, but she wouldn't. I thought was I going to have to call the police, but she left. They haven't been back since," the woman told us.

"You wouldn't happen to have her name anywhere would you?" Mulder asked hopefully, but the woman shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry. When customers pay in cash they don't have to sign anything."

"Well, do you think you could give a description of the woman to a police sketch artist?" he asked next.

"No, I don't think so. I mean, I'd be more than willing to do it, but I don't think I could describe her."

"Well, thanks for your help. What's your name so we know who to get in touch with you if we have to?" I asked.

"Mildred Walden. I live out back so it shouldn't be too hard to find me," she told us with a pleasant smile.

"Thanks," said Mulder, and he handed her a card before we left.

When we got in the car, Mulder looked over at me and said, "So, they were there a week ago. That means they were there two days before he was killed. Kinda interesting, huh?"

"Yeah, it is. But we still don't have anything concrete, especially to connect his mistress to his murder."

"I know, but we're getting closer; I can feel it."
"Well, one more hotel to go, and this was about nine days ago."

The last hotel fell as flat as all the rest had, but at least we had the one. It was a very faint light at the end of the tunnel that had been very dark for a long time.

"You know something else we didn't thoroughly check," Mulder said as we were driving back to the station.

"What?" I responded.

"Mr. Monterale's office. I mean, gee, there's gotta be some kind of evidence in there, doncha think?"

"What kind of evidence?"

Mulder chuckled and shook his head deprecatingly. "I guess you've never had an office romance, have you?"

"You mean, you think Monterale and his mistress had sex in his office?"

"Yeah, probably. There's gotta be some clothing that was left behind somewhere, or some jewelry, something like that. Maybe we can find something to get DNA off of it. Or maybe some fingerprints," he said, pulling over to the curb.

"Mulder, if the guy was smart, he would've never taken that woman anywhere near his office."

"Maybe she came there under pretense of business."

"Well, if she came there under pretense of business, then someone might remember her, or at least her name might be in an appointment book."

Mulder sighed and leaned his head back in the seat, and then closed his eyes. It sent a jolt of alarm through me, how tired he looked. In fact, he looked stressed.

"What's wrong?" I asked quickly.

"Oh, just that this case has so many twists and turns. It just seems like we should be getting somewhere, or finding something that will break this case. But we don't. In fact, there's a lack of evidence."

I sighed too, and then we both sat silently, watch the cars pass by us. The case was very frustrating, and the lack of evidence only made it worst. Then a thought struck me.

"Mulder, remember that one Sherlock Holmes story, the one where he said that fact that the dog didn't bark when the horse was stolen was the defining factor in the whole case?"

"Yeah, but what's your point."

"It was the lack of evidence. The dog didn't bark. It was what he didn't do. Maybe our lack of evidence is evidence in it's self."

Mulder's opened wide as his face lit up excitedly and a grin spread across it.

"I think you might be onto something. You know what really struck me as weird?"

"What?"

"The only finger prints that they found in that apartment where Mr. and Mrs. Monterales' prints. If someone was in there, there should be prints."

"Unless the person wore gloves or wiped things down."

"But does that fit with the very erratic firing pattern in Mr. Monterale? Whoever killed him was furious, or they didn't know what they were doing."

"I'm inclined to think the person was as angry as all get out."

Mulder nodded, then said, "But now, does that make sense? If it was his mistress who killed him, the firing pattern would make sense, but there aren't any prints."

"Unless she knew not to leave any."

"Now, who blows someone away in a fit of passion, but still doesn't leave any prints or any other physical evidence at the scene? Who can think that clearly?"

"Someone who knows about evidence."

"Right. And what types of people know about evidence?"

"Anybody can know about evidence Mulder. There are so many TV shows on that talk about that kind of thing."

"I know Scully, but think about it, when people commit a crime, do they really think about the physical evidence they leave behind?"

I shook my head. I knew where Mulder was taking this line of thought, but it didn't quite set right with me. To insinuate that a law enforcement officer was the murderer wasn't going to go over well with the Atlanta PD, and besides the idea was a little far fetched, at least to my mind.

"Don't rule it out Scully, it may be the only lead we have," he said as he started the car and continued back to the station. "It wouldn't be the first time a cop killed somebody in a fit of passion."

When we got back to the station, Mulder filled Nicole in on his theory, but she shook her head and gave him the same reasons I had thought of. Then she went on to tell us that all of the people she had talked to had come up as dead ends: nobody remembered Mr. Monterale and the woman with him.

We were interrupted by Mulder's cell phone ringing, and I leaned back in a chair and closed my eyes while he went to take the call. When he returned, he looked rather grim

"What's wrong?" asked Nicole.

"That was our boss," he said and I sat up. "He asked for a progress report and I had to tell him we weren't making a whole lot of headway. When I told him that he told me that he wants us back in DC."

"Why?" I asked.

"He said that the Atlanta PD can handle the investigation, and that there are things the Bureau wants us to do," Mulder explained. "I'm really sorry about this Nicole, but he wants us to get a plane back sometime tomorrow."

"Hey, there's nothing to apologize for; I completely understand. I mean, I have a boss too, and I don't think he'd like it too well if I was working on somebody else's case without any results. But thanks for all your help guys."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome. I just wish we could do more," Mulder told her, and I added in my head, "And that goes for more than just the investigation."

Nicole offered to drive us to the airport the next day, and then we said goodnight and headed for our hotel.

Mulder followed me into my room and flopped out on my bed, bouncing slightly as he landed.

"Well," he said with a little smile, "I guess you better start packing."

My suspicions were immediately aroused. I didn't like the sound of his voice: it sounded like he was up to something that wasn't any good.

"What exactly do you mean I better start packing?" I asked, stopping in front of him and putting my hands on my hips.

"Geez Scully, do you always read things into what I say?"

"I'm not reading anything into what you said Mulder. I'm merely asking you what you meant."

"And all I said was that you better start packing."

"You going to stay here while I go back to DC, aren't you?" I accused, a frown drawing my eyebrows together.

"Aw gee, ya figured out my plan. Yeah, you're going back to DC while I finish this case."

I threw my hands up into the air in exasperation. Then I just stood there looking at him, shaking my head.

"What is it with you Mulder? Don't you know when to just give up and follow orders?"

"Hey, this is me you're talking to. Me, the FBI's pain in the butt because I don't give up when they tell me to. See, tenacity is what gets cases solved," he said with a grin. Then he pulled out his little bag of sunflowers and started cracking the shells.

"Tenacity isn't what you have: it's called idiocy. You just can't quit when you get obsessed about something."

"I obsess?"

"Yes! You most definitely obsess!"

"Thanks for the diagnosis Doc; I'll send you a check."

Mulder was really starting tick me off, big time. He was just lying there on the bed, cracking sunflower seeds with a big stupid grin on his face. I wanted to grab his bag of seeds and beat him over the head with it.

"You know, you're this way with whatever you do. It was this way with the X-Files. You obsessed over them day and night when they were open, and now you obsess about moonlighting since they've been closed."

Now that got Mulder's attention. He sat up with a jerk and looked at me with a very weird expression of his face. Then he said, "You know, I wasn't obsessing, I was searching for the truth. That was what I was put there to do. I was there to solve cases that nobody else wanted to even try to solve. I was doing my job. I thought you understood that." By now he was standing and glaring at me.

Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, a little voice told me not to push this any further, to just let it drop, but unfortunately I was already mad and for some reason, looking for a fight. So I didn't listen to my good common sense and I just kept going.

"So that's what you call it, searching for the truth. You know, there are times when I believe you just kept at it to prove everyone else wrong. That's all. It wasn't about the truth, not really. You wanted to bring down people that had screwed you over in the past, and I think this was the only way you knew how to do it," I snapped out.

Mulder took a step backwards and blinked. He looked like I had just socked him in the jaw. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gaping for air. Then he swallowed hard.

"I, this, what are you babbling about, Scully? This has nothing to do with proving anybody wrong. This is about the truth. I thought, I thought the X-Files meant something to you. I thought everything we had worked on meant something," he said quietly. "I know we didn't agree on most things when it came to my theories, but I thought we at least agreed to disagree."

"Do you honestly think that searching for proof of aliens means anything to me? Do you really think I care that there might be little green men out there?"

"Gray."

"What!"

"They're gray, not green."

I clenched my teeth and blew out my cheeks with air. That was Mulder; little gray men, not green.

"Scully, if the X-Files didn't mean anything to you, then why did you stay. You're bright, talented; you had a great career ahead of you, you could've gone anywhere you wanted. Why'd you stay?"

I sucked in my breath. The question hit me like a punch in the gut and I realized I didn't know how to answer it. Why had I stayed? Why had I gone through everything that I had, and still kept coming back for more? Was it that I cared about little gray men? Or maybe I really did care about the truth, like Mulder? I knew I wanted to know what had happened to me, but there was more. I was beginning to believe that one of the big reasons I stayed was because of the little gray man hunter himself.

I rubbed my temples with my fingers and closed my eyes. They were starting to throb. I couldn't think of a way to answer Mulder. In fact, it felt like he had boxed me into a corner. I was trapped. I couldn't escape.

"Look," I snapped, "why I stayed isn't important. We're not talking about me; we're talking about you and you obsessing. Actually we're talking about why, just for once in your life, why can't you follow orders?"

"You know, that's all you've ever cared about, the rules and following orders. Do you even care that the X-Files are gone, that it all went up in flames? 'Cause it sure doesn't seem like you do. This has all been a waste of time for you, hasn't it? You don't give a crap that all our work is gone," Mulder growled as his eyes narrowed angrily.

That hurt and I lashed out with the only think I could think of.

"I'm glad it's gone. Maybe now you'll stop wasting your life," I hissed, breathing hard.

Mulder's mouth dropped open. He looked stunned, and he gave his head a little shake. Then he started backing up, going for the door.

Suddenly I felt sick. He looked like a whipped puppy. I couldn't believe I had actually said that to him, and all I wanted now was to take it all back. I wanted so badly to turn back time, to make sure this never happened.

"Oh, Mulder, I-."

"Just, let's not say anything else tonight," he said a very low, still voice, opening the door and stepping out. For a minute he stopped, like he was going to say something else, but then he changed his mind and closed the door.

I stood there in the middle of the room, shocked. I just didn't want to believe I had said those awful things to him. What I had said wasn't true. He just needed to know what the truth was, like I did. That was all.

I crawled into the center of the bed and wrapped my arms around my stomach. I was vaguely aware that I was running out of fuel, but I didn't have any appetite to eat. I knew until I apologized to Mulder and made him understand that I never meant what I had said that I wasn't going to be able to eat without knots in my stomach.

But maybe he was right. Maybe this wasn't the right time to talk. We were both angry, and if we talked right now we might end up only making it worse. I needed to cool down and so did he. I would talk to him first thing in the morning.

I didn't sleep very well that night and I woke with a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach the next morning. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong that day. I could only pray that it wouldn't be bad enough to cost somebody their life.