Fox left the museum without visiting any of the other floors or looking at any further exhibits. He felt let down, the air out of his sail. Walking along the street, he shook his head as he thought of Miss Scully, not even having acquired her first name.

She was different from her letters, which as he thought about them now, he wondered how he could have ever thought they were written by a man. They were warm and informative and she had a way with words that drew him in from the first reading. Not that a man could not write similarly, but it was different and how he could not have seen it baffled him.

However, the woman he met today had been completely different.

Well, he thought, shaking his head again with a heavy sigh. I did arrive unannounced, surprising her where she was hard at work, and demanded her attention.

He saw the hotel and with sluggish steps, he walked up the stairs and to the reservation desk. Telling them his name, his trunks were located and four men came forward to carry them up to his fourth floor room.

When he walked inside, he was impressed with the beauty and grandeur of it. It was a small apartment with a bedroom, dressing room, sitting area, and small library, the colors rich and warm.

He opened the large glass doors, the curtains blowing in as he stepped onto the small balcony, the pyramids standing tall in the distance. Smiling at the sight, he left the doors open and turned to give the men some money, as they set his trunks down and left the dressing room.

"Thank you very much," he said to each of them and they nodded as they left the room.

He went into the dressing room and unpacked his trunks, hanging his clothes, and putting away other items. Drawing a bath, he stayed in for quite a while thinking of the trip over, his parents back home, and his disastrous meeting with the person he had been most looking forward to knowing and thanking.

He would not make an effort to see her again. He did not want to cause a problem, and now that he knew she was a woman, the thought of speaking to her made him anxious, as he felt with most women.

But… he felt the agonizing need to apologize and explain himself to her. He was torn with how to proceed, deciding for now, he would do nothing.

Dressed, he went downstairs to the dining room and enjoyed a delicious meal. He walked around the hotel, soaking up the beauty of it and wishing he had brought his journal downstairs to add a sketch of it to his collection.

He entered the billiards room, the men playing a game, laughing loudly, drinking and smoking. Welcomed by the others, he passed an hour before excusing himself and returning to his room.

Undressing and placing his clothes in a wicker basket to be laundered, he opened the doors to the balcony once again. It was dark, but the lamps around the city afforded him with a slight view. Tomorrow he would visit them, taking the first true step of his journey.

Arriving back at the hotel, tired and hot, though happier than he had been in a long time, Fox smiled as he set his journal down and began to undress as the bath filled.

It had been a wonderful day, warm for certain, but satisfying. He had stayed in the area for a long time, sketching the sights before him, trying to capture every aspect of the amazing beauty of the Pyramids. The Sphinx… he had spent a long time staring at and admiring as he sketched.

He had gone inside of the pyramid, but had to leave, the feeling of the tight spaces causing his heart to race and his body to sweat differently than from the weather. Walking around outside, he recognized it as the same type of panic he suffered, though had not experienced recently. The thought of returning into the depths of the pyramid was unfathomable and so he had remained outside.

People had picnicked, making a party out of the day, children running around happily as the adults lounged on blankets or outdoor chairs. Women and men had strolled past, discussing the pyramids and the recent discoveries in the news.

It had been a good day, aside from his discomfort and he was glad to be back at the hotel, washing the sweat and grime of the day away.

Sitting down at his desk after dressing, with some time before dinner, he wrote a letter home, telling of his arrival, what he had done and seen that day, and how he was fairing. He included a copy of the sketch he had done while sitting on the train traveling back to the hotel. Addressing the letter, he placed it and his journal into his jacket pocket, and left the room.

The dining room was relatively empty, the hour still rather early, but that suited him fine. A smaller crowd was always preferable in his opinion.

He sat down and looked at the menu, though it was the same as the previous evening. Making a decision, he called the waiter over and told him what he would like, asking also for a glass of wine.

When he had walked away, Fox took out his journal, writing down for himself what he had seen and experienced that day. He was a few paragraphs in when he was interrupted by the waiter.

"Excuse me, sir, but there is someone here to see you."

"Here to see me?" he asked, closing his journal and looking at him in confusion.

"Yes, sir. It's a young woman, asking to speak to you. She's just over there." Turning his head, Fox looked over his left shoulder and saw Miss Scully. He stood up quickly, knocking the table with his knees, their eyes meeting as he drew in a deep breath.

She was beautiful, something he had only slightly been aware of yesterday, her apron and cap disguising it greatly. Her dress was simple in comparison to the other ladies in the room, but he felt any dress would not have made a difference, her beauty far overshadowing any fashion.

"Would you like me to escort her over, sir?"

"Yes, that would be… thank you," he breathed with a nod, buttoning his jacket as he awaited her arrival at the table.

She smiled at the waiter as he gestured for her to proceed him and Fox exhaled audibly. If it was possible, her smile made her even more beautiful. His heart began to race and he felt that familiar panic feeling, his mouth dry. Willing his heart to calm down, he licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"Sir, may I have the privilege of presenting Miss Scully?" the waiter said, and she smiled again, though he felt it was rather forced. He saw her eyes flick around the room, her hands clasped together.

"Thank you," Fox said, nodding to the waiter and looking at her as he walked away and left them alone.

Close up, she was even more beautiful, her eyes as blue as he remembered and her hair was the most beautiful shade of red he had ever seen, words failing to present themselves as he thought of how to describe it. There was a mark above her lip, a mole he would say, though he knew she may not like it referred to as such. It drew his eye, imagining how it would feel to kiss it, and he blushed furiously.

"Hello. I'm sorry to interrupt your meal."

"No. It's not an interruption at all. Please, won't you join me?" He gestured for her to sit down and she shook her head.

"I'm not exactly dressed… for dinner," she said quietly, looking around the room with a sigh.

"Nonsense. Please, I insist." He pulled out the chair beside her and waited for her to sit before returning to his own. "I've already ordered, but let me…" He caught the waiter's eye and signaled him over.

"Oh no, please. I don't want to be a bother." She touched his outstretched arm and he turned his head to look at her, as she removed her hand quickly. "Sorry. I… I don't want-"

"Yes sir?" The waiter said with a smile as he approached the table.

"Miss Scully would like to order something to eat, please."

"Of course, Miss. Allow me to retrieve a menu."

"I really don't…" she said softly as she glanced around again, smoothing down her hair, which was in a low bun, pieces of it loose around her neck and face. "I thought perhaps you would be in your room or the library and I could meet you in the main lounge. I wasn't expecting-"

"Here you are, Miss," the waiter said, handing her the menu and giving a slight bow, remaining beside the table as she perused it.

"Uhhh." She swallowed and licked her lips, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll have the poulardes. Thank you."

"Excellent choice," the waiter stated with a nod, taking the menu from her and preparing to leave when Fox stopped him.

"Do you have soup?"

"Yes, sir. A creamy potato and leek soup."

"That sounds wonderful. We'll have a bowl each and also cancel my single glass of wine and bring us a bottle instead."

"Yes, sir. Miss." He smiled and walked away, leaving them alone.

"I… I, Mr. Mulder-"

"Please call me Fox. Mr. Mulder sounds far too formal." He smiled, but she did not return it, instead nervously rubbing her hands together.

"Fox… I cannot afford such an expensive dinner," she said softly, leaning forward, but not meeting his eyes. "I have enough for the chicken, but not anything else."

"Miss Scully, I invited you to join me. The cost of the meal will be my expense. Whatever you would like." She looked up at him and he smiled with a nod. She nodded back, blinking quickly as she looked down again, clearing her throat.

Quiet for a minute, he watched her touching her flatware, picking up her napkin, and placing it on her lap. With a deep breath, she looked up and though he knew it would be considered impossible by all standards, in that moment, he felt he may be on the verge of falling in love with her.

A couple passed, the woman speaking in a high aristocratic voice, giving him a chance to mask his feelings and keep his expression neutral. She looked at the woman, her lips quirking as though trying not to smile, her eyes finding his again and shining with mirth.

"She's an interesting woman," she said, rubbing her lips together.

"I don't know… I didn't have a chance to really hear her," he responded quietly and her eyes widened, a hand coming up to cover her smile. He smiled back as the waiter appeared with the bottle of wine.

After he had walked away again, their glasses full of rich red liquid, she sighed, her smile disappearing.

"I owe you an apology," she said softly, clasping her hands together again.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It is I who owes you one. I should never have arrived unannounced and caused any trouble for you. It was very inconsiderate of me and I ask that you please accept my apology."

"Oh…" she breathed, shaking her head and blinking quickly again.

"I didn't, did I? Cause any conflict for you I mean?"

"No. Well, not entirely." She wiped at her eyes quickly and looked at him. "Miss Ahmad… she's not exactly the kindest or most understanding person. I don't normally speak to her unless necessary." She smiled slightly and he nodded, his initial assessment of Miss Ahmad obviously correct. "She wanted to withhold my pay, my letter to you exceeding what I was supposed to write."

"What?" he asked in astonishment. "I can pay whatever she withheld from you. It was because of me that you were in that predicament."

"I understand you feeling that way, but as I said, she wanted to withhold my pay," she said with a small smile. "When I reminded her that I was one of only two researchers who, if forced to leave for a day, would be unable to answer the many letters still waiting, texts would not be deciphered, and items would not be catalogued, she suddenly changed her mind." Her smile grew and he chuckled softly with a nod.

"So, it was resolved then?" he asked and she nodded. "Good, because I was very worried that I had been unthoughtful and selfish."

"Selfish? How could you say that?"

"I arrived without warning-"

"You arrived to speak to someone you had only known through letters. To meet them as you said. I don't find that to be selfish."

"No?"

"No." She smiled and he drew in a breath, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a large gulp. He coughed and she laughed softly, picking up her glass and taking a small sip.

Their soups arrived, the aroma of which caused his stomach to growl. Before he could take a bite however, she looked at him and sighed.

"Now I must ask you to forgive me. I was… I was incredibly rude to you when we met and I should not have treated you so."

"It was-"

"It was a shock, yes, but it didn't give me the right to behave as I did. I apologize for my behavior toward you."

"Understood and accepted," he said with a smile and she let out a breath.

"Thank you," she whispered and he nodded.

"You're welcome, Miss Scully."

"Dana. My name is Dana." She held his gaze and his smile grew, finally knowing the D. Scully he had corresponded with for the past few months.

"Dana. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"And you, Fox," she said, picking up her spoon and taking a bite of her soup. He followed suit and they fell silent as they ate.

Their food finished and dessert ordered, he refilled their glasses, emptying the bottle. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes shining as she laughed softly. She was easier to talk to than any woman he had known and he enjoyed her company immensely.

"So you've come here to capitalize on the discovery of King Tutankhamun?"

"Well, when it's said in that manner, it sounds… correct…well, a bit," he said with a shrug and she laughed, taking a sip of her wine. "Actually, as I told you in my first letter, I've always been interested and intrigued with ancient Egypt, discoveries, and archaeology. I would dig up our garden at home, my mother having hidden objects days before, as I imagined myself a top explorer. When I saw the discovery of King Tutankhamun, I knew I needed to be here, to discover something of my own."

"That was kind of her to do for you," she said with a smile and he nodded.

"Do you, working in the museum, hear discussions for what others are searching?"

"I haven't, no. But I'm not exactly high up in the ranks there." He nodded and reached for his glass, taking a thoughtful sip. "Did you not have a plan when you left?"

"Not as such, no." She nodded, biting her lip and setting her glass down. "Is there something in particular you would be interested in searching for, if given the chance?" She sighed, looking at the table, her fingers running over the tablecloth.

"Kha'ari," she said softly and he frowned, the name not familiar to him.

"Whom?"

"Kha'ari. She's a goddess of pain, heartache, and suffering."

"Oh… that's not quite what I would have expected to hear," he said in surprise and she smiled sadly.

"I admit I wasn't always interested in goddesses like that, but…" She touched her neck, her fingers trailing across the gold chain lying there and the small heart shaped locket at her throat. "When I was younger, I knew more about the… for lack of a better way to say it, the happier goddesses, the ones people flocked to and knew more about."

"I don't think I know Kha'ari. Her name is not familiar to me."

"Not too surprising, really. I didn't know much about her until a few years ago, but once I did some research, I discovered more about her. She was the goddess of pain, as I said, people seeking out her assistance in the most painful of times, hoping she would help them. There are other goddesses of many things: happiness, sadness, protection, death… but this one I was most drawn to."

She held her locket in her hand, eyes downcast as she rubbed her lips together. He did not press her, not wanting to upset her further. Looking up, she met his eyes and moved her hand from her necklace, clearing her throat and folding her hands on top of the table, looking down again.

"There are many goddesses for fertility and life, importance placed on both, and yet so many women died in childbirth, or babies didn't survive their first year."

"Perhaps that is why there are so many goddesses? The need for them being quite great?" he said softly, and she looked up, her eyes shining with tears.

"Perhaps," she whispered with a nod.

Their desserts arrived and discussion turned to what he had done that day. He omitted his panicked feeling, instead focusing on what he had seen, showing her his journal of sketches.

"You drew these?" she asked, looking at them, going back a couple of pages and discovering the ones from his travels on the ship. He had drawn what caught his eye: a little girl with her mother, the men in the billiards room, a bird that had sat on the bow of the ship cleaning itself. "These are beautiful. You're very talented."

"Just sketches. Ways for me to remember what I saw." He shrugged, but her words of praise thrilled him. Especially the way her eyes stayed on each page, taking in the drawings.

"Really, the details are wonderful. The men's faces…" She smiled as she touched the one he liked best, a round-faced, happy man named Robert who'd had many stories to tell, especially after he'd had one brandy too many. "He looks like he would be equal parts entertaining and possibly embarrassing."

"Yes," he said with a laugh, taking the journal back and looking at him, before placing the journal into his jacket pocket. "That describes him perfectly. Liquor brought about the entertainment, but too much… the embarrassment."

"A fine line indeed."

"Always."

They stared at one another until she cleared her throat and looked around. The dining room was still fairly crowded, people enjoying a leisurely meal, laughing and chatting as they sat together.

"Can I bring you anything else, sir? Miss?" The waiter asked and they both shook their heads, Fox asking for the meal to be charged to his room. "Very well, sir. Thank you for joining us this evening. Miss." He bowed slightly and walked away.

"Well, I should be going home," she said, standing to her feet and he hurriedly did the same, his leg screaming in protest. He tried to mask it, but she saw and frowned. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing. A war injury."

"Oh, you…" She took a deep breath and raised her fingers to touch the locket at her throat, but moved it down quickly. "You were in the war?"

"Yes," he said, moving slowly from the table, attempting to hide his grimace of pain.

"Do you need assistance? Do you have a cane perhaps?"

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I just need to walk. That is always the best way to help when it pains me." She looked uncertain but he smiled, trying to reassure her. "May I escort you home? That would be beneficial to us both."

"Yes. That would be nice." He nodded and offered his arm to her, which she accepted, slipping her hand into the crook.

They walked out slowly until his leg began to ease up and not once did she say a word about it. Instead she commented on the beauty of the room, the art, and the fashion of the women. He nodded, though the only beauty he noticed was hers.

Out in the street, she took a deep breath and pointed to the right. Turning in that direction, something occurred to him and he glanced at her as they passed a small group of people.

"How did you know I was at this hotel?" She looked up at him and tried not to smile, looking away when she lost the battle.

"I do not wish to offend."

"You won't."

"It's the nicer of places to stay. I… I wouldn't expect you to be anywhere else." She fell silent and he let her words permeate.

Oh…

"Did I offend you?" she asked softly and he shook his head.

"No, you did not offend me."

"Are you sure?"

"No. I mean yes, I'm sure." He smiled at her and she nodded with a sigh of relief, both of them falling silent.

"You said you would look for the goddess Kha'ari," he said, changing the subject and breaking the silence. "How do you mean?"

"Oh…" she said, shaking her head. "It won't happen but, I would love to see if I'm correct." He stopped walking and stared at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked and she sighed.

"I think there was a temple erected in her honor, and I think I know where it may be." He frowned and pulled back to really look at her.

"How? Where?"

"I've read a lot about her, looking her up in books at the museum and library. Temples were erected to others, why not her?"

"If that's true, why have you not pursued it?" he asked, incredulously and she laughed rather bitterly. He raised his eyebrows at her and she pulled her hand from his arm, clasping them in front of her.

"I'm not the correct sex," she stated blatantly and he was taken aback.

"Have you shared any of your ideas or findings?"

"I have not."

"Why?"

"I stand by my previous statement." He frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but she had more to say. "Not only am I low in the eyes of those above me, I'm a woman, an American, no less, and no one would want to hear what I have to say. Especially about a little known goddess." She clenched her jaw as she finished speaking and he thought she had never looked more beautiful, with the flash of anger and stubbornness in her eyes.

"What if you mentioned it and someone wanted to pursue it?"

"No offense, Mr. Mulder, but that is not likely to happen," she said softly, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

So they were back to Mr. Mulder, he thought with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she said, closing her eyes briefly. "I have no right to get angry. Not at you anyway, you've done nothing to deserve it."

"It's quite alright," he said quietly and she looked at him, her eyes searching his. He smiled, wanting to put the discomfort behind them, and bent his arm to her again. She hesitated but then took it, continuing down the street.

They remained silent until she stopped him in front of a building, looking up to the window above them.

"This is my flat."

"Oh. Yes."

She took her arm from his and sighed as she looked down before raising her eyes.

"I hope I didn't put you off," she said with a worried smile.

"Not in the slightest," he assured her, completely honest.

"I enjoyed your company this evening and would like to see you again, but if you do not, I understand," she said."

"On the contrary, I had a delightful evening and would enjoy seeing you again." She smiled and nodded, her hand going to her throat before moving it again.

"Thank you for dinner. Perhaps I could return the favor, though not at the hotel." She smiled, more sincerely, though not like the brighter ones he had seen earlier. He nodded, even while knowing he would never be able to accept her money, not forgetting the look on her face when she admitted her inability to pay for a large meal.

"Goodnight… Fox," she said softly and he smiled, happy to be back on a first name basis.

"And to you… Dana," he responded, reaching for and squeezing her hand gently. She nodded, turned around and went inside, smiling as the door closed and he let out a breath.

On his return trip to the hotel, he thought of her, remembering the way she spoke, how her eyes lit up, her smile, her laugh, and then the anger in her eyes. She was a delightful woman and he had genuinely enjoyed his time with her, far more than he could say about any other woman.

Stopping at the reservation desk, he gave the woman there his letter to send and walked upstairs to his room. Upon entering, without even removing his jacket, he went to his small library and searched the titles. Finding one that was promising, he sat down to find any information he could about Kha'ari, a plan forming in his head.

One that could possibly be the next big discovery and he would be at the center of it.

Well, one of the centers anyway.