The ownership of the X-Files, Scully and Mulder hasn't changed since last chapter was posted – still belonging to Chris Carter.

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Chapter ten

Don't Give Up

Receiving no answer, he tried again; "Scully!"

Pushing the sweet memories away, she mumbled; "Yes, Mulder?"

"Were you sleeping?"

"No, just thinking about us."

"Huh? What do you think about this case?"

"I don't know, Mulder, but I'm sure you have a theory."

"I think this Jim Casey has a power to control other people, Scully, how, I don't know yet. But we have seen other cases where a person controls another person's mind and forces people to act against their own wills. Or it could be mass hypnoses. I think this is an X-File, Scully."

"Mulder, couldn't it just be a simple murder to revenge his brother's death case. Maybe the door was unlocked, when Jim Casey came to the rectory, and he simply locked it when leaving."

"It could be, Scully, but I still think we need to look for another explanation."

"There's a hotel, Mulder!" She needed a hot bath and a good night's sleep, whatever abilities Jim Casey had or hadn't, it would simply have to wait.

Allowing herself to drift back to memory lane, she reflected on the very nature of their relationship. They had promised to be serious and committed and they always were, but of course, they had failed on numerous occasions. Their differences had caused problems over the years. She had been pushed to the point of walking out of him and their work; stressed beyond reason and challenged by his demands and stubborn commitment to finding the truth. Sometimes believing, he wouldn't notice if she disappeared, that she was his second of third priority. He had proved her wrong, repeatedly. He always noticed, most often reacting by punishing her with a cold shoulder, pretending he can manage on his own.

Sometimes, she was trapped in this web, the mental part of her playing games against her better sense, especially when it came to other women. Diana Fowley had been an emotionally trigger, never faced in the same agony again, to that she was grateful.

She was tired of their game; it had unfolded, again, recently, when Mulder got involved with the case and Father Joe. She had threatened to leave and he had faked indifference. Her reasons to leave had changed, this time it had been deathly tiredness and raw fear, but the outcome was the same. Honestly, they were getting too old for this game. Anyway, they both knew they wouldn't leave for good, always bond to return.

Inside the Sandman Hotel Mulder booked a room for two, they hadn't slept apart for years, only the few nights when she considered leaving him, and they weren't about to start now. She hadn't liked those few nights; the bed at the hospital had been cold, hard and lonely.

Sinking into the bathtub, she wondered how his nights had been. Early in their relationship, he had hated to be alone, always calling her when they were apart and most often coming by, when he was supposed to sleep in his own apartment. Mulder was a talkative man except when it came to his emotions; then his actions took over and words eloped him.

"How did you sleep?" she asked when he entered the bathroom.

Puzzled he looked at her. "When?

"When you worked on the case?"

Knowing which case she needn't saying more. "I didn't!" He simply stated, "you know, I never do when you're not next to me."

Returning to the brushing of his teeth he admired her reflection in the mirror, he had a good full view.

"You're welcome to jump in, Mulder" she knew what he was doing. Eagerly, he accepted the offer. Settling against his body she relaxed and enjoyed his caressing hands.

The next morning they shared an omelette at the breakfast lounge in the hotel, it was big enough to share. She was wearing her long skirt and a long sleeved cotton t-shirt. In a small bag she had another long skirt and blouse together with Mulder's swimming trunks and a pair of towels. Before they left the room they had called William, he was fine and as talkative as his dad.

"A man came to see me, mommy" William innocently said.

Alarmed, Scully tightened her hold on her cell, "which man, William?"

Mulder being alarmed from her cutting tone of voice, came closer to her, squeezing his mouth he waited for their son's reply.

"A man with short brown hair, he was kind but didn't laugh much. He's okay mommy." William was already thinking about other more things, "can we buy ice cream when you come home?"

"We can have ice cream on Saturday, sweetheart. Is the man working with the FBI, William?" Her heart thumping so violently, she almost choked on the words, afraid of the answer. Why had she agreed to leave her son?

"He knows you. Don't worry mommy, he's a friend. I told you I'll be here when you come home. Grandma is calling, bye!"

"Bye, William. Mommy loves you" she whispered but the boy had already hung up.

"He said it was a friend, a man working with the FBI. What if it's not true, Mulder?"

"Skinner promised to keep and eye on him, he said not to worry yesterday evening. I think William is safe, Scully. We can't worry every time someone looks at our son. Will you be ok?" He examined her face closely.

"I don't know, Mulder. If I don't feel better later I'm going home!"

"That's a deal." He kept his own worry out of his voice.

Mulder was unusual quiet in the car; normally he would go on about one of his theories, talking himself warm. However, today he had become mute. First, she enjoyed the peace and the chance to think, but before long the silence became alarmingly loud, and she tried to read his profile.

"Are you okay, Mulder?"

"Yeah, I'm just wondering, you know!" He gave her a quick look.

"No, no I don't know, Mulder." She had no clue of what he was hinting at.

"I tried something like this before, I think. Albert Hosteen preformed a healing circle or something like that for me, after the cancer man blew up the boxcar in Mexico, remember? I'm not sure what Albert Hosteen did, I'm just wondering if it's the same we will do today."

"Oh, I don't know. I left before I saw what they did to Albert Hosteen when I was in Mexico. I thought it wrong to join them when I didn't share their faith."

"What about now?" He smiled at her.

"Now, I don't know. I've seen too many things I can't explain. Albert Hosteen coming to pray with me when he was in a coma, the things Joe Taylor said and Father Joe. I just don't know what to believe anymore. Is anything just good or just bad, I truly don't know, Mulder."

"You're troubled by how the Church treated the children?" It wasn't necessary to ask her.

"Yeah, yes I'm."

"Scully, will you join the sweat lodge?"

"I don't know, Mulder."

Swinging into the driveway of Joe Taylor, she remembered what he had said, "will you, Mulder? You never really said much about what happened in Mexico."

"I don't really remember anything; just that my father talked to me and something I never told you, I saw you."

"You saw me?" Puzzled she stared at him, "didn't you say it was the dead talking to you."

Warily, he looked at her from the corner of his eyes, "Albert Hosteen said that sometimes the living has a stronger hold of us than the deaths."

"I hope so but what does that mean, Mulder?"

"Come on Scully, I had a crush on you already then"

"Oh, that was what it was, a crush" Rolling her eyes she continued; "it must have been one hell of a crush, if it made you linger on this long."

"It was!" He didn't take his eyes of the dusty road.

"Mulder!"

"It is, I'm still here." He laughed.

Giggling, she jested, "Not for long if you assume, I'm only a crush."

"A crush that doesn't die easily, satisfied?"

"No, not really, Mulder" It was just a silly game to her.

"Well, you can make it more permanent if you want? I've been down on my knees."

She was saved by Joe Taylor, who came out to greet them as soon as he heard the car.

"Saved by the bell!" Mulder mumbled.