A/N: I apologize for the long lapse in updating! Hopefully you guys still have interest in this obscure story!
Otherwise, in typical X-Files fashion, this segment is technically Part One a two-parter! And Part Two will follow shortly!
Mulder leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He tossed his basketball in the air mindlessly. Writing his report on his trip to the English countryside was going less than smoothly. At his own admission, the journey had been a waste; now he had to find a way to justify the expenses to the Bureau. They didn't like to hear that their funds were being used for naught, and Mulder had been in hot water in that regard too many times in the past. He didn't want to repeat the mistake.
Mulder sighed and thumped the basketball down on his desk. He glanced at the blank document he had opened on his laptop. Scully had been right from the get-go; the matter hadn't been remotely FBI related. He had no jurisdiction across international waters, and he hadn't been following a lead to a case based in the United States. He had gone because he couldn't pass up on the chance to uncover the tantalizing mystery of crop circles.
If only he could consult with Scully on his report. Being the rational-minded scientist, she was always a good soundboard to bounce ideas off of in terms of what served as adequate evidence in an investigation. That's why she'd hounded him for seven years, after all. To add a bit of credence to his madcap theories.
Mulder debated calling her up again and requesting her aid. But he was uncertain if she really wanted to hear his voice right then. Their earlier phone conversation hadn't been the most comfortable. And her unexpected disappearance that morning made him wonder if something was wrong.
As far as he was concerned, the previous night had gone fine, albeit unexpectedly. He had anticipated a long night's sleep after the hustle and bustle of travel over the weekend. The last thing he had expected was to fall into bed with Scully, but he didn't find any fault with it.
It's not that he'd been looking for opportunities to lure Scully to his bed. He was well aware of the parameters of their relationship, and he had willingly and happily lived within those boundaries for a number of years. Had the previous night not happened, he would still abide by the unsaid rules that existed between Scully and himself: that at the end of the day, they were colleagues, work partners. Yes, they were friends, of course. Good friends who had been through hell and high water together. After all they'd seen and suffered through, it would have been a miracle had they not developed a deep, strong sense of friendship—perhaps a nigh unbreakable one. They complemented one another so perfectly in the professional field where their typical roles felt like a second skin. And in a personal setting, they opened up to one another in ways they had never done so before—at least that was the truth in Mulder's case.
Nonetheless, Mulder would be lying to himself if he didn't confess that he had wanted the events of the previous night to occur for a few years now. The temptation was even more pressing following his deadly diagnosis. He direly wanted to take his chance before he lost it.
And the sound of that ticking clock was why he'd suddenly gotten the courage to kiss her at the turn of the century. Well, that and because he could traditionally get away with kissing her on New Year's Eve without the sense that he was forcing their relationship beyond its long-existent framework. He was simply imparting the customary "Happy New Year" kiss in celebration of the new millennium. On a more personal level, though, he was testing the waters—seeing how he'd like it and seeing how Scully would react to a kiss from him. He remembered that mean right hook 40s Scully had given him on the deck of the Queen Anne after he unceremoniously planted one on her. He would rather not get another black eye from his current partner, so he ensured the gesture was chaste and simple. And Mulder found he had certainly enjoyed it; Scully, meanwhile, hadn't reeled back in disgust, so that was a good sign.
Even while he had acted for the purpose of seeing how their relationship could potentially progress, Mulder didn't push the matter afterwards. He left it where it was, resuming his casual-professional attitude that he had always had with Scully. It was the safest decision for both of them. Scully was always naturally reluctant to get close to people for fear of being hurt, and Mulder had a date with death coming up. The last thing they needed was to enter into a romantic relationship of any sort. Least of all when it primarily was to assuage his personal sense of failure.
Mulder didn't want to sleep around with any old woman; he could approach any streetwalker for that. And he didn't just want to pleasure himself. His myriad of triple-X tapes of magazines suited that purpose. The issue wasn't that Mulder would feel like any less of a man if he failed to bring a woman to his bed.
He had specifically wanted Scully; it was more a matter of heartfelt desire stemming from a seven year-long partnership and friendship in which they both constantly and consistently took risks for the good of the other. It was because she celebrated with him during his successes and consoled him during his failures. She never sought to abandon him or mislead him. And it was that source of strength he wanted to rely on and draw close to in his last months. Mulder wanted to make it irrefutably known how much he cared for and respected her, how unequivocally important she was to him, and how he found his ultimate sense of contentment and satisfaction when he was around her.
And he had finally achieved that end.
But now the dynamics of their relationship had suddenly shifted. In refusing to deny that which practically constituted as his "last wish," he had put Scully at risk. Given her minor hesitations the night before, she would view the entire ordeal with a sickening sense of guilt and dread or find that she, too, took comfort in him and be more willing to invest herself in him. In either case, Scully would be changed. He had already sensed such a change in her. Her flight coupled with her awkward mannerisms on the phone tipped him off that something was on her mind, and he had a strong suspicion it concerned the night before.
Despite being well aware of the potential repercussions of such an action, Mulder had flaunted them—like he did so much else—with the excuse that he was acting on personal ambition, the inherent sense that he was doing right, at least so far as it concerned himself. That had always been one of his faults, a seeming inability to consider the circumstances of others when his own emotions were at play. And now he would have to suffer the consequences. His relationship with Scully was in flux. He had no idea where his personal relationship with her lay and he had no idea if he had jeopardized their working relationship. While he felt he could still approach Scully on a solely professional basis, he was unsure about her. And to top it all off, he would have to find a way to subtly prepare her for the days to come—days that didn't include him.
Mulder stared at his computer screen, the cursor blinking tauntingly on the otherwise blank document, awaiting for him to add the necessary text.
Musing on his rapidly-changing personal and professional relationship with Scully would not help him in writing his report to Skinner. Mulder groaned before sitting upright in his chair, determined to try and get something down on the page. Maybe he'd ask the Gunmen if they could dig up anything on the computer algorithm used to predetermine crop circle locations. Perhaps they could find the mathematician who created the equation and Mulder could question him on the basis of his work.
A sharp rap echoed across the room from his front door. Mulder glanced behind him somewhat relieved to be pulled from his laborious task and pesky personal thoughts. He crossed the room, dragging his sock-covered feet against the carpet, and opened the door. Much to his surprise, Scully stood there.
"Uh...hey, Scully," he greeted, perplexed. Mulder had no idea what he sudden and unexpected arrival at his door meant; it could either be entirely good or entirely bad. She slipped under his outstretched arm as he held the door open for her to enter. "Did you forget something?" he asked, turning back to her after shutting the door.
"No, I didn't," she replied, briefly looking at him as they wandered into the living room. She seemed awfully tight-lipped, and Mulder could immediately sense the tension rolling off her in waves. Regardless of his curiosity, he figured his best option was to remain casual and neutral. First and foremost, he had to calm her down.
"So what do I owe the honor?" He leaned back against the doorframe and crossed his arms. "I thought you were busy doing paperwork today." Scully scrunched her eyes. In worry? Embarrassment? Mulder couldn't rightly tell.
"I was hoping to get some done," she admitted. "I guess I'm struggling to keep concentrated." She rubbed at her temples. Mulder grinned.
"Join the club." He pushed off from the doorframe and gestured to his desktop. "My own attempts at being a paper-pusher have proven futile so far. Though it beats doing background checks all day."
"Your report on the England trip?" Scully asked brusquely. Mulder sensed that shop-talk would help her ease her discomfort.
"Yeah." He crossed the room and picked up the basketball once more, tossing it from hand to hand. "I can't figure out how to possibly justify the trip to the Bureau bean counters."
"Well," Scully sighed, "aside from your personal interest in the crop circle phenomena, what can be gained in learning about their origins?"
"We can determine their source," Mulder replied. "Whether they're something we should conduct research into because they are extraterrestrial in nature or an earthly occurrence."
"And what would that information provide the Bureau?" Scully pressed, slipping off her coat and tossing it on the arm of the couch.
"I can't possibly know that, Scully," he responded somewhat agitatedly, setting down the ball. "That's why they have to be investigated. They're a means to discovering the truth."
"Yes, I'm aware of that, Mulder," Scully replied with a sympathetic nod. "But it's not me you have to convince. Crop circles have no known effect on the agricultural field or any iota of day-to-day existence. So what could the Bureau possibly gain in researching them?" Scully had taken on the patronizing, insistent tone that he knew so well. "At least give me a theory on what you think we could potentially learn." Her sea blue eyes bored into his. Mulder broke eye contact with her and sighed, not knowing exactly where to start. It was precisely why he was stuck in writing his report, and Scully had picked up on that with obnoxious ease.
"Perhaps," he began uncertainly, "perhaps—if the occurrence of crop circles were discovered to be natural—it would only serve as further confirmation of the existence of mathematical anomalies in nature. The concept that the world is comprised of the perfection of mathematics to some extent." Scully quirked an eyebrow at him.
"That sounds more like one of your fool-proof hunches, Mulder." He shrugged helplessly.
"It's the best I can do after coming home with no conclusive data whatsoever."
"Then write that for Skinner," Scully said decidedly, crossing her arms. "I'll submit an accompanying report detailing my retrieval and interpretation of Colleen Azar's research. Maybe that will help."
"Putting your neck out on the line for me, Scully?" Mulder questioned with one of his lazy smiles.
"Anything to give credence to your little weekend getaway while on the FBI payroll." She met him with a playful glance. Mulder chuckled in return.
"It wasn't exactly my sort of getaway."
"What?" Scully said dubiously. "Mysterious phenomena, an isolated location, and the potential involvement of extraterrestrial activity? That's got you written all over it, Mulder."
"Ohh. Talk dirty to me, Scully." He smiled suggestively, though he was unsure how Scully would take his customary attempt to flirt. On cases and in the field, his flirtations were always light and teasing, but now...he wasn't sure. Scully stared at him a moment before rolling her eyes. Mulder's nervousness immediately dissipated.
Still the same old Scully, he thought to himself. That was certainly a relief.
"I think your interpretation and my interpretation of that action differs substantially," Scully quipped dryly with a small smile playing at her lips.
"Now that's teasing," Mulder drawled out pointing at Scully. She shrugged wordlessly in response. Mulder grinned, and she rolled her eyes again.
"But back on topic, Mulder—" He nodded agreeably.
"I'll make sure to drag you with me next time I decide to go on a cross-Atlantic weekend getaway."
"Mmm-hmm," Scully nodded. "Or you could listen to me in the first place and forego the trip entirely when you realize you have no legitimate basis for going."
"Touché, Scully." Their back and forth banter was certainly welcome. It was the norm for them, and it brought them to a common, comfortable level exceedingly fast. Mulder sighed and looked Scully up and down, once again wondering at the purpose for her visit. She had nothing in hand; he glanced over at her coat to see if anything sat nearby, a work file or anything. Once again, nothing. "So what did you come by for?" he finally asked. "Need me to return the favor and help you figure out a work-related conundrum? Why those girls decided it would be a good idea to re-enact The Blair Witch Project, for instance?"
"I didn't come about work, actually," she replied, her brow furrowing as tension once again buzzed in the air around them.
"Alright," he responded coolly, gesturing to the couch as he leaned back in his desk chair. She sat and rested her elbows against her knees, clasping her hands in front of her.
"It's about last night," she began. Her eyes flickered to his uncertainly, but he watched her steadily. Mulder had been prepared for some sort of conversation on the subject, and he wasn't about to criticize her for being nervous. "I don't think I did right by you," she continued. Mulder's eyes widened and he couldn't help but chuckle. He didn't know what he'd expect her to say, but that certainly wasn't it.
"Trust me, Scully. You did right be me." He smiled lightly. "You did more than right." She ignored his interruption and continued on.
"I mean to say...I don't think I came to you with...pure intentions."
"'Pure,'" Mulder repeated, feeling how the word sounded in his mouth and trying to determine what significance it had.
"My mind was preoccupied with other matters," she clarified, "and it made me feel wanting and lonely, I suppose." Her tone softened and became more uncertain as she progressed. She wasn't well-versed in divulging her feelings, being too accustomed with keeping to herself and maintaining a tough, proud exterior at headquarters. Mulder was aware of that, but he also knew that she knew he was always willing to hear what she had to say, and—perhaps more importantly—he wouldn't think any less of her.
"Daniel Waterston," he ventured. Her eyes snapped to his, and he glimpsed a flicker of fear. "You can say it," he added calmly. "I won't take offense." She sighed uncomfortably.
"Yeah..." she admitted, turning her gaze from him to stare off into his kitchen. "Daniel," she whispered.
"He really did a number on you, huh?" Mulder said in his customary deadpan. Scully looked back at him, scant tears suddenly glistening in her eyes.
"Yeah," she choked out quietly. "He really made me question the life I was leading." She wiped away some tears with a hand and sniffled. Mulder glanced over to his desk, spotted a small Kleenex box, and handed it over to Scully. She plucked a few Kleenex from it and dabbed at her eyes. "I mean...I'm happy where I am. My family, the Bureau, you." She smiled apologetically at him. "But he really forced me to come to grips with what I was missing. And I guess last night I wondered if it was...you."
"Me?" Mulder parroted.
"We're so close, Mulder. All the abductions and near-death experiences between us. Everything we've seen and accomplished."
That's an understatement, Mulder thought, but he kept it to himself. She sniffled again and rubbed a fresh Kleenex against her nose.
"And we've never been anything more than just partners in all this time. I know I've never been closer to anybody than I've been with you. Not Jack. Not Daniel. Certainly not Marcus. And after talking to Daniel this weekend I just wanted to feel wanted, so why not with you?" She sighed. "That sounds so indifferent, inconsiderate of your feelings," she griped.
"No, no, no," Mulder protested, raising a hand. "It's fine." He covered his mouth with his hand, trying to figure out where to go with his response. "You don't need to be embarrassed by Waterston's words having an effect on you. That's the nature of old flames. I mean, look at Phoebe if you don't believe me," he offered. "And she's more like a living ball of fire."
"Phoebe Greene?" Scully asked, crumpling the Kleenex in her hand.
"Yeah," Mulder nodded. "You've met her. You've seen what a spineless moron she turned me into—and that was only after a couple of days."
"Mulder, that was six years ago," Scully retorted quietly.
"And I swear she'd still have the same effect on me today if she walked through that door." He pointed to the front door of his apartment. "Because that's Phoebe, and that's what she does to me no matter how much I try to ward her off."
"But I don't want that, Mulder," Scully replied. "I don't want to be tied down to Daniel because of our past." Mulder worked his jaw for a moment.
"I don't think we really have a say in it, Scully. We all have someone who sets us off in that way. We just have to wade through the toughest times and hope to come out of it okay." He reached out and took one of her hands in his. She offered a small smile of thanks and gave his hand a squeeze. "And for the record, I'm not...hurt if you think Waterston pushed you into last night. I'm not looking to get into fist fights with your past beaus. The past is the past, and we all have old relationships that stir things up in us." Scully dabbed at the last of her tears.
"Way to make me feel like an idiot, Mulder," she complained weakly. He smiled lightly.
"What can I say? It's a talent." He leaned over toward her, hesitating for just a fragment of a second, and kissed her on the cheek. She played with his hand, running fingers over his knuckles. At least she didn't rebuke he sudden show of affection.
"I still want to do something about Daniel, though," she admitted.
"What is there to do?" Mulder shrugged. "You told him there wasn't a future between you two and to accept responsibility for the pain he caused his family."
"But I know Daniel," Scully persisted, shaking her head. "He won't give up on me just because of my word. He didn't ten years ago."
"He's going to have to realize at some point or another," Mulder tried to soothe her. He clasped her fingers in his and wriggled his thumb back and forth in a thumb war, a game they sometimes played. Scully planted her thumb on top of his. He wriggled out from under it and began to stroke it.
"He's stubborn," Scully replied with finality. She glanced up at Mulder. "He won't give up unless he sees good reason to." She sighed. "So I want to visit him today to give him that reason." Mulder arched his eyebrows curiously.
"Which is?"
"You," she said hesitantly. Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted her to say. Phoebe had constantly played mind games of that sort with him; he wasn't about to do so to one of Scully's old lovers.
"I do not want to go toe-to-toe with Waterston in that way," he said in all seriousness.
"And I don't want you to," Scully agreed. "I need you to be there as an example of my life in the FBI. He thinks he can sweep me off my feet with talk of medicine and how it would make better use of my talents as a doctor. I need you to show him that I'm not a naive medical student anymore. That my interests have branched outside the strictly rational and that I'm slowly learning to believe."
"Scully..." Mulder muttered. He did not want to go through meeting Waterston and dealing with his critical gaze. Under certain circumstances, Mulder might have fun talking circles around him about alien life and abnormal phenomena, but not when he'd be entering that hospital room like a usurper, asserting his claim on Scully. Waterston would only see that as a challenge.
"Please, Mulder," Scully pleaded. "I need to get Daniel out of my life so that I can move past this. And if I can somehow help heal the rift between him and Maggie, all the better." Mulder leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.
"Alright, Scully. As much as I don't want to, I'll do it."
Scully glanced over at Mulder standing tall and still in his long-sleeved shirt, blue jeans, and customary leather jacket. He looked the picture of calm and cool except for the telltale sign of his fingers drumming against his pants leg. He was agitated and much more nervous than he let on.
Her eyes swept around the small cubicle they were temporarily trapped in. The elevator groaned as it chugged up to higher floors. The heavy silence was broken by the occasional ding of the automated sound system when they reached a new level, but the doors stayed otherwise closed. While she had a momentary reprieve from behaving as the ever-professional Special Agent Dana Scully, she reached out to Mulder's hand and gave it a squeeze. He glanced down at her and tried to offer a reassuring smile, but she wasn't fooled.
"It'll be fine," she muttered, slipping her hand from his as the elevator slowed to a stop.
"I just don't like the idea of walking into a room where I'll be seen as the enemy, an invader who is stomping all over his territory," he whispered back. Scully quirked an eyebrow up at her partner.
"'Territory?'" The doors slid open to reveal a sterile white hospital hallway complete with reception desk, nurses running around in multi-colored scrubs, and the flurry of voices.
"Well, obviously he's very territorial," Mulder explained as Scully stepped from the elevator and strode down the hall. He set his pace to match hers. "He considers you his, and he won't like me mucking up his plans." Scully glanced over at him.
"And you aren't territorial, Mulder?" she replied incredulously.
"I'm...protective of you," Mulder countered. "As both my partner and my friend." Scully met his gaze, staring into his green eyes as they walked side-by-side. "But I wouldn't stand in the way of something you wanted." She nodded; they could let the matter drop for now. She had to figure out how to go about seeing Daniel again.
Thankfully, the pair of the walked up on Maggie Waterston consulting with her father's physician, Dr. Kopeikan, in the hall outside his room. No need for an awkward scene in Daniel's room as Scully once again arrived from out of the blue for yet another hospital visit. Especially after it seemed that she and Maggie had come to a sort of an unspoken agreement that she would remain out of Daniel's life, and subsequently, Maggie's. Scully caught Maggie's eye and raised a hand in greeting with what she hoped would be perceived as a well-wishing smile.
"That's Daniel's daughter," Scully said quietly with a nod toward Maggie. She stepped over to one side to await the woman's arrival. Mulder ducked his head some to hear his partner over the bustle of the active hallway.
"She looks to be about your age," Mulder noted perceptively. Scully frowned. Given her history with Daniel, that was an uncomfortable idea to consider.
"I'm not sure how old she is. We've only met a few times, but I think she might be a few years younger than me." Mulder nodded thoughtfully and straightened up. Scully found herself ruminating on the subject for a moment, but she really didn't want to consider such unpleasant facets of her past; it wasn't something she could change at this point, no matter if she wished to.
Scully glanced around the busy hallway at the nurses and staff unintentionally wondering if that could have been her life. Darting from patient room to room, hastily scanning a chart to pick out standout symptoms. Doing a cursory examination of the patient and offering a diagnosis or recommending further tests. Then disappearing back out into the white-walled world of the hospital and further cases. It would have been a very different sort of life, one in which she would be obliged to persist in her old habit of personal detachment in the workplace. Getting close to anyone was too dangerous in a medical environment because there was always the chance of an unexpected death, and the idea of repeatedly having to cope with the emotional turmoil that accompanied someone's passing was a frightening prospect. It took too much out of you, and despite the chance to do good for the sick and dying of the world, Scully was profoundly happy she had decided against going into the medical field. She was young and had a life to live and enjoy; when she was older and more experienced, perhaps she would be ready to devote her life to such a worthy cause—when she was more prepared to deal with the cost that came with it.
She noticed Maggie's conversation with Daniel's doctor wrap up. Dr. Kopeikan walked briskly further down the hall; Maggie uncomfortably crossed her arms in front of her and wandered Scully's way. The young woman looked better than she had the day before. There was a little more color in her face while the bags under her eyes weren't quite as pronounced. With her father on the mend, she had obviously taken time to clean herself and get a night's rest.
"What are you doing here?" she asked neutrally, coming to a stop in front of Scully and Mulder.
"I was hoping to see your father one last time," Scully replied carefully, aware that she could potentially set off Maggie with her request.
"I thought you were done with him," Maggie replied with more force, her eyes flickering to Mulder for a moment. "I thought you were getting out of our lives."
"I plan to, Maggie," Scully assured her. "But I'm afraid your father won't listen to either of us. He didn't listen to me ten years ago." Maggie's eyes sharpened and her nostrils flared a bit.
"When you left my family in shambles, you mean?" she accused.
"I didn't mean for that to happen," Scully replied firmly. "Maggie, I never actually had an affair with your father. I left before we got that far—when I learned he was a married man with a young daughter."
"You actually think I'm that stupid," Maggie countered with a cynical laugh. Before Scully had a chance to speak, Mulder interjected.
"She's telling you the truth, Ms. Waterston. She told me the whole story last night, and she left your father before their relationship had been consummated." Maggie turned to Mulder warily, wondering who he could be to so blatantly speak about her private affairs.
"This is Special Agent Fox Mulder," Scully introduced. "My partner at the FBI. He's here at my request and strictly in an unofficial capacity." Mulder reached out a hand to Maggie.
"I'm Margaret Waterston," she replied, shaking his hand before returning to her cross-armed position and looking back at Scully coldly.
"No doubt you and your mother thought we had a legitimate affair," Scully said sympathetically. "And I can't blame you for thinking so, but I promise you, Maggie, nothing like that happened. If I had known your father was married, I would never have pursued the relationship in the first place." She could tell Maggie didn't believe her, and there was nothing to be done about that. Maggie would believe what she believed. The young woman clenched her jaw tightly.
"What do you want?" she asked point-blank.
"To try and dissuade your father from further pursuing me," Scully replied honestly. "He told me that he moved to Washington, D.C. ten years ago for the express purpose of following me. I don't want him to repeat that mistake when there's nothing to be gained, and when there's a chance that he will sacrifice his relationship with you in the process." Some hot, angry tears trickled out of Maggie's eyes. She roughly wiped them out of the way.
"And how do you expect to convince him? I've tried to for ten years now!"
"By having him speak to Agent Mulder," Scully said coolly, looking over at her partner. "I'm hoping that once your father realizes I have changed drastically from the young woman I was, he will cease his attempts to win me back. And if all goes to plan, he'll turn his focus into fixing his relationship with you."
"You think having him talk to my dad will help?" Maggie replied, wholly unconvinced. Mulder shifted uncomfortably next to Scully; he was no doubt thinking the same thing.
"I'll always be seen as your father's young, naive student. Agent Mulder is a well-respected professional in his field and has been my partner for the last seven years." Scully could practically feel Mulder's eyes boring into the side of her head at the mention of him being "well-respected," but she paid him no mind. It was not the time for personal quips and in-jokes. "He can inform your father of my work over the last number of years with the FBI, perhaps imparting how I am pleased with what I have accomplished. Not to mention that I am generally satisfied with how my life has turned out. I don't need your father to rescue me from some unfortunate fate." Maggie sighed.
"You can try," she agreed finally. "He recently finished lunch, so he should be awake. I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee. Find me there when you're done." Without so much as a smile, she side-stepped Scully and walked down the hall toward the awaiting elevators. Scully stared at her departing back for a moment, before turning back to Mulder and releasing a breath.
"Tense," Mulder commented unhelpfully.
"She's been furious at me for years," Scully replied. "To her, I'm the reason her family's in the state it's in."
"Sounds like most of that blame should fall on Waterston," Mulder countered.
"Yeah," Scully nodded. "He made me think he was an older bachelor. A brilliant man with no one to understand him, and I was that special someone. Cliché, right?" She sighed. "I did love him, but I couldn't bear the thought of being a home-wrecker. I couldn't put his family through that...and look what happened despite my best attempts." Mulder stretched an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him affectionately.
"You did good, Scully. Now we just have to help Dr. Waterston get the picture." He released her, and she stepped across and hall and to Daniel Waterston's closed door. She took a breath and opened it, peering in.
To be continued...