New: Sixty Degrees of Separation (4/5) mmalone73@hotmail.com

Disclaimer in Part 1

Part 4/5

Mulder glanced over at Scully as she navigated her car through the streets of Alexandria. "Hey, Scully, how about grabbing some dinner?"

"You have all that food in your refrigerator, Mulder,"

"OK," he said agreeably. "Let's eat that."

"Umm... Actually, I'm a little tired," she said. "I've been getting up very early the last few weeks, and I tend to crash a lot earlier in the evening."

"That breakfast shift must be hell, Scully. I told you I'd loan you the money to pay off the fine Kersh slapped on you," he said.

"And I told you, I don't need your money, Mulder. I've just been working on... something. A special project," she said.

"Ooh, nobody's ever knitted me a sweater before," he said.

She smiled as she rolled the car to a stop in front of his apartment building. "I'll have to have you over for a fitting soon."

Oh, Scully, he thought, with a small, private smile of his own,
sometimes you make this just too easy. Just as well, since you make everything else so difficult.

"My time is yours," he said. "I'd like nothing better than to stand still while you take my measurements." As expected, he got no reaction. He was still intrigued by what might be keeping her occupied, but for some reason, didn't feel like pushing her further.

"Have a good evening, Mulder," Scully said, watching as he stepped out of the car. "Try to get some more rest, you need it to heal."

He leaned back into the car. "I think I need to take a rest from
resting, Scully. After the last two days of resting, I feel as if I need a vacation."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," she said. "After we get the X-Files back--"

"What makes you so sure we'll get them back?" he asked.

"I'm sure because I know you, Mulder," she said. "You're the most determined man I've ever met. You'll never give up trying to get what you want."

He shut the car door and watched her drive out of sight. No, he thought, as he turned toward his building, I never will.

Mulder spent his evening somewhat productively -- a run, a shower, some laundry. It's no life, but it's my life, he thought, as he flipped on the television. Wandering into the kitchen, he realized that he was hungrier than he'd been in days, though the edge was dulled a bit by the idea of eating alone. He stopped stock still with the refrigerator door open. He'd lived alone for years. He'd eaten hundreds of solitary meals. Those facts had never been worth even a passing thought... till now.

Fixing a solitary, late night supper, he considered methods of
persuasion. How could he make Scully understand what he was trying to tell her? Traditional symbolic gestures wouldn't work. For one thing, with their past history, flowers customarily meant 'Get well soon', so they were out. She had a love/hate relationship with chocolate, and it would be just his luck to give her some during a down cycle. She wasn't easy to manipulate, like Frohike -- she didn't like cheesesteaks, and she certainly wouldn't accept the loan of a videotape. Except, maybe the
one about... No. Nope. He sighed. If he wanted to keep this evening productive, any thoughts along those lines would have to keep till later.

He walked back to the living room, with a microwaved plate of lasagna in one hand and a beer in the other. Sitting on the couch, he stared at the television, trying to place the wicked looking brunette before him. Joan Crawford? He took a huge bite of lasagna, and a swig of beer, while eyeing the bottle of pills. His headache was better, and he wasn't supposed to take those with alcohol. Pass.

Moving to the desk, he booted up his computer and accessed his work files. He spent three hours on a methodical review of Area 51's purported use of reverse engineered technology and personnel hierarchy. Eventually, the words started to dance in front of his tired eyes. He stretched, reached for his beer, and smiled sardonically at his reflection in the dark window behind the desk. These pathetic attempts to make believe he was still investigating X-Files... well, whatever gets you through the night, he thought. Looking back at the monitor, he shook his head at the bottlenecks he seemed to be stuck in on all fronts
lately.

"What can I do?" he said aloud.

"You can start by buying me a drink, darling," purred a voice behind him.

***

He tensed and looked up. Diana was standing behind him, reflected in the elegant mirror behind the bar. The black feathers in her hat swept across the back of his neck as she leaned over his shoulder. He almost dropped the tall beer glass he was holding.

"Darling, I've been looking forward to seeing you again. It's been such a long time," she said. She moved back and captured the arm of the man standing beside her. "And now my new friend here tells me you might have something interesting to tell me." Mulder's eyes shifted to his left and took in an uncomfortable looking Walter Skinner.

A hand reached across from his right, and gently removed the beer glass from his grasp. "Actually, my friend and I were just about to dance," said a sweet, low voice. He turned his head and his gaze settled on Scully... No. Not Scully, he thought. I've been here before, and this is not Scully, and that's not really Skinner, and I hope to God that's not Diana, because I just don't want to deal with her right now, and how come nobody's noticed that there's a six and a half foot tall rabbit in a bow tie nursing a ginger ale at the end of the bar... and who the hell am I supposed to be?

Diana, looking disappointed, said, "Save the next one for me, then, will you, Fox?"

Mulder's shoulders slumped as he slid off his bar stool. It's my dream, he thought. Why can't I be Mike, or Dirk, or Roger, just for once? He took his second favorite redhead's hand, and let her lead him to the dance floor. "Okay, what's going on?" he hissed, as they started to dance.

"I thought you'd never get here," said his dance partner. "Do you remember what you're supposed to do?"

He gave her his best blank look.

She rolled her eyes. "At the moment, that woman is working for Goering. Things are heating up, and we think she's looking for fresh contacts. We'd like to control the information she'll be sending to the fatherland. Don't you remember this?"

"I'm supposed to... set a honey trap?" he asked distastefully.

"What's sauce for the goose, Moose," she said blithely.

He sighed. "Apparently, it's Mulder," he said. "Fox Mulder."

"That's right, you're the man she wanted to see, and you're the man we got for her," she said. "She thinks you're an American intelligence officer ready to be compromised -- she worked with you once before right? Only then you thought you were both on the same side."

"We weren't?" he said.

"Her loyalties are... flexible, to say the least," she said. "Didn't you ever figure that out? We think you can make her believe anything, do anything you want, just by flashing those baby uh-- greens at her and talking sweet."

Mulder had an unsettled moment of reflection on his past with Diana -- the Diana he knew -- and begged to differ. "She didn't-- doesn't always do what I want her to do," he protested.

"How hard did you ever try to change her mind? Did you put your heart into it?"

No, he thought, surprised at the realization. Not back then, when his heart had been so empty. Certainly not now, when it was carrying a big, flashing 'no vacancy' sign. He shook his head.

"So, go ahead," she said. "Make an effort. I bet she'd do anything you wanted her to do."

His head was whirling. He contemplated the woman before him, and said softly, "I bet you're not like that."

She looked at him sharply. "What makes you say that?"

"You remind me of someone, remember?" he said "And her loyalties are... inflexible, to say the least. She believes what she believes, and who she believes in, and no amount of sweet talk would ever make her change her mind. No one can make her do, or say, or feel, anything she doesn't want to. And that includes me," he added mournfully.

"A real pain, huh?" said the woman. "Good thing you're here with her instead," she smiled, indicating the woman in black, lounging at the bar.

"No!" said Mulder, "No I-- I need Scully to tell me the truth. It's the reason I trust her. She'd never tell me anything just because I wanted to hear it, or because I pushed her into saying it..." He stopped, dumbfounded.

"Good for you," she said, smiling softly. "You finally figured it out. Why don't you tell her that? I think she'd like to know."

"I will," he said, grinning now, bending his partner back in an
extravagant dip. "I will!"

"Okay, but hold on," she said, laughing, "here comes your chance to make a contribution to the war effort."

Mulder felt a tap on his shoulder, and a sultry voice say, "May I cut in?"

He stood the redhead up gently, and touched her cheek. "Thank you," he said.

"Darling, isn't the next dance for me?" said the other woman, impatiently.

"No," he said, shaking his head and backing away, "no, no, but... here's someone who said he'd jump at the chance to dance with you. You should see him fox-trot." He grabbed the paw of the tall white rabbit in the bow tie, hovering at the edge of the crowd.

He thrust the rabbit at Diana, and ignored her muffled cries of "Fox! Fox, I'll get you for this," as the strangely well matched couple
shuffled off to 'Chattanooga Choo-choo'.

He felt a hand on his arm. "Wait just a minute," said a gruff voice next to his ear, "what about our plan?"

"It's OK," he hissed to the Skinner lookalike, "you've got her." He placed his hands on the man's broad shoulders, and pointed him to face the redhead. "What else do you need to win a war?"

Eager to reach his own secret weapon, he turned and hastened to the exit, dodging whirling, hopping, swinging couples. Jeez, he thought, looking down at the dance floor. What a stupid place to put a coffee table.

***

Mulder rolled over on the floor of his apartment, trying to hold both his aching left knee and sore right arm. He gave up, and lay flat back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Memories of dreams from the past two days came flooding back. He glanced at his watch. Nearly five o'clock in the morning. Scully, he thought. I have to find Scully.

End Part 4/5

New: Sixty Degrees of Separation (5/5)

Disclaimer in Part 1

Part 5/5

An hour and a half later, Mulder raced into the Hoover Building. Scully was nowhere to be found. Not picking up the phone at her apartment because she wasn't in her apartment. Not reachable in any case, because her cell phone was turned off. Whatever her special project was, it seemed to demand a lot of privacy and concentration.

"Morning, Agent Mulder. This is just like old times," said a voice behind him.

Turning, he grinned at at the familiar face of Officer Rucker. "Ruck, how've you been?"

"Not bad, not bad," said the security guard. "So, I see you and Agent Scully are up to something interesting these days."

"Uh, no, we're uh... just good, uh..." He trailed off into embarrassed silence.

"Don't worry, Agent Mulder. Whatever little project you've got going on the side, you can count on me to be discreet." Ruck treated Mulder to an exaggerated wink.

"Uh... Thanks," Mulder said, weakly, starting to edge toward the stairwell.

"It's about time you showed up," said Ruck. "Why you let a fine lady like that do so much work alone is beyond me."

"She's here?" said Mulder.

"Up in the lab. Just waiting for you, I'd say," said Ruck. "Course, that's just between you and me," he called after Mulder, who was already on the move, too late to see Ruck shake his head, and mutter "All work and no play...." as he walked in the other direction.

As Mulder exited the stairwell, he frowned at the glimmer of light coming from the laboratory at the end of the dark hallway. He started toward it, the words 'fortune' and 'fate' running through his head.

He stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of Scully, standing at a lab bench, poring over a light box. He was really out of shape, he thought. Two flights of stairs shouldn't make his heart race like that.

"Hey, Scully," he said.

She jumped and turned the light box off. "Mulder?" she said. "What are you doing here?"

He began moving toward her, mostly by feel. "I guess I should have guessed jigsaw puzzles instead of knitting," he said. He reached over to turn the light box back on. It flickered, then cast a fluorescent glow upward, highlighting the determined look on Scully's face.

"I have just as much right to do this as you, Mulder," she said,
beginning to gather the plastic-wrapped, charred fragments. "Maybe more."

He felt an ache starting to build at the back of his throat. "Okay," he said. "But don't you think it would have been easier to do this together?"

"When were we supposed to do that, Mulder?" she asked. "Even when you're here lately, you're not really here."

He choked out a soft laugh. "You think I've been spending too much time in dreamland? You might be amazed at what you can learn there."

"Like what? How to get the X-Files back? How to make Kersh disappear?" She bit her lip, then forced out, "How to make me say what you want me to say? How that is going to make everything all right, when I'm not sure anything is going to be all right ever again?

"Actually," he said, "what I figured out was that I can't make you do or say anything that you don't want to."

"Was that a revelation, Mulder?" she said sadly. "If it took you this long, then you really haven't been paying attention."

He sat on the corner of the desk next to the bench so he could talk to her face-to-face. At least, they would be face-to-face, he thought ruefully, if she would ever stop scrutinizing the floor.

"What came as a revelation..." he started, then reached to take her hand, "Scully, please look at me."

She resisted a little as he tried to pull her closer, then finally took a step forward, raised her head, and treated him to a level gaze.

He fought a moment of panic, then gathered himself. "Scully, I have been dreaming a lot lately." He stopped as she made a little huffing noise. "May I continue?" he asked.

She nodded, having the grace to look somewhat contrite.

"I've had trouble remembering the dreams until this morning, I think because of the pain pills."

"That's not a common side effect, Mulder," she said, frowning.

"It's also not important," he said. "The important thing is what was in the dreams. I don't know if they were an escape from the reality we've gotten ourselves stuck in these days, or a mechanism for figuring out something that's been bothering me. You yourself said that's probably what I was doing on the Roche case."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Anyway," he said hastily, "you said that I was caught up in a situation I was manipulating the first time I said... I loved you -- that I was responding to a figment of my own imagination, that it wasn't you. But Scully, the woman I imagined was just as stubborn, and independent, and intelligent as you. Hell, she even socked me after I kissed her. Now, why would I say I loved you if that wasn't what I wanted? I mean," he continued hastily, "the independent and intelligent part, not the socking."

"You kissed her?" she said.

"I thought I would never see y-- uh, her again," he said, defensively, then started to smile. "I would have done the same for you, Scully."

She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated, as if considering
conceding the debate. Well, he had been pretty eloquent, he thought. His self-congratulation lasted all the way to the end of her next statement.

"Mulder... you have to realize... I've had a front row seat for the last six years, watching as you manipulate everyone around you. Contacts and witnesses. Even Skinner. But mostly... mostly me."

"When did I...." He trailed off, not really wanting to know.

"You know all the buttons to push with me, Mulder. You challenge my mind and my heart. You make me laugh, you make me angry, and sad, and--"

"That's not manipulation, Scully," he protested, "that's human."

"Mulder, I would agree with that, if I didn't think it was all a game to you. Half the time, I think you say things just to see the effect you know they'll have on me. I think you take pleasure in doing it."

Mulder fought down another defensive retort. Okay, he thought. No defense like the truth. "Is that what you thought was going on in that hospital room?" he asked. "'Cause if you did, Scully, you don't get it at all. I love you. I needed you to know it. That's all."

She continued to hold his gaze and her silence, until he felt the
restless urge to pace, or to pull her into his arms and make her
believe... No, he thought, don't do it. He dropped her hand and stood abruptly, moving away from temptation.

"Mulder, wait," she said, grasping his arm.

He winced and pulled away from her.

Moving toward him, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I don't know," he said, backing away.

She took his hand and led him back to the desk. "Mulder, sit down and take off your jacket," she said.

The obvious 'I thought you'd never ask, Scully' sprang to his lips and stayed there. He made an instant resolution to stop being obvious. He shrugged off his jacket and watched as she unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his sleeve.

"What on earth have you been doing?" she asked, taking in the fresh gash on his arm.

"Dreaming?" he said.

"Honestly, Mulder, you're the only person I know whose dreams should carry a health insurance premium," she said, opening her briefcase.

He sat still while she did doctor things with antiseptic swabs and a bandage, concentrating silently on her work.

She wasn't going to respond to this latest declaration either, he
thought, sadly. Their quota of personal revelations must be filled for the week. Oh well, not bad, considering how low their revelations per conversation per week ratio usually stood.

Scully watched impassively as he rolled down his sleeve and buttoned the cuff. Then she sighed and took his hand, making his heart jump erratically. Hold on, he thought. Maybe we're going to improve that ratio.

"Mulder, what you said before, that you... love me," she swallowed hard, and continued, "and that you just needed me to know -- it scares the hell out of me even though I... I am glad you said it. But I... there's just too much, right now, too much...." She closed her eyes in pain and dismissal, gesturing blindly to the light box behind him.

Drop it now, he thought. Get up and walk out. Just don't do this to her anymore. He made a tentative move to do that, and was halted by her strong grip on his hand. He rocked back as she lifted her face to him, her expression filled with neither worry, nor compassion, nor puzzlement, but, just possibly, with love.

"For what it's worth, Mulder, nothing you have ever said to me has meant as much." Her voice was trembling in a way that made his heart ache. She continued, "I just can't--"

"It's okay, Scully," he said hastily, surprised that at the moment, it was true. "I needed to tell you. I told you. I'm glad you know." He returned the pressure of her hand with his own. "You can deal with it or not, just please, keep trying to deal with me, no matter what stupid thing I say or do. Please?"

She nodded, a small sign of assent. They stood, locked in a silence filled with the hums and buzzes of laboratory equipment. Mulder couldn't be sure, but thought he spotted a fresh shimmer in Scully's eyes, which were resolutely fixed on his third favorite tie.

"Hey Scully," he said, mildly panicked and looking to distract her, "if I kissed you, would you sock me?"

She looked up, and said with a small, sad smile, "You must think I would, or you wouldn't have dreamed it that way."

Encouraged, he said, "Maybe I was wrong about that part."

"Maybe, Mulder," she said, giving him a brief, speculative look, which was soon replaced by her usual mild expression.

"Scully, I- I've wanted to ask you...." he said, turning her hand in
both his own, rubbing it softly, "I've got this contact in Dreamland--" He smiled as she gave him a sharp glance. "No, wait, it's a real place, a name for Area 51, where they test experimental aircraft. This guy wants to give me some information."

"Mulder, if you take off again, Kersh'll have me serving lunch in the Bureau cafeteria by next week."

"Listen," he said, standing up, "it sounds like a pretty legitimate lead on some pretty interesting stuff--"

"Ditching me so soon?" she said.

"No, no, I--" He flinched, then realized she was reaching up to place her free hand on the back of his neck, and pull his head down level with hers.

"I don't know, you seem determined to go, Mulder," she said softly.

"Yeah," he said, a little nervously, watching a very slight smile
transform her face.

"So," she said, moving closer, "in case I never see you again..."

He gulped as she brushed a soft kiss across his bruised cheek. "Sc- Scully..." he faltered, as all rational thought fled. She trailed a series of little kisses down his cheek, then finally settled on his mouth, treating him to one, two, three, four, soft, slow kisses, that made his knees buckle. He sat back down abruptly on the conveniently placed desk, feeling a laugh bubble up from deep inside, carried on a wellspring of joy he was pretty damned sure he'd never felt before... except, maybe, in his dreams.

"What?" said Scully, pulling back, looking ruffled.

"Good thing the desk was here."

Her mouth quirked and she moved even closer, stopping only when her cheek was brushing his. He closed his eyes, and was enveloped in her soft scent. He could feel her, hear the sound of her breathing, a mostly regular rhythm, with the occasional hitch and sigh when his cautious hands found a new spot to caress. If he turned his head about three millimeters, he thought, he could taste her again.

"Mulder," she said, "this isn't safe. The security guard--"

"If you wanted safe, you wouldn't have stuck with me for six years, Scully," he said. "Face it, you're a danger junkie."

Good job, genius, he thought, opening his eyes as she pulled back to the limit of his embrace.

"So, you really do think you can tell me what I think and how I feel," she said, in a challenging tone.

"Scully, I can't even make you swoon over me in my own dreams," he protested.

She relaxed, and moved forward, just enough so that he could reassure himself that she wasn't going to bolt. "Mulder..." she said. "We have so much work to do... and we've both been on enough of an emotional roller coaster without throwing this in the mix," she said. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Scully..." Now he was the one with his gaze fixed on the floor. "In the last few years, I've found out what it's like to almost lose you, and what it's like to love you. It's turned my life upside down."

She put a tentative hand up to his cheek, then, with increasing
confidence, ran it through his hair, where it stayed, softly caressing, until he found the nerve to face her again. "So," she said, "you don't expect an answer and you're not saying it because you think you can make me answer, but... you're going to persist with this telling-me-you-love-me kick you're on?"

He pulled her hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss in her palm.
Settling her hand back on his cheek, he held it there and said, "I think the telling-you-I-love-you kick is here to stay, Scully. Even though I have a feeling I'm going to work harder at proving it than at anything I've ever done in my life. "

She held his gaze steadily. "I have faith that you can do it, Mulder," she said, starting to smile again. "I have faith in you."

Well, he mused, no 'I love you, too', but hell, four kisses (five, if he counted the first one on the cheek) and an 'I have faith in you,
Mulder', and he had enough excess energy coursing through him to light up the whole damned Hoover building.

He jumped as the overhead lights crackled on.

"It's just Ruck, hitting the main switches down the hall," Scully said, from three feet away.

He looked at her, across the distance she had automatically put between them. "Let's just go, Scully," he said, voice low and urgent. "If I'm going to a place called Dreamland, I have a feeling I'm going to need you with me."

She gave him a long, considering look. Then, to his delight, she snapped off the light box, gathered up her coat and briefcase, and said, "Let's go, Mulder."

He glanced down as they exited the laboratory. "First aid kit?" he said.

"Check."

"Letter to Kersh from your mother, regarding that unavoidable family emergency?"

"I'll fax it."

"Turkey jerky?"

"You can't expect me to think of everything, Mulder."

As they walked side by side down the hall, she said, "Mulder... you realize this could be the end of a beautiful friendship."

"Could be," he said. Then lowering his voice, he murmured, "But, oh, Scully, what a way to go."

***

Ruck stepped around the corner at the end of the hallway, then stopped to watch the familiar trench-coated pair. The small red-head set the pace, as usual, with her tall partner falling easily into accustomed step beside her. As they walked through the stairwell door, the woman's soft laughter, in response to something her partner had said next to her ear as she passed in front of him, echoed back toward Ruck.

Watching the door close behind them, the guard smiled, and said, "Here's looking at you, kids."

***