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It was an ordinary Monday morning.
Mulder's alarm goes off at seven. He sits up on his
couch, startled by the noise, and scrubs his face. When
his bleary eyes discern the source of the early-morning
offense, he aimlessly slaps the alarm clock. Mulder is on
a rough case, and he's having trouble focusing.
Profiling has taken its toll. The perpetrator this time is
evil incarnate, and crawling around inside the man's
head has been like swimming in a cesspool. But last
night it had all paid off, and thanks to his profile, the
FBI had picked up a suspect. Exhausted from weeks
of little sleep and inadequate food, Mulder heads for the
shower, hoping it will innervate him for the day ahead.
He needs to hurry downtown, as he is scheduled to
interrogate the suspect this morning. There is no room
for error. He is certain this is the killer, and he wants to
make sure that the vermin lands on death row. He
straps on his gun and rushes down the stairs of his
apartment building. He is forced to hail a cab because
his car is in the shop. Many cabs rush by without even
slowing down, and some actually speed up as he stands
there, arm extended. A few even honk. Sometimes he
is amazed by the way people behave. The cabbie who
finally stops does so very slowly, staring at Mulder with
wide eyes, her face showing a mixture of shock and
amusement. She smiles and says, "Hey, you can get in
my cab anytime." Mulder ignores the lady, just happy to
catch a ride to work. Another cab honks as it passes
by. The two drivers must know each other, he reasons.
Twenty minutes later, he strides into the precinct office,
where Scully is already waiting. Skinner has not yet
arrived.
"Hey Scully," he says, "I can't believe it. I had to take a
cab in this morning and the lady cab driver gave me a
free ride. Said it was her pleasure."
Scully looks, looks again. "Um, yeah Mulder, somehow
that doesn't surprise me." She can't believe her eyes,
but Mulder appears to be wearing nothing but his guns.
She wonders if she is having that dream again? She
pinches herself. Nope, not a dream this time, but a
dream come true. She wants him now, but is able to
control herself with extreme effort. She can't believe it.
This is exactly what she had dreamed about since she
first met him in the office all those years ago. Except for
the glasses. Darn it, why couldn't he have worn his
glasses? But at least he is finally naked. Her heart
flutters as remembrances of the rest of the dream flood
her synapses.
She really really wants to complete her nocturnal
fantasy, but snaps back to reality, realizing that Skinner
will be joining them at any minute. It is her job to watch
her partner's back...but who is going to watch his front?
She will just have to watch both his front and his back.
It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. Her
partner is her responsibility, after all. They still have a
suspect to interrogate, and Skinner will be expecting
them to behave professionally. Scully squirms inside her
proper FBI suit, feeling entirely improper. She sidles up
to her partner.
"Mulder?"
"Yeah, Scully?"
"You know you can't wear your gun into the
interrogation room. It's against FBI procedure."
Mulder opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by
the ringing of a cellphone. Both of them check to see
who is ringing. Mulder comes up empty handed.
"Damn, I must have left my cell phone somewhere."
Scully's eyebrow climbs to her hairline at this remark.
With an effort she regains the control that earned her
the name Ice Queen. "Scully," she states, answering her
call. "Yes... Yes Sir. Okay, I'll tell him."
She turns off the phone and tucks it away in her suit
jacket.
"That was Skinner. He called to say he'd be a little late.
He said to 'go ahead and do it without him'."
"Let's do it," Mulder says.
Scully is speechless, quivering in her high heels. She
wonders if he has any idea what he is doing to her. She
dutifully watches his back. And his front. She thinks to
herself that it's no surprise he went into law
enforcement. He has some very arresting features.
Mulder stops before reaching the door. "You coming,
Scully?"
Scully snaps from her contemplation of his derriere,
replays his query. 'Am I coming?' "Yeah Mulder, I'm
coming."
The partners enter the interrogation room. Scully
wonders if she should mention his attire, or the lack
thereof, but figures, nah - she'll just enjoy the view.
Mulder is quite vain about his appearance, but in her
opinion he looks very nice just the way he is. If only he
had remembered his glasses, she muses.
They face the inhuman serial killer together, but not
quite as united as Scully would like to be.
The accused murderer stares at Scully, his face frozen
in a cruel and unrepentant mask. He turns to pin
Mulder with his icy gaze. He blinks, swallows, blinks
again.
"You stop looking at me like that, Mister, or I'll wipe
that smirk right off your face!" Mulder shouts at the
prisoner.
He lunges forward. Scully reaches out to hold her
partner back. He could get in a lot of trouble for hitting
another prisoner. She sure did not want a repeat of the
John Roche affair - Mulder breaking a prisoner out of a
federal prison and taking him to a hotel. He'd nearly
been thrown out of the FBI over that, and he was even
dressed that time.
Mulder relents, backing away from the man. Scully's
hand clutches his arm, restraining him and ...warming
him. He shakes his head and pulls his attention back to
the interrogation. He begins to pace, back and forth,
back and forth as he ponders the questions he will ask
the prisoner. Scully continues to watch him.
Back...
And forth.
Back...
And forth.
He stops suddenly, causing Scully to pull a muscle in
her neck.
"What are you looking at?!"
"I ain't looking at nothing, Agent Mulder," the prisoner
and Scully intone in unison.
"What do you mean, you ain't looking at nothing?" he
demands of the prisoner.
"Well, it is kinda cold in here..."
Mulder's eyes narrow as he considers the implications
of this random comment. Drawing a blank, he refocuses
on the prisoner and continues the questioning,
relentlessly dismantling the subject's carefully
constructed alibi. Scully, who has kept a careful eye on
the proceedings, among other things, suddenly notices
that Mulder is still in violation of FBI protocol. She had
been so enamored with his...gun that she failed to notice
his service weapon. A disaster unfolds before she can
act.
As the interrogation makes it crystal clear that he is
going to fry for his crimes, the prisoner's attention has
shifted from Mulder's manly attributes to the holstered
gun. Time slows as he reaches out and pulls the gun
free. He won't die in the chair, and he won't die alone.
He aims at Scully and pulls the trigger.
Mulder, realizing that his life will be over if Scully dies,
leaps in front of her, taking the bullet meant for his
partner. He slips to his knees, blood pouring from the
wound in his upper chest. The suspect, transfixed by the
naked blood-covered man kneeling at his feet,
momentarily loses his focus. Mulder takes advantage of
the distraction to lunge for the weapon. The gun fires a
second time, but this time the bullet ricochets around the
room, its trajectory unguided, ultimately hitting the
prisoner between the eyes.
He falls down, dead as a doornail. Justice is served by
a mindless piece of lead.
Scully runs to Mulder and rolls him over, pulling him
into her arms.
"My hero!"
She is really hot for him by now, and he melts into her
little arms. She kisses him, pulls him to her breast.
Mulder is in a lot of pain - this could be Heaven, this
could be Hell.
Scully applies direct pressure to his wound, and despite
the horrendous pain, he begins to rise to the occasion.
He is embarrassed, but the feel of Scully's hands
touching his chest and her bosom heaving against him is
more than he can take. He is after all merely flesh and
blood. What man could resist this powerful in control
woman?
And then his heart stops.
Scully climbs up on him to begin CPR. She is really,
really hot now, and Mulder's previous condition has
been prolonged by the trauma. She is slightly dazed and
transfixed by the spectacle. Few people know it, but
the real reason Scully has stayed with Mulder, despite
his penchant for continuously ditching her, was her
secret Mulder torture fetish. A man in pain is such a
turn on and Mulder was in pain so often. And a turned-
on man in pain is really a turn-on. And besides she was
meant to provide the comfort in the equation...wasn't
she?
But then she remembers her medical training. She is
after all a doctor and an FBI agent. She pulls the
ragged edges of her control together and regains her
cool. She reassesses his condition...his medical
condition. He is in bad shape. Blood is leaking from
his wound at an alarming rate and much of the rest of
the supply is fortunately, err unfortunately, being
diverted to the south and away from his brain. Fearing
her partner's immediate death - Scully is not into
character death - she momentarily stops CPR and runs
to the door to call for assistance. But the lock has been
jammed by the ricocheting bullet.
Oh my God, she thinks, Mulder has to have medical
assistance.
Oh my God, she re-thinks. We're alone. A fully formed
plan leaps into her mind and she immediately begins to
implement it.
Her preparations are interrupted by Skinner's booming
voice shouting through the door, demanding to know,
"What's going on?"
She shouts back, "Sir! Mulder's dying! You have to get
us out. He needs medical assistance."
Mulder groans in the background. Thank God he has
regained consciousness.
"I've called for them to bring in an acetylene torch,"
Skinner says. "It'll be about half an hour. Hang on,
we're going to get you out. I'll get the paramedics
here."
Scully is terrified. That's too long. Then Mulder groans
again. She looks over at him.
And suddenly, she is terrified that it's too short.
The time, that is.
She rushes back to check on her partner's condition,
leans down close to him. "Mulder, you have to hang in
there. The paramedics will be here in thirty minutes.
Can you wait that long?"
"I dunno, Scully, I feel weak. I need to tell you
something in case...in case I don't make it."
"Shut up, Mulder. That is not an option."
Scully resumes the CPR. After all, she reasons, he
needs all the blood flow she can provide. She looks
down at the blood on her hands, muttering, "I wish I'd
remembered to bring the prophylactics..." Mulder
makes a funny noise.
"Can you keep it up?" she asks encouragingly.
Mulder groans a third time. It sounds positive.
"Great, Mulder. Now even more importantly - is it long
enough? The time, that is."
"I dunno, Scully."
"I'm already halfway there. It won't take long."
"But this isn't the way I wanted our first time to be," he
confesses, confirming his intentions. "I mean a quickie."
"Oh, Mulder, I love you," she says emphatically. "We
still have about fifteen minutes."
"But Scully, I want to make it last forever. In case...in
case I don't make it, I want to give you something to
remember me by...forever."
"Mulder, I told you character death is not an option.
The way our lives go, you will recover, won't
remember any of this, and we will return to our normal
angsty lives, where you would die for me, but can never
kiss me or admit you love me. So,
I...want...this...now!"
A weak cough, and then another. "I...I'll try."
Scully feels a fleeting tinge of guilt, but dismisses it,
rationalizing that he really could use that currently tied
up blood circulating through his body again. After all,
those three pints could make a vital difference, she
thought. Clearly, it was her responsibility as a physician
and partner to relieve his extreme priapic condition.
She briefly considers changing places with him as she
did attend Catholic schools, but a brief check of his
condition and she quickly realizes that she will have to
be the active one. Even though Mulder is a manly man,
she decides that he should probably stay flat on his
back in the interest of not dying. And he will never be
able to keep it up if all of his blood leaks out. Besides,
she needs to keep up the CPR. Then she hears
something.
"Hey, Skinner is cutting through the door! The
paramedics will be here soon. Just a little longer,
please, Mulder."
Mulder groans again.
Scully knows that she must hurry, so she synchronizes
the motion with the CPR. She rocks back and forth
over Mulder's prostrate form. Forward to massage his
heart, backwards to massage...
"Ahhhhhhhh."
Forward to massage his heart...
But she needs to speed up the CPR for two reasons.
Mulder is fading fast, and Skinner is almost through the
door. She has only moments, then in a groaning
crescendo, Mulder reaches his climax, carrying her over
with him. She clamps her hand over his mouth to quiet
him. She is so euphoric that her wildest dream has been
fulfilled that she forgets about the CPR.
Mulder lapses back into unconsciousness - a smile on
his face. He is in desperate shape, the blood having
been thoroughly pumped from his system. Thank God
the reserve has finally been released. Maybe it will be
enough to save him.
And then Skinner finally breaks through the door.
She resumes the CPR.
"What the Hell is going on here, Scully?"
"Sir! We need help."
"And why the Hell is Agent Mulder naked?"
"You were supposed to call an ambulance!" she replies,
exasperated.
Mulder gurgles.
Scully thinks fast. She still needs to watch Mulder's
back-her duty - and his front-her pleasure. He will
be devastated if Skinner sees fit to take away the X-
Files.
"Can't you see that I'm giving him CPR? It must not be
interrupted. I had to rip his clothes off to assess his
injury."
"But, Agent Scully, he doesn't have any pants on."
"Um...yes. Well, um... I had to remove his pants to, uh,
aid his circulation. I didn't want him to deflate. I mean,
defib."
"Agent Scully, where are Mulder's clothes?!"
Um, good question, thinks Scully. She needs an
answer, quickly. Finally she responds, "Must be an X-
File. But enough of this foolish interrogation, we have to
get him to a hospital now."
Mulder reaches out with a shaky arm and pulls Scully
down.
"Am I finished?"
"Uh, yeah, Mulder, and Skinner is here, so play dead."
Mulder groans loudly. The paramedics enter, lift him
onto a stretcher, and bundle him from the room.
Scully stands.
"Agent Scully...where are your pants?" Skinner inquires,
finally regaining his voice.
Damn, she thinks, I knew I should have worn that hot
skirt today.
Scully pulls herself up to her full height and straightens
her short jacket, exuding the air of a dignified FBI
agent, sans pants.
"Mulder was going into shock, Sir. I had to stimulate his
circulation. Skin-to-skin contact is the best way to
generate heat. It was embarrassing, but it was the only
way to save his life."
Skinner blinks and drags his gaze upward, brown eyes
meeting blue. "Well, I expect a full report - from both
of you-and, I want you on my desk first thing Monday
morning." Flustered he adds, "I..., I mean it."
Scully contemplates the meaning of "I mean it" as
Skinner retreats out the door. Then she grabs her pants
and hurries out after him, anxious to get to the hospital
and check on Mulder's condition. He had probably
had a blood transfusion by now and he might...need
her.
Scully snapped awake, rubbed her eyes and looked
around the room. She was relieved to see she was
alone, in her own bed, in her own room. She sighed,
relaxing back into the soft mattress. She didn't know
what was the matter with her, night after night, these
bizarre nightmares filled with sex and violence. And
worst of all, Mulder had been looking at her very
strangely lately, almost as if he knew what she was
thinking. One thing for sure, she couldn't go on like this
much longer.
Mulder sat up on his couch, scrubbed his face. Wow,
that was the worst one yet. Night after night, nightmare
after nightmare. And worst of all, he had started having
fantasies about his partner while they were working.
She had caught him staring at her several times in the
last few weeks, her eyes wide, mouth open, almost like
she knew about his nights, about his secret fantasies.
He couldn't go on like this much longer. He turned to
look at the clock. It was 6:45, only fifteen minutes until
his alarm went off, and he felt like he hadn't slept in a
week. He might as well get up. Weeks of profiling had
taken a toll on him, but he needed to get downtown.
Thanks to his profile, they had a suspect in custody...
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