"All right.  I'm going to ask you some preliminary questions to 
establish a base.  You - well, you know the routine."

Mulder was asked to verify his name, address and date of birth.  He 
acknowledged that he worked for the FBI.  Then he was asked to make an 
untruthful statement.

Mulder hesitated for only a moment.  "This is fun," he said dryly.  

The operator made some written marks on the paper.  Watching from the 
observation room, Skinner silently praised Mulder for keeping his wits 
about him through his sense of humor.

With a pen poised above the paper, the operator nodded.  "Okay.  Let's 
begin. Are you under the influence of any drugs or narcotics at this 
moment?"

"No."

"You've been hospitalized.  Were you given pain medication?"

"Yes.  But it was discontinued last night because of this polygraph."

"Are you in pain now?"

Skinner saw Mulder hesitate.  "Yes, I am," he said very softly.

"Can you continue?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember being in a bar on the night of January 18th?" he 
asked, reading from a list of prepared questions.

"Yes."

"Were you with anyone when you got to the bar?"

"No."

"Were you meeting someone there?"   

"Yes."

"A woman?"

"No."

"Assistant Director Walter Skinner?"

"Yes.

"Did Director Skinner show up?"

"No."

"How many drinks did you have in the bar, sir?"

"Two, non-alcohol."

"Did you charge the drinks on your credit card?"

"No."

"Paid cash?"

"Yes."

"Did you eventually meet a young brunette at the bar?"

"Briefly."

"Did you speak with her?"

He thought a minute.  "Maybe."

"Did she speak with you?"

"She tried to buy me a drink."

"What was your answer?"

"I said no thanks."

"Did you at any time drink alcohol that night in the bar?"

"No."

"If the bartender states otherwise, would he be lying?"

"Mistaken."

Skinner stood with his arms crossed over his chest.  He saw Mulder 
move slightly in the chair, obviously in pain.

"What time did you leave the bar?"

"I don't recall."

"You don't recall what time?"

"No."

"Did you leave alone?"

"I don't remember."

"Did you leave with the brunette?"

"I don't remember."

The operator paused while he read over the page, and made some more 
notes.  Skinner and Mulder knew what was coming by his hesitance and 
body posture.

"Mr. Mulder, did you leave your car and take a cab?"

"I did . . . but I don't remember why."

"Did you get in the cab with the brunette?"

"I ... don't remember."

"If the cab driver states that you did, would he be lying?"

Mulder paused, his gut instinct wanting to answer yes, but his memory 
failing him.  "I don't know."

"Did you engage in sexual foreplay in the cab with the brunette?"

Skinner's grip tightened on his crossed arms as he saw Mulder swallow 
hard and blink slowly.

"I ... don't  know, sir."

"Did the brunette give you a blow job?"

Skinner saw Mulder's eyes close and he saw the operator watching the 
monitor closely and marking down results.  He glanced at the 
prosecutor who was leaning against the wall writing on a yellow 
tablet.

"Mr. Mulder, did the brunette give you a blow job?" he repeated.

"I don't know."  

"Do you remember directing the cab driver to let you off at Patriot 
Park?"

"No."

"Were you let off at the park with the brunette?"

"I don't recall that."

"Did you ask the girl for sex?"

"No."

Skinner was startled by the answer and the operator looked up.

"No?  So you remember?"

"I don't remember.  My instinct was to say 'no.'"

"Did you tear her clothes off when she refused?"

"I don't know."

<Oh, god>, Mulder thought, .

"Did you make the bite marks on her breasts?"

"No."

"Is that an answer?"

"I don't remember doing that."

"Did you have oral sex with her?"

"I don't know."

"Did you bite her clitoris?"

Once again Mulder's eyes closed and Skinner saw his struggle to 
maintain his composure.

"Mr. Mulder, do you need the question repeated?"

"No.  I don't remember anything with the girl," he answered, his voice 
cracking.

"Do you know how you got the scratches on your back?"

"No," he whispered.

"What is the first thing you do remember?"

"Waking up on the ground."

"And what did you do then?"

"Found a pay phone and ..." he stopped.

"Who did you call?"

"My partner."

"And your partner's name?"

"Special Agent Dana Scully."

"You were disoriented and bloody.  Why didn't you call the police?"  
Or the FBI?"

"In essence, I did call the FBI when I called my partner."

"And did she report your condition to the authorities?"

"No. She was -"

"Did you tell her what happened?"

"No.  I didn't know what happened."

Mulder watched the prosecutor walk over and take a seat at the table. 
He tore off the top sheet from the tablet and slid the paper over to 
the operator, who paused as he read it to himself.  Then  he read it 
out loud.

"Agent Mulder, we have a statement from your partner that you weren't 
well that night.  Prior to leaving to question the bartender, did you 
and Agent Scully sleep together?"

A nerve twitched in Mulder's jaw.  He may be weak and sick, but a 
verbal attack on Scully would make him rally.

"No," he answered forcefully.  "Agent Scully and I don't sleep 
together."

"Not even for a short time that night?"

"No."

"Have you ever slept together, Mr. Mulder?"

<Fuck> Mulder thought.  <How do I answer this question?>  

There had been numerous times when he was sick, or having a horrendous 
nightmare, that Scully would hold him tightly in bed until he fell 
asleep.  And he reciprocated following her nightmares. No one except 
Skinner could know what they had been through with the X-Files.

"Have you ever slept with Agent Scully, Agent Mulder?"

"Yes ... but not for sex."  It sounded weak and he knew it.

"But you have slept in the same bed?"

"At times when we needed each other?"

"And were there times when you, or she, or both of you, were 
undressed?"

Mulder remembered the night his father was killed.  In shock and 
running a high fever, he had let Scully undress him and put him in her 
bed.  She had crawled in next to him, fully clothed, but he was not.  
 And then there was a time following a briefing about their ordeal in 
Antarctica, where they had to detail their experience.  They both held 
up well in front of OPR, but later, alone together in Scully's 
apartment, they both broke down and sought each other for comfort. 
They undressed down to their underwear and held each other all night 
in order to keep the demons in their heads away.  

How could he explain that?

Skinner closed his eyes, knowing exactly what was going through 
Mulder's mind.  He had no idea what his answer would be, but he knew 
that to keep sane, the two agents had to resort to unconventional, 
less restricted behavior.  But it was the nature of the X-Files, which 
made those situations necessary.  And he knew Mulder couldn't offer 
the explanation.

Skinner's eyes popped open when he heard the next question.

"Have you and Agent Scully ever slept in the nude?"



STATE ATTORNEY'S OFFICE

Skinner watched Mulder fighting to keep his partnership with Agent 
Scully private.  As he stood there, helpless to the barrage of 
personal questions, he tried to reason where this line of questioning 
fit into the case.  Then suddenly, as if a light went on in Skinner's 
head, he knew.  He saw the polygraph operator reading questions that 
the D.A. handed to him.  Each new question was precipitated by 
Mulder's previous answer.

Skinner's hands clenched into fists and he felt his blood pressure 
soar.  Silently his lips moved as he mouthed the words.  

<Now I know why.  You goddamn fucking bastards.>

Skinner was ready to bolt from the room when he heard Mulder's 
attorney raise his voice. 

"I think we're getting way off base here.  Regardless of what his 
answer is, you can't ask incriminating questions which could 
jeopardize his federal position if he answers them."

The prosecutor stepped forward.  "What we're conducting here is 
nothing more than an electronic deposition.  You can make your 
objections in court. He can answer the question."

"The question -- your whole line of questioning! -- has no relevance!"

"We're establishing a parallel motive here, counselor."

"And what might that be?"

"Repressed sexual tension which led to assault."

"These questions are directed at his partner, sir!"

"Yes, his female partner.  His young, brilliant, beautiful female 
partner whom he's worked with for 7 years."

The attorney looked at Mulder.  "Don't answer the question."

"But -" Mulder started, not wanting it to sound suspicious by not 
answering the question.

The attorney looked at the prosecutor.  "I want a 30 minute break to 
confer with my client."

The prosecutor hesitated, then nodded.  Mulder's attorney stood, and 
seeing that Mulder was having trouble standing, he took his arm, 
lending support.  Skinner hurriedly went from the observation room 
into the interrogation room. When Mulder looked up at him, the 
Director saw a look of near panic in his pained face.  No one said a 
word until the three of them were alone in another room.  

Mulder finally let down his defenses, no longer able to pretend he 
wasn't hurting.  Sinking into a chair at the table, he leaned forward 
on his arms, breathing  with difficulty, trying to mask the gasps that 
came between breaths.    

"Should I get Dr. Scully?" the attorney asked.

Before Skinner could answer, Mulder grabbed his arm, "No!"  Mulder 
leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.  He was trying 
desperately to control the pain, but both men could see his body 
trembling.

Mulder looked up at his attorney and his eyes were veiled.  "Would you 
mind if I spoke to Director Skinner alone for a minute?"

"Of course not.  I'm going to get you some water.  Try and relax," he 
said, barely touching his shoulder.

Skinner pulled the chair closer to Mulder and sat down, leaning across 
the table as if closeness could emphasize his support.  

"Agent Mulder, we can stop this." 

"No.  The worst is already out.  Where is Scully?"

"Waiting downstairs."

"She's going to read this transcript, isn't she?"

"Mulder ..."

"Then I need to explain something to you.  Right now."  His voice was 
becoming hoarse from the pain.

"You don't need to explain to me."

"Of course I do!  I as much as admitted that Scully and I have slept 
with each other in very little clothing.  That is true, sir.  There 
are times that --"

"Fox, for god's sake, I'm the last one you need to explain to."  His 
voice lowered to a whisper.  "I know the dilemma.  You can't reveal 
the facts of the X-Files.  You can't explain the horrors you and 
Scully have endured.  But you don't need to explain to *me*."

"Sir, Agent Scully and I are not in a sexual relationship.  But we 
have . . ."  He stopped trying to find the words, and when he couldn't 
finish, his face gave Skinner the answer.  

The AD looked like he was trying to mask his surprise. "Mulder--"

"We have comforted each other beyond what would be allowed because 
there was no other way to separate ourselves mentally from the 
anguish, except to step beyond the restrictions."

"I know.  In all honestly, Fox, I hoped you did that.  I knew your 
relationship with your partner would be the only thing keeping the two 
of you sane."

"But I can't explain that.  And I know how it looks for Scully.  I 
don't care about me, but it's not fair to her.  My answers do not 
reflect the real truth."  

Mulder's head again sank into his hands and his voice was barely 
audible with anguish.  "What do I do?  Dear God, haven't we gone 
through enough trying to do what's right," he said, more as a prayer 
to himself.

Skinner hesitated only briefly, then laid a gentle hand on his young 
agent's shoulder.  "Mulder, listen to me.  Don't give them what they 
want.  Be as vague as you possibly can.  They're only touching the tip 
of the iceberg where you and Scully are concerned.  It's going to get 
worse.  I know that the prosecutor's case is to counter the 
anticipated drugged defense.  To prove not that you and Scully are 
lovers, but to prove that you *could* be, but you're too dedicated to 
your job.  Which leads to the motivation, perhaps aided by the drugs, 
to commit this crime.  Do you follow me?"

"So if I tell them Scully and I are having sex, it shoots their theory 
of repressed sexual desire down the drain.  But Scully and I are 
finished as partners, and so are the X-Files.  And if I deny the sex, 
then they shoot me down with their little theory, which is supported 
by just enough of what I have already admitted regarding our 
relationship.  So I'm dammed if I do and dammed if I don't."

"Just tell the truth.  If they don't like your answers, then they'll 
force you to expand on them later.  That's when you can turn their 
twisted truths back around."

Skinner caught a glimpse of hopeless desperation on Mulder's face.  

"I know how unfair this is."

"Is it!  If I raped and beat that girl, is this unfair!"

Skinner leaned farther across the table and his voice was a hushed 
exclamation.  "You didn't commit this crime!"

"The evidence -"

"EVIDENCE?  How many FUCKING times have you seen the manipulation of 
evidence, Agent Mulder!  Is that not the very nature of the X-Files - 
hide the truth, fabricate and confabulate!  Your very words.  And now, 
just because you can't remember, you're ready to accept all the 
presented facts!  Bull shit!  You're more of a fighter than that!"

Skinner realized the portent of his own words and his voice softened 
as he saw the stricken look on the young agent's face.    

"You're more of a fighter than that," he repeated barely above a 
whisper.

There was long eye contact made between the two men until they were 
interrupted by a knock on the door.  As they looked up, Scully stuck 
her head in, wishing to be invited before entering.

"Mr. Randolph thought I should take a look at you, Mulder."

She saw him nod and motion her in. Scully pulled a chair over in front 
of him and sat down.  She gently turned Mulder's face toward her and 
leaned close, going into doctor mode, her eyes searching his.  She 
could see that his eyelids were puffy and dark crescents were forming 
under his eyes.  His cheeks were flushed even more than when they'd 
left the hospital.  She laid the back of her hand against his 
forehead, then his cheek.  

Abruptly, she turned to Skinner, who was watching with interest and 
concern.

"Sir, he's burning up.  Could you have someone get my medical bag out 
of the car?  It's parked in front of the building."

"Yes.  But I need to say something first.  Mulder, can you hold on a 
minute?"

"Sure," he said pensively, wondering <what now?>

Skinner sat on the edge of the table, making both his agents look up 
at him.  It wasn't intentional, just an unconscious act of authority. 
 He needed them to listen to him.

"We talked about what the purpose of all this is, if what Mulder's 
informant tells us about the outcome of the DNA tests is true.  I know 
now what the reason is.  The rape charge is a way to get Agent Mulder 
to admit any sexual liaison with his partner.  The rape charge is a 
means to an end.  That particular charge justifies the type of 
questions they need to ask regarding your relationship with Agent 
Scully.  They know you could be exonerated of the rape.  But in the 
meantime, information that will come out about the two of you as 
partners will have the Bureau higher-ups scrambling to split you up so 
they can preserve Bureau dignity."

Scully looked indignant.  "Sir, that's quite a risk.  No one could 
know for sure what relationship Agent Mulder and I have.  When we're 
in the field, we're the ultimate professionals.  And when we're not in 
the field, we're careful.  We know we're watched."

"What do you mean by careful?" Skinner asked, his eyes narrowing.

Scully shook her head, realizing he had misinterpreted what she meant. 
"I mean we don't do *anything* that would cause suspicion or add fuel 
to the rumor mill."  Scully's voice rose in pitch.  "Maybe we'd *like* 
to go to a movie together sometime, or drive to New York to watch a 
ballgame together.  We *are* friends, you know?  But we don't.  We 
don't do what any other partners have the luxury of doing because 
we're male and female partners.  Every time Mulder even smiles at me 
the tongues start wagging."  Her voice softened as she looked at her 
partner, who seemed surprised at her remarks.  "That's not our fault."

Skinner removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  He 
kept his glasses in his hand.

"Sir . . ." Scully said, waiting for him to look at her.  "What do 
*you* think about our relationship?"

Skinner avoided looking at Mulder, who had just divulged more than 
Scully might have approved of. "It doesn't matter what I think."

"It matters to me.  And I think it matters to Mulder."  

Skinner took a deep, troubled breath.  "I've known agents to get 
involved before.  And it always affected their job performance.  That 
was often the first clue that they were involved.  I haven't seen that 
with you two, so I have to think that you haven't mixed work and 
pleasure.  But to be honest, I don't know how you do it.  To be as 
successful and productive in your work as you are, you have to be 
close.  And you have to be monogamous.  That means no third or fourth 
parties in the equation.  That's the part I find impossible.  How can 
you ? . . . When ? . . . I would rather believe you're experts at 
being discreet, rather than think you're not interested in each 
other."

Mulder's voice was strained.  "That's the assumption, isn't it?  
That's why they took the risk, because the odds were greater that 
there would be something they could use against us."

Scully's voice was sad. "That's the purpose in all this.  To break us 
up, but to have it done by the Bureau.  To discredit both of us in the 
process."

"And to stop Agent Mulder's work," said Skinner, getting to the heart 
of the matter.

Mulder was silent for a minute, then he surprised them.  "No.  That's 
not all.  There's something more."

"What do you mean?" asked Scully.

He dismissed it as if he'd never spoken.  

<There it is again> Scully thought.  <Just when I think he's going to 
confide in me, he closes up.  What was it Mr. X said -- 'tell him to 
tell you the truth.'>

Scully took Mulder's hand in hers.  "Mulder, is there --"

But Mulder's reserves were losing ground.  Before Scully could finish, 
he had dropped his head to her shoulder, and she heard him wheezing 
with pain.  Putting her other hand on the back of his neck, she turned 
to Skinner.

"I need my bag out of the car."

Skinner instantly rose to leave but Mulder quickly grabbed the sleeve 
of his coat.  Fully aware that he was overstepping the boundaries with 
his boss, he stammered an apology.

"Sorry, but sir, stay here.  Let someone else -"

"Mulder ... it's okay," Scully said, somewhat aggravated that they 
were all in this predicament.

Skinner nodded stiffly, in agreement with Scully, and left the room.  
When Scully looked at her partner she saw such an immense look of 
despair that it almost broke her heart.  Before she could speak, he 
lowered his head onto his outstretched arms over the table and Scully 
saw his body shaking from the sobs he was trying to keep inside.  She 
knew that because of his intense emotional pain, his physical pain was 
unbearable.  Scully put one arm around his shoulders and the other 
lightly on his head.  She rested her head against his, whispering to 
comfort him.

"Mulder, please.  Don't let this tear you up.  We'll get through it.  
I'm still here.  I'll never, ever leave you.  If you've ever trusted 
me to believe in you, know that trust now."

Scully felt Mulder's hand reach up and cover her hand on his shoulder. 
She thought briefly about what she wanted to say, and took a deep 
breath.

"Mulder, listen to me.  There are things I can't tell you yet.  Truths 
that Skinner and I know, but it's too dangerous for you to know until 
after this polygraph is over."

She felt his body quiet, knowing he was listening.

"If we tell you what we know, it won't be what you remember, and the 
results of the polygraph could be tainted.  Do you understand what I'm 
saying, honey?"

Mulder's head slowly raised and Scully scooted to the edge of her 
chair, closer to him.  She was shocked at his pasty complexion, the 
look of hopelessness in his eyes.

"Scully," he whispered desperately, "did I do this?"

Scully wanted more than anything to tell him the truth, trying to 
weigh how he could answer the questions put to him if he really didn't 
remember.

"Mulder, I can't give you answers for the polygraph.  The only way for 
the truth to be revealed is if you admit that you don't know what 
happened.  I can't help you yet.  Please understand."

Her answer seemed to comfort him somewhat and he nodded slightly.  
Then she saw his eyes close briefly as his body shuddered with pain.  
Scully took off her suit jacket and folded it, putting it on the 
table.  Gently she put her hand on the side of Mulder's head.

"Put your head down.  Rest for a few minutes."

He did without objection.  Scully's mind was totally consumed with 
comforting him as she ran her hands soothingly through his hair.  When 
Skinner came back in, he instantly saw Mulder and almost at the same 
instant, saw Scully motion him to be quiet.  Mulder hadn't moved, nor 
did he when Skinner softly closed the door, handing Scully her bag.  
Skinner motioned with his head for Scully to follow him outside for a 
minute.  Trying not to disturb Mulder, they quietly slipped from the 
room.

"How's he doing?" Skinner asked.

"Terrible.  Worse than terrible.  I don't know how he can finish."

"Scully, he has to.  We can't tell him the truth until the polygraph 
is over."

Feeling the anguish, Scully brought both hands up to her eyes.

"Dammit, sir ..." she said, starting to turn away from him.

Skinner put a hand on her arm stopping her.  "I know.  We have to tell 
him something.  Something!"

"I already have," she said lightly.

"What?"

"Just that ... you and I know things, but we can't help him manipulate 
the polygraph.  I just told him to trust us.  That's all."  

"Did he hear you?"

"I think so.  I think it helped him fall asleep."   

They saw the prosecutor coming down the hallway.  Both of them stepped 
apart from each other and assumed a detached stance.

"I think your boy has stalled long enough.  Let's get this over with."

"I need 5 minutes to check Agent Mulder further," Scully said briskly.

"No.  If that's the case, then you should have been in there doing 
that instead of out here conspiring with your boss." 

"You son of a -" Scully started, but Skinner silenced her with a hand 
on her arm.

"We gave Agent Mulder a few minutes to sleep.  He's in tremendous 
pain.  I just brought Dr. Scully her medical kit so she can better 
evaluate his condition." Skinner said.

"I'm not going to allow this game playing.  I'll go straight to the 
judge."

"Go ahead.  We'll be glad for the postponement," Skinner countered 
sharply.

"You can't cover for him.  He's going to face the music like any other 
scum rapist on the street."

"It's beginning to sound like you have a personal problem.  Maybe we 
should look into your background a little bit." Skinner added.

"Are you threatening me!"

Skinner's voice was calm, but dripped like ice water. "Not at all.  
But you've already pre-judged a man guilty and have resorted to 
name-calling.   This is a federal agent you're talking about, a man 
who has not been found guilty of any crime.  I'd advise you to keep 
your opinions to yourself and simply seek the facts.  I'm not afraid 
to take you down.  You're a little man trying to make a name for 
yourself in a big world.  And if you decide to use Agent Mulder as 
your platform, I'll be there to crush you like a bug. Count on it."

Scully was only half as stunned as the prosecutor as Skinner turned 
sharply and took her by the arm.

"Agent Scully ..."

Snapping out of her trance, she followed him back into the room.  
Mulder was still sleeping.

"I'm sorry we have to wake him up," Skinner apologized.

Scully bent close to his ear, brushing it lightly with her lips.  
"Mulder, wake up.  We have to finish this."  

Slowly his head raised and he blinked a few times, his eyes drooping 
and wanting to close.  Scully had taken out the thermometer.

"Mulder, let me take your temperature.  Mulder ..."

She thought he was looking at her, but when she moved out of his line 
of vision, his eyes remained locked in one spot.  She heard Skinner 
leave the room.

"Mulder ..."  His eyes were still glazed.  She knew he was shutting 
down.  Scully brushed the back of her hand along his cheek.  "Come on 
partner. ."

She saw him blink again and focus on her, and the film over his eyes 
seemed to lift.

"Open your mouth, put this under your tongue."

He obeyed.  Scully then took his wrist pulse, and took a stethoscope 
out of the bag.  She unbuttoned his shirt and placed the stethoscope 
against his chest.  Listening carefully, she moved it around, and then 
to his back.  Finally, she put it back in her bag, and re-buttoned his 
shirt.  Then she removed the thermometer.  It was just under 104.

"Shit," she whispered.

Just then Skinner came back in.  He saw her holding the thermometer 
and his eyebrow arched in question.  She handed it to him without 
answering.  As he read it, his face registered even more concern.

"Sir, let's get this over with.  He's not going to last much longer."

The door opened and Mulder's attorney came back in with a glass of 
water.  Scully took it from him and put it in her partner's hand.

"Drink this, Mulder.  It's water."

He seemed to be thirsty as he downed almost the whole glass.  His 
attorney sat next to him.

"Fox, I've seen the questions they're planning to ask you.  You don't 
have to answer them, but they're going to ask them regardless.  It 
might look worse if you refuse to answer.  This is just a polygraph.  
None of this is admissible in court."

Skinner and Scully exchanged looks.  <The people we deal with don't go 
to court.>

The attorney continued.  "Just answer the best you can.  Try not to 
look uncomfortable, as if it's no big deal.  Okay?"

Mulder nodded.  Skinner put his hand under Mulder's arm to help him 
stand. Mulder saw that Scully looked worried and helpless.  She smiled 
at him.

He smiled back.  "Let's get this show on the road."




STATE ATTORNEY'S OFFICE
3:15 p.m.

The interrogation resumed.  It was obvious to all parties in the room 
what condition Agent Mulder was in, and the operator conducting the 
examination was concerned.

"Agent Mulder, do you feel you can continue with this polygraph?"

"Yes, sir.  How I feel is not going to affect whether I tell the truth 
or not."

"Very well."

Skinner was back in his place, standing on the other side of the 
glass.  There was a soft knock on the door, and he opened it, 
surprised to find Scully standing there.

"Sir, I know Agent Mulder doesn't want me present during this 
questioning, but I think under the circumstances of his medical 
condition, my presence is necessary."

Skinned agreed, and nodded, stepping back to allow her to enter.  "I 
think the worst is over for now anyway.  Besides, you're just going to 
read it later in the transcript."

Scully pulled up a chair, looking closely at her partner.  Skinner, 
his eyes also on Mulder, spoke without looking over at her.

"He looks like he's going to collapse at any moment."

"I almost wish he would."

The interrogator asked the first question.  "Agent Mulder, you and 
your partner have been together for 7 years?"

"Yes."

"Were you happy about her being assigned to you?"

"Not the first day, no."

"How long did it take for you to accept her as your partner?"

"The second day."

Scully glanced over at Skinner and saw him hiding a smile. 

"Do you trust your partner?"

"Yes," he answered immediately.

"Do you believe she trusts you?"

To Scully's dismay, there was a split second of hesitation before he 
answered.

"Yes."

"Would you be willing to die for your partner?"

"Absolutely."

The interrogator paused. "Agent Mulder, are you in love with Agent 
Dana Scully?"

Scully was shocked at the question, but Mulder showed no reaction. 
Scully turned to Skinner.  She saw him still watching Mulder, but he 
had clenched his teeth.

"They're trying to ruin him in case he gets off the charges," Skinner 
said.  

"You were right about the questioning.  It's being orchestrated 
outside this room."

The interrogator spoke again, "Agent Mulder, are you in love with 
Special Agent Dana Scully?"

Scully, clenching the arm of the chair, saw him look up at the one-way 
glass as if he knew she was sitting there.  When her partner answered, 
it was definitive. 

"Yes."

"You love her as a friend?" the operator asked.

"Yes."

"Do you love her as a sister?"

"No."

"Do you love Agent Scully as a lover?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Have you and Agent Scully ever had sexual intercourse?"

"No."

"Have you ever had oral sex with a woman?  Any woman."

"Yes," he answered hesitantly.

"Have you ever had oral sex with Agent Scully?"

"No."

Scully stiffened, shooting a quick glance at her AD  She became more 
anxious when she saw the polygraph operator make a notation on the 
paper.

"Have you and Agent Scully ever engaged in sexual foreplay?"

When Mulder hesitated, Scully thought her heart would stop.  But then 
his voice was unusually calm. 

"Define foreplay."

Thrown off guard, the operator looked to the DA to know where to go 
from there, but the DA was also snagged in the trap.  Skinner smiled 
to himself.  "Touché, Mulder," he said loud enough for Scully to hear.

The DA pointed to the writing tablet and the operator asked the next 
question.  

"Have you and Agent Scully ever kissed?"

Scully saw him look down at the table and there was the faintest hint 
of a smile on his lips. 

"Yes."

The interrogator looked down at a pad of paper.

"Have you and Agent Scully ever slept together in the same bed?"

"You've already asked me that question."

"I'm asking it again."

"Yes."

"Do you desire a sexual relationship with Agent Scully?"

Mulder's attorney spoke up quickly, "Again, there's no relevance to 
that question," he said with annoyance.

The prosecutor immediately jumped in.  "We feel there is.  We're 
alleging that because of the sexual repression experienced by Agent 
Mulder, he could have committed this crime of rape and assault.  And 
we believe that his feelings for Agent Scully have led to that 
repression."

Mulder had vowed to practice a controlled detachment, but there was a 
limit to that control, and it had just been breached.  Despite his 
pain, Mulder, enraged, jumped from his chair.

"THAT'S A FUCKING LIE!"

"Agent Mulder ...!" his attorney said, quickly standing and placing 
his hand on his arm.

"THIS ISN'T A CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION!  IT'S A WITCH HUNT AND YOU KNOW 
IT!" Mulder screamed.

"Fox," said his attorney, "sit down."

"Sit down, Agent Mulder, or I'll have contempt charges brought against 
you," the prosecutor warned.

Mulder turned to face the prosecutor, and Scully flinched, knowing 
that look in his eye.  "Who paid you off!" he accused.

Scully and Skinner both heard the uncomfortable laugh come from the 
prosecutor and knew instantly that what Mulder implied was true. 

"Agent Mulder ..." the attorney warned again.

But Mulder's eyes were riveted to the prosecutor. "He got to you, 
didn't he!  What did you get in return!"

Mulder's attorney was attempting to pull him out of the room and 
Scully saw him staggering under the pain.  When Skinner saw Mulder 
being handcuffed, he tossed a chair out of his way and bolted for the 
door.  Scully also headed for the door as she saw Skinner enter the 
interrogation room. 

Skinner was livid.  "Let him go!  He's no threat to anyone here!"

The deputy was intimidated by the Assistant Director of the FBI.  
"Sir..." started the deputy.

Skinner didn't even hear him; his attention was locked on the 
prosecutor, his eyes cold and piercing. 

"Let my agent go now or so help me you'll regret it," he threatened, 
inches from his face. 

There was hesitation, then the prosecutor nodded to the deputy.  
Before Mulder's hands could be freed from the cuffs, he started to 
sink to the floor.  Skinner grabbed him, as did Scully who had rushed 
up to his side.  They eased him to the floor.  The deputy moved in to 
remove the handcuffs.

Skinner stood up in front of the prosecutor who raised up on his 
heels, still putting himself a head shorter than the AD.

"I want him locked up!"

It was all Skinner could do to keep from breaking his nose.  He balled 
his hands into fists at his sides, glaring at him and speaking through 
clenched teeth.  Scully was afraid he was going to hit him.

Skinner jabbed a finger into the prosecutor's chest, wishing it were a 
pointy stick.  

"This man is going straight to a hospital!  If you stand in his way 
and he suffers consequences from it, so help me you'll be cleaning 
toilets next week!"

"On whose say so does he go to a hospital!"

"MINE!"  Scully shouted, leaving her partner's side temporarily, 
standing face-to-face with the prosecutor, but matching his height a 
little closer.  

"I'm his doctor!  He never should have been released in the first 
place, and I'm not so sure I won't discuss the ramifications of that 
with Agent Mulder's attorney!" she seethed.

The prosecutor looked over at the attorney, who narrowed his eyes and 
nodded. 



The prosecutor finally stepped away from Skinner's glare.  "Fine.  But 
I'm putting a guard on him."

"Like he's going anywhere," Scully said under her breath as she 
kneeled back down next to her partner.  "Mulder ..."

"Agent Scully ..." one of the deputies spoke as he clipped a radio 
back on his belt, "paramedics are on the way."

"Good.  Thank you."

Mulder opened his eyes and looked up at her.  Passing out seemed to 
have given him a temporarily respite and he felt a little better.  

"Scully, what are you doing here?"

She realized that he had asked her not to attend the polygraph.  She 
dipped her head but lifted it when she felt his hand slip into hers.  
When she looked into his eyes, she saw pain, but also understanding.

"Guess my little secret is out," he said softly.

Scully leaned closer and put her lips to his ear.  "It's no secret to 
me, Mulder," she whispered with a smile.

She saw the relief on his face as he once again closed his eyes.  
Scully felt someone brush against her leg and she turned and looked up 
to see that Skinner had moved in closer, as if to put himself between 
his two agents and everyone else.  He could read the question in her 
eyes, and he nodded slightly.

He mouthed the words, "We'll tell him."

*   *    *   *   *

7:40 p.m.
BETHESDA HOSPITAL

Mulder was once again settled in a hospital room.  There was concern 
that his high fever was due to an infection.  But the question was 
what was causing it.  He had undergone another CAT scan and more 
x-rays.  Blood was taken to check his counts because he was so weak 
and pale.

Now that he was back on pain medication, he was feeling better.  
Scully was relieved to see that his spirits had lifted a little.  She 
knew it had partially to do with the polygraph being over.

She walked in the room to find him chatting with one of his nurses.  
He had teased her about her resemblance to Rosie O'Donnell.  The nurse 
took it as a compliment.  She was amused that Mulder was starting to 
call her Rosie by name.

"Well, thank goodness you showed up," the nurse said to Scully.  "He 
sort of monopolizes your time, don't he?"

Scully grinned.  "Yes, he does," she said, sitting in the chair next 
to the bed.  "Do I dare ask what he's been filling your head with?"

The nurse straightened the blanket over her patient.  "I got a sister 
that manages a hotel in New Orleans.  She swears a ghost haunts the 
place."

Scully rolled her eyes at her partner and he waggled his eyebrows at 
her.  The nurse checked his water pitcher.  "I'll get you some more 
water," she said to Mulder.  "Anyway, your partner was telling me ways 
of . . . ways of . . ." she looked to Mulder for help.

Just as he opened his mouth to answer, Scully beat him to it.  

"Calling them out.  If you can identify the spirit, and perhaps use a 
familiar object, usually placed on a mirror or an old picture frame 
that once held a photo of the specter in human form, then there could 
be communication with the spirit.  But it might only be a telepathic 
communication which would mean the seeker would have to possess a 
certain sixth sense, which is why most people can't communicate with 
spirits."

While the nurse's interested gaze was on Scully, she chanced a look at 
her partner to see him mouth the words at her <Marry me.>

When Scully chuckled, the nurse looked back over at Mulder, but he 
just shrugged.

"Well," nurse Rosie said," looks obvious to me who the expert is 
here," she said, winking at Scully.

"Without a doubt," Mulder added.  "I'm just along for the ride."

The nurse finished checking equipment and picked up the water pitcher. 
"I'll be back in a little while."  She pointed a finger at Mulder.  
"Thank your lucky stars."

"I do every day."

The nurse smiled at Scully and walked out.  Scully frowned at her 
partner who patted a spot on the bed.

"What was that all about?" she asked, sitting next to him.

"Haven't you ever heard of nurse/patient confidentiality?"

"No, no, I haven't." 

Scully took the pause in their conversation to look him over.  She 
felt his cheek.  "How you doing, partner?"

"Better."

"You're still very warm.  Your tests will be back tomorrow morning and 
hopefully then we'll know what's going on with you."

He nodded, then lightly touched her knee with his fingers.  "Are you 
okay?" he asked.

<Am *I* okay?>  

"Oh, Mulder," she said, her eyes melting with appreciation for his 
concern.  "Yes."

She saw his hesitation, his eyes wandering to a point over her 
shoulder, then back to her face.

"Anything new on the case?" he asked.

"Hey," she said, gently turning his cast over to check his fingers for 
swelling.  "Not tonight."

Their eyes locked and a thousand thoughts passed between them.  Years 
of hope, disappointment, joy, sadness, confusion, understanding -- it 
was all there in a blink, a smile, a tear.  No one had shared with 
them what they had shared together.  And now, for one of them, the 
truth was told.  How ironic that years of practicing a confession of 
love would be preempted by a forced admission made in the harsh light 
of an interrogation room in front of strangers.  He wondered how 
Scully interpreted his answers.  Of course he loved her; of course he 
desired a sexual relationship -- what healthy man wouldn't?  But what 
did it really mean to her?  He didn't have long to wonder.  

Scully gently ran the tips of her fingers across the back of his 
bruised, swollen fingers.

"Mulder, you lied on the polygraph," she said softly.

"I will lie to protect you," he said simply, as if it was the most 
natural thing in the world to do.

"What happened to 'the truth will save you'?"

"The truth isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"I know you've been hurt by it, but we're no better than they are if 
we resort to lies."

"Scully, when the truth can be used to destroy you, what good is it?  
Where do you draw the line?"

"That's the question, isn't it?"

"Sometimes it takes a lie to get to the truth.  You and I know that 
better than anyone."

She couldn't argue with that.  Mulder had an uncanny way of justifying 
everything he did.

"Mulder, does Skinner know the truth?"

"About . . .?" he asked, knowing full well what she was referring to.

"About us."

"Skinner knows the truth whether I tell him or not," he said quietly.

Scully thought back on the inquiry into her partner's feelings.  She 
had never imagined a one-sided declaration of love.  If ever there 
came a time for the two of them to bare their souls, they would do it 
together, as they did everything together.  But now, because Mulder 
had been the target again, his most private thoughts and feeling had 
been manipulated and coerced.  Well this time, Scully decided, she 
would turn it around on them.  Just like 7 years ago when the same 
manipulative forces assigned Agent Mulder a partner.

What Scully and Mulder both knew was that never could their love for 
each other be used again them.  Theirs was a power nothing could 
match.  The two agents were at their strongest when something was 
pulling them apart. What they saw now in each other was reinforcement 
of an unbreakable bond.  

Very slowly they moved together, their eyes on each other's lips, 
their hands intertwined.  Heartbeats quickened and eyelids fluttered 
closed as their lips brushed, warm, tender.  Mulder placed his hand on 
the back of her head, pulling her lips into a deeper kiss.  He swore 
he heard Scully moan when suddenly the door flew open.

Startled, both agents jerked apart to see who had entered the room.

"Well, well, well.  That's some bedside manner, Dr. Scully."

Scully let out a sigh, not embarrassed, just disappointed.  "Frohike."

He was followed by his two compadres, Langley and Byers.

"Sorry to interrupt.  But we're responding to a distress call," 
Frohike explained.

"A distress call?" Scully asked, turning to her partner who feigned 
innocence.

Frohike set a duffel bag on the empty chair and unzipped it.  Byers 
and Langley moved closer to the bed.

"How are you doing, Mulder?" asked Byers.

"I'm okay."

"You look like shit, man."

"Thanks, Langley."

Scully tried to peer into the bag, but Frohike dramatically covered it 
with his hands.

"Okay guys, what gives?" Scully asked.

"Hey, we came all this way through snow and sleet --"

"Cut the crap," Mulder said.  "Did you bring it?"

Frohike grinned, then reached into the bag.  In a swift move, he 
pulled out a pint-sized carton of ice cream.  

"Here you go G-man.  Ben and Jerry's infamous Cherry Garcia," he said 
handing it to him.

Scully gave him a mock frown.  "Frohike . . ."

Suddenly he held up another carton, a silly grin on his face.  

Scully cocked her head.  "Is that what I think it is?"  

She looked back at her partner.  He was the only one, besides her 
mother, who knew her favorite flavor.  She read the carton.  

"Chocolate Skinny Dip," she said dreamily.

Frohike winked at Mulder.  "She's *yours* now," he teased.

When Frohike handed it to her with two spoons, she almost squealed 
with delight.  

"Mulder, you're forgiven."

"What about us?" Langley whined.

"We'll see," she said, taking the top off the carton for Mulder and 
setting it on the bed so he could hold it steady with his casted arm. 
 "What else is in the bag?" she asked.

Langley saw Mulder throw him a warning look.  "Wouldn't you like to 
know?" the blonde Gunman replied.

"Mulder, did they bring your magazine collection?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but she stuck in a spoonful of ice 
cream.  "No. Never mind.  I'd rather not know."

As Scully dipped into her own carton, she missed the look that passed 
between her partner and the three Gunmen.

For the next hour they visited, discussing conspiracy theories, new 
UFO sightings, and which major company the Gunmen planned to hack into 
next -- to which Mulder and Scully both interjected a demand to remain 
ignorant of that little escapade.

At 9:00, Mulder saw Scully yawn behind her hand.  He put his hand on 
her arm. "Scully, I want you to go home and get some sleep."

"Mulder, I don't --"

"I'd like you to be here first thing tomorrow to explain the results 
of those tests to me."

Mulder glanced over his shoulder to see the Gunmen looking 
uncomfortable.  He looked back at Scully.  "These guys can stay a few 
minutes.  They were going to show me some satellite photos they 
downloaded."

He saw that she was apprehensive.  "Scully, I just need to get my mind 
on something else."

That was something she could understand, and when he saw it in her 
face, he almost lost his nerve.  He knew what the Gunmen were thinking 
and he addressed all of them.

"Boys, can I have a minute?"

They nodded and started out the door but Scully's words stopped them.

"Guys," she said, indicating with a nod of her head toward the duffel 
bag.  "It's probably not a good idea to get his blood pressure up."

They said nothing, but by the way they shuffled out the door without 
looking at her, she detected a note of gloom.  

<Oh well, they are the Gunmen.  Go figure.>

Mulder was accustomed to Scully staying with him during 
hospitalizations.  She usually made sure he was asleep before she went 
home.  It always helped him to relax and sleep, knowing she was with 
him.  But tonight he needed her to go home, and he hated himself for 
it.

"Come here," he said softly, moving over slightly in the bed so she 
could sit next to him.  He took her hand, kissing her fingers.  She 
was soft and warm.  Inside he was wracked with guilt and 
self-loathing.

"Scully, there's really nothing I need to say.  You know my heart.  
You know me.  I've never meant to hurt you.  Never.  No matter what 
happens after tonight, please, please know that you are all that 
matters to me."

"Mulder --"

"No, don't talk," he said softly.  "Listen.  I will make things right. 
Trust me as you've never trusted me before."

She glanced down at the blanket before meeting his eyes again.  
"Mulder, there's something --"

"Shhh.  Say it.  That you trust me.  Please."

Her eyes were like burning embers.  Mulder wondered briefly how so 
much heat could emanate from orbs so blue.

"I trust you," she answered, a little puzzled.

Mulder nodded and smiled his gratitude.  "Kiss me," he whispered.

She smiled at the way he said it, so simple a request, like when they 
were in their office together and he asked her to hand him a 
paperclip.  Just that simple.  He expected it, and she gave it.

This time their lips met without interruption.  But what started out 
slow and sweet suddenly turned desperate, as Mulder seemed to lose 
control.  He kissed her hard, almost painfully, holding her tightly 
against him.  For an instant, she expected to hear a sob from him, but 
he broke their kiss, breathing deeply into her shoulder.

She attributed it to everything that he had been holding back all day. 
He almost let go, but then was back in control.  Scully held his face 
in her hands, but it took seconds for him to drag his eyes up to hers.

"Mulder, never be afraid to let go in front of me."

<She's got it all wrong.  God forgive me.  Scully, forgive me.>

"Hey," he said, forcing a smile that felt like a rip across his face. 
"Go home.  Get some sleep.  Do it for me."

She nodded and when Mulder saw tears in her eyes, he almost grabbed 
her and confessed everything.  No longer could he speak without 
betraying his motives.  He simply pointed to the door and she stood 
up.

As if everything were moving in slow motion, Mulder watched her 
retrieve her coat from the closet and pick up her purse.  She glanced 
at the duffel bag and Mulder felt a surge of panic.  Then she looked 
at him with that twinkle in her eye that only Scully could give.

"Remember your blood pressure."

<If you only knew> he wanted to say.  He nodded instead.  His mind was 
screaming contradictions.  

<PLEASE GET OUT OF HERE!> 

<NO!  DON'T GO!>

Scully paused at the door.  Not taking her eyes off her partner, she 
kissed the tips of her fingers, then extended them toward Mulder.  
"I'll see you in the morning."

The pain in his soul was so agonizing that he had to close his eyes, 
hiding the tears trapped behind his lids.  

When he opened them again, she was gone.

Mulder waited anxiously for the Gunmen to re-enter.  He suspected that 
Scully was warning them about keeping him up too late and tiring him 
out.  When they came back in, their behavior was constrained.

"Mulder --" started Frohike.

"Save it!" he snapped.  He knew what he had to do and if he spent one 
more second weighting the consequences, he wouldn't go through with 
it.  "Is there a guard outside?"

"No," said Byers.

"Good.  Give me my clothes."

He saw them hesitate.

"Look," Mulder said, "I hate this with every goddamn fiber of my body. 
But it's got to be done."

Langley stood by the door, peeking through a narrow crack.  Frohike 
stood still, so Byers opened the duffel bag.  He pulled out a set of 
clothes for Mulder, tossing them to him.  Then he took out a pair of 
tennis shoes and set them on the bed.  

Frohike still didn't look at Mulder.  "Bastard," he said under his 
breath.

Mulder nodded sadly, knowing that Frohike's anger toward him was 
because of the friendship Frohike had with Agent Scully.  Mulder knew 
that each of the Gunmen had grown to love her in their own way.  It 
was one of the reasons Mulder was so loyal to them, because they had 
accepted his partner, and he knew, without question, they would be 
loyal to Scully and protect her as they protected him.

Mulder continued to look at Frohike until the older man finally met 
his eyes. Frohike saw what he hoped to see in the young agent's eyes 
-- sorrow, regret, apology.

Byers had moved to the side of the bed, helping Mulder with the 
buttons of his shirt.  They all saw him wince when he slid out of bed.

"Byers, can you help me with this thing?" Mulder asked, indicating the 
I.V.

Byers closed the ringer on the tube, then shut off the machine.  
Mulder extended his arm, but turned his head as his friend withdrew 
the needle.

"Mulder, what are they . . .?" Byers started to ask what medication he 
was being given, then turned the I.V. bag over.  He looked alarmed.  
"Mulder, this is morphine.  You're in that much pain?"

Mulder saw Frohike's expression turn to concern.  He ignored Byers' 
question. 



"Were you able to get me a gun?"

Frohike reached in the bag and pulled out a weapon similar to his 
service revolver.  

"Thanks," Mulder said, checking the clip awkwardly with one hand.

With some difficulty he got his jeans on and fastened them, but tying 
his shoes was another story.  Frohike finally helped him after 
watching him trying to hold the laces with painfully swollen fingers. 
 It was also apparent that bending over was causing Mulder 
considerable pain.

Finally dressed, he stood upright, sticking the gun in the waistband 
of his pants.  Byers took off his jacket and handed it to him.  Mulder 
thought of something else.  "Did you remember to bring --"

"In the pocket," Byers said.

Mulder reached in the pocket of the jacket and pulled out a tiny tape 
recorder.  He nodded his thanks, then sat back down on the edge of the 
bed.

"Guys, I'm sorry.  I know how difficult this is going to be with 
Scully.  That's why I'm not telling you where I'm going.  It's one 
less lie you have to tell her.  She knows lies when she hears them."

"Yeah, all but yours," Frohike said coldly.

"Melvin," cautioned Byers, "this is hard enough for him."

"For him!  How's Scully going to take this when she get a phone call 
telling her he's gone?"

Mulder shook off the remark.  He couldn't go there right now.  "Byers, 
you have the checks and the account numbers?"

"Yes."

"Okay.  First  thing tomorrow morning.  Please."

"I will."

Mulder gingerly put his feet to the floor.  He swayed for an instant 
and Frohike instinctively grabbed his good arm.

"Mulder, you're really pale," said Langley.

"I'm okay."

They watched the agent move to the door and wait for Langley to signal 
that all was clear.

"Guys, I'll make this up to you.  Tell Scully . . . "  Mulder couldn't 
finish the sentence.  He just shook his head.

"Now, Mulder," said Langley, peering through the doorway.

With one final look of regret at his friends,  Mulder walked out.

Frohike rubbed his tired face and sank onto the corner of Mulder's 
empty bed. 



"The shit's going to hit the fan," he whispered.

*   *   *   *   *



11:25 p.m.
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT


Scully had just fallen asleep when the phone rang.  She let it ring a 
couple of times to allow herself a few seconds more to wake up.  She 
smiled to herself.  It had to be Mulder.

<Guess he can't sleep.>

"Hello," she said, sleepily.

Seconds later she was upright in bed, fully awake, her heart pounding 
in her ears.

"What!"  She shut her eyes, listening to the confused, frantic voice 
of the night nurse.  "I'll be right there!"

Scully threw the covers off, angry tears blurring her vision.  
"Goddamn you, Mulder!  GODDAMN YOU!"

*   *   *   *   *

3:10 a.m.
LONE GUNMEN'S HEADQUARTERS

The pounding was incessant.  It continued as Langley quickly worked to 
open each and every lock on the door.  They knew who it was.  As 
Frohike pulled the door open, he almost tumbled back as the door was 
pushed from the other side.  A whirlwind of black flapping coat and 
copper hair shoved past them.

All three men joined Scully in the center of the room.  Her features 
were drawn, her eyes red and weary.  She looked not just enraged, but 
scared.

"WHERE IS HE!"  she demanded.

Langley and Byers looked to Frohike who stepped a little closer to 
Scully.  "We don't know.  He wouldn't' tell us."

"You're lying!"

"No," said Byers.  "He didn't want us to have to keep that from you, 
so he didn't tell us where he was going."

Scully closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead.  The Gunmen looked at 
each other.  Something else was wrong.  Not just Mulder missing.  
Something else.  They waited.  Scully dropped her hand and took a deep 
breath.

"Mulder's in trouble.  His test results came back.  A piece of his rib 
splintered off and punctured his lung.  We couldn't see it at first 
because it had completely broken off and moved behind another rib 
bone."

She ignored the shocked look that passed between the three men and 
went on.  "The puncture is causing an infection, which is why he's 
running such a high fever.  But worse than that,  he's bleeding.  His 
hemostat count, which should be around 15, is at 7.8.  That means he 
has less than half the blood volume in his body that he needs."

"Oh god," said Byers.

"He was discovered missing when the doctor went in to prepare him for 
a transfusion."

Scully sank into a chair.  She had prayed all the way over in the car 
that the Gunmen would know where he was.  Now she didn't know where to 
begin looking for him and time was running out.  

Frohike knelt beside her.  "Scully --"

"WHY!  Why did you do it?  He's officially under arrest.  He's 
released under my custody.  That means I have to inform the court that 
he's missing!"

When Scully's voice broke, all three men felt crushing guilt.

"Dana," said Frohike, "he begged us.  He said he knew of only one way 
to clear this up."

He surprised Scully by taking her hand, but she jerked it away.  

Frohike's voice was strained.  "He said he had to do it because it was 
the only way to find out if he . . ."

"If he raped that girl?  He didn't," she said, lowering her head.

"He doesn't know that.  He's not sure.  He thinks . . ."

When he stopped mid-sentence, Scully looked at him.  

But it was Byers who continued.  "He thinks he did it, Scully."

She closed her eyes.  <We should have told him.  He'd be getting blood 
right now if . . . we'd only told him.>

The Gunmen watched a tear slip from her closed eyelids. 

"We're sorry.  It's just that Mulder was so scared.  And he lied to us 
about his medical condition," said Langley.

"He was on a morphine drip!" Scully shouted, trying to blink back more 
tears. "Did you see that when you unhooked him -- and I know you did 
because Mulder's afraid of needles!  He would never do it himself 
unless he was alone!"

"I saw it after the fact," Byers admitted.

Scully ran her hand down her face.  "God, could this get any worse?  
It's snowing harder, the police will issue an arrest warrant, and he's 
bleeding to death!"

"Surely he'll realize --" started Byers.

"How sick he is?  Has that ever stopped Mulder before?  Did a gunshot 
wound to the head prevent him from trudging through an ice field on 
the other side of the world."

"That was different," said Frohike.  "He was going after you."

She couldn't dwell on that fact.  "His red blood cells are horribly 
depleted. Those are the cells that carry oxygen to the brain.  He will 
become more and more confused and disoriented, until he finally lapses 
into a coma.  And if he's alone . . . NOW WHERE IS HE!" she screamed.

Their silence finalized their answer.  With what she just told them, 
she knew they would lead her straight to Mulder if they knew where he 
was.

She stood, wondering for a minute if her legs would hold her up.  The 
Gunmen moved with her to the door.

"We'll start making calls," said Frohike.  "Hundreds of people know 
Mulder's face.  We'll see if we can find him."

Scully knew the attempt would be futile.  Mulder was too good at 
hiding. But they had to do something besides just standing around 
waiting for news.

She was overloaded with emotions right now, bone-tired, and scared to 
death.  She was in no position to judge anyone when her own action -- 
or rather inaction -- contributed to Mulder's taking matters into his 
own hands.

Scully reached for the door.  "Call me with any leads," she said, 
speaking as if no one was listening.

Then she turned to face them, her words burning through them like 
acid.  "If you hear from Mulder and don't notify me or AD Skinner, I 
swear I'll put a bullet in each of you."

She walked out, slamming the door behind her.

*   *   *   *   *

4:35 a.m.
Fox Mulder's Apartment

Scully stood motionless in the center of the living room. How many 
times had she looked past so many familiar objects in the room -- the 
pictures on the wall, the odds and ends filling his bookcase.  And how 
many mornings had she come in to find their empty pizza box from the 
night before still on the table, or a trail of Mulder's clothes lying 
in the hallway.

Scully's cell phone rang and she angrily pulled it from her coat 
pocket.  "Scully," she answered shortly.

"Where are you?"

It was Skinner.  Wearily, she sat on the edge of Mulder's desk.  She 
took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

"I'm at Agent Mulder's apartment."

"Is he there!" Skinner asked anxiously.

"No.  I've been trying to find something that might give me some idea 
where he went.  I thought he might have come back here when he left 
the hospital last night, but it doesn't look like it.

In the silence that followed, Scully sensed that her AD had some news 
for her.  When she heard him clear his throat, she knew it was coming.

"I need you to meet me at an address."

She leaned over and grabbed a pencil and piece of paper off the desk. 
"Go ahead, sir."

"Two-eleven Cherry Park Road.  It's the home of the police officer who 
arrested Mulder."

Scully's throat tightened.  "The rape victim's uncle?"

"Yeah.  He's been murdered."

*   *   *   *   *

Scully drove down icy streets and thickening fog toward the scene of 
the homicide.  She didn't even want to think of the implications of 
the twist in the case - if you could so boldly call *murder* a twist. 
 She knew time of death would be a critical factor in proximity to 
when Mulder left the hospital.  There was no doubt in her mind that 
her partner had nothing to do with the crime, but it terrified her to 
think that this could be one more piece to the frame up.

But how likely was it that Mulder's unexpected disappearance was known 
with enough time to suddenly plan a murder?  Scully shook her head.  

<Get the facts first.  Stop speculating.>  

She pounded her fist on the steering wheel.  <Mulder, where are you?>

*   *   *
Cherry Tree Apartments
Cherry Tree Road

Red and blue lights twirled in the misty fog.  The Coroner's wagon sat 
at the curb.  As Scully exited her car, a gust of cold wind rattled 
the bare tree branches and picked up a tin can, blowing it noisily 
down the street. 

Curious onlookers milled in the street and huddled in front of the 
apartment building.

Scully showed her ID to a police officer at the curb, and he raised 
the yellow crime tape so she could duck underneath it.  Entering the 
apartment, she immediately grabbed a pair of latex gloves from a box 
on the coffee table.  Again she showed her ID as a plainclothes 
detective came toward her.

"Agent Scully, this way," he said, obviously having been told to watch 
for her.

She followed him into the bedroom of the apartment.  Skinner was in 
the corner with another plainclothes officer that she recognized as 
Detective Bensima, the chief investigator for the case against her 
partner.  She glanced briefly at the body on the bed then went up to 
her boss.

"Sir, Detective," she greeted.

"Agent Scully," the detective replied.

They turned their attention to the body.  It was face down in the bed. 
There was a small hole at the base of his neck, and Scully leaned over 
to see the exit wound.  It wasn't hard to find.   The throat of the 
victim was blasted away, leaving a mangled mass of torn, bloody flesh. 
 The pillow and bed sheet were blood-soaked.

The two men both saw her wrinkle her brow and cock her head, as if 
trying to see it from a different perspective.

"At first, it appears that he was shot in his sleep.  But the body's 
laying at an odd angle across the bed," she stated.

Having said that, Scully looked up at the wall behind the headboard.  
There was a blood spatter pattern on the wall, which obviously could 
not have been made if the victim was laying down with his face against 
a pillow.

Skinner saw her frown, as she began to draw on her expertise as a 
pathologist to gather the facts at the scene.  He was impressed when 
he saw her walk over to the window.  He also saw the surprised look on 
the face of the detective. 

She ran her fingers over the frosty glass pane until she found the 
neat round hole in the lower corner of the window.  She turned to 
point it out to Skinner and Bensima, but she could tell by the look 
that passed between them that they had seen where the shot came from. 
 The detective walked over and placed his fingers on the glass next to 
Scully's, using a circular motion to wipe away the condensation.  
Peering through the window, Scully followed his gaze to another 
apartment building across the parking lot where she saw several 
officers on the second floor landing.

"Scully . . ." said Skinner.  "I need to show you something."

She followed him and Bensima back into the living room and over to the 
kitchen counter.  Skinner picked up a large, clear evidence bag.  
Scully could see sheets of paper inside.  The AD opened it and handed 
the papers to her.  She immediately saw the document title printed on 
the top page: SHADY OAKS PRIVATE HOSPITAL.

While she was reading, she was peripherally aware that another officer 
pulled Detective Bensima aside.  Realizing what she was reading, she 
looked up at Skinner in surprise, then continued reading, speaking to 
him at the same time she took in more information.

"Sir, Mandy Morrison was committed to a mental institution for two and 
a half years."

He nodded.  Scully went to the next page.  

"It says she was committed in lieu of criminal charges being filed. " 
She looked up at him.  "What charges?"

"I don't know."

"I did an extensive background check on her.  She had no criminal 
record.  None of this showed up."

"Curious, isn't it?"

Scully lowered her voice.  "What does Detective Bensima think of 
this?"

"He admitted it's looking like there's more to this case than he first 
thought.  At least it's apparent that Miss Morrison was not who we 
thought she was.  But Detective Bensima still believes Mulder is 
somehow involved."

"Sir, where did you find these papers?  Not just lying in plain view, 
I assume."

"That's exactly where we found them.  On the dresser in the bedroom.  
The only thing missing was the flashing neon arrow saying 'Look 
Here'."

Scully watched Bensima approach them again, nodding to indicate he had 
heard Skinner's last remark and that their thinking seemed to be along 
the same track.

Bensima's attention was drawn to another individual who had entered 
the residence.  Scully recognized the person as a pathologist, and 
upon catching his eye, they nodded to each other as he proceeded to 
the bedroom.

Scully held up the papers in her hand.  "Someone made sure we found 
these," she said.   

The Detective was quick to answer.  "I agree.  I think whoever 
murdered Officer Femino wanted this information about his niece made 
known, but I think he was killed to keep him from saying more than 
someone might want him to say.  They didn't want him talking."

"Talking about what?" Scully asked harshly, picking up an accusatory 
edge to his statement.

"That's the question, isn't it?  It would certainly benefit your 
partner to have doubt cast on the credibility of Miss. Morrison, 
wouldn't it?"

Scully glared at him, and Skinner, seeing the fire building in her 
eyes, tried to pull her away from the detective, but she held fast to 
the spot.

"Why did you call a pathologist to the scene?  The only time that's 
done -" she started.

"Is when we want to get a liver temp to determine time of death.  It's 
only a back-up measure.  We know when he was killed.  And it doesn't 
look good for your partner."

"What do you mean?" she asked defensively.

"Agent Mulder was discovered missing from the hospital at 10:25 p.m.  
At 2:08 a.m., several residents made a 911 call after hearing a 
gunshot from this location."  The detective ignored her blank 
expression.  "That's a three-and-a-half-hour window, so we're not 
looking at an O.J. timetable here."

Skinner knew from her demeanor that she was holding her tongue.  Again 
he pulled her away from the detective, this time with more force and 
she relented, wanting to distance herself from him as well.

"Scully, any idiot knows that Agent Mulder would have to be completely 
out of his mind to sneak out of a hospital -- with numerous witnesses 
who could verify the time he left -- and then murder a key figure in 
the case against him."

"We've seen stranger things believed."

Skinner saw her let down her guard for an instant, revealing her 
exhaustion and worry.  He leaned closer, bending slightly to keep his 
words only between them.

"We've got to find Mulder."

"If we don't find him soon, sir, I'm afraid we're going to be 
following a blood trail.  His."

*   *   *   *   *

6:30 a.m.
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Mulder shivered in the back seat of the cab.  The day dawned just like 
the previous one -- cold, wet, and gray.  Heavy snow clouds hung in 
the sky and a brisk breeze sent the wind chill factor plummeting.   
His thoughts were as gray as the day.  Constantly he thought about 
Scully -- how had she taken the news? -- Where was she? -- What was 
she doing to find him?  Guilt ravaged him like a hungry vulture.  He 
had to think about Scully to keep from spiraling into a depression so 
deep he'd never climb out.  And he had his friends, who were no doubt 
taking their own amount of grief right now,  no thanks to him.  

He was grateful that the Gunmen, per his instructions, had given him 
$300 in cash and two of his credit cards -- extras that he kept in a 
drawer at home.

The cab turned the corner and he knew he was close. He closed his 
eyes, fighting the nausea caused by the movement of the vehicle.  
Finally it pulled to a stop in a circular driveway.  Peering through 
the foggy window, Mulder stared up at the stately brownstone manor, 
sitting in the middle of an immense estate.  He asked the driver to 
wait for him, then painfully got out of the car. 

Pulling the collar of the thin jacket up to cover his neck, he 
carefully navigated the flagstone steps, slick from a coverlet of ice. 
 At the front door he waited for an answer to his ring.   Wind gusts 
swirled dead leaves around his legs.  The cold penetrated his 
clothing, causing him to shiver more.  He dragged a hand across his 
forehead, feeling hot and cold at the same time.  He felt the heat 
radiating off his skin, and instantly thought of Scully touching him 
with her cool fingers.  She had a way of calming the storm within him, 
whether it be from sickness or depression.  

He was startled back to reality when the front door swung open.  He 
was surprised when instead of a servant answering the door, the very 
man he came to see stood before him.

"Senator," Mulder greeted quietly.

*   *   *   *   *

6:30 a.m.
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT

The apartment door flung open and Scully stepped in quickly, slamming 
it closed behind her.  Right now she didn't care who she woke up at 
this early hour of the morning.  She stood for a few seconds on the 
doormat, stomping the snow off her boots, then leaving them in a wet 
puddle.  Yanking her coat off, she wadded it up in frustration and 
threw it across the living room to land momentarily on the sofa before 
it slid to the floor.  Then she tossed her keys across the room to the 
dining room table and watched them also slide across the waxed 
surface, bounce off the wall, and land on the carpet.

Her body was relying on reserves of adrenaline to keep her going, but 
Mulder's disappearance was draining that reserve.  She was worried out 
of her mind, while at the same time furious with him for putting her 
through this.

It had been the night from hell -- beginning with the phone call from 
the night nurse.  

Then she'd had to notify Skinner.

When she met him at the hospital, he was in a rage.  Who exactly he 
was enraged at wasn't clear.  Or, more precisely, who he *wasn't* 
enraged at wasn't clear.  Most definitely Special Agent Fox Mulder was 
at the top of the list.  Mulder also held the top position on the 
*worry* list.  Skinner didn't care about the concerns or anxieties of 
anyone else -- he was just plain mad. Scully knew a big part of that 
was guilt, the same guilt she was feeling -- that they should have 
told Mulder what they had learned about the rape.  The other part was 
simply that everything was going down the drain more quickly than a 
paper boat in a swift current.  

And Skinner hadn't been able to stop it.

Now Scully was exhausted with worry, and just trying to think had 
become a challenge.  Just as she started into the kitchen, there was a 
knock on the door.  After peering through the peephole,  she unsnapped 
the strap on her gun holster.  Then she opened the door and stepped 
back.

Mr. X entered, obviously having been in the building for awhile since 
his coat and shoes were dry.  He saw that Scully was in worse shape 
than the last time he spoke with her.

"It's no easy task having a partner like Agent Mulder, is it?" he 
asked.

"Do you know where he is?"  Scully asked, her anxiety causing a slight 
tremor in her voice.

Her question caught him off guard, and she found herself surprised 
that he didn't always have all the facts.

"What are you talking about?"  X asked.

"Mulder left the hospital last night.  No one can find him."

The look on X's face was more disturbed than Scully would have 
anticipated.  In fact, he looked more troubled than news about Mulder 
being missing would normally cause.  Most people who knew Mulder, got 
pretty accustomed to his disappearing acts.

"What's wrong?" she asked nervously.  "Why are you here if you didn't 
know that?"

"No, I didn't know he wasn't still in the hospital.  This complicates 
things."

"What things?"

X looked her in the eye, as if saying <brace yourself.>  

"Officer Femino, the so-called uncle of Mulder's alleged victim, was 
murdered tonight,"  he said coolly.  

For once, Scully felt like she had the upper hand, that X was the late 
arrival at the party.

"You're losing your touch!" she snapped.

Scully's quick retort caught him off guard.  He actually looked 
momentarily shaken.  If the circumstances were different, she would 
have enjoyed pulling the ace out of her sleeve.

Scully searched his face, and although X quickly composed himself and 
tried to keep his features bland, she saw a flash of something she 
recognized.  Her eyes widened with fire.

"You had him killed!"

"*I* didn't.  "

"But you know who did!"

"He was working against Mulder.  They got to him too, Agent Scully.  
He and his partner were the ones that apprehended Mulder behind the 
bar that night.  You think that was a coincidence?  What do you think 
Agent Mulder's chances would be if you now add a police officer to the 
list of those framing him?"

"Is a District Attorney on that list as well?"

X's only answer was that maddening non-verbal stare-down that made 
Scully want to cold cock him.  She sank down into a chair and X boldly 
took the opposite chair.

"As long as Mulder was in the hospital, he had an alibi.  But now --" 
he started.

"You did this to help *save* him?" she asked, trying to keep up with 
the psychotic merry-go-round.

"How did he get out of the hospital?   I thought he was guarded."

"No.  The DA was convinced that due to the seriousness of his 
injuries, he couldn't go anywhere," she said, her words almost 
laughable if not for the critical circumstances.  

Scully watched him staring blindly out the window.  "Why are you 
here?" she asked.

"Because it's time Agent Mulder told you the truth."

"About what?" she snapped.

"About the girl."

She felt her heart skip a beat and there was a tightening in her 
throat.  X saw her try to hide her anguish.  The disguise came out in 
the form of fury.

"You first came to me to tell me my partner didn't do anything to that 
girl, now you tell me that's a lie!"

"I didn't say it's a lie.  But Agent Mulder isn't telling the whole 
truth.  And if you're going to help him, you have to know."

"Well, Agent Mulder isn't here!" she spat at him.  "So why don't *you* 
tell me!"

When X stood out of the chair, Scully jumped up, pulling her gun and 
pointing it at him.  "You're not going anywhere!  This is a police 
investigation, and you have information!  So sit down!"

X looked appalled.  "Do you really think I'm going to sit down and let 
the police take a statement from me?  Have you lost your mind?" he 
said calmly.

"I wouldn't be surprised!"  she said, feeling her sanity slipping 
away.  

"I can't give you answers.  In the years I've known your partner, I 
must have told him that a hundred times."

Scully knew it was futile to threaten him.  Her main concern was how 
to find her partner and to find him quickly.  She lowered the gun, and 
as much as she despised begging, her partner's life was more 
important.

"Please.  My partner is walking around, burning with fever and slowly 
bleeding to death.  Tell me where to start."

"I may know where Agent Mulder went.  But to get that information, you 
need to go talk to someone."

"Who?"

"Agent Mulder's contact on Capitol Hill."

"But I don't know who --"

"Yes you do," he said bluntly.
 
*   *   *   *   *



6:35 a.m.
SENATOR MATHESON'S HOME

Matheson didn't seem surprised to see Fox Mulder at his doorstep.

"Fox, come in," he said, quickly pulling the young man in by the arm.

As Senator Matheson closed the door behind him, he looked down to see 
why Mulder's arm had felt strange when he grabbed it.  He now saw the 
cast under the opened sleeve of his shirt.  And when he looked up into 
the agent's face, he saw much more.

"I heard you'd been hurt.  Come into the den where it's warm."

Mulder followed him, his pace much slower than the Senator's.  
Matheson shut the door, giving them privacy, then motioned for Mulder 
to sit on the leather sofa by the fireplace.  He watched the agent 
settle gingerly on the cushions and he took an armchair across from 
him.

"Would you like something to drink?"  He looked him over again.  
"Aspirin?" he asked.

"No.  You know why I'm here."  His voice had become strained.  His 
discomfort was apparent in the way he held his body.  "I want to know 
why this is happening."

"I don't know," he said sincerely.  "I would imagine it's to discredit 
you, destroy your work."

Mulder used his profiling skills to appraise the man he had worked in 
the shadows with for years.  "Why her?  How did they ever find her?"

Matheson sighed deeply and stared into the fire for a minute before 
trying to answer.  "They are constantly looking for ways to slow you 
down, or stop your work all together.  They know you have sources on 
Capitol Hill.  They know where I stand as far as funding for the space 
program, and SETI projects.  So they look closer.  I'm not the only 
Senator who supports those things, so they look at all of us because 
they don't know who you talk to."

Matheson saw Mulder brace his chest before he coughed.  Mulder nodded 
for him to go on.

"Somewhere, someone found the link between you and Mandy.  It's 
unfortunate that you met, coincidentally, at my Christmas party.  She 
liked you, Fox."

"She's a disturbed girl, Senator.  I knew that five minutes into our 
conversation that night."

Matheson shook his head.  "You should have brought your partner to the 
party, as I suggested."

"That was a long time ago.  I wasn't sure . . . well, things were 
different then.  But yes, I should have.  It might never have happened 
if I had."

"Did your partner ever find out?"

"No.  She had been sick at the time," he said softly.  "It wouldn't 
have been good for her.  It was kept quiet."

"Well, it wasn't buried as deep as we thought because after the 
connection between the three of us was made, someone did some digging 
and found the proceedings."

"I never saw her again after the competency hearing.  Did she continue 
to hate me?"

"It was a love/hate.  She loved you but you wouldn't reciprocate, so 
she hated you.  Then to make matters worse, you testified against 
her."

"I had to."

"I'm not disputing that.  You did what should have been done a long 
time ago."

"When did she get out?"

Matheson didn't answer right away.  He was watching Mulder closely,  
seeing a weakness he had never seen in the young agent.  In a way he 
felt responsible, even though what had happened was far beyond his 
control.  He was even more disturbed at the far-reaching arm of the 
conspirators, which controlled people's lives.

"About six months ago.  She enrolled in school, supposedly had a 
boyfriend --"

"You don't suppose he had one arm, do you?"

Matheson had to smile.  Even in obvious pain, Fox Mulder was the 
sharpest individual he had ever known.

Suddenly, Mulder coughed again.  His hand went quickly to his mouth, 
and when he pulled it away, there was blood on his fingers.  He could 
taste blood in his mouth, and Matheson was alarmed to see his lips 
tinged red.

Quickly the Senator stood and went to his desk by the window where he 
grabbed a box of tissues.  He went back to Fox, pulling one from the 
box and handing it to the agent, then setting the box on the sofa.

"Fox, this isn't good," he said, watching him wipe the blood off his 
lips.  "I need to get you some help.  Let me call your partner."

"No.  Senator, let me finish.  Please."

Matheson took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa, facing Mulder.  
Mulder tried to ignore how closely he was being scrutinized.

"Sir, they obviously got to her.  They made some sort of deal -- they 
promised her something."

"I don't know."

Mulder's voice was agitated.  "Do you know what I'm charged with, sir! 
Do you think I did it!  Are they capable of manipulating me to go that 
far!"

Matheson suddenly looked bewildered.  "You have doubts?  You think you 
could have done this?" he asked, incredulous.

Mulder ran a shaking hand through his hair.  "I don't know.  What I 
went through when Scully was sick -- what Mandy put me through -- I 
didn't need it then.  I had to deal with that instead of being with my 
partner.  And I had to lie to Scully.   I resented Mandy more than I 
could ever admit.  I made sure she was put away, sir."

"So you think she's not the only one that carried that hatred around 
all these years?"

"I don't have the disturbed mind she does.  I  never considered 
revenge.  I used justice instead and for me the past was the past."

"Until you saw her again that night in the bar and she had the nerve 
to come on to you.  Isn't that right?"

Mulder looked sick.  "Oh god.  Could I do it?  I know I was set up.  
But with the help of a drug, with the sheer contempt I felt for her, 
could I have wanted to hurt her?  Would they have simply made it easy 
for me?"

Matheson saw terror on the agent's face.  "Fox, I don't think so.  
Your emotions were running higher at the time your partner was sick, 
and you kept your wits about you.  You did the right thing.  I don't 
believe what you feel about Mandy today is as extreme as you think.  
Not to the point of actually doing what you're accused of.  That's why 
they used this against you, don't you see?  They're masters at seeing 
into people.  And they've studied you.  They planted the doubt, and 
now they're feeding on it.  Don't let them win."

"Then tell me where I can find her."

Matheson clasped his hands in his lap and bent his head.

"Sir, if I go to the police, I have to admit to things I've covered 
up.  Where does that leave the truth?  Lost between lies."

Matheson looked up.  "That's not what you're worried about," he said 
bluntly.

Mulder was silent, waiting for his explanation.

"You're worried about how this will affect your partnership.  That's 
more important to you than going to prison for 20 years."

"I never meant to lie to Scully.  But when I realized who I was 
accused of raping, I didn't know what to think.  I had to find the 
truth before I could admit to her that I knew this girl."  Mulder 
rubbed his eyes with one hand, fatigue and pain slowly wiping him out. 
 "Now, it's so confusing.  I think I've just made one mistake after 
the other.  But there's no way to reverse it; I have to go forward."

Mulder's eyes pleaded with the Senator.  "Senator, where is she?"

"And what will you do if you find her?"

"I was able to convince her once to give herself up.  When she's not 
with me, she's strong against me, but she's weak when she's with me.  
I'll get a recorded confession.  Sir, I know she's left town.  Where 
did she go?"

Matheson looked long and hard at the FBI agent.  He remembered the 
many times Fox Mulder followed up on leads or obtained information for 
him, sometimes at the risk of his life or career.  He owed Mulder at 
least what he asked for.

The Senator walked over to his desk and opened a drawer, taking out a 
pad of paper and a pen.  He wrote for a minute, then tore off the 
sheet and folded it.  He walked back over to hand it to the agent, but 
when Mulder stood, he lost his balance.  Matheson caught him as Mulder 
doubled over and coughed again.  This time there was more blood.

"Jesus!  Fox, you've got to get to a hospital!" he said, trying to 
steady him.  Matheson could feel the warmth of Mulder's skin right 
through his shirtsleeve.

Mulder wiped his mouth, then took the folded paper out of Matheson's 
hand.  "I will.  Later."  

He unfolded the paper and saw that Matheson had drawn a map.  At the 
top of the page he had written an address.

"She's here in Virginia?"

"Yes.  In Manassas.  Her parents have a home at Jackson Lake."

"Thank you," Mulder said, refolding the paper and putting it in his 
coat pocket.

"You're going alone?"

Mulder nodded and started for the door.  He walked slowly, feeling 
each step jolt his broken rib followed by a piercing pain in his 
chest.  He was breathing heavier, but shallower because taking a deep 
breath was so painful. Matheson walked him to the front door.

"Fox, I wish you'd let me call Agent Scully."

"No.  She'd just haul my ass back to the hospital," he said, forcing a 
weak smile.

"That's where you should be."

Mulder opened the door and when the cold air hit him, he instantly 
started shivering.  Again Matheson put his hand on the agent's arm.

"Fox, please . . ."

Mulder was fighting the urge to cough so he didn't dare speak.  
Instead he waved the piece of paper as his thanks to Matheson, and 
walked to the cab.

Once he was settled in the back seat, he started to cough.  He had 
stuffed his pockets with tissue, and now removed one to wipe more 
blood from his mouth.

"Hey, buddy?"

Mulder looked up to see a pair of eyes in the rearview mirror.

"You okay back there?"

"Yeah," he said hoarsely.  "Can you drive me to this address," he 
asked, handing him the piece of paper.

"Sure," he answered, reading the map.  "It's about an hour drive, a 
little longer on icy roads, so why don't you relax."

Mulder nodded and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes.  His 
pain and his breathing difficulty made him think that maybe this 
wasn't such a good idea.  Then he thought of Scully.  She had come so 
far with him. She was the reason he kept finding the strength to keep 
going.  She was his rock, yet he had seen the last few days take a 
toll on her.  Even with all his own self-doubts, she held fast to her 
belief in him.  

Mulder had made up his mind that he would not face her again until 
this was over.  And if it couldn't be over, then he'd rather be dead 
anyway.

*   *   *   *   *