Value & Honor by Forte (Forte1354@aol.com) Please see Chapter 1 for rating, summary, disclaimer, etc. AUTHOR'S NOTE: When I posted Chapter 1, I wrote that Value & Honor would run about 250K. I'm afraid that that estimate was too low. At this point I would say that V&H will total about 350K. I can assure you that this story is outlined in detail, and I know exactly where I'm going with it (too bad Mulder and Scully don't ). I underestimated how much the story would lengthen when I filled in all the little details. In any case, I just wanted to let you know that the ride is going to be longer than I first expected. Thanks for sticking with me, and with them. :) ******************************************************************** - Chapter 9 - ******************************************************************** Along the Potomac River Washington, DC Saturday, 12:56 p.m. Mulder approached the empty bench along the Potomac, scanning the surrounding area for any sign of Scully. Nope, not yet. He'd parked in the garage at the Hoover Building and had considered going up to the bullpen to see if she was still there, but had decided against it. She'd wanted -- needed -- her privacy while working on the report for Kersh, and he was going to respect that need. So he'd walked directly to their bench instead. =Their= bench? Better be careful to not say that in front of Scully. Can't imagine how she'd react to that. She might get pissed at him, translating his possessiveness of the bench into possessiveness of =her=. (Not that she'd really be off the mark.) But even worse, she might laugh at him, and not in a good way. <"You should tell her, Mulder. And soon. What the hell are you waiting for?"> Frohike's parting words rang in his ears. Well, that was the question of the hour, wasn't it? Maybe the question of his entire lifetime. And he'd just answered it. He kept his mouth shut about his feelings for Scully because he wasn't sure how she would react. No, that wasn't right, was it? <"Come on, Scully, you can't tell me that you didn't know that already. Just a variation on a theme you've heard before."> When he'd said that the night before, gesturing with his eyes towards the hallway outside his apartment door, she'd smiled, but... that was all. In fact, she'd run away, in her Scully way, to make the ice pack for his head. Why did she do that? Why did she avoid discussing how they felt about each other? He knew she probably loved him. After all these years, it had to be more than just tolerance, right? And he was pretty sure that she knew he loved her. Most partners, especially those with a bullet wound to the head, would not have gone off to the Antarctic to rescue her. She was a smart woman; she'd have figured out that much. He just didn't know if she realized the kind of love he felt for her. Hell, he wasn't sure if =he= could categorize it. His feelings for Scully went far beyond the love he remembered having for Phoebe or Diana. Of course he loved Scully, and not just in a friendly, partnerly way. But he liked her, too. Respected her. Trusted her. Being with her just felt... right somehow. Comfortable. Like he was where he was supposed to be. Like everything would turn out okay as long as she was nearby. And on the flip side, he knew how terrified he was each hellish time she had been missing. Terrified not just for her, and the pain and suffering she might endure, but for himself. For being without her. It was unthinkable. And if he told her, what would she say? Would it scare her? Did she feel the same way? What if her love for him was just that friendly, partnerly kind? Could she be avoiding the topic to spare his feelings? Nope, too scary to contemplate. A truth too scary to face. Right now, things were just fine the way they were. Don't ask, don't tell. Status quo. Yup. That was the way to go. At some point an opportunity might present itself on a silver platter, like in his hallway, but he wasn't going to push it. He could scare her away, lose everything he had with her, if he did, and he wasn't going to risk it. He could wait for that silver platter. Of course, that might not be until sometime in the middle of the next century, but... All right, enough of that. She's going to be here any minute, and you can't have some forlorn look on your face when she gets here. Find something else to think about. He settled near one end of the wooden seat and placed the lunch bag about two feet away from him, hoping it would send the desired signal to anyone walking by. I'm waiting for someone. Don't even think about sitting here. Go away. Mulder gazed out over the Potomac at the Jefferson Memorial. Dozens of tourists were there, which was to be expected on a beautiful November Saturday. It had been a while since he'd last taken in this view, since they'd last met here, hadn't it? Funny how his memory branded it "their" bench after all this time. But then Scully had called it -- what, the =usual= bench? -- so didn't that mean it held a place in her memories, too? He wondered what kind of a humorous answer he should give her if she asked "Is this seat taken?" as she had when they'd been working on the Flukeman case. The Flukeman case. <"You may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I still wouldn't change a day. Except for that Flukeman thing, of course."> Her loyalty was amazing. Just one of the things he loved about her. An unfamiliar feminine voice interrupted Mulder's thoughts. "Emily, please don't pick things up off the ground. It's dirty." Mulder turned his head in the direction of the voice. Emily? A woman stood on the path nearby with her hands on her hips, her back to him, facing a little girl kneeling in the grass. The child had a ponytail of dark brown hair, the same color as the woman's, and bangs that covered her forehead. She appeared to be about four years old. The same age another Emily would be if... "Is this money, Mommy?" The girl held up something metallic, perhaps a bottle cap. "No, sweetheart, it's garbage. You're a big girl now, Emily, and you should know better than to pick things up like that. Now put it down and let's go, please. Daddy's waiting." She extended her hand to her daughter, who dropped the bottle cap. The girl stood and took her mother's hand, a big grin on her face. They turned in Mulder's direction to continue down the path, and he could see that the mother was quite pregnant, at least six months along. Trying to be unobtrusive, Mulder turned his gaze back toward the Potomac as the pair walked by. When they passed, he turned his head to continue watching as they walked away. His eye caught a familiar face coming from the opposite direction, about twenty yards away. Scully. he silently begged the mother. ******************************************************************** Scully walked briskly down the path, dodging joggers and in-line skaters. She lifted her wrist to glance at her watch. Just about one o'clock; almost there. As she lowered her hand, she passed it over her stomach. She hadn't eaten in almost six hours, and the FBI coffee was burning a hole through her. Maybe she should have taken Mulder up on his offer of lunch, even though finishing the report for Kersh had left her with no appetite. As she rounded a bend she could see Mulder sitting on the bench. In fact, he was looking in her direction, although not at her. What was it that held his attention? A runner coming in the opposite direction dodged some gravel on the path and brushed hard against Scully as he passed her. Still walking, she turned her head to frown at the man. He called "sorry" over his shoulder, slowing only a fraction. Scully returned her gaze to the path, making sure she wasn't about to collide with anyone else, massaging the shoulder that had been jarred. When she looked up again, Mulder was staring directly at her. Even from twenty yards away she could see the concerned look on his face. "Emily, I just said =don't= pick things up off the ground!" Her ear caught by the all-too-familiar name, Scully nearly stopped short at the sight twenty feet in front of her. A small girl squatted at the edge of the path, pulling at -- her mother's? -- hand, reaching toward the grass for something unidentified. The mother used her free hand to rub her pregnant belly absently as she watched her daughter. Her face was a combination of exasperation and affection. "Emily, I know that there are lots of interesting things in the grass, but Daddy is waiting, the baby is kicking, and Mommy is losing her patience. For the last time, let's go!" The little girl stood, grimacing and rolling her eyes in the way that only a child can when mimicking an expression they've seen on an adult. Scully was still walking, but without realizing it had slowed her pace to absorb the exchange between mother and daughter. As she neared them, she caught the mother's eye and gave her a small, sad smile of -- understanding? Admiration? Regret? Glancing at the child again, Scully felt a surge of panic. The girl resembled some of the victims whose autopsy files she had been reading an hour earlier, and now those grisly files had a connection to the name Emily. she chided herself. Still, she couldn't stop the painful thoughts that leapt into her mind. Could this little girl be the next life extinguished by another Jack Morse, or sacrificed on some twisted Consortium altar? Did this Emily's parents have any idea of how easily they could lose their precious daughter? It angered Scully to think they didn't know. How could they be so foolish, so trusting, to =not= know? How dare they be so naive? Scully's rational side rebuked her again. Her parents aren't the foolish ones, Dana. It's you. They don't deserve your anger. And it's not really anger, anyway; it's jealousy. You're jealous of what they have, of what you can't have, and you know it. She flushed with guilt and shame at that realization, and fought to keep her lower lip from trembling. By now, Scully had turned her gaze back to the path, leaving the mother and daughter behind. She realized that her hand had returned to her stomach, which now felt more unsettled and fiery than it had before. Her short-term memory flashed back to the sight of Emily's mother caressing her swollen belly; Scully dropped her hand to her side as though the burning coffee had burst through to scorch her palm. she told herself, taking a deep breath. But as she approached the park bench, she looked up to find Mulder staring at her with a stricken expression. ******************************************************************** Saturday, 1:01 p.m. "Emily, I know that there are lots of interesting things in the grass, but Daddy is waiting, the baby is kicking, and Mommy is losing her patience. For the last time, let's go!" Mulder glanced away from Scully at the sound of the now-impatient mother. The woman's back was to him, one hand holding her daughter's. The other, he guessed by her comment and from the way her arm was crooked, rested on her six-months-pregnant belly. Mulder turned his attention back to his partner, watching Scully slow her pace as she approached the mother and daughter. A tiny, melancholy smile crossed her face as she looked at the other woman. But as her gaze turned down to the little girl the smile disappeared, replaced by flashes of fear, anger, and embarrassment as she left the pair behind. Guilt stabbed at Mulder's gut as he saw Scully move her hand across her own stomach, mimicking Emily's mother. Their conversation at lunch the previous day rang in his head. <"And you think I don't understand loss, Scully? Don't you know I've =felt= loss every fucking day since Samantha was taken?"> <"I know that, Mulder, and I'm sorry. But you have something that I will =never= have. You have hope, Mulder, and I don't have a damned thing. I will =never= have a damned thing, and there is nothing that you or I or anybody else can do about that."> Oh, Jesus. What the hell was wrong with him? How did he think he could ever understand what she had gone through -- what she was going through now? Would he ever learn to just shut the hell up? Mulder watched his partner close the distance to the bench. Scully's eyes were downcast and her lower lip quavered in her struggle to maintain control. As she approached she looked up to meet his eyes; he knew that his expression must have been screaming anguish. He almost looked away, torn between giving her privacy and giving her support, but choosing the latter. He forced his face into a neutral mask. She clenched her jaw, returning her gaze to the path, but the tremble remained as she continued her approach. "Hey, Scully." Mulder greeted her with the most even tone he could manage, his voice pitched low, his heart in his throat. Scully had stopped at the opposite end of the bench, staring at the seat. For a moment Mulder was confused, then he followed her gaze to the bag with their lunches, which he'd placed in the middle of the bench. he chastised himself. He reached over and slid the bag towards himself. Scully sat where the bag had been, her hand leading the way as though she were afraid something sharp would be there. She kept her back ramrod straight, not resting against the back of the bench, and she stared out over the Potomac without a word or a glance in his direction. Mulder had already been sitting forward on the seat, anxious as he watched Scully approach. Now he scooted closer to the front edge of the bench so he could better see her face. Her expression was blank, and her lower lip was still, but her eyes looked haunted. He realized that he was still clutching the bag. Food. Yeah, that would be a safe topic. He cleared his throat, then lifted the bag, holding it in mid-air. "I brought lunch for both of us. I know you said you weren't hungry, but I thought you might be by now." Scully gave an almost imperceptible nod, continuing to stare out over the water. Mulder started to lower the bag back on the bench. He was sitting too close to the end of the bench to place the bag on his other side, away from Scully, so he moved closer toward her and then set the bag down in the space he'd made at the end of the bench. He was now only about a foot away from her. Scully remained quiet and still, looking out over the water with unseeing eyes. Mulder cleared his throat again. "Umm... I finished the search on matches for names of the MUFON women. No luck. But I printed out hard copies of the passenger lists and started going through it by hand to look for anything that jumps out at me." He patted his jacket where he'd stuffed the papers. "Haven't found anything yet, but I still have a lot to look through." Another tiny nod. More silence. "The Gunmen are still working on the encrypted e-mails. Frohike had a feeling that they were getting close. He thought they might break the encryption this afternoon." Scully nodded a third time, but otherwise made no movement. Well, at least she was there with him on some level... but maybe she was just nodding whenever he stopped talking... he told himself. Scully took a long, slow breath. "Scully?" His voice was low, cautious, concerned. She took another deep breath and looked toward the ground before turning her gaze to him. She looked like she was going to speak, and he braced himself for "I'm fine, Mulder." But whatever she was going to say was interrupted when she glanced up and saw a couple strolling hand in hand down the path in their direction. She stopped, bit her bottom lip, and looked back out over the water. Mulder waited until the pair had passed and were out of earshot. He tried again, her name coming out like a gentle caress. "Scully." He waited, hoping that she'd be ready to say something, and then thanking the angels he didn't believe in when she was. "I wonder if her parents know how lucky they are." Mulder could hear the slight tremor in her voice, the effort she put into sounding matter-of-fact. He knew Scully didn't expect him to answer, but he considered asking her what =she= thought the answer was, if only to keep her talking. He didn't have the chance before she spoke again. "Most of the time I don't even think about it." She sighed, clasping her hands and dropping her head to stare at the path in front of them. "I can forget it. Then..." She shifted her body and turned her head in Mulder's direction to look down the path where the mother and daughter had gone. Her expression was wistful, yet pained. "Then I see something like that... and I'm reminded of it all over again." Mulder nodded, knowing she could see him out of the corner of her eye, but said nothing. He waited, wanting her to say everything that was on her mind, and afraid to ruin the moment. "Before..." Scully paused, returning her gaze to the ground, her body still turned slightly toward her partner. "I never thought much about having children. It was always... something that other people did. But something that I assumed I would do someday, even though I couldn't imagine actually going through the process." Mulder continued to wait, fixated on Scully's words. "But at the same time I couldn't see myself getting old and =not= having a family." She paused again. Still Mulder waited. "Kids. Grandchildren." Scully bit her lower lip again and cleared her throat. "I didn't realize how much I would miss that until it wasn't an option anymore." Mulder swallowed hard and nodded again, but still said nothing. He fought the urge to pull her over to him, to take her in his arms and give her the comfort he knew she needed. But he also knew it wasn't time for that yet. He could tell she still wasn't done. "I think I could have been a good mother to Emily," she blurted, pain obvious in her barely audible voice. She suddenly looked much smaller to Mulder. He couldn't stop himself from moving closer to her and covering her clasped hands with one of his own. "Scully." A "look at me" came out in the tone of his voice. After a moment's hesitation, she turned her head towards him. He felt a stab again, this time in his heart, at the anguish on her face and the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. He swallowed again to ease the shaking of his jaw before he spoke. "I know you would have been a good mother, Scully. No one else could have loved Emily or taken care of her like you would have." The words felt to him like the greatest truth he had ever spoken. He desperately wanted to say more, to add encouragement about the possibility of future children for her. But he couldn't find any other truthful words, so he said nothing. Her lower lip trembled again; Mulder watched her bite the inside of her mouth to steady it before she lowered her head, looking at their hands. She pulled one of her hands away and brushed her now-free fingers over his. One tear spilled from her eye and trailed down her cheek. Scully stiffened, then pulled in another deep breath and let it out slowly. She leaned over and picked up a small stone from the ground with her free hand. As she sat back up Mulder released her other hand, moving his to her back. Mulder watched Scully roll the stone between her fingers, pressing so hard that her fingertips turned white. He tried to think of something, anything, to say, then pulled his hand away from her back in reflex when she suddenly moved. She jerked her arm backward and threw the stone into the river with a strength that surprised him. "It's not fair, Mulder. It's just not fair." Scully's low voice shook with rage, her expression a mixture of anguish and hatred. She stared back over the water again, her jaw clenched tight. "I usually..." She swallowed before starting again, as though willing herself to calm. "I usually don't begrudge anyone the ability to have children. It didn't bother me to be around Tara when she was pregnant with Matthew. But sometimes I see..." she gestured down the path with her hand, "and I get... jealous, I guess." Mulder shifted on the bench, uncomfortable. <"You have hope, Mulder, and I don't have a damned thing. I will =never= have a damned thing, and there is nothing that you or I or anybody else can do about that."> He hung his head, guilt-ridden, then forced himself to look at her again. She deserved no less, and she deserved some reassurance. "No, it's not fair. And it's natural that you'd be jealous, Scully." He played his own words back in his head. It's not fair? How about you, Mulder? What haven't you been fair about? He swallowed hard. "Scully, about yesterday... about what I said....about Samantha...." He stumbled over the words, searching for an apology that could never be sufficient. "I'm sorry... I didn't realize..." Scully turned her head to look at him; he sucked in a quick breath. "I never should have compared Samantha to Emily. What happened... to both of them... they were tragedies. I had no right trying to measure which of us has been hurt more." He waited, trying to squelch the panic he felt as she stared at him. Finally she nodded and looked away again, toward the Jefferson Memorial. "Thank you." Without taking her eyes from the horizon, Scully repeated his earlier action, covering one of his hands with her own. Mulder relaxed, both at her touch and at the sense that she had said what she'd needed to about her encounter with the little girl and her mother. He looked down at their hands, then turned his gaze up when her hand shifted a fraction. She was straightening her posture, squaring her shoulders. He studied her face. She looked... confident. Resolved. Ready to take on the world again. He followed Scully's gaze over the water, allowing her her contemplation. After a few minutes of now-comfortable silence, Scully took another long, slow breath. "I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." Mulder turned to look at her. "Hmm?" She removed her hand from his and gestured across the water. "Jefferson wrote that. It's one of the quotes engraved in the Memorial." Mulder turned back to look over the water at the columned structure, struggling to pay attention to her words rather than to the loss of her hand's warmth. "It seems fitting," she continued. "It's what we've done." Mulder nodded. "I suppose it is, in a way. I never looked at it that way before." Scully was silent for another moment. "Mulder, I thought about something while I was finishing the report for Kersh. Have you ever heard the phrase 'Man plans, and God laughs'?" "Yeah, I have." He made a small snorting sound. "But in our case I think sometimes =we= plan, and Cancer Man laughs." "I wouldn't be so certain about that, Mulder. Maybe in the end, it will be Cancer Man's plans that God laughs at. Maybe that's why we're here. Maybe that's led to everything that's happened to me. To the women in Allentown. To Emily." Mulder paled, his head snapping around to face her. "Scully, I refuse to accept that you were destined to suffer." She met his eyes. "I didn't say that I was =destined= to suffer. It's just... I don't know if I can explain it. I don't know that I've made sense of it myself. I can't believe that our entire lives are mapped out for us from the moment we're born. I think we're... usually free to make our own decisions. To exercise our free will, to direct our own lives. To react to the influences of those around us. To try to influence the lives of others, for good or for ill -- like Cancer Man does." Mulder nodded his acknowledgment. "But then there are occasions when things happen that just seem to... fall into place, somehow. So maybe there are times when people and circumstances come together in such a way that only one outcome is possible. And we become... fated... destined... =meant= to do what we do. When there becomes only one path we can take." Pause. "Like your experience with Kevin Kryder?" Mulder asked, cautious. He watched Scully as she turned to look back out at the Jefferson Memorial. Was it his imagination, or had she flushed a pale shade of pink? Scully sat up straighter. "I know you don't believe that what happened with Kevin involved any kind of intervention, Mulder, divine or otherwise. But yes, that's essentially what I mean. I'm certainly not going to go so far as to say that I was born to save Kevin, but I think I was the right person in the right place at the right time, and in that respect I was meant to...." She faltered, looking like she was choosing her words with care, before concluding, "I was the one who was supposed to help him." She paused again. "Did you ever think that we became partners because of... something more than powers at the FBI wanting me to de-bunk your work? That this was something that would have happened regardless of their influence?" Was it only twenty minutes earlier that he'd been thinking that being with her just felt right somehow? That he was where he was supposed to be? "Yeah. As a matter of fact, I was thinking something like that just before you got here." Scully turned to look at him again. "Do you remember telling me once that what happens to us might not have to do with personal choice, that it might be fate?" God, how could he ever forget being in Melissa's hospital room after... ? He wondered if he was tinged pink himself, from guilt. "Of course." "That's similar to what I'm saying. Maybe, under some conditions, under a particular set of circumstances, there is only one possible outcome. And at some point, because of whatever choices you and I made in our lives, it became inevitable that we'd be doing what we do together." "Searching for answers that other people are determined to hide from us." Scully nodded. "I guess what I'm trying to say... with all the unanswered questions we have, Mulder, I'm sure of one thing. Those men who are responsible for Emily... for the women in Allentown... they haven't yet reached that point where there will be only one outcome. They haven't won yet." She glanced down the path where the other Emily and her mother had gone. "For all the horrible things those men have done, Mulder... there are billions of people who haven't had to experience the... the horrors that you and I have lived through and witnessed. I think if I can keep those horrors from them, I'll be giving the MUFON women, and Emily, the justice that I owe them." "=We=, Scully." Mulder's reminder was gentle. "Remember, I said I owe them, too." "We." She flashed a small appreciative smile. "Yes, we certainly do have that 'eternal hostility' that Jefferson wrote about, don't we?" Mulder recognized the determination in the set of her jaw. "And I'm not letting go of it." Mulder tilted his head toward her. God, she was incredible. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he found himself in awe of her strength. Her determination to keep going no matter what. He reached up and rubbed her back a few times as he had the previous night. "Scully, have I told you lately that you're amazing?" She gave him another small smile, this one of recognition. It was replaced after a moment by a more serious look. "Mulder, I know I said yesterday that I don't have hope. Maybe I don't have hope of ever having children, but I do have hope about other things. We have Kurt's messages, and that's a place to start. That's where my hope starts." Mulder felt a tiny smile curl his lips. He remembered Scully's similar words in a Providence hospital after his mother's stroke. "Yeah, we do, Scully. We have a place to start." Scully straightened her back further, still looking at him. "They took away a part of my life, of my future, Mulder -- a significant part, but not all of it. I refuse to crawl in a corner and die because of what they've taken away from me. If I do that, they win." She glanced at the ground and breathed deeply again, as though storing extra strength, then looked up at him again. "We can beat them, Mulder. I'm sure of it." His eyes were as earnest as his tone. "I want to believe that, Scully. You know that." Scully placed her hand over his again, looking him in the eye. Her lips narrowed into a thin, determined smile. "Mulder, I decided a long time ago that I couldn't stop doing this. Couldn't stop fighting. Like I told you this morning, my strength gets run down sometimes. But I've been re-energized, and I'm ready to keep going. As long as I -- we -- need to. I can think of far worse ways to spend a lifetime, Mulder." Mulder blinked. Twice. But before he could process that thought, Scully stood up and brushed her fingers against his shoulder. "Let's go. There's something I need to show you." ******************************************************************** Saturday, 1:18 p.m. "Scully, have I told you lately that you're amazing?" Scully came close to chuckling; it was the second time Mulder had made such a comment in less than twenty-four hours. If their conversation weren't so serious she might have given him a rare dose of her laughter. But their topics =were= serious, deadly serious. So she gave him another small smile instead, to show she recognized his attempt at tension-breaking humor. She replaced the smile after a moment with a somber countenance, re-focusing on their conversation. "Mulder, I know I said yesterday that I don't have hope. Maybe I don't have hope of ever having children, but I do have hope about other things. We have Kurt's messages, and that's a place to start. That's where my hope starts." She watched the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile. "Yeah, we do, Scully. We have a place to start." Hope, and a place to start. That reminded Scully of her mother describing, to a very young Dana, how she would feel after going to confession for the first time. Funny how her current conversation with Mulder felt so... well, confessional. <"It didn't bother me to be around Tara when she was pregnant with Matthew. But sometimes I see..."> -- she'd gestured down the path that the dark-haired Emily and her mother had taken -- <"and I get... jealous, I guess."> When was the last time she had confessed an emotion as strong as jealousy to him? In their case, though, perhaps another version would have to be added: Scully straightened her back, keeping her gaze on her partner. "They took away a part of my life, of my future, Mulder -- a significant part, but not all of it. I refuse to crawl in a corner and die because of what they've taken away from me. If I do that, they win." She glanced at the ground and breathed deeply again. She returned her gaze to her partner. "We can beat them, Mulder. I'm sure of it." "I want to believe that, Scully. You know that." Even through his earnest tone, Scully recognized the self-doubt -- the unspoken "You =do= know it, don't you, Scully?" -- in Mulder's last three words. That same self-doubt had led him to seek her reassurance at lunch the previous day, asking whether she felt her loyalty to him was misplaced. As she'd done at that lunch, as she'd done again as she drove home that evening, she asked herself: And, again, she gave herself the same answer: Scully pressed her hand over Mulder's, looking him in the eye as though she were in a staring-down contest with his insecurities. "Mulder, I decided a long time ago that I couldn't stop doing this. Couldn't stop fighting. Like I told you this morning, my strength gets run down sometimes. But I've been re-energized, and I'm ready to keep going. As long as I -- we -- need to. I can think of far worse ways to spend a lifetime, Mulder." She watched Mulder blink as he tried to process what she'd said. It was almost amusing; it wasn't often that she left him speechless. Maybe she should do it again. her memory scolded, once again replaying her thoughts from Friday's lunch. Scully stood. To ensure she had Mulder's attention, she brushed her fingertips across his shoulder. "Let's go. There's something I need to show you." He looked up at her, face blank, head tilted at a slight angle. He blinked again. "Show me what? Did you find something else about the Morse case?" "No, nothing like that. It's not related to a case." Realizing what his next question would be, she added, "It's not related to our visit from Kurt, either." Mulder's brow furrowed as he pushed himself up from the bench, snatching up the bag of food at his side. "What is it, then?" Scully shook her head to indicate that she wouldn't explain. "Where's your car?" ******************************************************************** Georgetown Washington, DC Saturday, 1:55 p.m. "So much for getting outside for some fresh air. But thanks to the bumper to bumper traffic, we certainly got our minimum daily requirement of carbon monoxide." Mulder deposited the bag with their lunches on Scully's kitchen table with a *thud*. He made a face at the noise and placed the laptop on the table with a far more gentle touch. "We could have walked here a lot faster, Scully, and it would have been much healthier." Scully slid her briefcase onto the table as well. "Without a car, what would we do when the Gunmen deciphered the messages from Kurt? Besides, we don't need the attention we'd get if our cars were left at the Hoover Building on a weekend." Mulder fingered the top of the lunch bag, his face relaxing. "I'm glad you had such sound reasoning, Scully. It's the second time today you've insisted we take separate cars. I was about to become very self-conscious about my personal hygiene." He stripped off his jacket and heaved it toward the grey and white striped couch; it landed on the edge of the arm. The jacket slid down the arm and fell to the floor, dragged by the weight of the cash and ID's he'd gotten from Frohike, the CD and hard copies of the airline passenger manifests, and his cell phone. Mulder scowled at his poor lob. "Short shot," he muttered. He stalked over to the couch and scooped up the jacket. He paused to pull out the ID's from the inside pocket before dumping the jacket on the couch, then returned to the table, where Scully stood watching him. His mood brightened considerably as he shuffled through the ID's. He handed the two sets of driver's licenses, credit cards, and passports to Scully, a gleam in his eye. "Take a look, Scully. Like I said, Frohike really outdid himself." Scully inspected them, nodding her approval, and handed them back to Mulder. "I'm impressed. I just hope we put them to use soon." Mulder sifted through the documents again and imitated Scully's nod. "It should be soon, Scully." He laid the ID's on the table and looked at his partner. "So." She raised an eyebrow. "So?" "So I've shown you mine, Scully. How 'bout you showing me yours?" She arched the eyebrow higher, saying nothing, but Mulder detected a twinkle in her eye. "Come on, Scully, enough with the Secret Squirrel stuff. You haven't told me a thing. What is it that you want to show me?" She hesitated a moment, then turned and walked to the coat closet. Mulder watched as she opened the door, pulled out a roll of wrapping paper that was leaning against the wall inside, and shut the door again with a quiet *click*. She crossed the room back to Mulder and offered the roll of paper as though she were presenting a sword: arms extended, hands palm up. Mulder tried not to look confused as he gazed at her offering. The paper wasn't particularly memorable: wide stripes of dark green, navy blue, and burgundy that reminded him of a rugby shirt. Why was she showing him =this=? "I'm a trained investigator, Scully. And that's a roll of wrapping paper." Scully seemed to fight back a smile. "On the outside, yes." She pivoted her wrists downward; the tube rolled to the edges of her fingers. Mulder turned his gaze to her and recognized the confident, resolved look she'd had when she'd been studying the Jefferson Memorial. He looked back down at the roll of paper and took the proffered gift in both hands. He knew his attempt at looking unconfused was failing. "If this is my birthday present, you're a few weeks late." As she dropped her arms, an enigmatic smile broke through on Scully's face, but she made no comment. Brow furrowed, Mulder turned the tube over end-to-end in his hands. It was then that he understood his partner's last comment. There was something rolled up inside the cardboard tube. Had she gotten another message from Kurt? No, she'd said this had nothing to do with Kurt. "Secret Squirrel" was right. What the hell was she hiding in a roll of wrapping paper...? Mulder placed his middle and index fingers inside the tube and slid out the paper cautiously to avoid ripping it. He unrolled it with equal care, feeling Scully's eyes on him. And then he stared, mouth agape; he would have shouted his delight if his stunned brain could have formed coherent words. The muscles of his hands twitched in shock as he stared at the familiar sky, the familiar craft, and the familiar words. I WANT TO BELIEVE. It took Mulder several seconds to get his vocal cords to function. "Scully?" he croaked. He looked up at his partner. By the pleased look on her face, he knew that his own delight was coming through in his wide-eyed, dazed expression. "Where did you get this?" Her smile opened up wider. Oh yes, she was pleased with herself. "Right where you told me it would be, Mulder. Head shop on M Street." Mulder remembered the brief conversation, months earlier, after Scully's pseudo-vacation in Maine. He'd been so focused on Scully's mention of another man that that concern had overshadowed both her question about the poster and his answer. He swallowed, turning his awed gaze back to the symbol of his life's work. After several seconds, Scully's quiet voice pulled Mulder from his reverie. "I have my own version of 'I want to believe', Mulder." He looked up at her again, meeting her determined blue eyes. "I've thought a lot about our work and our partnership since we were refused re-assignment to the X-Files. It's occurred to me that, while our different perspectives are valuable in solving cases, our stubbornness can get in the way. We tend to look at our opposing viewpoints as being mutually exclusive, and it shouldn't have to be that way. We complement each other -- as I said yesterday, we work better together than we ever could separately." She paused, gesturing with her eyes at the poster. "I want to believe that the truth is out there, Mulder... and that we'll find answers that we can both be satisfied with. However long it takes us to find it, and regardless of whether we get the X-Files back officially. The answers are out there -- we just have to figure out where they've been buried." Well, didn't that sound familiar? He grinned. "That's why they put the 'I' in FBI, Scully." She smiled in return. "I'm not saying that I'm going to subscribe to The Alien Abduction Journal, but..." Eyes still locked on his, Scully reached up and wrapped her fingers around his right forearm. Mulder felt a surge of energy run toward his fingers, as though the poster served as a lightning rod. "Mulder, this quest that we share now... I can't imagine doing anything else. I can't imagine doing anything else =with= anyone else. I've always demanded proof from you, some physical evidence to support your theories. I know you don't need this, but I thought you deserved something tangible from me, something more than words or actions. Proof of my commitment to our work." Mulder's eyes flicked to the poster and then back to his partner. "Scully... this is..." He stared at her, momentarily speechless. How the hell could he respond to such heartfelt sentiments from his usually staid partner? His jaw opened and closed a few times, no words coming out. Finally he shook his head. "I don't know what to say." "Well..." She paused, tilting her head at him. "'Thank you' might be appropriate." The mock reproach was complemented by one arched Scully eyebrow and another enigmatic smile. Without taking his eyes from her, Mulder brought his hands together, slowly, reverently, letting the poster roll up like a window shade. He laid the poster across the kitchen table with his free left hand. Grinning, he rotated his right arm slowly, Scully's grasp loosening, until he was able to envelop her arm with his own fingers. He gave a gentle tug. Still smiling, Scully released his arm and stepped toward him. She slipped her arms around his waist as he ran his hand up her arm, sliding it around her shoulder as his other arm came up to complete the embrace. Mulder sighed, absorbing her warmth as he rested his cheek against the silky crown of her head. Then, softly, "Thank you, Scully." His eyes slid closed as he held her to him tightly, reveling in the rare openness she was sharing with him as she returned his fierce grip. After a few seconds he repeated, "Thank you." He inhaled deeply, breathing in pure, natural, unperfumed Scully. It was so, so rare that he experienced this heady rush from being so close to her. In fact, it had been months since... since before Antarctica. Since the hallway. Not identical circumstances, but both were embraces of warmth, of deepest affection; not because one of them was sick, or injured, or just rescued from some horrific danger. Part of Mulder felt surprised, part felt delighted, but mostly, as he had when they'd held each other in that hallway, he just felt... right. Comfortable. Like he was where he was supposed to be. Like everything would turn out okay as long as she was nearby. his memory echoed. Wow -- maybe opportunity was presenting itself on that silver platter a lot sooner than he'd expected. Maybe this was one of those "inevitable moments" that he and Scully had talked about as they sat on the bench by the Potomac. <"You should tell her, Mulder. And soon. What the hell are you waiting for?"> Mulder tightened his embrace for a moment; Scully made a sound between a sigh and a hum, returning the gesture. Well, if he was going to tell her how he felt about her, this would be a good time, wouldn't it? Or would it ruin the moment? And just what should he say to break the ice, anyway? <"Hey, Scully, the Gunmen were asking about you and me..."> No. <"Nice back muscles, Scully. You been working out?"> NO. <"Hey, Scully, wanna --"> =NO!= Try something simple, Mulder. Something honest. <"This is nice, Scully. We ought to do this more often."> Yeah. That'll work. But then... what would =she= say? Well, she could tell you she likes it too, couldn't she? You'll never know unless... you just say it. Mulder suddenly realized that he was moving one of his hands in small circles on Scully's back, was gently nuzzling her hair with the side of his face. When had he started doing that? And when had Scully tightened her hold around his waist? Stop thinking, Mulder. Just say it! "Scully?" There was a pause before a very relaxed Scully sound came back to him. "Hmm?" Justsayitjustsayitjustsayit... Deep breath. "This -- " *RIIIIIIING* A muffled trilling came from the direction of the couch, startling Mulder from his short speech and stilling his body. FUCK -- the sound came from his jacket, damn it! Mulder squeezed his eyes, and his arms around her, tighter. Maybe if he just ignored it... "That's you," Scully murmured into his chest. He exhaled his words into her soft hair. "I didn't hear anything." Scully pulled away from him gently; as he opened his eyes to look down at her he was elated to see reluctance in her eyes. He kept his hands gripped loosely at her shoulders. Scully looked toward his jacket, then back at him, but she didn't move away. Voice low, she stated, "Mulder, it could be the Gunmen." Mulder sighed, then released her reluctantly, trailing his hands down her arms, feeling like a starving man being dragged from a sumptuous feast. He moved to his jacket and pulled out his cell phone, feeling irritated, resigned, and relieved at the same time: at least it was just a phone call and not a bee sting. He thumbed the phone on and forced his voice to be neutral. "Mulder." At the sound of the caller's voice Mulder scowled, his body stiffening. He turned and took a few brisk steps away from Scully, gripping the cell phone as though he intended to crush it. When he spoke, his tone was clipped, barely civil. "What do you want, Diana?" ******************************************************************** - end Chapter 9 - ******************************************************************** Feedback is cherished at Forte1354@aol.com or bjm1352@aol.com.