Part 2 of 3

"If you want to talk with her family, I can give you
their address," the officer volunteered.

Mulder and Scully took the information, then went to
lunch to discuss the case. After they had ordered,
Scully looked at her husband and shook her head. "Even if there is a connection here, Mulder — and I'm not totally ruling out the possbility — I don't see how we're going to discover it. Since we don't know who killed," she paused and flipped through her notes, "Jennifer Bennet, even if her murderer did frequent some of the same locations as Joe Dreyfus, there's no way to establish that fact."

"Maybe we can go at it from the opposite angle, see if we can figure out if there's any connection between Rhonda Dreyfus and Jennifer Bennet," Mulder suggested. "They're were both females in their twenties and they didn't live that far from each other."

Scully shrugged. It was worth a try, she supposed, but she couldn't actually see that the two women had much in common with each other, despite their similiarity in age and gender. It wasn't so much their racial differences, as the fact that one had been a college student from an upper-middle-class home, while the other had barely graduated high school and had worked at a convenience store.

To Scully's surprise, the came across a connection
fairly easily when talking to Jennifer's sister. When
asked to give an account of the final 24 hours of her
sister's life, the woman mentioned that, earlier on
the same night when she'd gone to the club, she and
her sister had visisted a local "haunted house".

"I thought it was dumb, really," the young woman said. "Pure high school stuff. It's just an abandonded house in an old neighborhood. But Jen thought it would be fun. So, we went out there and drank a couple of beers. Then Jen decided she wanted to go to the club. It was a little weird; she's always kind of joked about going out to a club and letting some sexy stranger pick her up, having a one-night stand. But this was the first time I got the feeling that she might be serious about it. I wanted to go along with her, keep an eye on her, but I had to have her drop me off here because, well," the woman hesitated.

Scully reasoned it wasn't hard to figure out why.
"Because you're not 21 yet and so couldn't get into
the bar. We're investigating a murder, possibly a
series of murders. We're not interested in busting you for the misdemeanor offense of being a minor in
possession of alcohol. Could you give us the address
of this house?"

The woman wasn't sure of the exact address but she was able to tell them the street the house was located on and give a description of it. As soon as she mentioned the street name, Mulder and Scully's eyes met. They thanked the woman for her time and hurried out to their car.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Mulder asked Scully
as he slid behind the wheel.

"The so-called haunted house is on the same street as
one of the homes Dreyfus did a walk-through on for a
possible renovation or demolition job. Most likely
it's the same place."

"Which tells us. . .what, exactly?" Mulder inquired.
"It's not like Dreyfus could have killed Jennifer. He
was already in custody for his wife's murder at the
time of her death."

"My theory is leaning more toward there being some
sort of substance in this house that — especially in
conjunction with consuming alcohol at the same time or shortly thereafter — leads to a lessening of
inhibitions and lack of self-control. In Dreyfus'
case, it would have made him more violent. Perhaps, in Jennifer's case, it led to her being more of a
risk-taker. I hate to get into a blame-the-victim
mentality here, but victims of serial killers are
often people who take foolish risks; drivers who pick
up hitchhikers, women who let strangers pick them up
in bars, stuff like that."

Mulder nodded as he drove toward the location of the
house. "Another thing, Scully. Near as I can figure
from the location of the house, it's just about dead
center in the triangle of evil."

Once they reached the location, Mulder started for the decaying steps of the house, but Scully said, "Wait a minute, Mulder! Are you sure we should go in there?"

"You mean because we don't have a search warrant? I'm
not expecting to make an arrest based on anything we
find here, just get some answers."

"Not that, Mulder. Two people — that we know of, and
there could possibly be dozens more — have behaved in
a bizarre, irrational manner within hours of entering
that house. One killed his wife; the other, most
likely, left a bar to go off and have sex with a
complete stranger and ended up dead. We don't know
what effect it might have on you."

"According to your theory, Scully, that was the result of them entering the house combined with consuming alcohol. I'll just be sure to avoid alcohol for the next couple of days. Besides, the house and the alcohol just loosened the inhibitions on these
person's desires; it didn't create the desires
themselves. So we have a man with a history of dometic violence who doesn't bother to put the brakes on his anger; a woman who's been having sexual fantasies of a one night stand with a stranger who doesn't stop to consider the hazards of that kind of behavior. Maybe, in the case of the victim who was killed during a robbery, we have a kid who wants money for a fancy car or top of the line electronic gadgets, who momentarily lets his greed overtake his common sense. But I'm not going to do anything like that, because I have no desire — even fleetingly — to do something like that."

"Yeah, well, I have no desire to have to go drag your
butt off the top of Skyline Mountain, where you'll be
up there hollering for E.T. to phone you at home!"
snapped Scully.

"Fine, then," Mulder replied. "I'll go in alone and
just be there for a few minutes. You can subject me to whatever kind of medical monitoring you want when we return to Quantico."

Mulder entered the house and was immediately aware of
some sort of. . .aura. . .that was weird. It was like
he could hear the softest of whisperings, but couldn't tell where they were coming from or what the voices were saying. As if he could detect the faintest whiff of scent but that it wafted away before he could identify it. He seemed catch a barely perceptible movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head, all was still. Meanwhile, Scully waited impatiently for Mulder to return. 

Mulder was aware that his mind was being messed with,
even if he didn't know how or why or what outcome
would result. As quickly as possible, he left the
building.

"Well?" Scully asked as he returned to the car. 

"It's nothing I can quantify or put into words,
Scully, but there's definitely something strange about that house."

"The good news," Scully said slowly, "is that." She
pointed to a sign in front of the house. "This place
is scheduled for demolition tomorrow morning. If it's
somehow emitting some sort of toxins that are
effecting the behavior of people who enter it,
everything will be over with by tomorrow. The crime
rate in this area should go back to normal."

"Maybe," Mulder mused. "Hey, why don't we go ahead and stop by the Viriginia sheriff's office, see if we can find any connection between the victim or murderer in his case and this house."

"They haven't made an arrest in that case, have they?" Scully asked.

"No arrest," Mulder said, "but unlike the Jennifer
Bennet case, they have a fairly strong suspect. A
local man in his late teens who had been arrested for
shoplifting at the same store a month earlier, matches the description of a witness and has no alibli for the time in question."

"The witness couldn't identify him?"

"No, she only saw him from the back as he ran from the scene of the crime. This guy matches as far as height, build and hair color go; if we find out he also visited the local version of the Bates Motel sometime in the 24 hours before the robbery was committed, that would make it even more likely that he's our guy."

Scully nodded. She also glanced curiously at Mulder
from time to time as they drove toward the Viriginia
county seat where the sheriff's office as located.
Both Dreyfus and Bennet had been in their 20s, while
the current suspect was only in his teens. She
wondered whether the same miasma that had influenced
them would similarly effect her 40-year-old husband or if age brought immunity.

By mid-afternoon, they were in an interrogation room
at the sheriff's office, going over the case file of
the robbery/homicide. They'd been unable to contact
the suspect who, with no definitive identification and no physical evidence to connect him to the crime,
hadn't been detained.

Suddenly, Mulder looked up at Scully and smiled. "I
love you, Scully."

Scully was a bit puzzled. Such declarations were
common from her husband, but usually they occurred in
their off-hours or when one or the other of them was
involved in some sort of life-and-death situation at
work. It seemed kind of odd for him to say it in the
middle of sorting through a pile of paperwork
connected with one of their cases. Still, there was
only one real reply to that statement, so she
answered, "I love you, too, Mulder."

What happened next was so sudden it literally took
Scully's breath away. Mulder had been seated at the
table while Scully was standing beside him. He shoved
his chair back, stood up and backed her against the
wall. Then he kissed her, deeply and passionately.

Scully was still trying to process this information,
her mind ricocheting between the instinctive pleasure
she felt in kissing her husband and the confusion as
to why he was doing this here and now, when Mulder
moved to the next part of his agenda. Sliding his
hands up under her skirt, he pulled down her panties.
She felt a brief fumbling against her belly while he
unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, then Mulder surged into her.

It ended almost as quickly as it had begun; Mulder
gave a few sharp thrusts, then exploded within her.
Scully was still trying to get her addled brain
process the information that she and her husband were
having sex up against the wall of an unfamiliar
sheriff's office — behind a door that was closed but
that wasn't, to the best of her knowledge, locked —
when he pulled out of her and slumped against the
wall.

"Fuck!" Mulder whispered.

"I think that would pretty accurately describe it,
Mulder," she replied dryly.

"Scully, I'm sorry. That house. ..it must have
effected me, too, even without the alcohol. Let's get
out of here."

They drove in silence for several minutes until Scully finally said, "It's almost five. I guess we should go ahead and pick up Melissa from my Mom's house. We can talk over the case some more after she's asleep tonight."

"That's *all* you have to say?" Mulder inquired.

"What do you expect me to say?"

"Considering I just raped you, something along the
lines of 'I hate you and I want a divorce', I
suppose."

Scully rolled her eyes. She might have known that a
man who'd spent 20 years of his life blaming himself
for his sister's abduction — despite the fact that
he'd been a child when it occurred — wasn't just going to let this slide. "Mulder. . .Fox. . . you didn't rape me, for heaven's sake! Granted, what occurred was a bit unexpected, but you didn't use force or threaten me. In any case, you were obviously being influenced by whatever effected both Joe Dreyfus and Jennifer Bennet; something that severely lowered your inhibitions and self-control. Because you're a sensual man, rather than a violent one, it led to you making love to me rather than harming me."

"I'd hardly call fucking you up against the wall of a
strange office 'making love', Scully! I'd call it
rape."

"Maybe 'making love' is sugarcoating it a bit," Scully agreed. "But 'rape' described something a lot more brutal than our sexual encounter a few minutes ago. I guess you're initial description was the most
accurate; we were fucking."

"I fucked you!" Mulder snapped. "Are you honestly
saying that if I'd stopped long enough to say, 'Hey,
Scully, I feel like fucking you up against the wall
right this instant, is that okay with you?' you would
have agreed to it?"

"I don't know, Mulder, because you didn't ask."

"My point exactly."

"Mulder, we're married!"

"So. . .what? That give me the right to subject you to my sexual impulses without asking you whether or not they're welcome?"

Scully was quite for a minute, then she said slowly,
"I think it gives you a right to assume that your
sexual advances are welcome *UNLESS* I specifically
ask you not to do something. You don't always ask me
if I'm the mood, any more than I always ask you.
Sometimes, especially when we have sex in the middle
of the night, we just start touching each other and. . .one things leads to another and we have intercourse. You don't usually wake up the next morning convinced that you've violated me, simply because you didn't get a signed affadavit in which I confirmed, in writing, my willingness to have sexual intercourse with you that night."

"Scully, I know you well enough to know that being
fucked against the wall during working hours is not
the sort of thing you'd normally agree to."

"Mulder, look at it this way: I'm a trained law
enforcement official. I've been taught to react to
unexpected circumstances. If I really, really didn't
want to have sex with you right at that moment, I
could have done something to prevent it or, at the
very least, to let you know that I didn't want to
— bit you, kicked you, screamed — something. And, in a way, you did ask me. You told me you loved me and I
responded that I love you, too. I think that was your
way of making sure, even in the grip of whatever. .
.compulsion. . .you were experiencing, that I was okay with what you were about to do."

Mulder sighed and shook his head, unconvinced. They
finished the drive to Maggie's in silence and he
waited in the car while she went into get their
daughter.

"Isn't Fox coming in?" Maggie asked as Dana greeted
her and scooped up Melissa. "I thought maybe you might like to stay for dinner. I could whip up something quick, wouldn't take more than 15 or 20 minutes."

"Thanks for the offer, Mom," Scully replied. "But
we're still kind of working; I mean, we're going home
now, but we'll be doing some paperwork and stuff.
Mulder's not very good company right now; he's still
directing most of his mental energy toward figuring
out the case."

"I understand, dear. I'll see you the day after
tomorrow." 

Scully nodded and kissed her mother quickly on the
cheek, then departed. Melissa smiled and cooed when
she saw her father, already alert enough to vaguely
comprehend that having both Mommy and Daddy pick her
up from Grandma's house was an unexpected treat.
Mulder's mouth curved briefly into a smile when he saw his daughter, but lapsed into pensiveness again once she was buckled into her infant seat in the back.

***

Scully sighed as she fed her daughter the next
morning. Despite the fact that Melissa was an
early-riser, Mulder had managed to slip out of the
house before either of them were awake. He'd left a
brief note, simply stating that he'd gone into work
early.

Later that morning, as she pushed Melissa in her
stroller through the local park, Scully considered
Mulder's mood. Apparently it hadn't improved
overnight. He'd barely spoken to her once they'd
returned home and, when she began yawning, he'd
suggested she go on up to bed without him. Scully was
fairly certain he'd never joined her; he'd either
slept on the couch or, more likely, never slept at
all.

Scully's thoughts drifted back to the. . .encounter. . .the previous afternoon. Yes, it had been fast and
furious. It had also been one of the very few times in their marriage when Mulder hadn't even made an attempt to satisfy her sexually, simply fulfilling his own desires. But she wasn't, really, bothered by the fact that they'd had sex in somebody else's office all that much. She figured she'd just file it under the category of those things that she hoped he wouldn't do again, but which didn't warrant ruining their whole relationship over. There had be numerous such instances — most of them before they married, but a couple within the past two years — that she'd filed away like that; the times he'd ditched her or the times he'd shown a little too much interest in an
attractive police officer or suspect during one of
their cases. She wasn't entirely blameless in that
regard, either, she admitted honestly. She knew that
the many years of pretending that she wanted only a
platonic friendship with him, of doing things like
rolling her eyes and saying "Oh, brother!" when he
told her he loved her, had hurt him. That was just the way life worked. Even two people who loved each other as much as she and Mulder did were bound to
occasionally do things that upset the other one. When
one spouse had apolgized — as Mulder had — and the
other had forgiven — as she had — it was time to move
on.

The problem, though, was that Mulder didn't seem to
see it that way. He seemed to think his momentary
lapse of good judgment required penance in the form of sleeping on the couch and spending long hours at work. Sometimes it was hard for Scully to remember that she, not her husband, was the Catholic in this marriage!

After Scully had walked home with Melissa, fed her and rocked her to sleep for her nap, her mind drifted back to ways to cope with Mulder's attitude. Maybe if she turned the tables? Handcuffed him to the bed or
something? That sort of thing wasn't really her style, but if it would snap Mulder out of his funk it would be worth a try.

Scully sighed. She wished she had someone to talk it
over with. She'd formed casual friendships with
several other young mothers in the neighborhood over
the past few months, but debating the merits of
homemade versus processed baby food was a far cry from discussing sexual problems. She was close to her
mother, and had discussed many aspects of pregnancy,
childbirth and breastfeeding with her, but somehow
asking "Mom, did Dad ever shove you up against a wall
and fuck you, then feel real remorseful about it
afterwards?" was stretching the bonds of
mother-daughter intimacy a bit too far. If her sister
had still been alive, she could have discussed it with her, but. . .

The ringing of a phone pulled Scully out of her
reverie. Maybe it's Mulder, she thought hopefully.
"Hello?"

"Hi, Dana, it's me," replied the cheerful voice of her sister-in-law. "I've got good news. The transfer came through! Bill's going to be teaching at Annapolis for the next couple of years, beginning in September. We should be in your neck of the woods by August."

"That's wonderful," Scully said.

"Dana, what's wrong? I know Bill hasn't always been
nice to Fox, but he's working on it, really he is. And when we discussed it at Charlie's wedding, you seemed excited about the idea of us being so close."

"I am, Tara, really I am," Scully answered. "It's
just. . .this is the first piece of *good* news that
I've had in the past 24 hours."

"Work related, personal related or one of those weird
things you and Fox always seem to do that overlap
between your work lives and personal lives?"

"One of the weird overlapping ones."

"Want to tell me about it?"

And, suddenly, Scully did. She poured out the whole
story, ending with, "I'm not crazy about what he did,
but given all the awful stuff other people did after
being exposed to whatever was contaminating that
place, it wasn't that bad! I mean, it's not like he
hurt me, or had sex with another woman or anything.
The problem is, he keeps beating himself over the head about it."

Tara gave an exasperated sigh on the other end of the
phone. "Men! Half the time they piss you off without
even realizing it then they do something like this. .
.get nearly suicidal with remorse over something that
honestly wasn't that big a deal."

"Has Bill?"

"Yeah and it had to do with sex, too. Do you know what cystisis is?"

"Sure. It's sometimes called "honeymoon cystisis".
It's an infection women sometimes get from having
intercourse too frequently."

"Right. Well, I developed a walloping case of it when
I was in my last trimester of pregnancy with Patrick.
Bill had just come home from six months at sea and
naturally he was, um, anxious to show me how much he'd missed me. I felt about it kind of like you feel about what Fox did yesterday. I mean, the infection was damned uncomfortable, but it didn't really put me or the baby in any danger. And, in a way, it was nice to know that after six years of marriage and a toddler and another baby on the way I still. . .turned him on to that extent. But Bill was convinced he was some sort of monster who'd put the health of his pregnant wife and unborn child in jeopardy to satisfy his own sexual desires. Even after the doctor told me the infection was completely cleared up and that I could go back to having intercourse, as long as I was careful about positions and limited myself to no more than three times a week, Bill was reluctant to resume lovemaking."

"How did you finally convince him?"

"Got one of my neighbors to keep Matthew overnight —
which was actually a good rehearsal, because she was
the same one who kept him when Patrick was born — and
did the whole seduction scene. . .homecooked meal with wine, candelight, soft music, dancing. . .eventually managed to persuade him that him *not* making love to me was hurting me more than the infection had."

"Well," said Scully slowly, "I can't leave Melissa
overnight, because I'm still nursing right before she
goes to sleep and first thing when she wakes up. But
she's usually asleep by 8:30, anyway, and my bet is
that Mulder will be working late tonight. So I think
I'll take your advice."

"I'll call back on Friday, find out how things went,"
Tara replied. "But, um, don't tell Bill I told you
about all this, okay?"

"Of course not. Same here. I've got a feeling it would not enhance their brother-in-law relationship for Bill to learn the details of what went on between me and Fox yesterday."

Scully spent the rest of the day in a more cheerful
mood. She straightened up around the house and did a
couple of loads of laundry while Melissa napped, then
the two of them made a quick trip to the nearest
grocery store for a few extra ingredients needed for
the evening's supper. While stacking plastic blocks on the floor with her daughter, Scully called Mulder at work.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me."

"I guess you're wanting to know what happened with
that house, right? I called the head of the company
that was going to be demolishing it — talked to Joe
Dreyfus' boss, actually — and told them we thought
there was some sort of contagion in the house; advised that anyone who entered it should wear a face mask and spend as little time as possible in it. I just got another call from him; the place has been demolished."

"So it's over?"

"Presumably. I advised that they have the topsoil
tested for contaminants before rebuilding there.
Apparently, however, the whole area is going to paved
over for use as a parking lot. Which would be good, I
guess. Parking lots aren't usually the sort of area
where people spend a lot of time."

"Will you be home soon?"

"I might have to work late. Talk to you later."

By eight that evening, Scully had dinner in the oven,
the table set with china and candles and Melissa
bathed. She had also changed into a soft sand-colored
sundress that was a change from both the severe suits
she usually wore on the days she worked and the
T-shirts and shorts she generally wore on her days at
home. Before sitting down to nurse Melissa and rock
her to sleep, she called Mulder again.

"Mulder, it's me. How much longer are you going to be
at work?"

"I don't really know, Scully."

"Did a new case get handed to your task force today?"

Mulder was quiet for a moment. Finally he said, almost reluctantly, "No, nothing new. I'm just trying to wrap up some loose ends, finish some paperwork, stuff like that."

"I'd like you to come home, Fox. I think we need to
talk."

Mulder's sigh was audible even over the phone. "Yeah.
I know. Okay. Be home shortly."

Scully had just lain the baby down and lit the candles when she heard Mulder's car pull up in the driveway. Moving quickly, she took the lasagna and bread out of the oven and the salad out of the refrigerator. She was pouring the wine as he walked in the door.

"Wow! What's all this?" Mulder asked, clearly
befuddled. Scully noticed he was also holding a
bouquet of roses in his hand.

"What's this?" she asked in return, reaching for the
flowers. 

"Just. . .you know. . .by way of apology, I suppose.
Seriously, Scully, are we having dinner guests or
something?"

"The flowers are gorgeous, Mulder. Thank you. No,
we're not having guests and Melissa is already asleep. This is just for you and me."