Walter Skinner's Apartment
Crystal City, MD

- "Don't call me Spooky, Ratboy".

-They're mine!  He he he, I went right out onto
the Fox backlot and stole them!  And what are you going to
do about it!  (The views expressed by the author after a
prolonged period of writing are not necessarily the views of
the author in a sound state of mind.  Normally, the author
grudgingly admits that these characters are not hers.
*sigh*)

-He sighed, his argument completely deflated.  She was right, 
of course.  He knew that perfectly well, he just didn't like the 
thought of using her like a guinea pig.

	"Fine.  But," he added, a childish gleam entering his eye.  
"Only if I get to play the part of an excited newly wed."

	A smile barely showed itself on her lips as she replied, "You 
do that, and you'll be limping across the threshold."

	Mulder grinned, and as they walked back into the room, 
whispered, "Oh Scully, I love it when you talk dirty."

	She didn't get a chance to respond but laughed silently.  
This was going to be an interesting assignment.

-But my little voice, that which Scully calls Lucifer Cricket, is
niggling at me, telling me that I've just seen the beginning, the tip of the
iceberg.

-"We'll," he shrugged and tried to run his hands through his hair, " It's a bom'."

"How. Much. Time?" she spoke the words separately, and he knew he would lie.

"Abou' twen'y fi' min's."

Mike's eyes narrowed, but Scully missed it. Mulder begged him with a look not to tell
her. He lifted his hand to get her attention. "Hey Scu''y, we can' do an'thin' here; I'
starve', le's go ge' somethin' to ea'."

She looked at him in amazement, then turned to Mike. The big linebacker shrugged and
smiled. "Sounds like a plan to me. I'll go tell Ker- uh, Assistant Director Kersh,"
that we're taking Mulder home." He didn't even blink at planning to lie.

Mulder had no idea what Mike said, but after a moment to speak to Kersh, Mike gathered
him and Scully with a gesture and they started to the car.

"Thin' we coul' as' (S)kinner, too?" Mulder wondered as they passed the bespectacled AD
talking to some DC uniformed policemen.

Scully was flabbergasted, but Mike shrugged, playing along "Sure, why not?" And he
strolled over to serious-faced man and issued the invitation while Mulder waited with
Scully a little distance apart. Skinner was inclined to refuse, but Mike was
persuasive. Mulder was saving the people who were important to him; that was worth
being a part of. Finally, the tall man rubbed the back of one hand across his forehead
and agreed, pausing only to tell the command post commander where he was going.

-Scully worked quickly, cleaning the wounds and then bandaging them 
carefully.  When she was done, she squeezed his shoulder gently and 
informed, "You can get dressed now, Mulder."

He stayed still for another minute before he felt able to move.  No matter 
what anyone says, that crap hurt and he didn't appreciate being put the 
ordeal.  Still, he knew with his luck he'd have ended up in the hospital if she 
hadn't taken care of it.  Holding no grudge, he leered, "What if I'm not 
done, Scully?"

"Shut up and get dressed, Mulder," she cut him off.

He stood, still shirtless, and grabbed her wrist so that she could not turn 
away from him.  Completely sincere, he smiled and murmured, "Thanks for 
caring, Scully."

Her other hand pressed against his chest, she answered, "Always, Mulder."

The door opened suddenly.  Skinner, seeing the scene within, quickly shut 
the door behind him. "What the hell are you both doing in here?"

Shocked, Mulder and Scully stood frozen in position.  It was Mulder who 
recovered first. "Sir,"  he released Scully's wrist, "it's not what it looks 
like."

Scully agreed and pointed to his back, "I was just working on his back, Sir."

Skinner scowled, "Work on his back on your own damn time, Agent Scully.  
This is your office for God's sake!"

Mulder turned around and pointed towards his bandaged back.  "Sir, it's not 
like that.  My cat scratched my back and Scully just wanted to take a look to 
make sure I was okay."

Skinner looked from Scully to Mulder.  "You mean you weren't --

Mulder and Scully shook their heads in unison, "No, Sir."

Skinner moved to get a better view of Mulder's back.  The bandages 
covered a large area.  "You know, Mulder, I heard a completely different 
story about you this morning.  Something about a woman with long nails."

Mulder began to dress, "Well," he explained, "the cat is a she and she does 
have really sharp claws."

"You know what," Skinner informed as he moved towards the door, "I 
don't want to know what is happening here.  I don't want to hear about your 
cat.  I don't want to hear about why you are half- naked in your office.  I 
don't want to hear any of it."  With that he stomped out of the office.

Mulder turned to Scully, "What the heck is his problem?  It's not like we 
were trying to pitch him an X-File."

Scully shrugged, equally confused, "I have no idea.  Sometimes he's a bit 
erratic, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Mulder agreed, "One day we're his best friends then, then once 
he's cleared of the charge or healthy, we're on his shit list."

"Go figure," Scully added.

Mulder turned to her and said quite seriously, "I don't think we should 
invite him to the wedding, do you?"

She grinned, "Absolutely not, although," she paused and thought about it a 
moment, "my Mom kind of likes him."

"No way," Mulder denied.

"Way," Scully retorted.

-They boarded the plane and sidled down the cramped aisle, with Scully in the 
lead. She stopped at their row, glanced down at her own and her partner's tickets, 
then stepped back. "Mulder's got the window seat."

Skinner looked at his ticket, then motioned to her behind Mulder's back. "Agent 
Scully, would you mind taking the window? Mulder might have a little more 
head room in the middle."

She caught on and slid in, effectively sandwiching the younger man between 
them. Mulder stood in the aisle for a second, then sat down and shoved his bag 
under the seat. "Why do I get the feeling I'm being double-teamed?" he groused.

Relieved to hear more than a grunt from his agent, the A.D. assumed an indignant 
air. "What? You want Shorty there to have all the space?"

"No, I just - "

On her toes, Scully grabbed the ball and ran, cutting Mulder off. "Careful, sir. That 
could be construed as harassment."

"Sorry, Scully," Skinner chuckled and slammed the overhead compartment shut, 
then took his seat. "But I'll be damned if I'm going to sit over there. My rank has 
to count for something." He buckled his seat belt and leaned back, dropping his 
intertwined hands onto his stomach. He closed his eyes, cleanly evading further 
discussion of the issued.

Mulder eyed his boss suspiciously, then glanced down at Scully, who was 
feigning great interest in Midflight Magazine. He sighed and buckled his seat belt, 
then closed his own eyes. As he took in the sounds of a plane full of people 
preparing for flight, he allowed himself to finally accept that he was going home. 
In one piece. And that it actually felt good to be where he was, there, safely 
nestled between the two people who had cared enough about him to make the 
trip and save his life. Taking comfort in the thought, he dismissed his annoyance 
at being coddled and drifted off to sleep, oblivious even to the plane's taxi and 
ascent.

- Walter Skinner stepped away from the ticket counter and groped in his pocket 
for his cell phone, which was chirping.

"Skinner... Yes, you just caught us. They've started to board already... uhmhm... 
yes... Good. Yes, I hope so. I'll call you when I get into the office on Monday 
morning... Yes, he's doing fine." He glanced across several rows of seats to where 
Mulder sat beside Scully, staring lifelessly out at the runway. "No, he needs a little
R & R first, but we'll have him up and running in no time... Yes..." He threw back 
his head and laughed, a full, rich, and all-too-unfamiliar sound that caused both 
his agents' heads to snap up. They appraised him curiously as he continued. "I'm 
sure you're right, Brant, but I prefer him on active duty and making me crazy any 
day. Somehow it all balances out... Yes, I will. Thanks again for everything." He 
pushed 'End' and shoved the phone into his coat.

-When she arrived with the rescue crew in tow, Skinner was still rocking. His 
bloodied upheld palm kept the team at bay as he softly informed his agent there 
were people there to help. Without opening his eyes, Mulder shook his head and 
drew his knees up to his chin, curling his arms around them.

The EMTs were efficiently setting up a plethora of assessment gear, radioing the 
hospital and preparing to transport the patient. The head med-tech, hoping he 
would be heard over the roar of the sea, shoved his face down near the 
withdrawn man and cried, "Agent Mulder, you need to sit up. We have to check 
you out!" He reached out and pulled Scully's coat away, then wrapped his fingers 
around the agent's left upper arm.

Mulder's body went stiff and he shrieked, forcefully yanking his arm back and 
draping it protectively over his head. Skinner's eyes flew to the technician, his 
fierce expression boring into the man's surprised face. "What the hell are you 
doing?" he roared. "Scully, get them out of here!" As she attempted to draw the 
well-meaning but over-zealous team away, Skinner pulled Mulder's arm down 
and tucked it back under the coat. "Mulder, I'm sorry about that," he said, 
drawing his hand through  the younger man’s windblown hair. "Will you come 
with me and get into the ambulance so we can make sure you're okay?"

Mulder's head shook again. "No hospital. I wanna go home," he mumbled 
through his sleeve.

Skinner smiled tiredly at the now-familiar response and rested his chin on his 
agent's head. He gave him a reassuring hug. "I know you do, son. But we need to 
be sure you're not hurt first. We've got to look you over... And you need some rest 
before Scully and I take you home."

"I'm okay. I just wanna go home..."

The A.D. reached under Scully’s coat and took Mulder's hands in his own. He 
brought them up and turned them over. Like Skinner's arms, they were torn and 
bleeding from scrabbling up the side of the cliff, as were his chin and his knees 
beneath the ripped trousers. "Mulder," he said gently, "you're all cut up. You 
might need a few stitches, and you definitely need a good night's sleep. Let's just 
stop by the hospital and have a look." His gut clenched with anxiety when a 
choked sob escaped from his trembling agent.

"I'm not going to the hospital! Just take me home... please!" Mulder pleaded 
raggedly.

Frowning, Skinner looked up at Scully, who had witnessed the entire exchange. 
He gave her a nod, and she stepped back, motioning the emergency crew toward 
the life squad. "C'mon, Fox," he said firmly, resorting to the agent's given name. 
"Let's get off this cliff and get you someplace warm." He straightened and got to 
his feet without taking his hands from Mulder's shoulders, but the younger man 
did not stand with him. He pulled away from the A.D.'s grasp and huddled on 
the cold ground, shivering, his face buried in his arms.

Skinner took Scully's coat and handed it to her, his pursed lips betraying his 
frustration. Then he reached down, slipped his hands beneath his agent's arms 
and swung him to his feet. When Mulder went limp and stubbornly refused to 
stand, Skinner simply knelt and hoisted him over one shoulder. Weakened by 
exhaustion and shock, Mulder fought him unsuccessfully as he followed Scully 
across the clearing. Grateful for her boss' patience, decisiveness, and his 
seemingly limitless strength, Scully grinned to herself when he muttered, "I'm 
getting too damn old for this."

Little time was wasted at the ambulance. Skinner deposited his burden on the 
waiting gurney, gently holding him down when he struggled against the cautious  
ministrations of the EMTs. Scully spoke with the hospital and appeared beside the 
A.D. as they prepared to load her partner in. From behind the precautionary 
oxygen mask, Mulder emitted a small but panicked sound and groped at the air 
when Skinner stepped out of the way, and the A.D. returned to his side. He 
pushed a clump of hair back and peered down.

"You want me to ride with you?" he asked.

Mulder nodded, his eyes closed. Skinner glanced at Scully as they lifted the 
gurney inside, feeling strangely like an interloper. "There's room for both of us," 
he mouthed.

"No," she shook her head and looked away. "You go on - I'll finish up here. He 
seems more comforted by you at the moment."

Skinner climbed in and turned to catch the hurt look on her face as she stepped 
back. The med-tech reached to pull the doors shut, and it took a moment for the 
A.D. to realize Mulder was pulling at his sleeve. He leaned down to listen as his 
subordinate clumsily pulled the mask aside.

"Scully," he breathed.

"You want her too?"

Mulder nodded drowsily.

"I thought you might." The A.D. grinned as the bemused technician swung the 
door open again. Skinner wasn't surprised to find Dana Scully still standing there, 
with Brant Stiles now at her side.

"Agent Scully, your presence is requested." He held out his hand and called, "I'll 
be in touch ASAP, Stiles." He pulled Scully in, then patted the seat beside him.

"I really don't need to - " she stammered.

He held up a finger, "Yes, I believe you do. And right this minute, I don't think it's 
wise to deny the man what he asks for, do you?"

She shook her head shyly, then settled on the bench and took her partner's hand. 
The EMT banged on the window by her head, and they lurched forward, away 
from the cliffs and the roiling waves below.

-A.D. Skinner swiped his roll around the edge of the bowl and captured the last 
of his stew. He popped it into his mouth, drew his napkin across his lips and took 
a long drag on his iced tea. Sated, he sat back and appraised Dana Scully. "You're 
right. It's better than the stew at Petersen's."

Scully grinned. "See? I never lie."

"Never?"

"Well, not about food, anyway," she muttered.

He harumphed for effect, "As I suspected."

Scully sobered, "I never lie to you, sir... I may skirt the truth a bit, but I never lie."

"Well, I suspect if you do, you have your reasons." He let the issue drop and 
waved at the waitress for the check.

-Mulder clenched his jaw and glared at the man's back. He felt like a six-year-old, 
not trusted to walk to the playground without the oppressive presence of a big 
sister. Seething, he barely looked at Scully as he moved to leave. "C'mon, we have 
to hurry... partner." The last word was a sneer.

Mulder gasped when Skinner's palm smacked against the thick metal door, 
slamming it shut in his face. He grabbed the front of Mulder's shirt, twisted the 
fabric in his fist as he swung him around. "She was doing her job!" He shoved his 
agent up against the door. "And she was looking out for you! Don't you dare hold 
that against her. Do you hear me?"

Mulder's ears rang as he hung in his superior's grip. He nodded, "Yes, sir."

"I think you owe your partner an apology, Agent," Skinner ground out. He 
released him with a look of disgust and stepped back, waiting.

Mulder was ashamed to realize his hands were shaking. "I - I'm sorry, Scully. I 
don't know why I'm so edgy." He took a deep breath and straightened his shirt, "I 
didn't mean to take it out on you."

Scully knew some of what he was experiencing, even why, but she still found it 
difficult to look him in the face. "Apology accepted." She pulled on her jacket, "It's 
almost two." She grabbed a stack of blank forms from her briefcase and handed 
them to her partner. "You'll be needing these... Let's go." Scully's silent smile of 
appreciation didn't quite reach her eyes as she passed Skinner to follow Mulder 
out the door. Removing his glasses, the A.D. sat down on the bed and ran his 
hand across his eyes.

-Scully glanced around the room, feeling helpless, a knot of worry forming in her 
gut. "I just hope he makes it through the night alright," she said softly.

Turning, Skinner pushed angrily past her to the door, "So do I, Agent Scully. 
Because when he gets back, I want the satisfaction of killing him myself."

-She snorted. "That figures... Hey, Skinner asked about you yesterday. He said he 
hopes you're enjoying yourself, because you've looked tired to him lately."

He ran his hand across his gravelly eyes. "Oh, God, that's all I need - him 
breathing down my neck like some militaristic mother hen."

Scully nearly choked with laughter. "Mulder, he seemed genuine."

He sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of... Do my fish miss me?"

The amused edge remained in her voice. "They  did 'The Wave' when I showed 
up, but they were probably just glad to know they weren't going to starve to 
death."

-"You need a break." Her eyes suddenly focused on the concrete 
floor as she passed him by, "And don't take this the wrong way, but so do I. I'll 
enjoy staying in one place and organizing paperwork for a change."

He stopped in his tracks and assumed the expression of a child being forced to eat 
lima beans,"You're not going to spring clean the office or anything drastic like 
that, are you?" 

She flashed a suspiciously smug smile, "No, but I am considering sweeping up 
your damned sunflower seed husks."

He narrowed his eyes at her as they approached her car. "I guess I can handle 
that. Just don't go hanging curtains or wallpaper, or anything."

"Mulder, so help me - " she dove at him.

His coat flew out like wings as he leapt from her reach, "Enjoy your week, Scully! 
And remember, when the cat's away..."

As her mercurial partner made his way to his own car, Dana Scully  slid behind 
the steering wheel and muttered, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things 
I cannot change..."

-"Thank you," she said, her voice slicing through my
reverie.
"For what?"
"For coming after me."
I looked at her, stunned.  For coming after her? What
else would I have done?
"All part of the job," I said, watching her fingers
between mine.  "You'd have done the same for me."
"I *have* done the same for you."
I grinned.  Ducked my head to her hand.
"I missed you," I said into the bedclothes.
"I know," she said.  "So what do you do for fun
around here?"
I didn't tell her the thought that came to mind
immediately, in part because she couldn't do it, and
in part because "watch you sleep" seemed too
pathetic to actually say out loud.

-Then the first explosion had hit and the
very stairwell shook with the impact. He had Scully's back directly
in front of him, and he grabbed the tail of her long jacket, ensuring
that they wouldn't be separated. He chanced to look back up the
stairs in time to see Skinner ushering more agents through the fire
door and on to the stairs.

As Mulder turned the corner to continue down another flight he
looked up and watched as the second bomb exploded, right there,
near the door. In a flash, he saw Skinner's body engulfed in flames
as the bomb exploded into the stairwell. He stood for a second,
frozen in his spot until Scully's hand was dragging him by his jacket
down the stairs. There was no time to react. No time to think.

-Mulder realized he was wearing a hospital gown.  It probably
didn't even cover his navel.  He was going to hurt Scully when
they let him out.
     "How bad is it?" he moaned, getting his bearings, moving
his head.  Oh shit.  Bad move there Muld.  The world turned into
a Monet for just a second.
     "Not too bad.  They're going to let you go in the morning."
     Mulder nodded.  Slowly, licked his lips.
     He heard a door whoosh.  Smelled something.  His nose
twitched.  That was pizza.  He would swear that was pizza.
Pizzapizzapizza.
     "He awake yet?"  Wait a minute.  He knew that voice.   That
was Margaret Scully.
     His Scully looked up.  "Yeah, but he's probably nauseous."
     Pizzapizzapizza.  Pepperoni and Italian sausage and Canadian
bacon and mushrooms and black olives and even, if his nose wasn't
hallucinating, jalapenos.  Oh God. Pizza.
     "I want some pizza and if you tell her to go away I will
reach up there, grab your ears, pull you to me and they'll be
making a Silence of the Lambs II," Mulder told his partner,
quite seriously.
     Scully blinked, glanced from Mulder to her mother.  "He's
hungry," she said.

-He stretched up between the front seats, snaked an arm to the
front, grabbed around. . . Handset.  "This is Agent Mulder." He
said wearily.  The clear sky was passing.  It was beginning to rain
again.
     "It's good to hear your voice again."
     It was Skinner.  Mulder sat up quickly, hit his head against
the roof of the Cherokee.  Scully groaned as she shifted. "Wha..."  she moaned.
     "Director Skinner," Mulder said loudly.
     Scully woke at completely at these two words.
     "Agent Mulder, tell me something,"  the dry, emotionless voice droned.
     "Yes sir."
     "This program has dropped over 80 agents into the woods.  None
of these agents have ever discovered moonshiners or been trapped by
a hurricane.  You arranged this, didn't you?"
     It took Mulder a moment to realize that Assistant Director
Skinner was teasing him.  He was aware of Scully beside him,
leaning against the door, hand over her mouth as she attempted to
stifle her giggles.
     "Agent Mulder, is your partner in pain?"
     "No sir.  She's laughing," Mulder explained tiredly.
     "Well, ask her when she plans on regaining control."

-Scully considered the handset.  "This is Agent Dana Scully
again."  She said patiently, waited for the inevitable response
from Search and Rescue.
     "Agent Scully.  I repeat, we will get to you as soon as we
possibly can, but right now. . ."
     "No.  You listen to me."  Scully's voice was low and cold.
"We stumbled over four men who were engaged in both the cultivation
of marijuana and the illegal distillation of alcohol.  They took
shots at us and for the past two days we have been avoiding them.
Currently we have their Cherokee and have attempted to find some
place of safety.  However, due to the rain, there aren't many places
we could go.  We were dropped here on the assumption that NO ONE
else would be here and that most certainly no one was involved in
large scale illegal commerce.  We do not have guns, nor do we have
any means of defense.  If they find us, they will kill us.  So you
get someone in here and you retrieve us or I'm going on every
channel I can find any traffic on and I'm going to tell everyone
how we're being pursued by a bunch of redneck yahoos with 12 gauge
shotguns and how we can't escape because of the rain, and I'm going
to throw in the fact that my partner has a black eye, several
contusions and had an allergic reaction to poison ivy severe enough
that had we been home he would have been hospitalized.  I'm going
to tell them that I'm 5'1" and that I weigh next to nothing.  If
our names aren't spread across the paper in the morning the
American Media system isn't the exploitative medium I think it is."
     There was a long pause.  "Do you have your coordinates?" a
tired voice asked.

-"This must be some kind of record or something," Scully commented.  "My mother's
worried sick."  She peered out from her huddled place next to
Mulder.
     "She's sitting by the phone and your brothers are flying in," 
Mulder predicted.
     "They're on ships in the middle of the ocean,"  Scully
reminded him.
     "You didn't see the way they looked at me at Christmas.  They're
here, even if they had to go AWOL and swim 500 miles in frigid,
shark-infested waters.  Doesn't matter that I was a victim in this
one.  Doesn't matter that I protested strongly and was forced by
Skinner and you to come.  Doesn't matter that I've never been
camping and you're the big outdoors woman.  They're coming and
they've hired a guy named Guido to hold me down."
     "They wouldn't need a guy named Guido to beat you up," Scully 
replied without thinking.  She felt Mulder shift, knew he was
smiling.
     "So what's Melissa doing," she asked, drawing her knees to
her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs.
     "Melissa is gazing deep into a crystal and trying to see
our auras.  Unfortunately, what she perceives as our auras is
really a diet coke can on her coffee table as seen through the
imperfect optics."
     Scully chuckled.  "Be careful.  She might hear you when she's
in an OBE."  
     "Skinner is upset."  Scully decided to throw her two bits in. 
"He's bitching at everyone to find us and he's already trying to
figure out how he's going to explain yet *another* medical bill to
the auditors."
     Mulder made an anguished sound.  "He even had statistics last
time. . .My yearly average on medical bills is higher than a normal
agent's five year average.  And this year, well. . ."  He trailed. 
"I think we're single handedly bankrupting our insurance."
     "Well, being your partner has at least given me a whole new
perspective on healthcare from the one I got as a resident.  We
could begin a business as patient consultants.  Tell hospitals the
things we hate."
     "There's a thought.  They could start with banning perky
nurses."
     "The ones that come in cheerful when you're sure that if you
have to spend another 5 minutes without any more morphine that
you're going to. . .explode?"
     "And then tell you that your shot isn't scheduled for another
4 hours, but if you're that much of a wimp, they could move it
ahead a couple of hours."
     "And then you find out you *could* have had a shot."  Scully
moaned.  "What about the LPN's who come in at 5 in the morning to
take your vitals or blood?"
     "And then try to make intelligent conversation?"  Mulder
nodded.  "Well, at least you have one advantage over me."
     "What's that?"
     "The damn hospital gowns are too short for me."
     Scully started laughing uncontrollably.  She lay back on the
sleeping bag, great gusts of laughter undoing her completely.
     Mulder stared at his partner.  When she finally lay, arms
wrapped around her stomach, making soft little "ohs" and "oh mys"
he leaned over her.  "I take it the stress has finally gotten to be
too much and *you're* going to be the one trying to convince Dr.
Ingrid of your need for a tall, well-proportioned, blonde orderly."
     "No."  Scully gulped air for a moment.  "No, Mulder.  I think
the hospital gown situation is. . .intentional . . .the female staff
. . .God, Mulder, when you take your first tottering steps down
the hall, there's so much drool they have to post flood warnings. 
There are probably lotteries to decide who gets to give you a bath."
     Mulder's face flamed.  He closed his eyes.
     "I mean, these women see men everyday.  But Mulder, they very
rarely see. . .I mean. . .they do have hormones."  Scully sighed. 
"I'm sorry.  It just. . .you didn't know?"
     Mulder swallowed.  "No, but I do now."
     "Oh."  
     "I'll try and take it as a compliment."

- Scully stared at the rain drenched figure of Fox Mulder, getting madder
and madder, looking more and more like an angry little wet hen. 
Mulder was watching her, trying to figure out what she would do
next.  Nervously, he put his thumb in his mouth and sucked.
     The image of Mulder, hair plastered to his head, rain dripping
off his eyebrows, clothes soaked and clinging to his skin, the
laces of his hiking boots lying limpid in the mud, clutching a
sleeping bag in one hand, while he sucked his thumb was beyond
explanation.  Scully shook her head, tried to restrain the
hysterical laughter boiling up in her.  She grabbed his wrist,
pulled his thumb out of his mouth.  "That's only going to make it
worse,"  she said.  "At least we rescued the cortisone."
     "I'd be going back, extras from Deliverance or no if we
hadn't,"  Mulder replied, relaxing.

-Mulder stirred.  Scully smiled.  "I miss anything?"  He asked
groggily.
     "Oh, a little bearded guy came by a couple of hours ago with a
checklist, but he already had two FBI agents for the ark."

-"What the hell is wrong with you, Bill? Guys _don't_ go to the
bathroom in twos! That's a 'woman's thing!" 

"Shut up and listen. Mom's on the trail of something. Now, it's
not exactly common knowledge, but if any of us have any
investigative skills, it comes from Mom's side of the family. Dad
couldn't find the way to the bathroom in the morning without a
sextant and a computer chart. If you think Dana's good at sniffing
out the dirt, you've never met Mom on a good day." 

The light bulb went off in his beady little brain. "Oh, shit . . ." 

"Oh, shit is right," I agreed wholeheartedly. "We might not be sunk
yet, but we're listing pretty badly to starboard and our port engines
are about gone." 

"What can we do?" he demanded. I have to say this much about
him, when he senses danger, he is a man of action. 

"You're sick," I told him. 

"No, I'm not," he argued. 

"No, dumbo, we tell Mom you're sick," I explained in my best
'I'm trying not to kill you but you are so damned stupid' voice I
used to use with Charlie on a daily basis. 

He went a little pale and shook his head. "I can't. I can't, Bill. I
can't lie to your Mom. Not to her face." 

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. "I could punch you in the
chest. Then you wouldn't be lying," I sneered. 

"I'll fake it," he answered quickly enough that he must have
thought I was serious. 

-I could understand not telling Charlie. I mean we used to have an
expression: 'Tell a phone, tell a graph, tell a Charlie'. The kid
couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his soul. How he ended up in
Naval Intelligence is something I still have nightmares about.

-"Bill, I appreciate this
a lot, you know. But make sure you call me as soon as there's any
change. I mean, if he wakes up while you're here . . ." 

She's trying to be diplomatic, but I catch on. "He'll think he's gone
straight to hell, right?" 

She gives me a smirk, straight out of her teen age years.
"Something like that, yeah." 

"I could sit here in a red cape and horns. See what reaction that
might get me," I fire back. It's fun to joke with her again like this.
It's been too long. 

"No, please, he's had too many cardiac episodes already," she grins
back. "I'll be back at 9."  

-"Scully, you do have profiling skills. You're starting to think like me," he
replied, smiling. With a sigh, he sank back down on the bed. "Man, I'm
wasted," he mumbled and draped an arm over his face. 

Making a face and smiling at the same time, she squeezed his hand back. "Me?
Think like you? Perish the thought," she said. "I think I scared the hell
out of Skinner with that theory. He looked at me as if I were possessed or
something." 

"Not exactly possessed," Skinner's voice came from the door. 

Both agents turned to face him, Scully with a slightly embarrassed smile on
her lips. 

"But, yes, you did scare the hell out of me," he agreed and stepped into the
room. A bandage covered his left temple and he looked tired, but apart from
that, there seemed to be nothing wrong with him. Focusing on Mulder, he
managed something of a smile. "One of your kind is quite enough, Mulder."
Glancing at Scully, his smiled widened a little. "You should have seen her.
I believe she would have killed me if I had gotten in her way." 

Scully opened her mouth to protest that statement, then quickly shut it
again when she noted the rare smile on her supervisor's lips. "Quite right,"
she agreed.

-My mouth tasted like a herd of long horns had partied till dawn
there. And there was a Sheriff's badge pinned to my overcoat. He
really was too charming. I should be getting good at this by now.
If a guy is charming, if I'm attracted to him in any way, shape or
form, I should _immediately_ put the jerk in cuffs and call for
back up. It would make my life a heck of a lot simpler. 

-With the popularity of the Skinner character, are you afraid of being typecast?

mitch pileggi) I've been afraid of being type-cast in the past with characters that I've played in other projects-- 
for example crazy guys.. It's a pleasure to play somebody who's closer to normal. Next.

Dylan Jones/PEOPLE) Horace Pinker not in the cards? :-)

mitch pileggi) Nix!

Dylan Jones/PEOPLE) But you were so...

mitch pileggi) (Next...)

Dylan Jones/PEOPLE) electric!

mitch pileggi) NEXT I said!

Dylan Jones/PEOPLE) Folks, we're screening the questions !(Yikes) Yes sir, Skinner! er, AD Skinner!

-Mitch, Nick, and I went outside for a few and Nick asked me some questions about the trading cards 
and about why Krycek is called Ratboy. I told him it was mostly because no one could remember how
 to spell Krycek <G>. He was also interested in the NLEB (which I am gathering info on). He asked what
 the NLEB said about him and I said "Ummm... well stuff like what they wanna do to you." He replied 
"You mean like shoot me?" I chuckled and said "Um, not quite..." He got what I meant and Mitch 
started laughing and said "You stud, you." 

-Nick Lea is nothing like Krycek. He is extremely sweet and has a hilarious personality. When him and 
Mitch get together, they're like a couple of little boys <G>. At one point while Nick was gambling, he 
had lost a big bet and leaned over on me, put his head on my shoulder, and sighed. He looked up at me
 with big sad puppy-dog eyes and I about melted in my seat <G>.

-A young boy came up and said he thought Skinner was a whimp so Mitch challenged him to a thumb
 wrestling contest. I think he let the boy win <VBG>. Two females fan were even brave enough to ask
 Mitch if they could kiss his forehead. After much blushing and fidgeting, Mitch obliged. 

-"Ratboy was supposed to take care of this, but you can't trust him to do anything," Mitch says 
jokingly as he reads a slip of paper asking for them to sing Happy Birthday to a little girl in the audience.

-The question was asked if Mitch thought there was any role he wanted to play but didn't think 
he would be cast for. Mitch thought for a moment then answered "Blanche DuBois. And I'd play
 the hell outta that role too." That set the audience rolling on the floor laughing. For those of you
 who don't get the reference (and I admit I was one <G>)
 Blanche DuBois is the female lead character in "A Street Car Named Desire".

I finally made it up to give him what I brought. The first item was the Skinner Action Figure that 
Marcy and Jeff created. I took it up to him and he laughed, saying "Look at the chest on that guy!"
 He thought it was really neat that someone would take the time to make something like that. I also
 gave him flowers with M&Ms. I told him that there was a story behind the M&Ms and that he should 
ask Doug Hutchison (Tooms) sometime. Doug had said to me during a discussion with friends about 
M&Ms, that they reminded him of little Mitch Pileggi heads <G>. I explained the joke to Mitch the next 
day to which he replied "I'm gonna have to have a talk with Doug."

-This is the infamous Walter S. Skinner action figure made by Marcy Klaver and her fiancé, Jeff.
 It was a big hit at the Austin con when I gave it to Mitch. He loved the figure and was very 
flattered by it. It comes with a gun and reprimand papers for Fox Mulder for going through "unofficial channels".

-Our goal-To nag, pester, cajole, plead, harass, coerce and persuade (through all and any means at 
our disposal) CC into giving Skinner a more active role, a more intelligent role, and to have 
Skinner wear less on a regular basis... :)

-Yeah. Well, it's funny, because shortly after I started doing a number of 
episodes, David and I were working on a scene one day down in the lounge
 of the hotel, and Chris came in. And David and I were having a good time 
and BSing, and Chris looked at me and goes, "I wouldn't get too friendly 
with him; you know what happened to the last guy that got friendly with 
him." (laughs) And he was referring to Deep Throat. And I said oka-a-yyy... (laughs)

-"Excuse me, Director Skinner, "but I have one more question.
I think you do agree that the military was just hoping to find us
in a compromising position to prove their point that men and woman
can't be trusted to work together. But, sir, even if we had wanted
to - well, you know - there really wasn't any room."
     The older man put his hands in his trouser pockets and looked
down at the floor for a minute. "The actual physical box, not the
idea of the box, was my contribution. After all," he added
innocently, "I had your measurements."
     "So you intentionally made it - too small?" Scully looked
hurt, "Sir, I thought you said you had complete trust in us?"
     He looked her straight in the eye and his were twinkling.
"Moderation in everything, Agent Scully, even in trust." -the box

-"Yeah, I am the one who should be running after reading those 
stories. They were scary, Scully. " He held up the book again 
and waved it in the air. Then his voice went to a whisper, as 
if someone was listening to their conversation,"They have given 
me every disease known to man and some animals. What the Hell 
is Dengue Fever?"- book of the month

-"If you see a chance . . ." 

"Don't _even_ think it, Mulder," she growled. "I'm not leaving
you here with that maniac. We'll think of another way." 

He looked at her with a faint smile, and a great deal of respect. 
"See, I knew I had no authority in this partnership," he deadpanned
and she had to struggle to keep the grin off her face. 

"Well, one thing we can do is keep the leg elevated. That might
slow the bleeding a bit," she said, swiftly and subtly changing the
subject away from any possible escape plans. 

"You know, Scully, this might all be for naught. If Henderson is
out there talking over contingencies, they might be drawing straws
for who gets to shoot us in the head," he said, the calm belying the
tension she could feel in his shoulders. 

"Mulder, we are not going to die," she told him firmly as she
continued to search the room. 

"May I quote you on that?" he asked, through gritted teeth. 

"Anytime," came the clipped response. After considering her
options, she brought over one of the wooden chairs from the table. 

"This is gonna look weird, but it will work," she said placing the
chair face down on the bed, so that the chair back was under
Mulder's thigh and the chair leg was supporting his calf. 

"They did _not_ teach you this in medical school," he said with a
touch of awe. 

She grinned. "Nope. Girl Scout Handbook," she said lightly. 

Before he could make a reply, the door opened with a bang and
Henderson and his men strolled in. 

"Somehow I knew the two of you would end up together in bed,"
he growled lecherously. 

-"There is one thing you 
can do to atone for the past," he whispered, up against Skinner's burned ear. 

"You can die."

He saw Skinner close his eyes.

-Skinner looked up at her with wide, brown eyes, curiously naked-looking 
without his glasses. It seemed to take him a few moments to catch his breath. 
When he did, he said, "Thank you." 

-The guy in the cell across from Mulder actually did turn out to be a 
schizoaffective nut. The nut started the morning out by screaming very loudly 
at 6 a.m. and then hiding under his cot, whispering to himself. Out of a 
combined sense of pity and crushing boredom, Mulder decided to psychoanalyze 
him. He took notes on a legal pad with a felt-tipped pen. They wouldn't let 
him have anything sharp here. 

"So, can you tell me about what brought you here?" Mulder asked.

Mulder wrote down, "Organic brain disorder(?) Order EEG." The guy in the 
cell to the nut's right had lain in bed without moving all morning. Mulder had 
a separate section of notes on him. The first one said, "Catatonic?" When he 
hadn't moved after an hour, Mulder had written, "Dead?" After another hour he'd 
written, "A dummy with a microphone in it planted to record everything we say?" 
He had a bad feeling that he would be needing the services of a psychologist 
himself if he didn't get out of here soon. 

-Mulder said, "You mean it?" like an excited kid before he could stop 
himself. He got rather painfully to his feet and crossed the few steps to the 
barred door as a guard unlocked it. "You got the guy who did this? Did my 
profile help?" he asked.

"No, and yes," Springer said.

"And you want my help finding him," Mulder said. He didn't bother trying 
not to sound smug.

"Yeah," Springer admitted.

Mulder couldn't resist rubbing it in. "Are you sure? Is that legal? I'd 
hate to get myself into trouble again so soon after this wonderfully 
rehabilitative spell in federal prison. They were going to teach me a trade, 
but then some guy tried to dig my left lung out with a screwdriver."

"Look, Mulder, I'm sorry about that," Springer said. Mulder knew Springer 
and knew what it cost him to have to eat his words. "You know how the job is. 
The investigation has to come first, before any personal considerations."

"I understand completely," Mulder said. "You ought to be congratulated on 
doing your part to keep law enforcement personnel off the streets and behind 
bars where they belong." 

"Mulder . . ." Springer said, looking pained. It took Mulder less than a 
minute to gather up his few belongings.

As he exited the cell, he handed his notes on the nut and the catatonic guy 
to one of the guards. "See that these are implemented," he said. 

-"No," Scully said. "He asked me if I would handle this matter myself, 
discreetly. He says he saw the bomber's face in a vision."

"Skinner?" Mulder asked, sounding stunned. "Skinner doesn't have visions. 
It's against Bureau policy."

-"You've been shot, stabbed, poisoned, beaten
up and God knows what else and you're afraid of a little needle?"

"LITTLE," he stammered, "That thing looks like the Alaskan Pipeline."

"I'm not discussing it any more...it's got to be done, so be quiet, don't
move, and take it like a man."

"Dana, why do people always say things like that befor they intend to
inflict great bodily pain?"

"To embarrass people like you into submission.  Now hold still.  I have
work to do."

He gave her a gorgeous smile and with mischievous eyes, he replied in a
low, sultry voice, "Dana, you don't have to embarrass me...I'd submit
willingly....."

She shook her head slowly.  "What am I going to do with you?"

He looked hopeful.  "I could think of a lot of things, none of which your
mother would probably approve."

"You're not gonna make this easy...are you?"

He grinned, "Nope."

-Mulder sat back in the bed. Once again attached to an I.V. 
Chalise held Skinner's hand and was stroking the lines with a 
pink fingernail. 

"So, it's a powerful hand, with a long lifeline, but there's this 
thing I can't figure out. Like some kind of threat... health 
wise..." She shrugged. "Anyway, that about covers it. I sure 
wouldn't want to see you lose your temper." 

Skinner took his hand back, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "And 
people pay you to do this?" 

Chalise nodded. "Sure, cross my palm with gold. Or buy me a 
drink." She winked at Skinner. "Actually I just do it so I can 
hold big, handsome men's hands." 

Skinner blushed. "Have you read Mulder's hand?" 

Chalise nodded. "Briefly, the night he thought I was coming on to 
him. By the way, I was trying to taste you, Mulder, not sleep 
with you. The poison tasted bitter. Deadly." 

"You're breaking my heart. I thought you were after my body." 
Mulder dead panned.

"So what did you see in Mulder's hand?" Skinner asked. 

"A major trauma in his early teens. Some near misses with death. 
And a strange headline. I don't think Agent Mulder thinks the 
same way most people do." 

Skinner looked at Mulder's shocked expression and started 
laughing. Mulder glared at him.

-"You are supposed to kind of keep me in line, aren't you," Mulder
agreed, relaxing a little, a smile of his own beginning to tug at the
corners of his mouth.  Scully wasn't mad.  She had every right to cut him
into little pieces, but she wasn't mad.

	"I'd need a whip and a chair to keep you in line," she told him
dryly, getting up, easing her weight onto her feet carefully.  

	"Leaving so soon?" he asked, something in his chest tightening at
the thought.  "I've got a chair, and I can arrange for a whip.  Might be
fun," he forced a grin.

	"I've had enough fun with you for a while, thanks. I'd better get
back to my room. Lunch will be arriving soon."

	"Or what passes for it."

-Scully sighed finally.  "You know something?  I think it's my
fault for not ditching the FBI recruiter and becoming a wealthy and
respected plastic surgeon to the stars."

Letting her go, Mulder rubbed an impatient hand across his eyes to
clear the snow from his brows and lashes, turning slowly around in a full
circle to survey the area.  "It's actually my fault for joining the Bureau
to profile serial killers instead of becoming a serial killer.  I'd
probably have gotten more respect."

"No doubt," Scully said dryly.  "But you're right.  It is your
fault."

-"Oh, and Scully, you should teach that new partner of yours
some manners, huh."

"But I'm not done with you yet..." she shot back. Mulder
smirked as the double entendre sunk in.

"Good thing..."

-“So have I.  Do we need to exchange stories?”
She chuckled, “No.  I don’t think I want to hear about your women.”
“My women?  Yeah, then what would we talk about for the other three hours and ten minutes of the flight?”

-"I know.  If I'd had my gun, I'd have winged Mr. Tai."
He gaped at her, "I had the same thought."
She smiled.  "I know."
"Who are you?"
"I'm not sure when I'm with you."
He blinked then, "Is that good or bad?"
She managed to smile, "I don't know."

-Mulder and Scully are not mine 
they aren't making me a dime 
They belong to my man, Chris 
And Fox, the company of bliss 

Skinner does not belong to me 
But if he did, I'd be filled with glee 
Krycek and Flukie, don't forget Eve 
Alright, I'm done, and now I'll leave 

But just remember, morning glory 
they're not mine, now read the story 

Disclaimer poem by: Kelly Paleczny 

-"Don't get mad."

Her eyes widened; don't get mad?  "Mulder, what have you done?"

"Nothing, really I haven't done anything, but I was thinking - "

She groaned lightly.

"It's not that bad.  It was what you were saying about having a life, you 
know, outside of work.  I know you don't want a 'relationship' like that 
with me, so I was thinking of the men I knew, that we knew, that you might 
be interested in."

"You what?"  Her look was totally incredulous.  Well, at least she didn't 
look angry.

"Hey, I want you to be happy.  But I can't figure out your type.  I mean 
Jack Willis, Ed Jerse, Phillip Padgett, Lucius Hartwell.  I can't see the 
pattern. "

"I can.  They were all horrible mistakes.  It just shows how incapable I am 
of . . . "

"Not true.  I've just kept you too busy, surrounded you with the wrong kind 
of guy."

"Mulder, you - "

"Anyway, I ended up with a list that . . . Byers is hung up on Suzanne, and 
Langly, well I think you'd scare him to death.  So that left Frohike and . 
. . and Skinner."  He wouldn't look at her; the whole idea seemed so damn 
ludicrous now.

"Mmm, Skinner?"

His head jerked up so fast he had to have a slight case of whiplash, to 
look into her sparking eyes.

"Now that is the best panic face I've ever seen on you."

"I'm not panicked, that was . . . "

He trailed off as she chuckled.  "Thanks for the laugh, Mulder.  That was 
really sweet."

"I wasn't trying . . . I was serious, Scully."

-"Where are we going?" Mulder asked, struggling to stand.

"Somewhere a little nicer than our usual restaurants," Scully 
replied.  "Kevin said it has good food and a pleasant 
atmosphere."  At Mulder's grimace, she quickly added, "Don't 
worry, you can wear your jeans.  It's still casual.  Just 
don't use your slum-wear."

"I don't have slum-wear," Mulder said indignantly.  "My 
clothes are comfortable."

"Mulder, I wouldn't wear your clothes to go take out the 
garbage in the middle of the night," Scully stated, heading 
back to her own room.

Mulder snickered.  "So when would you wear my clothes?"

Scully's only response was to reach around him, grab a pillow, 
and smack him in the head with it.  Mulder took his other 
pillow, and within minutes the two were deep in the midst of a 
pillow fight.  They finally dissolved into fits of giggles, 
collapsing on the ground to rest.

"How old are we?" Scully asked.

Mulder only laughed.

-"Are you gonna shower, or do I have to bathe you myself?"

Mulder tossed a suggestive grin at the door.  "Is that an 
invitation?"

"Get in there, Mulder!  And might I suggest a cold shower?"

-Mulder knew he was in trouble the moment he saw the huge grin on Scully's face.

"Oh man, not paperwork. Anything but that," he cried.

"Yep, here ya go, Grizzly Adams. You're on desk duty till the cast there comes 
off, and for once, I'm not stuck with the fun stuff. Enjoy, I've need to head 
over to Quantico for a while today to sub for one of the teachers." The look on 
his face was enough to keep her smiling for the remainder of the day.

"And remember," she called from just down the hallway, "in the basement, no one 
can hear you scream." With a somewhat evil laugh, she was off leaving Mulder to 
pout among his newly acquired paperwork.

-"Scully's all right.  She's going to be up and out of here well before you
are.  I've spoken to her several times already.  And I think I know Scully
well enough to recognize that she won't hold this against you."

Skinner saw Mulder relax slightly, letting muscles that had been held
tensely for several long minutes slacken.  The younger man closed his
eyes then, and nodded, almost to himself. Now that he was sure Mulder
was on the road to acceptance, he couldn't resist a little dig, in jest.

"At least not for long."

It brought a smile to Mulder's lips, then a small chuckle.

"She'll probably have me cleaning her gun for a month.  Or doing all the
paperwork."

"Jeez, I hope not.  That would be punishing me and I didn't even do
anything."

-What's it been, Agent Scully? Four hours? I was getting worried.

-"Come on, Mulder.  I know you're not really that old and tired."

He grinned at her, & cited a line from one of his favorite movies in an odd
Bogartly fashion, "It ain't the age, sweetheart, it's the mileage."

-She smiled even more broadly at the look of enchantment so prevalent
on her partner's face as he stared up into the night sky.

"Mulder, you better be careful or you might be accused of being a
romantic."

He dropped back suddenly against the end of the couch as if shot, then
put his left hand to his chest dramatically.

"A fate worse than death, Scully.  Please.  Don't even suggest such a
thing."

-"I take it you have time enough to get something to eat and get cleaned
up, at least."

He was reassured to see the slight smile that crossed his agent's face
fleetingly.

"Sir, I'd kill for a shower just about now."

"I think that can be arranged without bloodshed, Agent Mulder."

-And then it dawned on her and she practically lost
her own appetite, consumed with guilt.

"Oh, Mulder, we forgot to feed you this morning."

Her partner froze for a heartbeat, then turned to her, finished chewing
and swallowed noisily, fighting off a fake cough.  He was smiling
when he said, "What am I, Scully, a cat?  A dog?  Forgot to FEED me
this morning?  Jeez."

-Scully headed next door to check on her partner once again.  And was
rewarded this time by actual movement.

"Hey, Mulder.  Are you in there somewhere?"

She sank down tiredly on the bed next to him and shook his arm
gently.  He'd turned over at some point, was lying on his stomach, and
had his head under the pillow, both hands clamped on top of it.  God
knew how he could even breathe.  She heard a moan and something
that sounded like, "Jusalidllongergoway."

She doubted he was really awake yet.  Probably had no idea who was
telling him to wake up or why.  No idea even where he was.  She
smiled and grabbed the pillow, pulling it off his head and leaned closer.
Whispered huskily in his ear, "Fox, honey, time to get up."

She leaned back then, and watched as the eyes flew open and he threw
himself off the other side of the bed so fast he fell on the floor.  She
stood and walked around, staring down at him, arms crossed over her
chest.  Gods, that was priceless.  He'd looked scared to death at first,
but his expression had quickly changed to one of outrage.

"That wasn't funny, Scully.  That was cruel."

"Oh I don't know, Mulder.  I thought it was pretty funny.  You have to
admit, I got you that time.  Got you big."

He was starting to recover from the shock now and shot her a dirty
look.  "Yeah, you got me all right.  And almost gave me heart failure in
the process.  Thanks.  Thanks alot, partner.  Wonderful way to wake
up."

She was starting to feel guilty now.  Maybe it wasn't the kindest thing
to do, after the night he'd had.  She moved forward and offered her
hand to help him up.  He seemed to think about it for a moment, then
grabbed on at the wrist.  She started pulling, but was caught completely
off guard as he yanked back hard and pulled her down.  For just a
moment she lay on top of him, nose just inches from his.  And before
she could react or move, he'd flipped her around so she was on the
ground, pinned under him.  Then he leaned down close, to whisper in
a husky bedroom voice in her ear, "Dana, honey, was it as good for
you as it was for me?"

His laughter was interrupted by a throat being cleared from across the
room.  Scully was finally able to struggle up to a sitting position, her
partner still on the floor, but now sitting beside her, to see her boss
standing just inside the connecting door and the agent who'd been
standing guard still at the front door.  The agent by the door was
fighting hard not to smirk too broadly.  Skinner merely had one
eyebrow raised.  Then said flatly, "Agents?"

Scully looked back to her partner and punched him in the arm, then
muttered, "Jerk."  His laughter followed her into the other room.
But just before she passed Skinner she turned back to her partner and
said, "You can just drag your sorry self up off the floor on your own,
Mulder."

She winked at her boss as she passed by and entered Mulder's room.
It was good to hear her partner's laughter, even if it was at her
expense.  She certainly didn't seem to hear it very often.  Especially
this past year.  But maybe things were looking up.

-Before I leave the room, I hesitate at the door,
watching the steady rise and fall of her chest again as she sleeps, and
I before I can help myself I whisper the words aloud, sans Demerol.

"I love you, Scully. I don't deserve you, but I love you."

I freeze like a deer caught in headlights when my *sleeping* partner
turns and pins me against the door with those incredible eyes again. Oh
shit. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh shit.

But she just does that almost smile thing again and says "I know."

And once again, for the billionth time, she saves me, redeems me and
tells me she loves me with one blink of her eye. And I leave to find the
doctor and become a medical miracle in my own right. Because I'm walking
the halls of the hospital without my heart. It's still in the room with
Scully.

-"Mulder, thanks for the watchdog...It's not every day a 
girl gets a gorgeous man-servant at her beck and call," 
Scully purred, feeling not the least bit guilty with her 
intimation. "I never knew what it could be like having 
the A.D. wanting to service my every need, Mulder."

Scully heard Mulder's choked breathing as he struggled 
with words. "He told you, didn't he?"

"Told me what, Mulder? Told me that you think my former 
lover is a serial killer? Or told me that you thought 
the Assistant Director should become my very personal 
bodyguard?"