===

CHAPTER TWO

I don't believe it's all for nothing
It's not just written in the sand
Sometimes I thought you felt too much
And you slipped into the shadow land.
 
===

"Morning, partner," Mulder called out as he rushed through the door.
Scully looked up from her paperwork as her cohort entered the room.  He was
not his usual chipper self this morning.  He'd called her late last night;
he didn't say why, just that he couldn't sleep.  She had guessed it was
another nightmare.

"Good morning, partner," Scully replied while gratefully taking the cup he
offered. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Ready for the big meeting? We're not late, are we?"

They weren't on a case at the moment, and their presence was required at a
unit meeting. Neither one was especially looking forward to it. Just a
typical boring meeting where management gets to remind you of all the things
they want you to do when you'd rather just be at your desk actually doing
something useful. Like work.

"Don't forget the pad and pen." Mulder remarked while holding open the door
for her.

It was Scully's job to bring these two items to any unit meeting. She smiled
as she grabbed them.  She had a killer hangman word for him.  She'd seen it
in Sunday's crossword puzzle; he'd never get it before she drew that last
foot on his little stick figure - the death blow.  Somewhere along the way
they had fallen into this little ritual, playing hangman.  They did it on
planes, in meetings, places where they had little to do and time to spare.
It had taken a while to determine the precise way the stick figure should be
drawn. Mulder wanted it to have eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Scully rebelled.

"That gives you too many chances!" She'd cried out the first time they
played.

"Brutal, Scully; you are really brutal,"  Mulder had replied, laughing
anyway at her competitive nature.

What she didn't know then, what had taken a while for her to realize, was
that she could never repeat a word done before. He'd remember. He always
remembered. After she'd figured that out, she won more games.

--"In an effort to streamline communications, the FBI is in the process of
setting up an inter-bureau next-day courier service.  The first routes have
been established and are listed on the chart below."--

"A."

Scully drew the head and put an A on the bottom of the paper.  They were
sitting in the back, their usual spot.  A little bit away from the rest of
the meeting's participants.  They attracted more than a few looks, which
they failed to notice in their concentration on each other and hangman.
Besides, they were used to the looks by now.  They always drew a certain
amount of curiosity from their fellow agents, ranging from the sidelong
glance to an open stare.  It depended on the amount of time the particular
agent had been around the building or
had been out of the academy.

"E," Mulder whispered below his breath.

"Uh-huh," Scully murmured, drawing the letter E on its assigned dash.

"Lucky guess," she whispered back.

"Ha, you wish.  I'm a finely tuned instrument programmed precisely in a
manner to kick your ass at hangman."

Scully's eyes were dancing.  They both knew who kicked whose ass at hangman.
He was toast.

--"Please see the latest version of the IVR call flow below.  If your cost
center did not change from numeric to alpha numeric, there are no changes to
the IVR process."--

Mulder shot a confused glance at Scully; she just rolled her eyes.

"Do you think if I raised my hand and asked him if I still have to hit 9
before dialing my 976 numbers he'd get mad?"

Scully's laughter rang out before she could stop it.  She slapped her hand
to her mouth and leaned over in her seat so she wouldn't be seen.  It was
too late. The entire room turned around to look at the offending agents.
Mulder raised his eyebrows while keeping a perfectly straight face.

"Her allergies are kicking in; it's very dusty in the basement."

After regaining her composure.  Scully straightened up and looked daggers at
her partner.

"Hurry up and pick another letter.  I'm ready to hang you now."

"W." He didn't even try to hide his grin.

Scully drew another hand.  Two more feet to go.  Just like she
thought....toast.

"O."

Another foot; one more to go.

--"If your cost center did change from numeric to alpha numeric, we are
providing this to you to assist you in your first IVR entry and approval
with these new cost center codes."--

"L."

Toast.

"Dammit.  What was it?"

Scully filled in the blanks, careful not to draw more attention to them.
C-E-R-T-I-T-U-D-E.

"Shit.  That's not fair; what type of word is that?  You cheat.  How come
you can't pick words like Mississippi, or delirious?"  Mulder was pretending
to be frustrated, but he wasn't.  "Noooo, you have to pick words like
certitude or xerophytically."  She'd picked that one while on a plane last
summer; he had never forgiven her.

"Face it Mulder, you're toast......again."

He smiled.

===
 
Later that afternoon Mulder was alone, sitting hunched over his paperwork
filled desk, when a knock sounded at the door.   Scully was out running an
errand, to the bank, he thought she'd said.

"Come in."

"Hello..."  A head peeked around the door.  "Fox, you had a delivery at the
front desk; they asked me to bring it to you."
With that, in walked a woman with long blonde hair and dark red lipstick.
She smiled warmly at him.  She had a lot of teeth.  Her dress was a little
tight and a little short, but he didn't think she minded such things.

"Long time no see," she said.  "Don't you remember me?"  A hurt
expression came over her face.  She wasn't really hurt, he could tell.

"I'm sorry; you look familiar but I can't place you, "  he said.

"Agent Wong's retirement party last year...  That's okay. I didn't really
expect you to remember me; we only talked for a few minutes.  My name is
Brandy.  Brandy with a y...."

"Mulder, did you want the tuna on white or the turkey on..."  Scully was
looking down when she came into the room and almost ran right into the tall
blonde standing in front of Mulder's desk.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't know you were in here.  I mean, I didn't see you,"
Scully said a little too quickly while looking a bit flustered.  They didn't
get visitors too often, especially not tall blondes in tight, short dresses.
She'd been caught off guard.

"Hey, Scully.  I'll take the tuna on white.  This is...I'm sorry, I've
forgotten your name again?"

"Brandy."

"Oh, right...with a y; sorry.  I got a package at the front desk; she's
delivering it. Brandy, this is my partner, Dana Scully."
 "Hello Brandy, I believe we met last year at agent Wong's retirement
party." Scully remembered the blonde.

"Well, I guess I'll be going now. It was nice to see you again, Fox."

"Huh?  Oh, right. Ok, thanks." Mulder was busy opening his package and
seemed surprised to find the blonde still standing in their office.  Scully
watched as the woman gave Mulder's retreating form one last wistful look and
then exited the room.

"Whatcha got, Mulder?" Scully asked, a small smile on her lips.

"Not sure; let's open it and see."

"It's not more tapes from your video club, is it?  I haven't eaten my lunch
yet."

"Very funny, Scully.  You know those go directly to the apartment."

Mulder emptied the contents of the envelope onto his desk.  There was a
small book and two envelopes.  A red one that looked like a greeting card
and a plain white one.

"Scully, you shouldn't have."  Mulder had a large smile on his face as he
looked up at his partner.

Scully sat across the desk unwrapping her sandwich. "That's not from me,
Mulder. I haven't even wrapped your birthday present yet.
It's still sitting on my kitchen table.  I was going to give it to you
tonight at dinner." Scully took a bite of her sandwich. "You must have
another well wisher,"  she said with her mouth full.

Mulder smiled as he watched her talking and eating at the same time.   She
licked her  fingertip.  It was best if he stopped his current train of
thought.

"Hmm. I don't think I know anyone else who'd be wishing me a happy
birthday."

Scully winced inwardly at his unintentional reference to how few people he
really had left in the world besides her.

"Maybe it's from the guys."

Mulder knew Scully was referring to the Lone Gunmen.  "No, they already gave
me a gift. It came in the mail yesterday."

Scully's sandwich paused halfway to her mouth as her eyebrow lifted
heavenward.

"It was a video game, Scully -- your mind's in the gutter today," he said
with teasing eyes.

If he only knew, she thought.
Mulder looked at the small book.  It was a pocket sized book of poems:
William Blake. That seemed odd. He leaned forward in his chair to open the
plain white envelope. Inside were photos.  As he slowly thumbed through
them, his face took on a strange look. By the time he had finished, he
looked a little ashen.

"Mulder?" There was concern in her voice.

He handed her the photos as he reached for the red card.  Scully slumped
into her chair as she looked over the collection of images.  Mulder jogging,
Mulder walking out of his apartment, Mulder grocery shopping, Mulder walking
next to someone down a street.  The "someone" had been haphazardly cut out
of the picture. She recognized her own heels.
Mulder.
Mulder.
Mulder.

Suddenly, she wasn't very hungry any more. She looked up at Mulder to find
him reading the card.  It didn't look like the news was getting any better.
He started to read in a quiet voice.

"Happy birthday, my love.  I could not overlook something as important as
the day you were born.  I know you don't know who this is yet, but you will.
Later.  When the time is right, after you have a chance to understand how
much you mean to me.  Just what I can do for you - how much I love you.
I've included a small gift of my favorite verses.  I think our feelings for
each other could be as powerful as these words, as beautiful.  I know I
could make you happy if given a chance.  I won't let anything or anyone get
in the way of your happiness, Fox.  Trust me.  We'll be together soon.  I
love you.
A secret admirer."

There was total silence in their little basement office.  Scully stared at
Mulder.  Mulder stared at the card in his hands.  Suddenly he started to
laugh.  Not a full out, joyous sound like when he watched a Stooges movie in
the middle of the night in the room next to hers.  More like a strangled
sort of half laugh, half sob.  He put his head in his hands; the palms
jabbed into his eye sockets.

"Scully, please tell me this is your idea of a joke." he said through the
sound of his twisted laugh.

"I wish I could, Mulder."

"Do *you* think it's a joke?" He sounded hopeful.

"It certainly could be, I guess. Let's not panic; we don't want to ignore
it, but let's make sure it's real before we start getting worried. Ok,
Mulder?"

"Yeah, Ok. Maybe you're right." He lifted his head from his hands. It was
quiet again as the two of them were lost in their own thoughts.

"That's me cut out of some of those pictures." Scully said matter-of-factly.

"I know."  He didn't bother to tell her that he would recognize those shoes
anywhere.  That he dreamt about them...nice dreams. That made him feel a
little better, that memory. He smiled a tiny conspiratorial smile.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She saw the change in his mouth.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Why don't you call the Gunmen. Maybe this is their idea of a birthday
surprise. I'll run up to fingerprinting and see if there's anything on
these.  I doubt it, but you never know." Scully went to the filing cabinet
and pulled out some latex gloves. She scooped up the contents of his
delivery along with the envelope it came in and headed out the door.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder called out to her, "maybe it's the guys in Violent
Crimes.  They could be jerking my chain. I wouldn't put it past them to spy
on me with a camera."

"I know. I thought of that already. Let's see what fingerprinting shows
before we rattle some cages, ok?" she called over her shoulder.

"Okay," he replied.

Mulder was starting to feel a little better. This crazy package had to be a
joke.  He picked up the phone...

"Lone Gunmen."

"Hey, Frohike, it's Mulder."

"What's up, Mulder? Happy birthday, dude."

"Thanks.  Speaking of birthdays, I got my first magazine yesterday.
Thanks."

"Uh huh. Miss October's not bad, eh?"

"Nope. That's not why I called, though. You boys didn't happen to put
together any other surprises for me that I should know about, did you?"

"Ok, Mulder, I'll play. What surprises?"

Mulder was starting to get that bad feeling back again.  "I'm not playing a
game with you." He could hear the edge in his voice, he didn't mean for it
to sound that way.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mulder.  Did you get something we
should be worried about?" Frohike's voice sounded more curious then
concerned.

"I got an anonymous love letter with some pictures taken of me without my
knowledge." He felt stupid saying it out loud like that.

"Seriously? You bastard, Mulder. You have all the luck. You're the only guy
I know who is too paranoid to appreciate an anonymous hot letter." Frohike
started to laugh.

"Uh huh, Ok, just tell me; yes or no?  Did you guys send this as a joke?
I'm about ready to sic the FBI on this, so you'd better come clean before
you get unwanted visitors."

"Don't threaten us, Fed - just because someone mailed you some nudie shots
doesn't mean you have to get pissy with me."  He was teasing him now.
Mulder was getting nowhere.

"Dammit, Frohike!"

"Okay, okay.  God, Mulder, you need a vacation.  No.  We did not send you
any love letters or take any nudie shots of you unawares.  Is Scully in any
of them?"

"They are not nudie shots!" Mulder yelled into the phone as he hung up on a
still laughing Frohike.  He felt stupid now.  Frohike was probably right.
It was nothing but some lonely person with a crush.  Who on earth would want
to stalk him, besides some alien bounty hunters and maybe Krycek?   He
doubted the love letter was Krycek's style.  Where would he have even met
someone? It's not like he got out much.  Besides, he and Scully traveled
constantly, he was never in one place long enough for someone to get
obsessed with him.  Was he?

He decided to head up to fingerprinting and try to head off Scully.  She
didn't need to waste her time; he'd probably never even get another one.
Besides, it was his birthday and he was going out to dinner with the most
beautiful woman in his life tonight (not to mention the only woman in his
life) and he didn't feel like thinking about a stalker.

Dana Scully stood in front of Agent Childers' desk with a hand planted
firmly on each hip and a frown creasing her brow.  "I want your word, Dan,
that none of your guys did this just to jerk Mulder and me around.  If I
find out that..."

"Dana -- Dana -- relax." Agent Childers was trying to interrupt Scully mid
tirade.  If he hadn't been concentrating so hard on not careing how fabulous
she looked angry, he might have noticed Fox Mulder standing in the doorway
on the other side of the large meeting room.
"Dana, I swear to you that none of us did it.  Not that it's not a great
idea and one I'm sure one of my guys will be pissed he didn't think of, but,
no, we didn't do it.

"How can you be sure?"  Scully replied, her voice still betraying her
agitation.

"I can't, I guess  But if one of them did do it, they'd never be able to
keep it to themselves.  Spooky's too much fun to torture without talking
about it with your fellow agents."

"Yeah, that's great reasoning, just great.  You treat him like shit until
you need him to come up and save your ass when you're in over your heads."
Scully still sounded a bit perturbed, but the wind was leaving her sails.
She believed him that he didn't think anyone in his unit  had sent the
letter.

"Hey, you don't have to get nasty about it, Dana.  It's not our fault he
decided to go off half cocked looking for aliens.  If he doesn't want to get
hassled, he shouldn't be such a pain in the ass half the time."

"Dan, you and I both know that Mulder is the best at what he does, and it
wouldn't hurt to maintain a better working relationship with him.  This
job's hard enough without having to put up with crap from your own side."

Mulder resisted the urge to feel annoyed at Scully for fighting his battles
for him.  It was not her intention, he knew.  However, the guys in this unit
wouldn't see it that way.  He could hear them now, joking about how she had
come up full of righteous indignation on his behalf, like his mother or
something.  Better yet, wait till they heard that he might be a victim of a
stalker.  Christ, he hadn't thought about that yet.  Shit.  They would think
that was a hoot for sure.  He'd never live this one down.  It occurred to
him that he should let them know that he was standing here listening to
their conversation, but he had to admit a certain curiosity to hear what
else Scully might say about him.
He didn't move.

"Point taken."  Agent Childers didn't want to argue any longer.
Even if he didn't give a shit about Mulder, she was right about burning
bridges.  He might need that arrogant prick some day, not that he'd admit
that to anyone.  Besides, they couldn't be partners forever, and it never
hurt to stay cozy with the lovely Dr. Scully.  "So anyway, Dana, how come we
never go out?  It's not like I haven't asked."

Scully looked temporarily taken off guard.  She had been so intent on Mulder
and his delivery that she hadn't seen that one coming.  Damn.  "Dan, you
know the reason why I don't go out with you; we've had this conversation
before.  I don't date on the job.  Besides, I doubt we would have too much
in common."  She couldn't resist letting a small sneer creep into her voice.

"Uh huh.  Whatever you say, Mrs. Spooky.  If you want to stay in the
basement for your entire career, or what's left of it, that's your problem."
Childers didn't feel so charitable any more.

Mulder decided to make his entrance. "Hey, Dan, aren't you late for your
usual three martini lunch? It's 10:30 already; you're falling behind."

Scully jumped at the sound of Mulder's voice coming up behind her.

"Fuck you, Mulder.  What's wrong, the fact that no one but psychos ever
wants to play with you got you in a bad mood this morning?"  Childers didn't
even try to sound like he was kidding.

"Mulder froze mid step.   Agent Childers had managed to crystallize in one
brutal sentence the thought that was flitting around the edges of his mind
since opening that fucking delivery this morning.  He was momentarily unable
to respond.  Sensing the impact of this last sentence, Scully stepped in
between the two agents.

"Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole, Dan?  No?  Well, let me....Dan,
you're an asshole."  Scully turned and grabbed Mulder by the arm, leading
him away from the smirking agent.  "Come on, Mulder, let's go."

Mulder was quiet on the elevator ride back down to the basement.  By the end
of the day they still had no leads on the origin of the package; it was
delivered by the post office, no unaccounted-for prints on it.  As far as
they could tell, neither the guys in Violent Crimes or the Lone Gunmen had
sent it as a joke.  There wasn't much else either of them could do until the
person made another move, if they ever did.  Mulder put the letter and
photos in the delivery envelope and stuffed them into a bottom drawer of his
desk.

They weren't working on a case at the moment, just trying to catch up on the
endless paperwork that seemed to pile up behind them like a wave.  They
mostly worked in silence, Scully perceiving that Mulder didn't feel like
talking.  About four in the afternoon, Scully started to gather together her
things.

"Mulder, I'm going to head out.  I need to pick up some stuff at the dry
cleaners, and I'd like to beat the traffic."

"Are you wearing something slinky for me tonight, Scully?" It was the first
time she'd heard the playfulness in his voice since the elevator ride.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up, Mulder."

"A boy can always dream..." he said as he started to put away paperwork as
well.  "What time do you want to meet?" They had agreed to meet at the
restaurant; it seemed less like a date that way.  Just two friends getting
together to celebrate a birthday.

"How about 6:30?" Scully said while pulling on her overcoat and scarf.

"Great, see you there...and Scully, I'm serious; think about that slinky
thing."
 
===

Toscana's was Mulder's favorite Italian restaurant.  Lucky for him it was
also in his neighborhood.  It lay tucked out of the way from the rest of the
street with the front door opening up into the back alley.  He had
discovered it by accident while out on a jog during one of those nights he
couldn't sleep.  He'd pressed his nose against its darkened window to see
the red and white checkered table clothes, the candles stuck in oil filled
wine bottles sitting on the tables.  Clusters of dried herbs and various
cheeses hanging from the rafters. There were ten tables at the most.  He'd
gone in the next night, and had been going there regularly ever since.
Roberto was the proprietor and main chef, and despite the fact that he liked
to smoke a cigarette while he cooked, everything always tasted wonderful.

Mulder was a little nervous and was at the restaurant a bit early.  He sat
in his usual table by the window and waited for Scully.  She was exactly on
time, of course.  She had told the truth: She hadn't worn anything slinky,
but she did look nice.  As a matter of fact, she looked great.  She took off
her coat to reveal a rather tight white turtleneck made from something fuzzy
with pencil thin black slacks.  She had on her usual chunky black pumps, the
ones that made her look taller.  The ones he loved.  She had her hair pulled
back in a little black headband, and her face looked young and freshly
scrubbed.  Her cheeks were red from the October air.

Scully ordered the wine; she was better at it then he was.  He was in charge
of the food.  He ordered his favorite, lasagna, and he ordered her a seafood
stew in a tomato broth that he knew she'd like.  The restaurant was cozy,
and the two friends enjoyed each other's company, for once trying not to
talk too much about work.  Mulder was regaling Scully with a story about an
especially stupid contestant on a game show they both hated.  It was
insanely popular, and even though they both hated it, Mulder would often
call her during it just so they could make fun of it together.  It was
absurd, but they couldn't help it.  It made them laugh, something they did
too little of together.

"....so I'm screaming at the television --'which one spells something
backwards?  The clue says, which word is spelled backwards.  Only one of the
choices says anything backwards!! I swear to God, Scully, I thought I was
gonna take out my gun and shoot the television."
Mulder's green eyes were sparkling with laughter and his hands were flying
through the air as he punctuated his speech with movement.  Scully's
laughter rang through the restaurant, and the other diners smiled in the
direction of the happy couple.  Mulder's story finished, he took a sip of
his wine while Scully dabbed her crying eyes on the red cloth napkin in her
lap.  They had finished dinner and were waiting for their desserts.  Scully
reached down into the bag at her feet and pulled out a cheerfully wrapped
package.

"Happy birthday, Mulder." Her smile looked pleased.

Mulder took the package from her hand and set it in front of him.  "Thank
you, Scully."

"You haven't even opened it yet," she said smiling.

"I know, but still, I just want to say thanks."  His voice was quieter now.

"You're welcome, Mulder."

It was a picture of the two of them.  It was framed in a dime store black
plastic likeness of a UFO.  Their faces were peeking out of the middle of
it.  He recognized the photograph immediately.  They had been on one of
those hundreds of road trips that had turned out to be a wild goose chase.
It was near a popular UFO sighting area in New Mexico.  He'd convinced her
to get their pictures taken at one of those stands where you put your face
into the hole and a figure is painted on the front side.  Her face was on
the body of a classic alien with the big head and long arms.  Except this
one had on a bikini and was holding hands with another alien that had huge
muscles and was wearing a Speedo, a red one.  His smiling face stuck out of
that one.  It had cost him a ludicrous amount of money, but it was the
summer she had gotten sick, and he'd been desperate to make her laugh.

"I had a copy made of it.  I hope it's not too goofy."

"It's not."  He looked into her smiling eyes.  "Thank you."

She reached across the table and took his hand in hers.  She squeezed it
once, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb, and then let go.  His hand felt
warm where hers had been; he was on the verge of reaching out for her when
they were interrupted by the waiter with their desserts.

They spent the remainder of the evening in happy conversation, unaware of
the fury watching them from outside in the darkness.
 

--end of ch 2 --