===

CHAPTER 5

If you're out there can you touch me
Can you see me I don't know
If you're out there can you reach me
Lay a flower in the snow
===

"Come on, Mulder; let's get out of here."  It was close to five, and Mulder
and Scully were preparing to leave town the next week.  They were finally
getting back to a case after several weeks of playing catch up on delinquent
paperwork.

"You know, Scully, this would never have happened if we were keeping busy
and not being forced to wade through all this crap."  Mulder was picking up
the last of the manila file folders, rubber banding them, and stuffing them
into interoffice mailing envelopes.  They were being routed to various
departments within the building: accounting, personnel, Skinner, so on and
so forth.  "If we were out catching monsters and aliens, I wouldn't have had
time to be drinking so much coffee; therefore, crazy coffee girls wouldn't
be stalking me.  There's a lesson to be learned in here somewhere."

"Yeah, you should drink more water."  Scully laughed at her own joke as she
neatly placed her file folders within her own inter office routing envelopes
going to similar departments as Mulder's -- arriving in much better
condition, no doubt.  "What time is our plane Monday?"
It was Friday, and they weren't flying out till Monday.  They had the
weekend to get ready, instead of the usual 45 minutes.

"Uh..." Mulder's dug under the paperwork stacked on his laptop. "8:45am,
flight... 0860 on Delta."

"You just want to meet at the airport?"

"Yeah, that sounds fine. I'm sure we'll talk this weekend sometime; we don't
have to decide now." It was silly to think he could go an entire two whole
days without speaking with her on the phone at some point. He'd given up
pretending he had a life without her a long time ago. She knew he didn't.

"Are you going to be okay tonight, Mulder?  Would you like to come over and
watch a video or something?  I can make pasta."  Scully was putting on her
coat now, straightening the collar and pushing her hair behind her ears.
"We can go over the notes on this case if you want."

"Maybe.  We'll see.  I'm thinking I might like to go for a run tonight, get
out of the house.  I don't think I can stand one more night behind my closed
door.  It's funny, --I never really went out too often.  Then when I
couldn't, it's all I thought about. I'm dying to go to a bar or something.
Hear other people speaking.  You know?"

Scully understood.  She'd felt like that after the cancer had gone into
remission.  She'd had the overwhelming urge to be among people all the time.
She used to go to coffee shops and just sit there for hours, reading,
working crossword puzzles.  It made her feel as if she was part of it again,
part of life, that she existed.  "I understand, Mulder.  Be careful, okay?
Just because she's been served doesn't mean she will obey the restraining
order.  Chances are that she won't; you now that."

"I know, Scully, but I need to get out.  I'll be careful.  I won't go
anywhere where I'll be alone, and I'll take my cell in case I need to call -
okay?"  Mulder was putting his own coat on now. "What are you doing this
weekend?  Any plans?"

"No, not really.  I'm having dinner at my mom's tomorrow night.  If I have
the energy, I might start some early Christmas shopping for my nieces and
nephews on Sunday.  We'll see." They were walking out now, side by side,
towards the elevators.

"You should be careful as well, you know." Mulder punched the 'up' arrow at
the elevators. "Why don't you call me tonight before you go to bed. Call the
cell, just to check in."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. I will." They spent the rest of the elevator ride
and walk to the parking garage discussing the upcoming case.

"Good night, Mulder."

"Good night, Scully - call me."

"I will."

===
 
Mulder parked his car in the front of the building now, under the street
light. He'd learned his lesson the hard way. Before, he had pretended to be
paranoid; now, he was smart. These last couple of weeks had taught him the
difference between those two concepts. He had his keys in his hands before
reaching his building's front door, ready for a quick entry if he needed
one. He didn't; everything looked peaceful.  He was trying to force himself
to relax, to stand up straight, to look forward, not at the ground.  He
checked his mail: the usual, bill, bill, you've been pre-approved, you may
already be a millionaire,
occupant.  Well, not quite the usual: nothing from Jane. Nothing leaning
against the front door, nothing in his mailbox.  That had to be a good sign.
He hoped so. He was thinking about Scully as he rode up the elevator to the
fourth floor.  He didn't want to worry her, but he couldn't
help but feel uneasy about Jane's anger towards his partner. He knew that
misplaced blame and rage were usual in these types of cases.
Scully had been right that day in the car: a love obsessional personality
isn't capable of blaming the person upon whom he or she is fixated. Such a
person has to find a someone other then the victim to blame when his or her
feelings aren't reciprocated.

Maybe he should call her now, just to make sure she got home okay.  Just to
make himself feel better.  Opening the door to his apartment, he tossed his
keys on the table while turning on the small lamp. He used his foot to close
the door while going through the mail a second time, tossing the junk into a
waste paper basket underneath the table for shredding before it went into
the recycling.  Taking off his overcoat, he hung it on the tree by the
table. First he'd call Scully; then he wanted a hot shower.  Going to the
desk on the other side of the room, he noticed that the light was not
blinking on the stalker line.  That's what he's taken to calling it now: The
Stalker Line. Again, he was not sure what to think of this turn of events.
He picked up the phone to call Scully.  He dialed the cell number in case
she was still in the car.

"Scully."

"Hey there. It's me, just checking that you made it home okay. How was the
drive?"

"Hey, Mulder. The usual, I'm fine. Everything is pretty quiet on my end;
what about yours?"

"So far so good. No letters on the door or in my mailbox. No messages on the
stalker line either. Maybe the nut job finally got the hint, eh, Scully?"

"Maybe, but I wouldn't hold my breath. I never thought I'd say it, Mulder,
but it will be nice to get out of town for once.  I'm looking forward to
it."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. So am I. Okay, I'm going to jump in the shower
and then take off.  I'll talk to you later tonight, Scully. Keep me posted."

"You too."

Tossing the phone onto his couch, Mulder started loosening his tie.  Friday
was his favorite day of the entire weekend.  Scully thought he was nuts; she
liked Sundays.  But he had his theory: Friday held the promise of the
weekend - all of the possibilities lay before you.  The work day seemed
shorter; people were in a good mood.  And every other Friday was payday,
which made it even better.  Saturday was nice, but you couldn't help but
think about the fact that the next day was Sunday.  And everyone knew that
Sunday sucked.  No matter how many decades people were free of the burden of
getting up on Monday and going to school, the memory of spending an average
of 12 to 16 years in school ruined Sundays for everyone for the rest of
their lives.  No, Friday was the perfect day, and he was feeling better than
he had in weeks; it was odd to think this little soap opera had only been
going on for a few weeks, it seemed like a lifetime.

Naked now, Mulder grabbed a towel from the closet and headed for the
bathroom.  He stopped to pee before turning on the shower and adjusting the
water temperature.  He turned it as hot as he could stand; then after
getting used to it, he turned it up just a little bit more.  Soaping his
body, he could feel the tension starting to leave him.  He was already
feeling less and less guilty about Jane.  Scully was right: it was
ridiculous for him to think he could have influenced this in any way.  She
was obviously mentally ill, and nothing he could have done would have
prevented her actions.  All he could hope for now was that she would turn
her attentions on some other poor sucker and leave him alone.  His body was
a bright pink now, and the bathroom was filled with steam, little droplets
forming on the ceiling above his head.  The ventilation was lousy in this
bathroom, he thought absent-mindedly as he turned off the water, pushed
aside the curtain, and reached for his towel.

She's there.

She's standing inside the closed bathroom with her back to the door.  She's
standing stock still, looking him full in the face. He freezes.

"Hello, Fox."

Her voice is calm and even.  She seems perfectly composed, as if they are
old friends who meet every day in his bathroom.  Mulder realizes suddenly
that he is standing totally naked and dripping wet.  "May I get my towel,
Jane?"

She smiles at him now; however the smile doesn't reach her eyes.  "Of
course, Fox.  Never let it be said that I acted improperly."

Mulder slowly reaches over and picks up his towel from the bathroom counter.
Wrapping it around himself, he tucks it in tightly.  "Jane, may I ask what
you're doing in my apartment?"  Mulder is trying to stall for time.  Her
sudden appearance frightens him, and he's still trying to recover his
composure.

"I'm here to see you, of course."  Her expression does not change.  She is
still calm, still relaxed, like a walk in the park.

"Jane, I'd like to step out of my bathtub now, okay?"  Mulder purposely
keeps calling Jane by her name, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Suddenly Jane pulls the gun out from behind her.  She points it at Mulder's
head and says, "Fox, why don't you do that."  Reaching behind her, Jane
turns the doorknob and pulls the door open, never taking her eyes or the gun
from Mulder's face.  She walks backwards towards the bed and Mulder follows
her, passing from the steamy bathroom into his bedroom, his bare feet making
little wet tracks on the wood floor.

"Jane, what are you doing?  Why do you have a gun?"

"I'm fulfilling my destiny, and yours.  I'm taking matters into my own hands
and out of your bitch partner's.  You betrayed me, Fox; you betrayed us.
You let her come between what we could have had.  You let her keep you from
learning the truth about what we could have been for each other.  At first I
bought the gun to kill her.  Then I decided to kill you instead."

Mulder's heart stops beating in his chest.  He begins to see little
pinpoints of light in his vision.  His heart resumes its rapid thump thump
thump.  "Why do you want to kill me Jane?  I thought you loved me?"

The movement is so quick that he is taken completely by surprise. All he has
time for is disbelief that someone as small as the woman in front of him
could be that fast.  Then the entire side of the gun, including the butt,
hits him full in the side of the head.  He drops like a sack of flour; the
pinpoints of light turn to blotches of darkness that start to merge with
each other.  Three seconds later he is unconscious.

===
 
She's waiting for him in his apartment.  Using her key, she lets herself in
and is sitting on the floor of his bedroom, waiting for his arrival.  Her
purchase is in her backpack, its extra weight  somehow comforting.  After
leaving the pawn shop, it is her intention to go after the redhead, to
remove that obstacle in her path to happiness.  But then she starts thinking
about her life, her past and her future.  She isn't happy; she hasn't been
happy in a very long time.  If she really thinks hard, she realizes that Fox
is the only person to ever bring her joy in a life so pathetic that it hurt
to contemplate it.  Her life has never brought her anything but misery.  It
always had.  Her father was a drunk who got more kicks from his daughter
than from his wife.  Her mother had been so grateful to avoid his attentions
that she gladly let Jane take over such "impolite" practices, as she liked
to put it.  Nothing about Jane was ever good enough for her mother.

High school had been a total nightmare, a revolving door of boys who could
never give her what she was looking for: love, security, hope.  They always
told her how much they loved her until she gave in to their Impolite
intentions.  Then they couldn't be bothered.  Consequently, the girls hated
her guts.  In many ways, the girls were so much crueler than the boys.  They
somehow understood exactly what was required to lay waste to what fragile
pieces of ego she had left.  The partner is like that.  She has the ability
to look through her - to deny that she exists.  That's why Jane has decided
to kill Fox instead of the partner, then herself.  What is the point,
really?  There will always be another woman-- like the girls in high school,
like the redhead, like her mother.

She will take what is hers; then she will take them both and go to a better
place.  She knows there must be a better place than this life, than this
continual grind of one humiliation after another.  Well, that's going to
stop tonight -- she's going to stop it.  She's known from the first time he
looked at her that he'd seen her.  When he spoke to her she really existed.
For awhile she thought that meant they could have it all, that they could
build a life together, that he could build it for them.  But now she
realizes that it's her who has to be strong enough to build it for him.  For
them.

So she waits.

She's lost track of how long she's been sitting on his floor by the bed.
She keeps changing positions, but her butt and legs are still numb with
fatigue.  Finally, she hears it: his key in the lock.  Quickly she steps
into the closet and closes the door.  She hears him rustling around the
living room for several minutes, then he starts to speak.  It frightens her
at first; she thinks he has someone with him.  Then she realizes he's
talking on the phone.  His voice is muffled, but she hears the redhead's
name - Scully.  He's talking to his partner.  Finally he hangs up and walks
into the bedroom.  Through the crack in the closet door she sees him start
to strip out of his clothes -- first his tie, then his suit coat and belt.
He hops around on one foot as he jerks off one shoe, then the other.
Nonchalantly, he tosses item after item onto his bed.  Finally naked, he
furiously scratches his head with both hands, leaving his hair poking up at
odd angles.  He walks out of her narrow field of vision and goes into his
bathroom.  She hears the door close, and after a couple of minutes the
shower starts.  Slowly she emerges from the closet; unzipping her pack, she
removes the gun.  Tossing her bag on the floor, she advances on the closed
door.  She can hear him singing softly to himself; she doesn't recognize the
tune.  Slowly she turns the door knob and lets herself into the steamy room,
careful not to make any noise as she closes the door behind her and leans
against it.  She's so excited to be here, this close to him, in such an
intimate setting.  She's waited so long.  It's his bathroom; his scent hangs
in the air like the steam swirling around her.  She's been in here before.
He doesn't know that --yet.  She'll tell him tonight.  Tonight she tells him
everything, everything he needs to know.

The water stops.  She braces herself; she's not sure what he'll do when he
sees her standing here.  The curtain brushes aside, and he reaches for his
towel.  She shouldn't have worried; he's so stunned to see her standing
there that she doubts he's even capable of quick movement.

She's trying to concentrate on staying alert.  It's difficult with the
object of so much of her desire standing buck naked ten feet in front of
her.  He asks for his towel, and she lets him get it.  Then he asks to step
out of the tub.  He's looking at her funny now; she thinks he's capable of
quick movement now.  She lifts the gun straight in front of her and points
it at his head.  Here we go, she thinks; now I've got your attention, Fox.
She opens the door and backs out, never taking her eyes or the gun from his
face.  Even now she notices the beauty of his face: the flushed cheeks and
green eyes.  His mouth is red from the hot water to which he has subjected
himself.

"Why do you want to kill me, Jane?  I thought you loved me."

Before she knows it, she's struck him.  Every ounce of strength she has is
in the blow.  How dare he use that mocking tone with her!  He is speaking to
her like a child who needs reasoning.  Doesn't he realize the trouble she's
gone to, the danger she's put herself in just to be near him, just to prove
her worth to him?  She watches as he crumples to the floor.  His knee's
buckle first; then one hand reaches out to stop his fall but can't.  Finally
he's lying on his side, one arm twisted underneath him while the other hand
touches where her blow landed.  He has blood on his hand, and she sees that
his bottom lip has been cut open.  She stares down at her handiwork, both
aghast and thrilled at the same time.  So this is what it feels like, she
thinks to herself.  To be in control, to be the master of her own destiny.

She should get busy.
===

Slowly Mulder becomes aware of his surroundings.  He has a fierce headache
and his lip feels swollen.  He is lying face down with his hands tied behind
his back.  His feet are tied as well.  At least he's dressed; that somehow
seems positive.  He's in a t-shirt and a pair of his jogging shorts.  He
even has socks on his feet.  He senses Jane nearby; turning his head he sees
her lying on her side on his bed, watching him.

"Fox, I'm sorry I had to hit you like that.  And I'm sorry you have to be
tied up now.  It's not how I wanted this to turn out, but we don't always
get what we want, do we?"

He doesn't say anything.  He has no idea what his reply should be, anyway,
so he figures it's best to stay quiet.

"Are you cold, Fox?"  Jane's getting up off the bed now.  She leaves the gun
on his nightstand.  "Let me get you a blanket."  She grabs the blanket
crumpled at the end of his bad and lays it over him.

"Thank you,"  is all he says.  Again, he is at a loss for what else to say.

She takes the pillows off the bed and comes to sit next to him on the floor.
Putting one pillow on the ground, she settles herself down on it.

"Roll over."

As he rolls onto his side, she settles the other pillow under his head and
readjusts the blanket over him.  He doesn't say thank you this time, just
stays silent.

"Don't you have anything you want to say to me, Fox?  It's been a long time
since we've talked."

"You're right, it has."  Mulder's voice sounds odd to his ears -- distant,
somehow not his own.  He needs to pull it together and quickly.  He forces
himself to shake out of this stupor.  He needs to concentrate on this woman
before him.  He looks at her again, closely this time, concentrating on what
clues her appearance might give him as to how he's going to get out of this
mess.

She's small -- Scully's size -- with short brown hair which sort of hangs in
her eyes a little.  She has on round, wire-rimmed glasses.  She's wearing a
white button up shirt with a pair of jeans.  Her tennis shoes are beaten-up
looking, as if she walks a lot.  Seeing him looking at her, she nervously
pats her hair and touches her top shirt button.

"What are you looking at?" Jane wants to know.

"I'm looking at you, Jane."  Mulder replies, keeping his voice low.

"You didn't answer my question, Fox."

"Right.  Ok, well, the last time I asked you a question you hit me, so
forgive me if I'm a little hesitant to ask you another one."

Jane turns bright pink at this statement and looks down at her hands.  "I
said I was sorry for that.  It's just...you made me angry..."  she trails
off.

"Uh huh.  Do you think next time you could just tell me I am making you
angry and I'll stop?  That way we could avoid any more hitting?"  Jane stays
silent.  "Jane, can I sit up?  This floor is very hard, and my arm is
starting to fall asleep."

She looks a little confused momentarily, caught between caution and
sympathy.  The latter wins out.  "Sure, I'm sorry, Fox.  It's just that we
have some things to talk about and I know now, after today, that you aren't
ready to stay here with me on your own.

"It's okay, Jane.  I don't mind the ties; they don't hurt.  It's just that
the floor is hard."  Mulder's trying to keep the subject off of this
morning.  He's pretty sure that talking about the restraining order will
make her angry again.  Struggling to sit up, Mulder finally manages it.  His
knee's are bent in front of him, and his hands are still behind him.  This
isn't any more comfortable, that's for sure.  "Maybe I could sit in a chair
or something, Jane?"

"Sure.  Hold on, I'll get one."  She goes into the other room and brings
back a kitchen chair.  Setting it down in the middle of the bedroom, she
walks over to the night stand and takes the gun.  Turning on him, she points
it at him one more time.  "Fox, I want you to try and get up on your own
now, okay? You should be able to hop over to the chair and have a seat.
Don't try anything stupid.  I have every intention of using this gun
tonight, but I don't want to have to do it now."

Mulder doesn't like the sound of that last part.  What does she mean, she
has every intention of using the gun tonight?  "What do you mean by that,
Jane?"

"Get in the chair, Fox."

Mulder tries to spread his feet a little bit, but it's hard when they are
bound at the ankles.  Slowly he manages to lean forward and stand up
straight.  After a few hops, he lowers himself gratefully onto the chair.
Jane walks over and sits on the edge of the bed; putting the gun on the
comforter beside her, she pulls her legs up to sit Indian style in front of
him.

"How did you get in here, Jane?"  That seems as good a question as any.

She looks at him slyly for a moment, a small smile on her lips.  "The spare
keys under the left wheel well of the front of your car.  You kept them
underneath by the trunk on your old car.  I figured you might do the same
thing again on your new one, so I felt around under it until I found them."
She looks proud of herself at this admission on her part.

"You've been in here before?"  Mulder can't keep the horror out of his
voice, even though he tries.

"Yes."  No more coy looks this time.  She looks almost defiant. "Of course I
have.  You really think I'm some sort of idiot, don't you?  I've been in
this apartment several times, as a matter of fact.  I've even taken a bath
in your tub!  What do you think of that, Mr. FBI Man?"

Mulder feels sick.  She's been in his place, through his things.  How could
he have been so stupid?  How could he not have noticed something as
disturbing as that?  He notices when Scully gets a new pair of shoes, but he
can't see when someone else has taken a bath in his own tub.  Shit!    He
suddenly doesn't feel like bullshitting around this anymore.  He wants
answers -- now.  "Jane - why are you doing this?  What is it you want from
me?"  His voice comes out harsher than he intends but he's beyond caring at
this moment.  He's angry.

She looks momentarily taken aback at this sudden shift in the conversation.
"Good.  You're right, we should just get this out in the open right now.  I
hated sneaking around all the time.  If you would have only let me talk to
you from the beginning, we could have avoided all of this.  All I ever
wanted was for you to realize what I feel for you.  Don't you understand
what we could have, the type of love that we share?  I love you, Fox.  I
have loved you for so long now, longer than you could possibly know.  I love
you, Fox."

Silence.

"Fox, I love you."

"Jane, I don't know what to say to that."

"Tell me that you love me, Fox."

"I can't do that, Jane."

"Why not?"  Jane's face is intense, all her energy focused on Mulder.

"Because I don't love you.  I don't even know you; how could I possibly love
you? Jane, I don't want to hurt you -- that's never been my intention -- but
I do not love you."

"You could if you knew me better.  We're so perfect for each other.  We
could make each other so happy, I know we could."  Jane's voice is shaking
now, and her eyes are filling with tears.  "Fox, you don't know what kind of
a life I've led.  I've been so alone, just like you.  I know you're lonely;
I've watched you.  Don't try and deny how lonely you are.  I could help you
with that.  We could both not be alone anymore."  Tears are streaming down
her face now; she doesn't seem to notice them.

Mulder is feeling sicker by the moment.  How long has she been following
him...weeks?  Months?  Years?  The idea of her watching him for years is
almost more than he can stand.
His stomach is in knots now.  "Jane..."

Riiiinnnnng.

It's Mulder's cell phone.  The sound of it makes them both jump.  Jane grabs
her gun and stands quickly.  Mulder knows exactly who it is.  Scully.

"Jane, it's my partner.  She knows that I'm supposed to be home all night.
If I don't answer my phone, she'll get worried."  He concentrates on making
his voice sound nonchalant.  No big deal that the person he most wishes to
speak with at this moment is ringing his phone.

"Jane?"

Riiinnnnng.

The sound is coming from the cell phone in his jacket.  She fishes it out of
his pocket and holds it in her hands as if it's going to explode.  Turning
towards him, she levels the gun at his head.  She's stopped crying; her eyes
are dead looking, the pupils dilated.  "Fox, I'm going to hand you this
phone, and if you say even one word that sounds fishy, I'm going to put a
bullet in your brain.  Do you understand me?"

Riiinnnnng.

His mouth is totally dry; his tongue has turned to sand paper.
"Yes, yes, I understand you."  She flips open the cell and puts it to the
side of his head. She pushes the barrel tip of the gun so hard into the
other side of his head that it brings tears to his eyes.  "Mulder."

"Hey, Mulder, it's me.  I was just thinking, if you're going out to a bar
tonight, do you feel like company?"  Scully's voice sounds a little
hesitant, as if she is unsure of herself.

"Hey, Dana.  No, I don't think I'm up to going out tonight.  Thanks for the
offer, though." Mulder is desperate to keep his voice normal sounding while
still trying to convey that he is in trouble to Scully.  Please Scully, come
on, come on, come on.   He is desperate.

"Is she there, Mulder?"  Scully whispers into the phone.

"Ok, Dana.  I'll see you at the airport Monday.  Good night."  Jane pulls
the phone back from his ear and snaps it shut.  She stares at him for
several seconds.  He hopes he isn't sweating.

"So she was calling to invite herself out with you again, was she?"  Jane
makes a little puffing sound with her mouth and rolls her eyes.
"I swear to God, doesn't she ever get the hint?"

Mulder tries twisting his mouth into a smile -- any kind of smile would do.
He is feeling closer and closer to the end of his rope.  He has to convince
this girl that she needs to let him go, needs to at least untie him.   Once
Scully gets here, the entire situation is going to  get much more
complicated.

Jane tosses the phone onto his bed, then walks back to stand in front of
him.  Looking down at him, her face is hard, like it was on that day in
front of the bank.  Something is wrong; he is getting one of his bad
feelings again.

When she finally speaks, her voice is so low Mulder can hardly hear it.
"You never call her Dana."  It takes a few seconds for Mulder's brain to
process what she said; by that time it is too late.

===
 
Scully slammed the phone down and tore off her bathrobe.  She wasn't dressed
to go out with Mulder, but she had called anyway.  It had been a spur of the
minute decision.  She'd thank God for it at a later time.  After throwing a
pair of jeans on with a t-shirt and tennis shoes, she was out the door with
her gun in less than five minutes.  Flinging herself through the front door
of her building, she sprinted to her car.  She was there.  Jane was in
Mulder's apartment.  Shit shit shit shit.  What had she been thinking, just
letting him go home by himself?!  Of course Jane wasn't going to obey the
search warrant; stalkers never obey search warrants.  Scully's mind was
racing as she punched her way through traffic.  Should she call for backup?

Yeah, that's just what she needed, a bunch of DCPD squad cars screaming up
in front of Mulder's place.  Jane must have a weapon; she's much too small
to make Mulder do anything he doesn't want to do without a weapon.  Shit
shit shit.  The traffic was going to give her a heart attack.  Slamming the
brakes, she narrowly missed hitting some mini van whose driver was more
intent on the kids in the backseat than on the speed limit.   This was
insane.  Every minute Scully spent weaving in and out of traffic took a year
off of her life. She was bathed in sweat by the time she forced her car to
slow down and turn into the alley behind his building.  Turning off the
headlights, she parked a little way away and got out of the car.

How should she do this?  Knock on his door?  Just open it with her key?  She
decided on the latter approach -- take them by surprise.  She didn't think
Jane would want to hurt Mulder, at least not unless she felt she had to.
Small consolation, but Scully would take what she could get at the moment.

Quietly slipping down the front of the sidewalk, staying as close to the
building as she can, Scully let herself in the front door with her key.
Once in the elevator, she pressed herself onto the side wall so she could
peek her head around the opened elevator doors once she was on the fourth
floor.  Seeing no one in the hallway, she quietly made her way down to
number 42.   Being careful to keep her body from in front of the door, she
stood against the wall and stared at the door lock.  Breathe Dana.  Just
breathe. She stood there a few seconds with her gun in her hand,
concentrating on deep even breaths, lowering her heart rate.  1....2....3 -
she slipped the key into the lock as softly as she could.  Knowing there was
no way she could turn the lock without making any noise, she decided to do
it quickly.  In a heartbeat she had the door unlocked and she'd thrown it
open.  Going down on one knee, she kept her head low and her gun arm
straight in front of her.  She scanned with her eyes and hands from left to
right.

Nothing.

Just a light on by the door where she was crouching and one on by the couch.
It looked as if there was one on in the bedroom as well.  Standing up, she
quickly stuck her head inside the doorway and looked back and forth.
Nobody.  Keeping her gun straight in front of her, she swept the foyer and
stuck her head into the kitchen.  Still no one.  She quietly went back to
the entrance of the living room and moved towards the bedroom's open door.

Shit.

Mulder is sitting in a chair with a gag in his mouth.  His eyes are wide and
staring at her.  She sees that his feet are bound and his hands are tied
behind the back of the chair.  He has on shorts and a t-shirt.  The front of
his shirt is streaked in blood from his nose and mouth.  His hair is damp,
and he looks frightened.  Jane is standing next to him with a gun pointed at
his head.  She does not look frightened.

"Hello, Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI.  We keep running into each
other, don't we?"

Jane's voice is high and sounds strained.  Scully keeps her gun trained on
the woman.

"Mulder, are you all right?"  She steals a glance at him while keeping her
gun on Jane.

He mumbles incoherently through his gag but nods his head yes.

"Jane, put the gun down.  There's no way out of this now.  I'm not going
anywhere without Mulder."

"That's funny; I was thinking the same thing myself when I came here
tonight."  She looks down at Mulder.  Keeping one hand on the trigger, she
takes the other and lightly touches his hair with her fingertips.  Mulder
groans.  "Put the gun down, Agent,  or I swear to God I'll shoot him right
through those beautiful green eyes he has."  Jane cocks her gun.

Mulder stomps his feet in frustration and makes another muffled sound
through his gag. Scully, don't put that gun down, please, please, please.
She's going to kill us all. Please, Scully, just shoot her; shoot her now!

Mulder is screaming at her with his eyes.  They are sparkling with
frustration and anger. She knows what he's trying to tell her; she
understands what Jane intends to do.

"Jane, please, can't we just talk about this?  It doesn't have to end this
way.  Nobody wants this to end this way.  We know that you never wanted to
hurt anyone.  Really, we understand that."  Scully tries to keep the
pleading sound from her voice.

"You keep saying 'we'...like you give a shit about anything that happens to
me." Jane snorts loudly at that.  "But it's your fault that it's come to
this.  You won't let him alone.  He never had a chance to know me, to let
our love end this lonely existence, for the both of us.  This is all your
fault, you stupid bitch."  Jane's voice is getting shriller, her face more
flushed and out of control.

Mulder turns his head to face Jane, trying to plead with his eyes.  If she
loves him so goddammed much, maybe she'll listen to him.  He'll just tell
her he loves her. Just get them out of this murderous triangle.

Jane sees Mulder staring at her, and she touches his face where she hit him,
caressing it softly.  Slowly she pulls down his gag so she can hear his
voice.

"Jane." Mulder's voice is rough; his lips feel thick and his tongue is dry.
"Jane, please. You don't want this to happen; how will we know what our
future might be if you do this? What good does this do you and me?"

"Fox, we don't have to end it like this.  You and I could walk out of here
tonight.  There's nothing I would rather have in the entire world than for
you and I to walk out of this mess and go somewhere else.  We could leave
her behind.  She doesn't love you; she doesn't love you like I love you.
You know that, don't you?"  Jane waves her gun in Scully's direction and
then back at him.

"Yes, Jane.  I know that."  Mulder's voice is calm now, his eyes only on
this madwoman in his bedroom.  "I know that she doesn't love me, Jane, not
like you love me.  She can't." Mulder knows that Jane will never understand
what he's really saying to her.  She isn't capable of understanding the
difference between love and obsession.  He hardly understands himself, this
thing between Scully and him, but he knows it's nothing like the desperation
standing in front of him.

Jane turns to Scully now, her eyes bright with fury. "Do you love Fox?"

Scully is momentarily stunned by the question.  Her eyes dart from Mulder
back to Jane and then back to Mulder again.  His eyes remain unmoved from
Jane.

"Jane.." Mulder interrupts the question, trying to get Jane to focus on him
and not on Scully. "Jane, what does any of that matter? This is about you
and me, not Agent Scully. She doesn't have anything to do with this; this is
just you and me." His voice is coaxing now, trying vainly to sound warm and
not desperate.

Slowly Jane turns her head back to look at Mulder. Her face loses a bit of
its frantic air as she stares at him intently. She takes a step back, still
pointing her gun at him, arm fully extended. "I can't believe it." Her
whisper sounds loud in the quiet room. "You love her, don't you?" No more
high rage in her voice, no more desperate need, just disbelief.
"Oh, Fox, you love her.  Tell me the truth."  Jane's eyes are filling up
with tears.  "All this time I thought you could love me, and you've been
loving her..."  All the emotion seems to evaporate from Jane's body.  She
practically deflates before his eyes.  Somehow she keeps the gun pointed at
him, but her arm is starting to shake.

===
 
She can see it in his eyes.  It's all there, in those beautiful eyes of his.
He's trying desperately not to let her see, but it's too late.  She sees
what she should have seen ages ago.  He loves her.  He loves the red headed
woman standing on the other side of the room with her gun pointing at Jane's
head.  How could this have happened?  She feels her eyes starting to fill
with tears; she knows she's about to break down and start sobbing. This is
so unfair.  Her life is so unfair.  She could have made him happy; she knows
she could have.  There's only one thing left now -- she can't take him with
her any more.  Not if he doesn't love her; that would be so unfair to him.
And she loves him, even if he doesn't love her.

===

Mulder watches in horror as Jane takes her gun and points it at her own
head.  It's over in a second.  He screams at her to stop, but he's too late,
too late to end her pain, too late to make her see the futility of loving
him.  He throws himself from his chair, trying desperately to get loose from
the bindings, to get away from this horror show.  He can hear Scully now,
her voice in his still ringing ears.  She's loosening the ties around his
hands and feet, trying to calm him down by giving him his freedom.

"Mulder stop.  Stop, Mulder.  Hold on, please.  I've got you now."  She's on
the floor with him, trying to pull him away from the nightmare on his
bedroom floor.  He's grabbed her now and won't let go.

"Oh, no, Scully.  How did this happen?!"  He starts to sob now, holding onto
her with an iron grip.  She holds him tightly and lets him cry.

===

"Scully, do you think Agent Childers was right?"

Mulder was lying in the latest of a long line of hospital beds, curled up on
his side, while his partner stood next to him, his hand in hers.  He was
fine; he just had a nasty bruise on the side of his face and a gash in his
lower lip.  He was very much in shock when they arrived by ambulance several
hours earlier.  He was still exhausted enough that it was felt by everyone
concerned that he would be better off staying overnight for observation.
'Everyone concerned' consisted mostly of Scully.  She told the doctor on
duty that she was Mulder's personal physician and that she wanted him to
stay overnight.  Case closed.

"What do you mean, Mulder?  What about Agent Childers?" She spoke softly,
smoothing his hair with her free hand.  She was waiting for the sedative to
take effect so he could get some sleep.  Another request from his personal
physician.

"He said that only 'psychos' wanted to play with me.  He was just being
stupid, but in a way, he's right, I think.  I'm only fit for twisted souls.
It's like I'm some huge loser magnet."

"Oh Mulder, don't say that.  You know that's not true."

Mulder thought back on the people in his life, the people he had touched
along the way, or who had touched him.  Samantha, a sister he devoted his
life to but couldn't save in the end.  His father, who seemed to love and
despise him in equal amounts.  A mother who loved him but could never talk
to him.  Phoebe and Diana, both liars who only used him for their own
personal gains. All those cases in the VCU.  Spooky Mulder, somehow eerily
connected with life's losers. Now Jane.  They were all there, floating past
his mind's eye, every pathetic one of them.

"I'm not twisted, Mulder, and I care about you, right?"

He nodded his head a little.

"It's true, you have had more than your fair sure of people whom you didn't
deserve, who didn't deserve how much you cared for them.  But that's the
important part, don't you think?  That you never  gave in halves."

She had all of his concentration now, forcing him to concentrate on her and
not on the numbness that was beginning to start in his feet.

"I'm here, Mulder, and even though I'm not sure I understand it, there's a
chance I've always been here with you, isn't there?"

He remembered that case.  That was so long ago.  But she was right.  He's
surprised she remembered that.  Then again, he was not surprised at all.
"Yes...yes, that's true."

"I'd like to think I'm pretty sane, and you know that I would never hurt
you, right?"

"I know that, Scully.

"Then why don't you forget anything that idiot Childers said and concentrate
on going to sleep now.  I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Good night, Scully."

"Good night, Mulder."
 

---THE END---