***

And every hour that goes by
the harder I become,
because I let that well run dry
because I left you unanswered.
- Jude Johnstone

Julia wasn't very good in psychology.  It was, in fact, her worst subject.
But she loved her psych class all the same.  She smiled to herself wryly as
she hurried up to class, quickly ruffling her hair before she entered the
classroom.  She was one of about fifteen girls in the class who had a mild
to moderate crush on their instructor, Dr. Luder.

The first time she had walked into that classroom, it had been with a slight
sulk and a heavy skepticism for the abilities of Dr. Luder.  He was new to
the university, had in fact never taught before.  When he walked in, she had
noted that he was extraordinarily good looking, but hadn't really began to
get a little flushed until he started teaching.

The man was a genius, that much was obvious.  And his intelligence made him
all the more attractive.  It was true that he wasn't the most polished
instructor, nor was he the easiest grader.  But those sorts of things didn't
really matter.  Julia was well and truly smitten, and set out to become a
Luder groupie if she could.

She wasn't the only one.  Pi-Phi girls who never went to a Friday afternoon
class in their lives stood outside the classroom, waiting for it to empty
and reapplying lipstick, every week without fail before Luder's class.  His
office hours were always packed with girls who came up with questions just
to have an excuse to go see him.  And Julia, to her eternal shame, was one
of them.

He didn't seem to notice.  He treated them all with the same absent respect,
boys as well as girls, that he would bestow on a checkout girl at the local
grocery store.  If she hadn't caught him checking out a woman's legs one day
in the hall, she would have thought he was gay.  And then there were the
photographs in his office.

There were five or six of them, propped up against books on his stuffed
bookshelf.  One was of a boy and a girl, brunettes, probably brother and
sister.  She wondered if they were his children and felt a stab of jealousy.
Another was of an older woman with sleek silver hair and a look of arresting
sophistication.  His mother, she supposed, or a grandmother.  And the rest
were of a woman.

She was an incredibly pretty woman, with short hair and a wise, weary face.
The first was a framed black-and-white of her in some sort of a crime scene.
She was crouching and pointing at something on the ground, looking up at the
photographer with a look of supreme annoyance on her face.  She was
gorgeous, though.  A knockout.  Her black suit fit her perfectly, her hair
fanned back from her face in soft waves, and the eyes that looked up at the
camera were the kind that guys liked to gaze into for hours on end.

The second photograph was more appealing.  She was sitting on a park bench,
her feet tucked up underneath her, in a pair of jeans that showed off her
slim legs and a little t-shirt that offered a peek of her midriff.  She was
laughing at the camera, her arms slung over the back of the bench.  Her hair
was pulled up into a haphazard ponytail and she looked less polished, less
smooth than in the other photo; Julia guessed that she didn't have any
makeup on.  This picture was color, though, and the blaze of her red hair
immediately attracted one's attention.

The other photos wavered between the two extremes: businesslike and poised
versus sexy and free.  Julia, upon a few weeks of looking at them when Luder
was preoccupied, decided that she liked the cute-and-sexy one best.  That
was the one where the woman was driving a car, looking over at the camera in
the passenger seat.  She wore a suit with a severe cut, but she had a little
twinkle in her eyes and a tiny grin on her face that made Julia think that
she liked the photographer very, very much.  It was the only photo that
showed her eyes well enough to see their color, which was a light blue.  It
wasn't the color so much as the expression and the little crow's feet around
her eyes that made it Julia's favorite, though.

What she wouldn't give to look like that woman.

His wife?  Julia mused as she sat in class, listening to Luder talk about
abnormal psychology and the social implications of schizophrenia.  His
sister?  His girlfriend?  It could have been any of them.  What did she mean
to him?  Obviously a great deal.

So what if I have a little crush on him?  Julia asked herself as she left
class that day.  He's gorgeous.  It's not like I'm going to start stalking
him.  But she did hang around the psychology department doing her homework
that afternoon, hoping to get a glimpse of him.

When he wandered in, looking lost, she glanced up from her homework and
returned his vague nod.  He exchanged greetings with the receptionist and an
intern, then disappeared into his office.

"Lord, that man is handsome," the intern, a spunky, blonde sorority type,
remarked.

"Tell me about it," said the graying, portly secretary.  "Makes me wish I
wasn't married."

"Did you ever find out if *he* was married?"  The intern asked.

"He's not," she said.  "No girlfriend, either.  Jenna in acquisitions heard
him talking to his mother on the phone."

"He makes me feel like I should straighten his tie and make sure he has his
glasses," the intern sighed.  "He's got a lost, helpless look about him."

"Do you think so?  I think he looks kinda sad and lonely."

"That, too.  He could use a good woman."

"You're too young for him, Stacy.  Don't even think about it."

"I'm not going to make a play on a professor," Stacy mumbled.  "But if he
were to make a play for *me*...that would be another story."

"And get you both written up for unprofessional behavior."

"But oh, what a way to go."

Julia, annoyed that she wasn't the only one who recognized the merits of Dr.
Luder, picked up her bag and moved down the hall to another chair.  One that
just happened to be right across from Luder's office.

And if she leaned over a little to hear better when she caught his voice,
well, it was a free country, wasn't it?

He was on the phone, talking in low tones to someone who annoyed him
exceedingly.  Julia caught a word here and there, something about him not
wanting to get involved.  And then he exploded.

"Damn it, Byers," he said, his voice loud enough for the intern and the
receptionist to hear it down the hall, "That is not an option.  You're just
going to have to deal with it yourself.  I can't come to DC."

Pause.  Then, "Ask Scully, for God's sake.  Don't you ever talk to her anymore?"

There was a prolonged silence.  Julia stood up and sidled up to the door,
pressing her ear to the doorjamb.  "You mean she hasn't let up on you yet?"
Luder demanded incredulously.  "Does she still think that I'm being held in
a silo somewhere?"

Pause.  "God, Langley, would you just ask her?  She'll give up eventually -"
here his voice cracked.  "No, guys, I can't come back.  You swore you
wouldn't tell her.  I can't let her come here, okay?  You know that."

When he hung up the phone, Julia peeked inside cautiously, wondering if he
was going to start crying.  His voice had sounded strained, wounded.

He wasn't crying.  He was sitting at his desk, one hand in his hair, the
other holding a small piece of paper.  He was staring at it, his face bleak
and empty, and showed no signs of looking away before the world ended.

Biting her lip, feeling the need to rescue him from this emotional turmoil,
Julia sidled into the room.  "Dr. Luder?"  She asked quietly.

He looked up and slid the paper underneath a pile on his desk.  But Julia
saw the flash of red on what turned out to be a photograph, and saw that the
cute-and-sexy picture was missing from his bookshelf.

"Julia," he said easily, smiling at her.  "What can I do for you?"

***

Scully, Julia thought as she walked home that afternoon.  Scully was the
woman's name.  She was certain of it.  And he didn't want her to know where
he was.

Why?  Was he some sort of a government spy, sent underground for a nefarious
purpose?  Was he in trouble with the law?  Maybe it had been a bad breakup,
and he didn't want to see her anymore.

But if that was true, then why would she think he was being held in a silo?
A *silo?*  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

For the next week, Julia thought she noticed a marked moodiness in Luder.
Her suspicions were confirmed when, before class, the girl in front of her
and Margi Setchfield sat talking about him.  "He's been such a bear lately.
I wonder if something's happened."

"Maybe he got dumped."

"Not likely."  Margi giggled.  "Who would be that stupid?"

Julia watched Luder closely for the next few weeks, her juvenile crush for
him remaining but now dormant, for she knew that it was hopeless to snag a
guy like him, who felt so much for a woman that wasn't herself.  He slowly
pulled himself out of his rut, began to smile a little more again.

But though Julia was sure that Luder wouldn't go for her, she still hung
around his office.  The chair outside his door became her standard studying
place, and she heard a few more phone conversations that maybe she shouldn't
have.  Only a few were of any consequence concerning Scully, however.

"Sir, I know that she's upset," she heard one day as she approached her
chair, letting her backpack slide down to the floor.  "I've been keeping
tabs on her.  Could you please reassure her?  Tell her that I'm all right?"

There was a short pause.  Luder sighed in frustration.  "I know that it's
against regulations. I know.  But her productivity at work is declining, and
she's still looking for me.  It's not good for her to become obsessed about
this.  Tell her a little bit of the truth, and she'll eventually get over
it.  Please, sir.  As a personal favor."

Pause.  "I know, I know.  But coming from you, she may believe it.  Sir, she
and I have been through too much together for her to believe that I'd
voluntarily leave.  And before you speak, no, we were not sexually involved."

The conversation went on like this for some time, Luder trying to convince
the man on the other end to tell "her" that he was okay and that she
shouldn't worry.  Julia began to get a vague picture of what was going on.
Luder had been forced to leave Washington, D.C. because there was some sort
of threat to his life.  The woman was not permitted to know where he was or
anything about the circumstances of his disappearance.  And Luder, against
"regulations," was asking this man to tell her that he was okay.  Something,
anything, just help her to get over this.  To get over him.

Julia's heart ached for him.

***

It was several months later, near final exams and the Christmas vacation,
that the situation with Dr. Luder came to a head.

She was sitting in Luder's class, taking notes and trying not to notice how
his hair was falling over his forehead, when the door to the classroom
opened.  She turned around to see who was coming in late - and gaped.

A woman stood there. She was short, wearing a severe suit and sunglasses.
Her hair was pulled back from her face.  She looked completely nondescript.
But the hair gave her away.  She quietly closed the door and stood in the
back of the room.

Julia turned back to Luder.

He stared at the woman for a few seconds, his composure completely gone, and
blinked.  He looked down at the page in his hand, stammered something about
attachment disorders, then asked the class what he had been saying.

A couple of the guys grinned.  The girls looked at each other warily, then
eyed the woman in the back.

After fumbling with his papers for several moments, he deferred them to the
syllabus and dismissed them.  Ten minutes early.  Julia packed up slowly,
and was one of the last people to leave the room.  Luder stood in the front
of the room until the classroom cleared.

Julia couldn't help it.  She closed the door most of the way, but stood next
to it and pressed her ear to the wall.  There was silence for several seconds.

"What are you doing here, Scully?"  He finally asked, hoarsely.

"I should ask you that question."  Her voice was low and smooth, and yet
harsh, like woodsmoke and violets.  "I hadn't thought that you would choose
such a high-profile cover.  Very clever.  It took me a while to think to
look for new professors."

"That was the plan."

"What happened, Mulder."

Julia blinked and pressed closer, wondering if she'd heard wrong.

"I had to go, Scully.  They forced me to.  I wanted to tell you, but I
wasn't permitted."

"That's what Skinner said.  After I spent months nagging him.  He said that
circumstances demanded that you leave the bureau.  What were the
circumstances, Mulder?"

"I can't tell you that, Scully -"

"Bull shit," she spat viciously, and Julia heard her heels click briskly
across the room.  "What the hell is this about, Mulder?  Did they torture
you?  Swear that they'd kill me if I contacted you?  Tell you you'd never
see your sister again?"

"Pretty much."

"They've done as much before, Mulder."

"Scully, this time they were serious.  I found something...something bad.
Something that would have blown the whole operation wide open.  They broke
into my apartment, showed me pictures of you.  Alone in your apartment.
Getting dressed.  Sleeping. Showering.  They said that they could do
whatever they wanted to you, and they would unless I took off."

"Please," she said derisively.  "You were fucking afraid.  You wanted out.
You couldn't stand the thought of living the life you had infinitely.  So
you decided to make yourself a new one."

"Scully, you know that's not true."

"What, then?  How dare you make this decision without me, Mulder?  How dare
you let the Gunmen and Skinner keep this secret from me?"

"The Lone Gunmen found me after a few weeks.  I had to make them swear that
they wouldn't spill anything.  Skinner...was part of the group that forced
me to leave.  They've still got him, Scully.  He had no choice."

"Just like you didn't have a choice.  Well, I don't buy it, Mulder.  We
always have choices.  Always.  And I chose to find you.  So that you could
tell me, to my face, why you left.  And this is the answer I receive."

"Scully, please.  Please don't do this.  You have to get out of here.  I
don't know if they're watching me."

Julia listened, breathlessly, wondering what the hell this was all about and
if "Mulder" was some sort of James Bond-Indiana Jones type and she was going
to have fantasy material for a long, long time.

There was a long, long silence.  Then, so quietly that Julia could hardly
hear her, Scully said, "Mulder, this has nearly destroyed me.  Please don't
send me away.  I can't do this job by myself.  Please, Mulder.  Forget them.
We can outwit them.  Come back with me."

"I can't, Scully.  Don't you see?  We've lost.  It's over.  They've found
leverage that will keep me in my place.  It was only a matter of time before
they used you against me."

"They've done it before.  Duane Barry..."

"Was a fluke.  It took them a while to figure out that you were more
important to me than anything else.  Including the truth."

Scully gave a short sob.  Julia ached to know what was going on in there.
She slowly, slowly shifted her stance so that she could peek through the
crack of the door.

But they were just standing together, not touching, looking each other in
the face.  She could see Luder's - Mulder's - face, and the pain there.  He
was afraid for her.  Afraid for them both.

"It took you long enough to say it," Scully said in a soft voice.

"But you've always known."

"No, not always.  When you left, I thought I was wrong."

"No, Scully.  You were right."  He touched her face with a trembling hand.
"You were right."

"Come back with me," the woman whispered, as if it hurt her to beg.

"I can't, Scully," Mulder gritted out, wheeling about to pace the room.  "I
saw a picture of you, Scully.  In your bed, in your nightgown.  With Alex
Krycek standing over you.  They've made it clear that if I come back, if I
see you, you'll suffer."

"Don't you think I can protect myself against that one-handed bastard?"

"I can't take that chance."

"Damn it, Mulder!"  Scully rounded on him, advancing against him like David
on Goliath.  Her chin was set and her eyes were hard as she stared up into
his face.  "Are you actually telling me that you plan to stay here, and
never see me again?  That you can just cast me out of your life like that?
What about the Gunmen?  Your mother?  How can you do this to us!"

"Having you safe is worth living without you, Scully," Mulder said
desperately.  "I can't be the cause of your death.  Not again."

"How can you take that decision into your hands?  This is my life, Mulder.
You are not responsible for it."

"And you're not responsible for mine.  Go back to D.C., Scully.  You'll kill
us both if you stay here."

Scully seemed to wilt at that.  She stared at Mulder for a few moments -
Julia ached to see her face - and then sat heavily in the flimsy plastic
desk closest to her.  Her bulldog stance was gone; she was like a broken doll.

"Scully," Mulder said, kneeling down next to her.  He leaned down to kiss
her hair

"Don't touch me," she whispered, and he drew back.

She looked up at him after a while, and what he saw in her eyes made him
wince.  "How could you," she murmured, as if in a trance.  "How could you
leave me to do your work - your life's work - alone?  How could you escape
from the mess you have created of your life and leave me behind?  I thought
we were beyond such things.  I thought -" her voice broke, and she took a
deep breath.  "I thought you might love me someday, Mulder.  You have been
my lover in every way but one.  At least I thought you were.  And yet you
have run away, without a moment's glance back, out of fear.  Fear!"  She
stood up suddenly, unaware of Mulder's dumbfounded expression.  "I have
feared for you.  Bled for you.  Loved you.  And this is all you can give me."

Mulder could not answer, Julia could tell.  She had the distinct impression
that Scully's love had never been communicated to him before, and that its
attainment could have meant changing his mind at one time.  But it was
clearly too late.  Scully stared at him for a moment, then closed her eyes.

"I believed in you," she said quietly.  "I wish you could have believed in me."

She turned swiftly and walked out of the room; Julia moved hastily back from
her vantage point and pretended to stare at her notebook a little ways down
the hall.  As Scully passed, she looked up.  Before the woman replaced her
sunglasses, Julia saw her eyes.  They were dry, emotionless, but conveyed a
weariness that no woman so young should feel.

***

Julia tried to find out who Scully was.  She went looking through phone
books from Washington, D.C. for the name, and found more Scullys than she
could possibly investigate.

On the web, she did find a site for the Lone Gunmen, and found them to be
almost ridiculous in their paranoia.  Crop circles, experimentation and
JFK's assassination were only a few of the things that these men held to be
the work of aliens from outer space.

It was several days before she got around to searching the federal
government pages she found.  There, listed under "Special Projects" in the
FBI, was one Dana Katherine Scully.  There was no mention of what Special
Agent Scully's Special Projects were, and Julia didn't dare try to find out
for fear of exposing Mulder - Luder.

Luder was, if anything, more depressed after that day.  He did not teach
with the same brilliance as before, and all the photographs of Scully had
disappeared from his office.  And then, one day, he vanished - simply failed
to show up for class, one day after another.  His office had been left tidy,
with only a few things missing: his photographs, some papers, his coat and
keys.

Julia hoped fervently that he had returned to D.C., to the woman whom he had
stupidly left, because, she was sure, he had not been aware that she loved
him enough to stand by him.  Julia wasn't sure if Scully would take him
back.  And if he had not returned to her... images of Dr. Luder locked in a
silo danced in Julia's head, and disturbed many a night's sleep for her.

Finis