Achilles' Heel
fran58@wonderhorse.net
Part Two

"God dammit, Ritter!  I asked for a run-down on the three
pending cases we've got, not an expose that sounds like it
was written by a sixth grader!"

The respite the trip to Wisconsin had brought hadn't lasted
long, Scully reflected.  Within a week, Mulder had gone from
almost mellow to a cutting tautness.

Scully could see Peyton straighten his back struggle and for
the right words.  "I just did what you asked.  I did the best that I
could given the information I had.  If it isn't up to your
standards, then maybe you should handle it yourself."

Mulder crumpled the file in a fist.  His knuckles were white and
the tips of his fingers an angry red.  "I'll do that, Ritter," he
said, his voice low and ominous.  Pitching the file to the floor,
Mulder turned and stalked out the door.

Ritter abruptly deflated.  "This isn't working out," he said
shaking his head.  "I don't know what I'm doing.  And Mulder
isn't making it any easier."

"He's been uptight lately.  I'm not entirely sure what's going
on, but, you're only part of it," Scully stared at the door after
Mulder.  "And I think he's still harboring some resentment toward
you."

Ritter slumped into the chair behind Mulder's desk.  "It's all
such a mess.  I really thought I could do some good by
coming here.  Make up for what happened.  It isn't working out
that way."

"Mulder thinks you're only here to do penance," Scully moved
carefully over to the desk and leaned a hip against its side.  "Is
that what's going on?"

Ritter shook his head, then shrugged.  "In part, I guess.  But
only in part," his gaze traveled over the office and came to rest
on Scully.  "I thought that maybe I could learn something here.
Despite what I said to you on the Fellig case, I knew you
were a good investigator.  You made me feel," he paused. 
"Like I had a lot to learn.  In more ways than one."

Scully nodded slowly.  "All right," she said and slid into a half
sitting position on the desk.  "I'm not entirely sure what Mulder's
situation is.  He generally isn't this volatile.  Just be patient. 
You're not doing as badly as you think."

~~~~~~~~~~

Late-afternoon.  

Golden sunlight poured through the windows set high in the
walls of the office.  Only the hum from her laptop broke the
silence.

Scully pushed back from the work table and stretched.  An
afternoon devoid of both Mulder and Ritter had allowed her to
tie up several loose ends that had been calling to her.  At the
moment, she felt industrious and contented.  Her mind and
desk were clear.  The room was quiet.

She contemplated making some tea.

Just as she was preparing to stand, the office door swung
open.  Jo Sartini appeared in the doorway wearing a visitor's
badge.  She blinked in surprise at Scully.

"Can I help you?" Scully asked.

"Where's Mulder?  I'm supposed to meet him here."

Scully paused.  "He should be back soon, I expect.  Can I help
you with something?"

"No.  I'll just wait.  Mulder said he would let me look at some
of the abduction case files on my dad." Jo moved around the
office and studied the cluttered walls.  

Scully felt her eyebrows go up.  "Oh?  Did he mention which
ones?"

"I probably shouldn't say.  In case they're... classified or
something," Jo said sounding a bit smug.  She turned toward
Scully.  "I guess I wasn't expecting anyone but Mulder... is this
your office, too?"

Scully pursed her lips.  "Not exactly.  I have one upstairs, so
does Agent Ritter.  I spend most of my time here, however."

"Mulder didn't mention that," said Jo.

Scully opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Mulder's
entrance.

"Hey, Jo!"  He smiled.  "You made it."  Mulder walked to his
desk and dropped a stack of old magazines on top of the
papers already there.  "You get your files?"

Jo shot a calculating glance at Scully.  "No."

Scully thinned her lips. "Mulder, can I see you for a moment?" 
She turned and walked into the other room.

Mulder followed, pulling on his tie and shedding his jacket. 
"Yeah?"

Scully lowered her voice.  "Exactly what files were going to
show her, Mulder?  There are things there that --"

Mulder shook his head.  "Don't sweat it, Scully.  I have some
information pulled and set aside for Jo.  I told her if
she showed up and I wasn't here to ask you or Ritter to get the
files off my desk.  They're labeled with her name."

"She didn't mention that.  She just asked for you."

"Maybe she forgot," shrugged Mulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rain poured down the car window nearly obliterating the dingy
buildings that lined the street.  The overwhelming dampness
sank into Mulder's bones, making him shiver.

"Crap, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack," muttered
Marsh.

"Just keep your eyes open," said Mulder.  He drove slowly,
scanning each alley and doorway for Jo.  "Tell me again what
happened."

Marsh sighed.  "I don't know.  She was complaining about a
headache and rubbing her neck and pacing a lot.  We were at
Wen's and my apartment, just hanging.  I went out to the
kitchen to get some chips, and she was gone."

"So you went to look for her."

"Yeah, I thought maybe she just went outside for some air or
something.  When I couldn't find her, I looked around a bit.  I
figured she went home.  So I called and left a message for her to
get back to me.  When she didn't, I called your cell."

When he had gotten Marsh's call, Mulder first checked on Scully.  

It was almost the end of their work day, and, as usual, she was 
pecking at her laptop in the basement, unaffected by any calling 
beacon that Jo may have felt.  Well, he had thought, relieved, at 
least there weren't two of them to search for.

Now, after three hours of driving a coordinated grid pattern, he
was feeling uneasy.  He had enlisted the Gunmen and Scully's
help.  They hadn't had any luck either.

He was rounding another corner when his cell phone rang.  He
snatched it up.  "Mulder."

Frohike's voice filled his ear.  "Me and the red head have her
cornered.  Better get over here pronto.  Scully's been trying to
examine her, but, she looks like she wants to bolt."

Mulder pulled over and hastily scratched an address down. 
"We're on our way."



"I don't know, Mulder.  Without taking her to a hospital, that's
all I can tell you.  She'll won't let me examine her."

"Well, the hospital is out.  She comes close to hysterics every
time someone mentions it." Mulder's brow creased with worry
and he looked past Scully's shoulder to where Jo was huddled
on the couch leaning against Marsh.

"You know what's weird?" said Langly.  "It's weird that she's
the only one that was affected.  Why didn't Scully's chip go ape
shit, too?"

Scully glanced at Mulder.  "Good question."

"Maybe they only wanted Jo.  No one else," Mulder said
distractedly.

"Then why not just take her?  Why bother 'calling' her?" asked
Scully.

Mulder shook his head and moved to the couch.  He knelt down
and spoke quietly to Jo.  "Hey, if you don't want to go to the
hospital, why don't you let Scully take a good look at you
here?"

Jo dragged her eyes toward Scully.  "She won't hurt me?"

Mulder laughed softly.  "No, of course not.  She just wants to
make sure that you're all right.  Marsh and I want to make sure
that you're all right, too.  Okay?"

Jo gazed to Mulder.  "Will you stay with me?  You won't let her
hurt me?"  Her voice was a whisper.

"Sure, I'll stay with you.  Nothing bad will happen."

Jo licked her lips.  "Okay, then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Mulder had watched the muscle in Skinner's jaw twitch
for the third time.  He had to hand it to the Assistant Director,
the guy was really trying not to lose his cool.  Trying, but not
succeeding too well.

"...and I expect to hear that you are cooperating fully.  Got
that, Agent Mulder?  Agent Ritter is a competent agent, and
you will treat him with the respect he deserves."  The clipped
tones still rung in his ear.

Marsh's voice and a sudden burst of laughter from the bar
brought Mulder back to the present.

"So, he reamed you out, huh?  That sucks."  Marshall
brought his beer mug down with a determined thump,
sending tiny jets of the perspiration that clung to the glass
spiraling through the air.

"Yeah, well," Mulder shrugged.

"Did he rag on your partner, too?"  Marsh was waving his
now empty mug at one of the harried wait staff.

"I don't think I need another one, Marsh.  Thanks, anyway."

"One more.  Then we'll go.  The guy is already bringing them
over."

Another beer appeared on the scarred table before Mulder. 
Presto!  If I could only do that at home and with food, Mulder
thought.

"So did he?"

Mulder looked blank.  "Did who what?"

"Did your boss rag on your partner, too?"

Mulder compressed his lips and said flatly,  "No.  Agent Scully
has managed to play rather nicely with Ritter."

"So they're chums, huh?  Ah.  Well, that's how it goes," Marsh
said, and drained his mug.



He was going to be hung-over.  Already, he had that dry, cottony
feeling in his mouth and pressure behind his eyes.  When he
shook his head, the room did a great imitation of a jell-o cube,
the kind his mother used to make when he was small.  He would
pick them up, let them wobble between his forefinger and
thumb, narrow his eyes and watch the world distort and wiggle...

Crap.  He should go home.  He should drink some water. 
Lots of water.  Lots and lots of water.  

But it seemed Marsh needed a favor. 

 Jo needed a place to crash for a while.        

"Why doesn't she stay with you?"  Mulder's voice sounded
more snappish than he intended, but for God's sake, it was
late and he had a headache coming on.  He endeavored to
look earnest.

"I'm already bunking with Wen, and we just plain don't have the
room.  There's only one bedroom -- Wen has that -- and I take
the fold-out couch in the living room.  It's only for a few weeks. 
Just until her landlord gets the asbestos work done."  Marsh
looked tired, too.  "She doesn't know that many people in D.C.
yet.  Wen and I are pretty much it."  Marsh paused.  "And she
trusts you.  You saw that the other day when she was called. 
Trust isn't easy for her."

Mulder sighed and yawned.  Sleep played at the edges of
his mind.  He would have agreed to almost anything if it meant
he could go home.  "Yeah, okay.  She can stay a couple
weeks, I guess.  She can have the bedroom.  I spend most of
my time at home on the couch anyhow."

~~~~~~~~~~

Rain tapped against the window.  Mulder switched on the
lamp against the gloom of the afternoon and paced.  

Bad idea.

Jo staying with him was a bad idea.  

He liked his relative privacy.  Scully had told him to tell Marsh
and company that Jo should stay elsewhere if he felt
uncomfortable.  That he would help her find affordable,
temporary housing.

A sound idea, in theory.  Mulder had tried to pin Marsh down,
but the man was baby oil slippery, insisting that a stay with
Mulder would be much better for Jo.  Since her abductions,
Marsh said, Jo couldn't handle too many changes in too short
a time.  Mulder was a known entity by now.  She felt safe
at his apartment on Hegal Place.  Mulder was too worn out to
argue further.  On some level, he knew that Scully was right. 
That he should exercise more caution.  He wondered if he was
ignoring her unsolicited advice out of pure contrariness.  He'd
certainly been feeling mulish lately.

Mulder's pacing was interrupted by a hesitant rap on the door.

"It's open," said Mulder.

Jo opened the door and took a lithe, tentative step into the
apartment.  She gave Mulder a shy smile.  "I hope that this is
an okay time for this."

Mulder shrugged.  "As good as any other.  Come on in. 
Where's your stuff?"

Jo hefted a duffel bag from the floor.  "This is it.  Just some
clothes and a few other things."  She carried the duffel over to
where Mulder stood in the center of the room.  "I want to thank
you for doing this for me."  She looked at Mulder with dark,
trusting eyes.  "It's a big relief.  I have a tendency to get
worked up over certain things since..."  Her voice trailed off
and she hitched a shoulder. 

Mulder's sighed inwardly.  Of course she would be a gun-shy. 
He sometimes forgot that the most of the world didn't posses
Scully's almighty control.  "It's okay," he said softly.  "Things
will be just fine."

At least he hoped so.



The first few days, Jo had been skittish and high strung.  She
walked tentatively through the rooms, unsure and over
conciliatory. Mulder felt himself sinking.  He had no time, no
energy to draw her out, make her feel at home.  He didn't want
the job.  He wanted less tension, not more.  He wanted his office
the way it use to be -- just him and Scully.

Now, he had another person wandering around his
apartment, crowding him.  Standing in his space.

Slowly, Mulder grew used to Jo's presence.  He began sleeping
better.  The office still put his teeth on edge and made his
stomach clench, but coming home-- coming home was better.  

Yes, Mulder had definitely  been sleeping better, but
apparently, Jo hadn't.  He could sometimes hear her
nightmares from the couch.  He should have expected it, he
thought.  He knew Scully suffered bouts of nightmares.  He
assumed it was latent memories from her abduction that
caused Jo's bad dreams.  He hadn't asked specifically.
                                        
Tonight, they were bad.  He had woken to the gauzy veil of
deep night.  At first, Mulder had trouble pulling himself into
wakefulness.  His limbs were weighty and slow moving.  His
mind still buried in his own ephemeral dreams.  The sounds
from the other room drew him to his feet and to the bedroom
door.  Mulder knocked once, the pushed the door open a
crack.  He leaned heavily on the door frame.

"Hey, Jo, you okay?"

There was a pause, then a snuffling reply, "Yeah.  I guess.  I
just had a nightmare.  I'm sorry if I woke you up."

Mulder yawned.  "It's okay."

"Come in, Mulder.  You don't have to stand there.  Come
and sit down.  You look like you're about to drop."  Her voice
was ethereal in the dark.

"Okay," Mulder shuffled into the room and sunk onto the
edge of the bed.  "I can't clear my head.  I feel like I'm in a
cloud."

"Maybe you're coming down with something," she said.

"Yeah, maybe," Mulder repositioned himself.  "I should really
go back to the couch if you're all right."

Jo was sitting with her knees curled to her chest.  "Just stay for a
few minutes?"  She reached out one white hand and lay it on
Mulder's arm.  "I hate bad dreams."

"Mmm.  Sure."  Mulder could feel his lids drooping and his
muscles relax.  Sitting down had been a mistake.  He wanted
nothing more than to sink into the soft mattress and sleep for
an eon.  "I'll stay for a bit."

~~~~~~~~~~

The file drawer slide shut with a sharp clack.  "I still can't find
those files, Scully."

"They were on your desk this morning, Mulder.  You were
looking at them."  Scully looked over the top of her laptop.

"I know.  Are you sure you didn't move them?"

"I'm sure."

Mulder stood in the middle of the room.  "Fuck!"

There was a stifled sigh from Scully.  She looked up again. 
"I'm going to grab a snack.  Do you want anything?"

Mulder shook his head.  "No.  Thanks."  

Grab a snack.  More likely she just needed an excuse to get
away from him.  It had been a hellish morning.  Mulder watched
as Scully carefully logged out of the session on her laptop.  She
pushed her chair back and bumped her leather briefcase.  It fell
over with a soft thud and a manilla folder slid across the floor.

Mulder stooped to pick it up and blinked.  It was his file. 
"Scully?  Why did you have this?"

Scully frowned.  "Have what?"

"This is what I've been looking for.  It fell out of your
briefcase."

Scully looked perplexed.  "Are you sure it's the right one?  
Maybe it got mixed in with something else.  I don't remember 
picking it up or putting it in my case."

"No?"

"No."  Scully approached him.  "Mulder, you don't honestly
believe that I took that file from you for some nefarious purpose,
do you?"

"All I know is that you had the file."

Scully scowled.  "I'm taking a break," she said tightly then
turned on heel and stalked to the door.

Mulder frowned, fingering the file thoughtfully.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ritter tapped a pencil against her coffee table.  "What I don't
understand is why they targeted Mulder.  Why not choose
someone less high profile.  The guy's an FBI agent.  Why not
pick an accountant or something?"

Scully nodded.  "I wondered the same thing." She reached
across Ritter's outstretched arms and hefted a stack of folders. 
She scanned them quickly, then pulled one out of the pile and
opened it.  "Here.  I found a couple things that might explain
that.  Jo completed two years at The University of the District of
Columbia before dropping out.  There was some trouble with
one of her instructors.  The school was pretty closed-mouth
about it, but I managed to get some information out of some of
the instructor's colleagues."

Peyton looked over her shoulder at the file.  "Jo and Marsh were
blackmailing her?  The instructor?"

"Looks that way."

"What does that have to do with Mulder?"

"I've been thinking.  The blackmailing wasn't the first incident. 
If you look at them together, they form a pattern.  I think that
they're in this not just for the money, but for the excitement."

"Okay," Ritter said.  "So, they're thrill seekers.  Makes a kind of
sense.  That, combined with the fact that Wendell had access to
Mulder..."

"Exactly.  And then there's Jo's alleged abduction.  That alone
would interest Mulder.  Add that to the fact that Jo is Max
Fenig's daughter and you've got powerful motivation for
Mulder's involvement," finished Scully.

"But, how would they know any of this?  Does Wendell have
access to any of the records?"

"Not authorized access, but..." Scully shrugged and turned to
face Ritter.  "You've got to remember that in certain circles, Fox
Mulder is a recognizable name.  People know about him and
what he does.  They follow his work.  It wouldn't be very
difficult for Wendell, Jo or Marsh to get a hold of this
information."

By the time midnight arrived, Ritter had eaten his way through a
large pizza, and Scully had finished her cheese ravioli.  Casting
an eye around her apartment, she was startled to find it looked
more like Mulder's place than hers, with files and papers
stacked about, and strewn take-out containers discarded on the
floor.

Scully wandered over to the window and opened it letting the
chilly night air run over her face.  Hours of work, and they had
little more than when they started.  Ritter came up behind her,
and she flinched only slightly when he laid his hands on her
shoulders.

"Guess we should stop for the night, huh?" he asked softly.

Scully nodded.  She was bone tired and frustrated.

Ritter spoke softly again.  "Dana, I know that you don't want to
hear this... but, maybe it's time to let go.  You can't stop him, or
help him, if he doesn't want help."

"I know.  I know, Peyton.  But I have to try.  I owe him that
much."  She owed him everything, she added silently.

"It isn't good for you.  You're always tired.  I'm... concerned,"
he said, stumbling over his words a bit.  She could feel the
warmth of his hands on her shoulders and for a brief moment,
she longed to lean back into the warmth.

The moment passed and Ritter removed his hands.  After a
bit, she could hear him shuffling papers and picking up the
used take-out boxes.

Intellectually, she knew she was fighting a losing battle, but
deep inside, she knew she couldn't quit.  

It would be like cutting out her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sugar, sugar, sugar.  Where the hell is the sugar?"  Mulder
muttered singsong under his breath.  "We aren't out, are we? 
How can we be out?"  His aggravation was tangible.

Across the room, Scully took a deep, silent breath.  A
cleansing breath, she told herself.  A relaxing breath.  A...

Mulder cursed loudly.  "Dammit!" 

...soothing breath.  Okay.

She kept her voice light.  "Why don't you try looking inside 
the cupboard?  Behind the creamer?"

Mulder bent and rummaged beneath the coffee machine. 
"You're a genius, Scully!  I thought maybe you and Ritter had
scarfed it all up."

Scully shook her head.  "You're the only one who uses the
sugar, Mulder."

"Guess so," he said as he refilled the alien head sugar bowl. 
He poured a coffee and stirred in a heaping teaspoon of
sugar.  Back at his desk, he removed a brown bag from one of
the lower drawers and set about eating lunch.

Scully stared.

"What?"  Mulder asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

"I don't think I've ever seen you bring anything to eat, aside
from a bag of sunflower seeds," said Scully.  "Maybe the
occasional doughnut."

"It was a gift," he said.

"Your lunch was a gift?"

"Yeah."

"May I ask from whom?"

"Jo.  She made it," Mulder was unwrapping a second
sandwich.

"She *made* you lunch?"

Mulder gave her a half shrug.  "She said it was the least she
could do.  After all, she *is* living rent-free."

Scully blinked.  "Right.  Of course."  She shifted in her chair. 
"Mulder, I don't want to be a pest, but, have you done any more
checking into this group, New Light?"

Mulder shrugged and swallowed.  "They're all right, Scully. 
They just need some organization and a clear plan."

"That's not exactly what I meant.  Are they legitimate?  There
are lots of different scams out there."

Mulder snorted.  "What in God's name would they gain by
pretending to be a group interested in alien abduction?  Come
on, Scully."

Scully traced the edge of the table she was sitting at with her
thumb, and glanced up at Mulder, who was now drinking his
coffee.  "At first glance, it would seem innocuous, I agree,
but..." she cleared her throat and Mulder looked over at her. 
"But, you never know."

He shrugged.

"I just don't want to see you get caught up in something you
can't get out of," she said carefully.  "You have a tendency to
jump in with both feet and ask questions later."

"I'm a big boy, Scully.  I won't let the fledglings hurt me.  Next
time we meet, I'll wear a helmet."

Scully closed her eyes and bit her tongue.

~~~~~~~~~~

Scully had taken a late lunch and Ritter was no where to be
seen.  At first, Mulder had been glad of the time to concentrate
without distraction, but as the afternoon dragged on, he found
he missed Scully's composed presence.  His mind skittered as
if on ice, unable to land and focus on any one subject.  His
head buzzed like a live wire and a headache lurked behind his
eyes.  Maybe a walk would help.

He headed south toward the mall.  The day was cool, but not
so cool that it kept people indoors.  Mulder took long strides
and breathed deeply.  The sun felt good and the air was
pungent and fresh.  He walked quickly, feeling somewhat better
than he had.  He was even beginning to think that Scully might be
right about Ritter.  He should give the guy a chance.  Everyone
deserved a chance, right?

A light breeze caught at his tie and Mulder found himself
leaning against a tree.  He tilted his head and watched
the moving mass of green above.  Sunlight filtering through the
leaves made them translucent.

Mulder pushed off the trunk, stretched, and glanced around.  A
familiar figure caught his eye.  

Scully.

She was leaning against the trunk of another tree, her black
leather case clasped to her chest, head tilted up, an intent look
on her face.  On another occasion, he would have been
pleased to see her.  The fly in the ointment was that she was
looking and smiling at Peyton Ritter.  Rancor rose unbidden,
making Mulder's stomach churn.

His momentary peace dispelled, Mulder turned on heel and left.

Back in the basement, Mulder squeezed his head between the
palms of his hands.  His headache had blossomed and he felt very
tired.  His last caffeine fix must have worn off.  He laid his head
down on his desk and closed his eyes, willing the throbbing in his
skull to stop.

What seemed like mere minutes later, he awoke to Scully
gently shaking his shoulder.  The lights were dim and darkness
gathered beyond the windows.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she crouched down next to him and smiled
softly.  "Why don't you let me drive you home, okay?  You're as
white as a sheet."

Mulder nodded and ran a trembling hand over his face.  "Yeah. 
Okay.  I must be coming down with something."  He was cold
and pulled his suit jacket tightly around himself.  His head
buzzed uncomfortably.

"Want to grab something to eat?  You look like you could use
it."

Mulder shook his head.  "Mmmm, no.  I don't think so."

Scully frowned and went to the table where her laptop lay.  She
rummaged through a drawer and came back with a bottle of water
and a chocolate bar.

Mulder raised his eyebrows.

"You're probably dehydrated, and the sugar isn't going to hurt,"
Scully said.  She held the water and chocolate out to him.  "Eat
up."

Mulder dutifully took a swallow of water, then another.  It felt
good sliding down his throat.  It tasted clean and sweet.  He put
the bottle on the desk in front of him, his fingers were white
where he gripped the plastic.

Scully was watching him carefully, with that concerned-for-her-
patient look she had.  She tipped her head toward the candy bar. 
"Chocolate next."  

Mulder reached for the candy bar.

She leaned toward him and a lock of hair fell across one eye.  
"Mulder?   Can I ask you something?"

"Can I stop you?" he asked, trying for a light tone.

She smiled.  "Probably not."  Scully settled herself on
the edge of his desk.  He could feel her warmth and wanted to
warm his icy hands, wanted to soothe his jumbled mind with her
logic and self-possession.  "Have you made an appointment for a
physical?"

Mulder sighed and dropped his head to the back of his chair. 
"Not this again.  Please."

"Mulder, just..." she closed her eyes and puffed out a breath of
air.  "You need to take care of yourself.  I'm worried."

"That's sweet, Scully, but I'm fine.  Just tired."

"No, Mulder.  It's more than that.  You're totally off your game,"
she twisted to face him.  "I mean that in the best possible sense." 
She stopped again, searching.  "You... Mulder... you can leave me
breathless when we're working a case.  You can astound me and
throw me completely off balance.  No one else does that.  Not on
a regular basis, anyhow."  She pressed her lips together.  "Mulder,
I haven't been left in the dust for weeks now.  Something isn't
right."

Mulder looked up at her intending to answer.  The buzzing in
his head grew louder, and he lurched forward and grabbed the
edge of his desk. "Scully," he mumbled, trying to look up at her. 
"Take me home."

End Two