NEW & REVISED: "Neither Here Nor There" 03/06
Author: Tesla 
Feedback: Tesla@hiwaay.net
Rating: NC-17 for violence, sexual situations, and language 

See part one for detailed headers.



"It's me."

Amanda looked through the peephole, and saw Mulder.   She 
was horribly conscious that she was wearing a sweatshirt 
and flannel pants, and her hair was flat, and she 
hesitated.  Then she saw that he was dripping wet, and she 
fumbled quickly at the locks.

He stepped in, gingerly wiping his feet on her floor mat.  
"I know I didn't...I'm sorry, but..." He trailed off.

Amanda put her hands on the lapels of his coat.  "No, 
Mulder, it's fine.  Please, take that off, you're 
shivering.  Come in, let me close the door.  I was just 
watching television."

The corner of his mouth quirked.  "Frohike gave me your 
address.  I think he suspects." He stripped off his 
raincoat and suit coat, and let her hang them up on her 
coat tree.  Grunting, he bent slightly and tugged clumsily 
at his shoelaces, jerking the shoes off and leaving them on 
the mat.  They were expensive and thoroughly wet.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" Amanda asked, pulling him back to 
the bedroom, where the light was on.  "Come get a towel.  
What happened?" she asked, her voice sharper than she 
intended.  She saw the boxer's tape on his knuckles as he 
went into the bathroom.  "Did you hit someone?" She picked 
up the remote and put Comedy Central on *mute.*

Mulder emerged after a moment in bare feet, toweling his 
head.  "I put my socks on your towel rack.  And, no.  I hit 
myself.  Well, I hit a mirror in a men's restroom in the 
lobby of a mental hospital."

Amanda felt a tender pain from her throat down to her 
loins.  She stepped up to Mulder and put her arms around 
his waist.  "It's okay," she said.  "It's okay."  His arms 
folded around her and his damp cheek rested against hers.  
She felt him shiver slightly.

"I don't want---I don't want---" Mulder muttered into her 
hair.

'Jesus Christ, I'm going to be one person who doesn't ask 
you for something,' Amanda thought.  What she said was, 
"Mulder, just relax.  If you weren't a federal agent, I'd 
offer you one of my Tylenol codeine from my dental work."

Mulder hugged her tighter.  "I may take it.  Or a beer."

"If you want a beer, I'll get you one.  You can take a 
shower, if you leave my mirror alone."

He laughed, and let go.  "You got a deal."

Amanda went in the kitchen, praying she still had beer.  If 
not, she was take her last ten dollars and go to the kid 
next door and buy his.   She heard Mulder thumping around 
in the shower, at the same time she discovered two Rolling 
Rocks behind the wilted head of lettuce.  Giving thanks to 
the beer gods, she went back to her bedroom with both 
bottles, and hung up the soaking wet dress pants, tie, and 
shirt Mulder had tossed on the end of her bed.  The 
bathroom door was partially open.

'Mulder.  In my shower.' 

The water stopped, and Mulder mock-bellowed. "Hey, beer now 
or the mirror goes!" 

She clinked the bottles together, and the door swung open.  
Mulder was wearing her bath sheet, looking a little less 
miserable.  "Hey, the robot show!" he said, taking one beer 
and twisting off the top. "Can we watch?" The bath sheet 
slipped dangerously.

"Why do you think it's on that channel?" Amanda asked, and 
picked up the remote.  Mulder pulled the covers back on the 
unused side of the bed, and shed the towel.  After a 
heartbeat, she followed him.

She would never have believed it, but she dozed off, to 
wake up when the television turned itself off.  Mulder was 
snoring gently beside her, flat on his back, but pressed 
along her entire left side.  She gently touched his arm, 
his skin cool to her touch.  "Hmm?" he murmured.  "Did I 
take the covers?" and he rolled towards her, wrapping the 
quilt around them both, and falling back into sleep.

Amanda drifted in and out of wakefulness all night, not 
wanting to sleep.  She didn't want to forget the feel of 
Fox Mulder breathing on her neck, even his turnings in bed, 
and the snores.  Once he moved suddenly, and whacked her 
with his knee.  "I'm sorry," he said, in the same dreaming 
voice, and rubbed her leg.  He kissed her, lightly, on the 
neck, and she felt his eyelashes brush as he closed his 
eyes.

She woke up, with him cradling her, to the sound of his 
cell phone.  He pulled slightly away from her, and answered 
it.  

"Mulder." A pause.  "You don't mind, Dave? Okay." He raised 
his head out of the blankets and peered over her head.  
"About twenty minutes.  Same place.  You're a fine young 
agent, Dave.  I have a shaver in the locker.  Cool."  He 
clicked off.  "Gotta go," he told Amanda.

Amanda pulled the pillow over her head and pretended to go 
back to sleep.  He fumbled around for a while, and was 
trying so hard to be quiet that he kept dropping his keys, 
wallet, badge, gun.

After the door closed behind him, Amanda lay under the 
coverlet for a long time, not asleep, not moving, not 
thinking.

The sheets still smelled of him.   

++++++++++

Scully and Dr. Mathis had been in the anteroom of the 
morgue debating which  chemical tests they could use next.  
Evidently, the Canterell family was in no hurry to come and 
get Carla.  It was sad, and on one level, and it bothered 
Scully; but it made the testing less of a rush job.  She 
had already changed clothes, but the chief was still in her 
scrubs.

Someone came in the swinging doors behind Scully, and Dr. 
Mathis looked up, and smiled.  "Oh, someone else without a 
life.  Nothing like a warm morgue on a cold Friday night.  
What can we do for you, blue- eyed boy?"

"Someone called and said you needed the crime scene 
Polaroids," David Henderson answered.  "I do check my 
messages once in a while."

Scully felt herself stiffening, but forced herself to turn 
around.   He was carrying in an accordion file, and nodded 
pleasantly at Scully before he put the file on the table.  
"We can get our digital ones on the laptop.  These are the 
County investigator's pictures." He set out several stacks 
of pictures on the tabletop, long fingers sorting them in 
neat stacks.  "I'm right in thinking you're looking for 
something he placed under her body?"

"Garbage bags," Scully said.  "Do you have the inventory?" 
She was not going to ask him about Mulder's whereabouts.  
She would not.

"Yes, and here's something I thought about on the way over 
here." He flipped through a stack of shots showing the 
kitchen, and the kitchen cabinets.  "See under the sink? 
There's a box of garbage bags.  It's nearly empty." He 
riffled through the next stack.  "But there's an empty box 
in the kitchen trash can, on top of the old garbage.  Don't 
you usually take out the old liner, open up a new box, and 
throw in the old box? I'm just speculating---it just seems 
reasonable that she wouldn't have put a couple of days of 
garbage and then remembered the empty box." He shrugged.  
"The fingerprint lab is processing it, but he probably had 
the gloves on."

"So the killer used up the rest of the box, opened a new 
one, and used some of those.  He put in everything that he 
thought was incriminating, and when he left, he looked like 
he was just taking it out to the dumpster." Scully said, 
thinking out loud.

"Yeah.  County has someone processing the garbage in the 
apartment.   They had already looked in the neighborhood 
dumpsters for a weapon or anything with blood.  Someone's 
at the landfill, following the dumpster from her apartment.  
Sooner them, than me." He gave Scully a sudden smile, and 
she almost took a step backwards.  Henderson was really 
handsome, when he smiled.  Maybe that's why he didn't do it 
too often.  Mulder's tremendous presence tended to 
overshadow other agents, of course, but Henderson had 
something.  

"The team meets again here tomorrow," he said.  He 
carefully replaced the photos in his file.  "Can I walk you 
out, Dr. Scully? I sent you a copy of the interview with 
Patterson, but I'd like to talk with you about it."

"All right." Scully picked up her briefcase and topcoat.  

In the corridor, she pulled on the topcoat as she walked.  
"What did you find out?"

"Nothing.  Patterson wanted to spook us, to scare Mulder.   
Mulder thinks he had a suspect in the Baltimore killings, 
and they discussed the similarities.  Patterson is still 
pretty deep in his psychosis, I think." He hesitated, as 
they stood at the outer doors.  "Considering that he's 
insane, I don't understand what the use was in going there.  
Mulder...." he shrugged.  "Something wasn't right about 
that idea."

"Well, Patterson wrote the book on profiling," Scully said, 
dryly.  Henderson's expression didn't change, but she had 
the impression that he had withdrawn.  He opened the door 
for her, and they walked in silence to their respective 
cars.

Scully was annoyed; who was Henderson to tell her about 
Mulder's angst?

Scully wasn't surprised by Henderson's car following her 
out of Quantico, but he followed her up all the way from 
the highway to Arlington.  She waited until he was behind 
her at a red light, and threw the car into park, flung off 
her seat belt and ran out of her car to pound on his 
driver's window.  "Open it!" she shouted.

She saw him jerk in surprise.  "Fuck," she heard, muffled 
by the glass, and he slowly opened the window.  "What is 
it?"

"Are you following me?" she demanded, sticking her head in 
the window.  He looked startled for a nanosecond, then 
almost lunged out the window at her.

"I live here!  And I'm going to that bar!  Get back in your 
goddamned car, the light's changed!" A driver tapped on the 
horn behind them.  Henderson hit the window button, and 
Scully had to leap to keep from having her sleeve caught by 
the glass.  She jumped back in her car, and put it into 
gear while pulling the shoulder harness over her arm.  Sure 
enough, Henderson passed her, squealing his tires rather 
unnecessarily, and pulled into a parking space in front of 
a faux-Irish pub in the building next to her condominium.  
Thinking hard, Scully drove into her underground garage, 
parked, and then sprinted up the stairs to the street 
level.

Henderson, still at his car, was just slamming the trunk, 
no doubt locking away his files and briefcase.  At least he 
read the manual.

"Hey!" she shouted.  He swung around, and stood waiting for 
her under the entrance canopy, his hands jammed in his 
trench coat pockets.  As she came closer, almost slipping 
on the wet sidewalk, she could see his expression was 
murderous.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Scully asked meekly.  

Henderson looked totally taken aback.  "Sure." 

They went inside, hung their rain-sodden topcoats, and 
found seats at the bar.  Shamrocks and leprechauns and 
televisions all tuned to ESPN dotted the walls. Henderson 
pulled the knot of his tie loose, then undid the top button 
of his dress shirt.  

The bartender came over and looked at them in inquiry, 
tossing napkins on the bar.  "Bourbon and water on the 
rocks for me," he said.  "This is a late night place.  
Takes a long while to fill up." His eyes were slightly 
squinting and the corners of his mouth were tight.  Anger 
was still coming off him like fog from dry ice, though he 
was speaking in a normal tone of voice.

"The ambience stinks, but it's close.  I live across the 
street." 

"The same," Scully told the bartender. 'I can't believe I'm 
provoking this man,'  she thought.  She was almost enjoying 
herself.  "I live next door."

"You scared me out of my wits back there. I almost rear-
ended your car," Henderson said, giving her a sidelong 
look.  The bartender set down their drinks.  "Run a tab," 
Henderson told him.  

On either side of them, the stools were empty, but the bar 
was slowly filling up.  Henderson stared straight ahead at 
the array of glasses.  He looked like he was grinding those 
perfect white teeth.

"Look, we got off on the wrong foot," Scully said. 

Henderson turned to face her, eyes narrowed. He said 
nothing.   

"Okay, 'I' got off on the wrong foot."

He nodded after a moment.  "Okay.  In case you were 
wondering, I don't wanna transfer to the X-Files."

Scully couldn't resist.  "Oh, Mulder's already getting to 
you?"

"God, no.  It's being trapped in Skinner's office with him 
on a regular basis that I couldn't take."  He picked up his 
glass and took a drink.  "You two may not be scared of an 
Assistant Director of the Bureau, but I didn't enjoy our 
little visit with him today."

"Welcome to my world," Scully said.  "I take it you went to 
report to Skinner after you saw Patterson?"

"Yeah.   It must save a lot of time in meetings to have the 
reporting agent just go in and start off by telling the 
boss to fuck off.  I felt like the sidekick in 'Top Gun.' "

"I'm not laughing at you.  Really.  Don't you want to go 
with him to talk to Kersh?"

Henderson gave her an austere look.  

Scully grinned.  It was too funny to hear this from a 
perspective not far removed from her own.  "Never mind.   
But you and Mulder are getting out a good profile.  He 
doesn't pull the all-nighters like he did when we were 
first partners." Scully pushed her hair back, wondering how 
friendly Henderson would be if he knew that she had pulled 
his personnel file and read it.  The personnel clerk had 
commented that Agent Mulder had done so too - was Henderson 
transferring? Scully wondered if Mulder had asked Frohike 
to check on him.  Probably.  

"Thanks, but it's all Mulder.  It's an education being 
around him.   He doesn't miss anything.  But you know that, 
since you're out in the field with him all the time."

"I think he's brilliant," she said.  "But he's my partner.  
So you were downtown before you came back to Quantico? Oh, 
of course, your office is out there."

 "I dropped Mulder off in Alexandria," Henderson said 
innocently.  "But he may be wandering the streets in the 
rain, thinking of new ways to torment Skinner."

"That'd be Mulder."  She stirred the ice cubes in her 
glass.  Scully had also called Frohike.  He acted pretty 
wary, but when she told him she wanted to make sure that 
Mulder wasn't driving around with another little Krycek, he 
had promised to do a quick hack.  On paper, David Henderson 
was your average federal employee: no tragic family 
stories, no lost sisters, no Roush stock, no trips to 
either polar ice cap.  In person, he was. . .ickable. 

Scully almost jumped.  Where had that thought come from? 
She cleared her throat softly.  "So how did you end up with 
the Bureau?"

"I was recruited out of law school," he said.  "I thought I 
was interviewing for the DOJ, and somehow took a wrong 
turn."

"A lawyer? That explains the tassel loafers." It was the 
tiny cinnamon freckles on his nose and cheekbones. It was 
the cobalt-blue eyes.

He grinned.  "Hey, you asked."

"If I have another round, you may have to walk me home," 
Scully said, feeling flushed.  "Um, how do you know Dr. 
Mathis?" 

He smiled, and raised his glass to the bartender with his 
other hand, shaking it.    "I got to know Dr. Mathis when I 
was on the rotation, you know? Catch the next crime scene 
with Wallace.  So, I decided I was going to be cool.  I 
went down, and she let me watch her autopsy a really, 
really bad one.  So I was cool, right?" He stopped while 
the bartender set their drinks down on fresh napkins.  "So 
we get the call.  And I go out with the boss, and I'm 
thinking, just be cool, Dave.  Be like Fonzie.  And I am 
cool.  And then they take us up to the crime scene, and 
Wallace says, 'Gross!  I could heave!'  All my bravado 
wasted." 

She smiled and nodded.  His haircut was what you'd expect 
to see on Mulder---growing into his collar and obviously 
not styled.  He had apparently never heard of whatever gel 
Mulder tended to use.  Except Mulder was such a fashion 
trendoid. Why had her mind jumped to Mulder?  "Do you do 
this often? Go out and drink? I mean, go out and drink with 
women agents who abuse you?" 

"Hardly." Henderson seemed to feel the changed mood between 
them as well.

Scully propped her elbow on the bar and her chin on her 
hand.  "Why not? You're a good-looking guy."

"You're teasing me," Henderson said, blinking.  "I'm not 
one of those bar guys.  I usually work with women partners.  
I'm the Alan damn Alda of Violent Crimes.  New age, 
sensitive male, politically correct for the kinder, gentler 
Bureau." He started laughing.  "No wonder you thought I was 
gay.  Not that there's anything wrong with that."

'A Seinfeld fan,' she noted silently.  She wanted to touch 
his dark hair and see if it was as soft as it looked.  "I 
shouldn't have said it.  It's just been so long that I've 
seen Mulder, I don't know. . ."

"Work and play well with others?"  he suggested. 

She nodded.  That was it, exactly. 

"Hmm." Henderson finished his drink.   "Maybe I 'am' gay."

She shifted so that her knees were touching his, and she 
was looking into his face.   He had apparently never heard 
about her severe, unfriendly reputation. "Are you?"

All around them, the other customers spoke quietly, ordered 
drinks, watched the television, and smoked their 
cigarettes. 

"No," he said solemnly, and stared back into her eyes. 

Scully didn't want to break the moment.  She put one hand 
out, not quite thinking about it, and Henderson took it in 
his.  He raised her palm to his mouth and pressed his lips 
to it for a moment.  She felt the touch of his mouth up to 
her shoulder.  Then he lowered their clasped hands to his 
knee. 

"This is good,' Scully thought briefly. 'I like this. I 
want-' 

"I'd better walk you home," he said, his voice casual. His 
thumb stroked her knuckles.

"So soon? 

"I'm getting ideas." His eyes were now so dark they looked 
black in the dim light of the bar. 

"It's nice to have someone have normal ideas," Scully said, 
glad to finally say it.  He didn't look as surprised as she 
did by what she had revealed.

"Well, I've got them." He waited for her smile, and then 
kissed the palm of her hand again.

She licked her dry lips. "Not my hand, David." 

Changing his grip on her wrist, he pulled her closer as he 
leaned in, and kissed her, hard, just as if he wasn't 
afraid she would break.  She held his head in her hands, 
her fingers in his hair.  He was like the men she had met 
in college, long before the joined the government, before 
she met Mulder and saw an X-File.

"Get a room," someone behind them said and laughed.

"Walk me home," she said. 

And just like that, she and David Henderson were in her 
condo elevator making out.  He knew not to grab her where 
the holster rested in her waist band, and she knew he was 
wearing a shoulder holster.  "Always use Federal Express," 
she said, and not only did he understand the feeble joke, 
he was laughing.

It had been years since she had laughed so much, especially 
when they went back through the lighted living room to her 
dim bedroom.  There they were, in their suits, each taking 
off a topcoat, a jacket.  Trying to keep their faces 
straight, they each removed their holsters and checked that 
their weapons were on safety; two sets of credentials; two 
cell phones.  

It was ridiculous.  It had been years since she had laughed 
in her bedroom with any man.  The rain had started again, 
sluicing down her windows.

"Hah!  I win, I got a tie," David said, pulling it loose, 
and snapping it off.  He draped it over the back of the 
same chair he had draped his coat and other belongings 
over, away from where she'd placed her things.  "It 
wouldn't look good if I had to badge someone and whipped 
out yours," he quipped. 

"No.  No, it wouldn't."  She'd been thinking the same 
thing. 

He stopped dead, one loafer off and one on.  "Damn, lady, 
what's with this black bra and white blouse look? No wonder 
you don't take off your jacket."

Scully smirked at him.  "For a profiler, you're very 
unobservant."

"Oh, right, like I'm going to not look in your eyes when 
you're talking.  You've got red hair and a gun."

She pushed him backwards onto the bed and lowered herself 
beside him.  

"No need to be pushy." he murmured, leaning on one elbow to 
unbutton her blouse.

"You were too tall," Scully said.  She popped a button off 
his dress shirt, and hesitated, her mouth open in dismay.

"No one ever did that before."  He grinned.  "Cool."  He 
pulled her to him by the front of her open blouse and 
kissed her open mouth.  Somewhere in removing her pantyhose 
and bra, he saw her tattoo, and blinked at it.  "I'd like 
to see this in the light," he said, and then she felt his 
tongue outlining it.

"You like it?" she asked, with difficulty.

"Tastes great," he said, and begin kissing his way up her 
back, deliberately tickling her enough to make her giggle.  
When she rolled over and grabbed his arm, she had to taste 
his throat to see if he really did smell faintly of 
chlorine.  

He did.

++++++++++++

David lay heavily on top of her.  She was wrapped around 
him, unwilling to give up the feeling of skin to skin.  "I 
have to get up," he said into her ear.  She stroked his 
broad swimmer's shoulders.  "Let me up for just a second, 
sweetie."

"No," she said, holding him tighter.  She liked it.

"I have to take this off," he said patiently.  "I'll come 
right back." She let him go so fast that they both started 
laughing.  He went in her bathroom and came back quickly in 
the cold night air, as she held the comforter up for him.  
He slid under it and into her embrace.  Outside, the rain 
was washed down the window.

"What is it?" David asked.

"What's what?" 

"I can hear the gears grinding, " he replied, smoothing the 
hair out of her eyes. 

She wanted to ask him to stay.  "Um, do you do this often? 
Are you always this much fun?"

"I hope I'm always this much fun, but no, I hardly ever do 
this.  Or, never.  I never do this.  I can't remember doing 
this for years. And I'm going to go to sleep in a minute."

"And I thought you were a new age guy." She pulled his hand 
to her cheek.  "If you're too weak to leave, that's fine."

"I don't have to explain protein loss to you, Doc," he 
said, his eyes closing. 

But Scully fell asleep before his breathing settled.

The next morning, she felt him wake up with a jolt. She 
wrapped herself around him.  "Remember who you're with?" 
she said into his neck.  She couldn't believe how well she 
had slept.

"Yeah.  I just remembered I have to pick up your partner." 
He yawned widely, chin bumping the top of her head.

"He lets you drive?" she asked, indignant.

"Had to," David said laconically.  "It's my car." He 
groaned, and squeezed the arm draped on his chest and sat 
up.  "Glad I live close." He looked down at her, eyes 
glinting.  "Can I take it we're friends, now, or are we 
just going to pretend it didn't happen?"

"Maybe both," Scully said, more provocatively than she 
intended.

David looked at her for a long moment.  God, in the light 
of day he was still handsome.  

"Yeah?  Well, cover up the girls, or it'll happen again."

++++++++++

Driving in to the briefing, Henderson told Mulder about the 
plastic bags.  "I gave Agent Scully our report about 
Patterson.  I still don't like it.  Something's not right.  
It bothers me."

"It bothers you because you were in the presence of evil.  
It bothers you because there's something wrong.  I don't 
know yet, either.  Something's off." Mulder rubbed his 
bandaged knuckles.  "So you and Scully kissed and made up?"

Henderson snorted, swerving the car violently and passing 
an SUV.  "I told her I didn't want to transfer to your 
department."

"I'm hurt, Dave.  Really, I am.  Once you get used to him, 
Skinner is just like a big brother.  Wait until you see him 
really mad.  His entire head gets red.  You should be out 
in the field with him when something goes wrong."

"Yeah, sure," Henderson said, turning into the parking lot.  
"He'd turn me into his bitch in sixty seconds."

Mulder was still laughing when they walked into the 
conference room.  

++++++++++

Scully seemed to be in a good mood for a meeting on a 
Saturday morning. "Good morning," she said as she set her 
briefcase down on the table on the other side of Henderson, 
and opened it.  "Good news on the search of the landfill.  
The County guys found trash bags with bloody sheets."  She 
put the digital pictures of the Canterell apartment on the 
table.  "Dr. Mathis is walking them through the labs, 
herself.  She called me."

Mulder felt an almost painful shock.  "There's something on 
them.  He couldn't leave the building.  Someone would have 
seen him.  So he went back and shoved them through the 
garbage chute." He turned to Henderson.  "Remember how the 
basement dumpster was just emptied?"

The others had come in.  Wallace said to them all. 
"Fingerprints has a partial print off the box of garbage 
bags.  It doesn't match the victim's.   We're running it, 
just in case." Everyone sat down.  Scully took out a set of 
autopsy protocols and began flipping through the pages.

++++++++++

The thing about situational flings, Scully thought as the 
briefing dragged on, is that you have to take full 
advantage of the situation.  She picked up a Post-It 
notepad, wrote, "You have a hickey on your neck," and slid 
the pad over to Henderson.   He leaned over, casually, read 
it, and wrote. "You look hot." He pointed with his pen to 
something on her file. It would have been flirtatious, but 
Henderson gave her a sideways look that gave "hot" another 
shade of meaning.

Mulder glanced inquiringly at them.  

Henderson said. "How should we structure any information 
about the autopsies? What do we publicize, and what do we 
hold back?"

Wallace and Mulder began arguing.  David sat back in his 
chair and said, his lips barely moving.  "Stop it."

Scully almost snickered.  Under cover of the increasingly 
acrimonious discussion amongst the senior agents and 
Mulder, she said, her voice pitched very low.  "So, you're 
coming over tonight?"

"Oh, yeah," David said, not taking his eyes from Mulder.

++++++++

Scully was looking for leftovers to heat up when her phone 
rang.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder said.  "I'm not sure the murders in 
Baltimore are connected to the last three.  They're very 
similar.  Do you think you could double check and see if 
there is anything really different in what the autopsies 
showed?"

She cradled the phone on her shoulder and tightened the 
belt of her robe.  "That's interesting, Mulder.  I think I 
indicated my doubts about that in my report, which you 
should have."

"Yeah, but you weren't definite.  I would like to refocus 
the investigation on the last three. Well, two, really, 
since the District victim was cremated."

"That's a good idea.  I can review the stuff here over 
tomorrow.  Dr. Mathis is also interested, so she'll give us 
all the time she can."

David came into the kitchen, pulling on his shirt, saw her 
talking, and mouthed "Mulder?"

She nodded.  "I think we should go over the victims' 
property," Mulder was saying in her ear.  "Do an 
investigation like we're doing a security check for Kersh."

"What, look for fertilizer sales?" She scowled at David, as 
he picked up one of the containers and sniffed at it.  He 
quickly dumped it into the garbage disposal.  "Never mind.  
I know what you mean.  Look, it's Saturday night, Mulder.  
I don't mind working tomorrow," David gave her a horrified 
look, "but we're not going to find anyone to talk to until 
Monday.  I'll review my reports, and give you a call 
tomorrow afternoon."

"Good," Mulder said.  "Hey, Scully? What about Henderson?"

"What about him?" she asked, warily.  David smirked, and 
went back into the living room.  She heard the television 
come on, very faintly.

"You don't mind him working with us, do you? He's pretty 
good with this stuff, all things considered."

Scully grinned to herself, rejecting several remarks.  
"Well, I think he'll back you up all the way," she said.  
"In fact, he'll probably work on Sunday."

"Okay, then.  Talk to you tomorrow." They hung up.

After a moment, she heard David's cell phone ring, and 
burst out laughing.  "Bite me, Doc!" he yelled.  She picked 
up her own phone and ordered pizza.

David walked back into the kitchen when he heard her hang 
up, so she could hear him talking to her partner.  He was 
as solemn as usual.  "Things bother me about the whole 
Patterson thing, Mulder.  It's like there's several 
different agendas going on."

He had Scully's full attention, and, apparently, Mulder's.  
"First - do the Baltimore murders have 'nothing' to do with 
the Virginia murders? But who wants you to involve a 
disgraced unit chief? Who wants you to fail? Second - why 
were we given just his notes? Something bothers me, but I 
don't have it worked out.  Third -  Patterson had powerful 
friends who don't want any further disgrace and publicity 
for him, or for the Bureau.  Why were you sent to stir it 
up? Why didn't Skinner answer you when you asked him?"

Scully felt the back of her neck prickle.  If David only 
knew what could be stirred up; how many times Skinner 
couldn't answer their questions.  And how weird was it that 
she had checked his neck for implants?

David listened to something Mulder said, and replied.  
"Yeah, I don't, but I was still paying attention.  Do they 
really want these solved?  Wallace does, yeah, I don't 
think he's going to pin them on Patterson.  Nice trick, 
since he's in a straight jacket most of the time.  I'll 
look at my notes and call you." He clicked off and caught 
Scully's appraising look.  "I'm not just a pretty face," he 
said, not smiling.  His gaze drifted over her face, but he 
didn't ask another question.


End 03/06
++++++++++