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

See part one for detailed headers. 



Scully drove them to a modern inn located on a bluff 
overlooking the Potomac.  "It has a restaurant attached to 
it," she said, giving him a sidelong look as he got their 
bags from the trunk.  "There aren't any common rooms."

"It looks great," he said unconvincingly, looking around at 
the woods that came right up to the parking lot.

"Come on, you'll feel better after dinner."

"I always feel better after dinner," he replied.

Scully had reserved an upstairs room with bathroom and hot 
tub en suite, a fireplace, and a king-size bed.  David 
tidily began to unpack.

Scully was struck with compunction.  "Maybe this isn't how 
you want to spend your weekend?" she asked.  "You might be 
bored."

David laughed.  "You've got to be kidding.  I have you 
alone for a weekend? What's not to like?" He straightened 
up, his gun and holster in one hand.  "Which side do you 
want?"

"Either." She had to smile again at the sight of him 
stowing his gun away.  There was a definite advantage to 
dating another federal agent---no need to explain about 
having to have your weapon with you at all times, or why 
you had to leave your itinerary with the office, or why you 
had to leave a number at all times, or any of the hundreds 
of rules that Ethan, for example, had not taken seriously.

"I'm serious," he said, sitting on what was now his side of 
the bed.  "You noticed I was standing there with my bag 
packed? Hey, nice mattress." He bounced back up.  "What 
about dinner?"

+++++++++

"What about dinner?" Mulder said, buttoning his shirt.  
"Seafood?"

"Lobster," Amanda said.

+++++++++

  Scully and David had barely walked down the stairs at the 
inn, when the manager stopped them.  "You're a doctor, 
aren't you, Agent Scully?" the woman asked.  "We've called 
911, but----"

"Has there been an accident?" 

David turned and went upstairs.  "I'll get your bag."

"Show me," Scully said, and the manager turned and ran down 
the hallway to the rear of the inn, down the basement 
stairs, to a wine cellar, Scully at her heels.  

The wine cellar was well lit, and two waiters were lowering 
a woman to the floor.  Lowering a body to the floor; the 
woman had a rope around her neck.

"Stand back, and don't touch anything else." Scully felt 
for a pulse, even as she noted the coldness of the skin.

David materialized beside her, setting the medical bag on 
the stone floor.  "What happened?" She heard him say above 
her head.  "FBI."

"We found her when we came down for this evening's wine.  
Why would she hang herself here?"

"Listen, you're going to have to stick around until the 
local police come," David said.  "They'll want your 
statements.  Scully?"

"She's been dead for a while," Scully said, closing her 
bag.  "I can't do anything." She stood up, brushing the 
dust from her slacks.

"Are you sure?" the manager asked, blinking rapidly.

"Yes, I am," Scully said.  "You'll need to go lead the 
officers in here." She was aware of David's thoughtful 
glances at the noose, at the body, and around the room.  He 
met her eyes, and shrugged.  Some getaway weekend.

Two state troopers arrived with the ambulance crew.  While 
one of them was questioning the waiters, a sergeant was 
carefully walking around the cellar, taking notes.  Scully 
and David identified themselves as mere guests at the inn.

"So you think she hung herself, Agents? Not to make you 
work on your weekend off, or anything."

David stood, hands in pockets, still looking around the 
room.  "Funny thing about suicides." he said, 
conversationally.  "They need to step off something."

"Yes, I saw that," Scully said.  "Sergeant, you should have 
your medical examiner look closely for signs of manual 
strangulation."

"Why?" the trooper asked, looking up sharply from her 
notebook.  "Do you think this is a homicide?"

There was a sharp crack outside in the hall, and David's 
gun was in his hand.  He looked around the doorjamb, and 
relaxed.  "It's the medical examiner," he said, re-
holstering his pistol.

"Shit," Sgt. Austen said.  "He always this edgy?" she asked 
Scully, smiling.

Scully had raised her eyebrows.  "No.  He doesn't like the 
country."

"Sorry.  I think it's a homicide because there's no chair, 
or step-stool, or box, or garbage can for her to step off." 
David pointed to the rope.  "I think she was strangled, 
then the killer threw the rope over the rafter and hoisted 
her up.  When you examine the rest the rope and the rafter, 
it'll tell you." He flashed a lopsided smile at the 
sergeant.  "Your medical examiner will tell you the same 
thing.  Dr.  Scully already saw the finger marks.  Didn't 
you?"

"Yes," Scully said, depreciatingly.  "Really, Sergeant, 
Agent Henderson and I don't want to get involved in your 
investigation.  We're guests."

"I don't mind," the sergeant said.

"We really don't want to interfere with your 
investigation," David said pointedly.   "We were on our way 
to dinner, so unless you really need-"

"No, I have your information.  Thanks."

David took Scully's hand and they went back upstairs to the 
restaurant which seemed about to close.

"Gosh, people need to eat," he said.  "Why do they assume 
we aren't hardened professionals who can eat pizza in the 
morgue?"

"Been there, done that," Scully replied.  Having someone 
hold her hand made her want to giggle.

++++++++++

"First real profiling I ever did was with Frank Black.  It 
was one of his last cases just before he, um, decided to 
retire."  David leaned forward and turned off the jets of 
the hot tub."  A couple of guys in Pennsylvania were 
robbing all-night restaurants.  They would herd all the 
staff and any customers into the walk-in refrigerator, and 
then shoot them at close range with shotguns.  The very few 
survivors couldn't tell us anything." 

Scully lolled back in the water, sipping her wine.  "Don't 
stop," she said.

David kneaded her shoulders.  "Talking, or massaging?"

"Both.  Either."

"You're turning into a raisin."

Scully stretched out her arm and carefully set the wine 
glass down on the tile floor.  "David, tell me something." 
She turned in the water and faced him, placing her palms 
flat on his chest.  He was warm.

"If I can," he replied, holding her waist.

"Damn lawyer.  Aren't you worried about the OPR?"

"Well, not too much.  I was kind of expecting it.  As you 
just said, I 'am' a lawyer.  I'm on our union committee.  
I'll file a counter-grievance or something and it'll all 
get washed out when Wallace goes out with the tide."

"You're the union rep for your department? You're such a 
dweeb."

"Yeah, go figure.  I was the only one in the office who 
could read the reg book." He pulled her hand from his chest 
and showed her the fingers.  "Look.  All shriveled.  Let's 
get dry and just go to sleep."

Wrapped in the complimentary spa robe, Scully came out of 
the bathroom, yawning.  David was standing at the window, 
looking at the river glinting below through a bent louver 
in the blinds.  In the half light of the bedside lamp, she 
could see his strong swimmer's shoulders and the long 
muscles of his legs thrown into sharp relief by the 
shadows.  She let the odd combination of lust and affection 
pull her to his side, and she put her arms around him.  He 
covered her hands with his own, leaning back into her.

"I heard that yawn," he said.  "Let's call it a night.  
Tomorrow, let's not go to the autopsy.  You workaholic."

"Me? You're the one who turned into Mr. Profiler."

The mattress was deep and soft.  Scully, despite her yawns, 
was still awake.  She dug her chin into David's shoulder.  
"What was Frank Black like as a profiler?"

"He was. . .well, he was psychic," David said, speaking in 
the remote voice someone losing consciousness.

"'Psychic?'" she asked.  But he was asleep.

 +++++++++

Before dawn the next morning they were awakened by Scully's 
cell phone.

It was Skinner.

"Agent Scully, I was called by the Sheriff of St. Francis 
County.  He has requested, and I have signed off on, your 
temporary assistance in this matter.  He would like your 
profiling assistance at this time to handle a homicide 
investigation."

"Sir, this is a routine homicide.  There's no need for 
Bureau profiling."

"Yes, there is.  The victim is the Sheriff's daughter.  He 
has a small department, and since you're on the scene, you 
and Agent Mulder can..."

Scully winced.  "Sir, Agent Mulder isn't here."  She could 
hear the clanking silence all the way from Washington.  

"I was told that you were there with a male agent," Skinner 
said finally.

"It's not Mulder.  It's David Henderson.  He's still on 
sick leave."

"Busted," David said.  He took the phone from her hand.  
"Sir, there's no need for a profile.  Someone manually 
strangled the girl and hoisted her by a rope to make it 
look like a suicide.  It's a boyfriend or ex, who 
confronted her and killed her and had to think fast.  The 
rope is a nylon type used in boating.  The end was cut with 
something, and it'll match the rest of the coil that's 
hanging on the wall.  Anyone can do this.  But I can't, 
because I'm on medical leave and you specifically wrote on 
my assignment letter that I can't go back to work until a 
Bureau-approved doctor clears me." He paused, rolling his 
eyes at Scully.  "Thank you, sir." He clicked off the phone 
and handed it back to her.

"What?" she asked, when no explanation was forthcoming.

"He said never mind," David said placidly.  

Scully grinned back.  "God.  It must be the legal 
training."

The phone rang, and they looked at each other.  "Hello?" 
She answered.  It was Skinner, again.

"Agent Scully, please tell Agent Henderson that Mark 
Wallace committed suicide on Friday." He clicked off.

She froze, holding the phone.  David put his hand on her 
forearm.

Scully looked at the phone as if more information was on 
the screen.  "He said your boss committed suicide."

David sat up.  "Fuck.  Fuckity fucking fuck fuck." He 
rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and fell back 
into his pillows.  "My career is toast.  You don't bring 
down your boss and succeed.  I hope I saved my resume.  
Good grief."

"You said you weren't worried about the review board," 
Scully said, appalled.

"Yeah, I wasn't, but dead men win." He reached over to the 
bedside table and picked up his watch, looked at the time, 
and put it down.  "Jeeze, too bad I talked us out of the 
murder investigation.  I could use another week away.  
Shit.  I wanted to work up the Alden prosecution."

Scully shivered and slid back into his arms.  "How bad 
could it be?"

"Ah, come on, be nice to me." He pinched her breast.  "I 
may be headed to Idaho."

But for the life of her, she couldn't think of anything 
optimistic to say.

++++++++++

It wasn't quite dawn yet, when Skinner called Mulder to 
tell him that a request had come in for Scully and Dave 
Henderson to assist a sheriff's department.  A murder at a 
bed and breakfast.

"I wanted you to know, in case Agent Scully is detained 
Monday," Skinner said.  He was even more curt than usual, 
but the message overwhelmed any thought Mulder had about 
the medium.

"Scully and Henderson are at a bed and breakfast," he 
repeated, stupidly.  "Together?" Beside him, Amanda jerked.

"They were in the same room," Skinner said in a monotone.  
He hung up.  At another time, Mulder would have wondered 
why Skinner was so torqued about it, or why it was anyone's 
business---

It's none of my business, Mulder told himself, his eyes 
stinging.  He sat up and swung his legs out of bed.  Amanda 
rolled over, her back to him, and he went into the living 
room, closing the door behind him.  Skinner sounded pissed 
off; but he always sounded pissed off.

He walked into the kitchen, and got a bottle of juice out 
of the refrigerator.  It must have been when she took him 
to the hospital, he thought.  After it was all over with.  
He put the juice back.

Dave didn't know.  Dave thought they were just partners.  
How could anyone understand what Scully----

A sob came from somewhere in the middle of the back.  He 
bent over, holding on to the sink.  God, it hurt.  It hurt.  
But why? What was he expecting her to do? Stay in some 
sterile realm of the spirit? He grabbed a handful of take-
out paper napkins and blew his nose.  Jesus.  He felt worse 
than when he had told her he loved her, and she just rolled 
her eyes.  Even through the drugs, that had hurt.  It still 
hurt.

She was with Dave Henderson.  She had gone off with him for 
the weekend.

When had she stopped asking Mulder to have dinner in a 
'decent' restaurant? How long was it since she had stopped 
complaining about the mondo-fifties motels he loved to book 
them into? She found someone who didn't argue with her.

Mulder always thought she had enjoyed arguing.  It was part 
of their thing.

And there was Henderson, who was honest and mindful of the 
rules, who had, for all intents and purposes, deliberately 
crashed his career for the truth.  Who didn't know how to 
tell a lie and didn't know how good a profiler he was.

Mulder sat down on the kitchen floor, his arms wrapped 
around his belly, trying not to break down.  He looked up 
at a sound.  Amanda, wrapped in his ratty afghan, was 
standing beside him.  She knelt quickly, and put her palms 
on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.  He shook his head, feeling his 
eyes watering again.  "It's freezing in here.  Come back to 
bed."

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes.

"Come on, bunny.  It's too cold."

He got up and walked quickly past her and back to the 
bedroom.  The room was lit with the television, some sports 
show.  She was right behind him, and they got under the 
covers together.  He wanted to tell her it was nothing, to 
leave him alone, but he was afraid if he spoke, his voice 
would wobble.  Amanda silently pressed up against him, 
rubbing his back between the shoulder blades, right at the 
knot of feeling.

"It's all right," she said in his ear.  "It's all right, 
Mulder."

No, its not, he thought.  Scully needed someone, but she 
didn't want me.  And I'm such a bastard that if she called 
me right now.  .  .No, I wouldn't leave.  But I would want 
to.

He turned to face her, his face twisting despite his best 
efforts, and started to cry.  Amanda wrapped arms and legs 
around him, and he pressed his face into her neck, his 
breath coming in hard sobs that hurt his throat.  He held 
onto her, gripping her so hard he could feel the pulses in 
her skin.

He became aware that he was saying, "It hurts.  It hurts." 

And that she was saying, as she held him,  "I know.  I 
know." The sobs made him shudder, and felt like they were 
wrenched from his gut.

"I hate this.  I hate being like this," he said finally.  
His throat was raw.

"You can't hold in everything," Amanda said.  "You do too 
much of that."

He was too embarrassed to raise his face from her shoulder.  
"You should have known me when I profiled all the time.  I 
should have been on Prozac."

"You're burned out," Amanda said into his hair.  "I bet you 
never take a vacation."

"Not unless you count disciplinary suspensions." He still 
felt wired, his nerves jangling.

"Sun's up," she said.  "Let's take a run."

He propped himself up on his elbows.  "Run?"

"Yes.  I know you have your stuff in the car.  Go get it."

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

"David, I want you to go back into the hospital and let us 
run your blood tests." She paused.  "Please?"

David lay flat in the sheets and laughed in an abandoned 
way that was new to her.  "You're such a hopeless romantic.  
Can I go after the weekend? It would be a crime to miss the 
goddamned craft festival."

Scully swallowed hard. "Monday would be fine."

 ++++++++++++   After the fifth mile, Mulder found he could 
think clearly.  Clearer.  Whatever.

If Henderson was in danger, it could be due to his 
involvement with Scully.  One thing about Dave, he could 
pick up that kind of a vibe.  And Mulder had closed off his 
feelings about Scully for so long, he couldn't even 
identify them any longer.  The chicken or the egg?

And why did he have to be in a hospital bed before Scully 
cut him any slack? She wanted intimacy, she claimed, but 
when he tried to open up to her, she shut him down.  So he 
was flippant, which made her more remote, which made him 
more flippant.

Amanda turned back and went home.  Mulder continued on, 
past his own apartment building.  It was a beautiful day 
for once in this bleak February.  His pace slowed.

Had he forgotten Scully's birthday again?

Shit.

++++++++++

Amanda was relieved to hear Mulder's voice on the intercom.  
She buzzed him in.  He looked totally different now, his 
face weary, but no longer so nakedly hurt.  He probably did 
break down like this in the aftermath of an intense 
profiling situation.  His voice had the ring of truth when 
he told her that; but she would bet her DNA that it was the 
news that Scully had gone somewhere with his friend that 
had so shattered him.

But look at him; he was already on his way back to normal. 
Frohike had warned her that Mulder thought rejection was 
normal.  What kind of parents tell a kid that it's his 
fault his sister was abducted? Who expected a kid back, 
back in 1973, to get his dad's gun and defend his home? 
Frohike had told her more than she had wanted to hear.

"Take a shower with me?" he asked.  She was still wearing 
her running clothes.

"Sure," she said.  "The heat's on now, thank God."

He put his hands on her shoulders as they went to the 
bathroom, so she could feel how cold they were.  "I'm 
frostbitten."

"Yes, you're pitiful." She pulled off her sweatshirt and 
sports bra, and turned to see him staring.

"Did I do that?" he asked, his voice shaking.  He touched 
her arm, and she looked in the mirror to see red finger 
marks on her arms.She pulled a face.  "You should have seen 
my ass after that spanking." She reached around the shower 
curtain and turned on the hot water.

"There's a difference." His voice was weary, and he skinned 
off his clothes and following her into the shower.

Amanda swiped her wet hair back.  "Don't make everything a 
guilt trip." She stepped back so he could stand under the 
water.  He looked achingly vulnerable when wet.  He opened 
his eyes and, despite himself, smiled.

"What are you looking at?" he asked.  "You should have 
thought of that before you sent me out in the cold to run 
laps.  I'm an old man."

"Oh, sorry."  She rinsed her hair, managing to slide her 
breasts against his arm.  "Almost done."

"I'm not kidding.  My knees won't take it."

"And I'm just getting clean before the hot water goes."

"My legs hurt."

"Did I ask you to do anything?" she said.  She stepped out 
into the bathroom, wrapping her hair up in a towel.  
"You're too old and tired.  I understand. "

She didn't even hear the curtain rings; he left the shower 
running, and grabbed her as she walked beside the bed.  He 
twisted, and pulled her over on top of him on the sheets.

"Hey, you're wet," she objected.

"So are you." He gently pulled her hips into position, and 
she was opening up to him, and he was inside her, and the 
pleasure almost hurt.  She felt like she had touched an 
electrical circuit, and he kept stroking her clit with one 
finger.

"That's it, baby," he said, and his voice was so tender she 
could pretend he loved her as she came.

++++++++++ "Do you mind if we stop by the hospital to see 
Dave?" Mulder asked Amanda that Monday, after he picked her 
up for dinner.

"No," she said.  "This is the guy you worked with on the 
Alden case, right?"  Like she didn't remember everything he 
said to her.

"Yeah.  He's seeing Scully.  In fact, they almost got stuck 
helping some small town sheriff's office investigate a 
murder last weekend."  He scowled over the steering wheel.  
"I want to find out what happened to him.  Being associated 
with the X-Files division hasn't been good for his health."

David Henderson was in a semi-private room, with, 
thankfully, no one in the other bed.  He was propped up, 
reading "Surfing" magazine."Cowabunga," Mulder said, 
closing the door behind Amanda.

The patient lowered the magazine.  "You never disappoint 
me, Mulder," he said.  He saw Amanda, and raised his 
eyebrows in inquiry.

"Amanda, this is Dave.  He's from California."

"Oh, you're Amanda?" Henderson said, and suddenly smiled.

Amanda almost took a step backwards.  Naturally, Mulder 
wouldn't have noticed, but damn!  'Lucky, lucky, Scully,' 
she thought.

"I was Mulder's chauffeur and dropped him off at your place 
a couple of times." Dave explained.

Mulder shook his hand, clasping it for a second.  "What the 
hell is going on here, Dave? I can't get anything out of 
Scully.  She's having them run tests on you?"

Henderson shook his head.  "What I had was a viral 
infection from catching a cold in February.  She and 
Skinner are obsessed that it's something weird.  They're 
nuts.  It was just a simple virus."

Mulder straightened up.  "What are your symptoms?" Amanda 
thought she could see him turning into Agent Mulder, FBI, 
right before her eyes.

"A bad cold," Henderson said, his voice hardening in turn.  
"Don't you start." 

Oh, two of them.  Great.  Testosterone filled the air.

"Did Scully tell you that Skinner nearly died from a virus? 
That he was clinically dead at one point? That I saw 
another man die from a virus? That we've seen a lot of 
people die from simple viruses?"

"Yeah, both of them.  But I don't have anything like that.  
AND my lungs are almost clear."

"Wasn't your breathing affected before?" Mulder pursued, 
sitting down beside the bed.  "Didn't Scully say that it 
wasn't an allergic reaction?"

"Show me your medical degree, Mulder.  Skinner is just 
looking for some reason for me to leave the Bureau.  He 
thinks...." he looked at Amanda, then back at Mulder.

Mulder held up a hand in surrender.  "I'll talk to 
Skinner," he said.

"That's it? No candy, no fruit, no flowers, no magazines? 
Jeeze, Mulder, thanks a lot.  At least look in that drawer 
and throw me some socks.  My feet are cold, and I can't 
move around until this IV is empty.  Scully has every 
weirdo from the metro area coming in and taking blood 
samples."

"She's kinky, what can I say?" Mulder stood up, grinning, 
and opened the tiny wardrobe.  "Here," he said, tossing 
Dave a rolled up pair of socks.  "I wanted to stop and get 
you a pizza, but Amanda wouldn't let me."

"What?" She pretended indignation.  When Mulder had turned 
his back, she had seen Dave bend a look of concentration on 
him, only to have it dissolve into blandness when Mulder 
faced him.

So Dave knew that Mulder----

The door opened, and Scully came in; Amanda recognized her 
from Frohike's secret screen saver.  She looked startled to 
see the others.  "Mulder?" she asked.

Mulder went to the door and stopped her from entering.  
"Scully, le me talk to you for a second." Scully backed out 
through the door, Mulder following, tossing "Excuse us"  
over his shoulder.

Amanda and David looked at each other.  He had the same 
look as a moment before.  "Can they be any more paranoid?" 
he asked her.  "Mulder----" he exhaled.  "Well, you know 
Mulder."

"Not really," she said.  She sat down in the chair Mulder 
had just vacated. "I'm just his fuck puppet at the moment,  
but I'm hoping for a more meaningful title." 

"Gee, why?" he asked, squeezing the balled-up socks with 
one hand.  "It's succinct and to the point," He stared at 
the closed door.  "Wonder what's happening," he said, half 
under his breath.

"What about you?" Amanda asked, emboldened.  "How long have 
you been with Scully?"

He looked down at the socks in his hand.  "Not long.  I'm 
guess I'm just a puppet, myself." He unrolled the socks, 
face losing the blandness and seeming more ill than when 
she had first seen it.  "Upgraded to lab-rat status."

Mulder and Scully came back into the room, both with grim 
expressions.  "We've got to go, we've got reservations," 
Mulder said from the doorway.  "I'll come back and see you 
later, Dave."

"Nice to meet you, Amanda," Dave said to her, but he was 
looking at Scully.  Amanda was amused to see Scully flush, 
as if Dave had reprimanded her in some way.

"I'm sorry, we weren't introduced," Scully said, her 
expression stiff.  "I'm Dana Scully, Mulder's partner."

"Yes, Agent Scully.  I've heard about you from Frohike."

"Oh, my God," Scully said, spontaneously.  "Don't tell me."

Amanda squeezed Dave's forearm, and stood up.  He held up 
his hand, which was now inside one of the socks.  "Good 
bye," he made the sock squeak.

Amanda burst out laughing, mainly at the confusion on 
Mulder and Scully's faces.

++++++++++

"I didn't mean to be rude," Scully told David, sitting on 
the bed and taking his hand.  "I was embarrassed.  I sort 
of walked in on them once.  And what's with the sock 
puppet?"

"You mean, walked in on them as in they didn't see you but 
you saw----" he snorted.

"I saw more of them than I wanted to," Scully said.  "I 
wonder what she meant about Frohike? I'll kick his ass.  I 
can't even imagine what he told her."

"Never mind that.  When are you and your little gang 
letting me out?"

"There's an anomaly in some of the results," she said 
evasively.

"Dana," he said.  She looked up.  "Are you talking about a 
nanotechnology, or are you talking about the black oil?" 
His blue eyes were dark.

Scully took a deep breath.  "What do you know about either 
one?"

"Don't look so surprised.  You're not the only one who can 
pull personnel files.  Not that I had to.  The X-Files 
aren't top secret, you know.  I think you should start 
telling me what you're worried about."

"I don't know.  It's not what Skinner had.  It's not the 
virus that Dr. Sacks had."

"Are my test results in normal limits?" he asked.

She nodded, reluctantly.  "But there's just a couple of 
others.  And your temperature---you're consistently higher 
for no reason."

"But if there's nothing wrong, get your pals to clear me 
and let me out."

"How did you know I pulled your file?"

"I have a friend in personnel.  She called me, and told me 
that you came down and pulled it, about twenty minutes 
after Mulder did.  So she gave me copies of your files.  
Her own personal copies, since you two are stars of the 
personnel board."  He pulled his hand away from hers.  
"Tell me about my results."

"They're in the normal range." She couldn't look at him.  
"But I'm looking for poison."

"Poison?" he repeated.  "Were you planning on telling me? 
Or just telling A.D.  Skinner?"

She narrowed her eyes.  "Ah.  Now I know how you heard 
about nanites.  He's been very busy."

"He was here today, dropping little terse hints that not 
only is my job in the toilet, but that I'm in danger.  
What's going on with him? What does he have against me?" He 
grimaced.  "I couldn't tell if he has a thing for you, or 
for Mulder, but something's not right."

"What did Skinner suggest?" Scully asked before she 
processed the rest of his statement.  "Wait.  Did act like 
he had a personal interest in me?" She stood up, and walked 
to the window and back.  "God.  You may be right.  He was 
completely on your side until he called last weekend.  He 
wouldn't have just come to visit someone that doesn't work 
for him."

"He suggested that I could find ample opportunity as a 
profiler for the ATF," David said.  "It sounded like one of 
those offers you don't refuse." He caught her sleeve.  "And 
why would Skinner have told Mulder? Mulder's not your 
boss."

She couldn't think of anything to say.  Mulder knew.  But 
he had a girlfriend.  Why did she feel as though she had 
betrayed Mulder?

"What should I do, Dana?"

She shook her head, still trying to think.

He blinked at her for a moment, then fingered the adhesive 
holding in the IV line.  "Never mind.  Just get me out of 
here."

Scully slid off the bed.  "Don't pull on that.  It may be 
tomorrow.  Besides, I got the insurance coverage cleared, 
myself."

"Whatever," he said, his head still bent.  "I'll see you 
later."

Scully went to the door, and looked back, but he was 
pulling on his sweat socks.  She had the feeling she had 
missed some cue, but she didn't know what.

She went home and did all the things she usually did, but 
she was restless.  She drank a cup of tea, Scully got up 
from the sofa and went into the kitchen to put her cup in 
the dishwasher.  It was no use, she thought.  She snapped 
off the kitchen light, and went to the closet for her coat.

+++++++++

 It was half-past eleven, and the third shift had just come 
on on David's floor.  No one stopped her; no one did more 
than glance her way as she went down the corridor.  Of 
course, she had been there often enough.  She saw an aide 
come out of his room; third shift check.

She put her palm on the half-opened door, and slid through, 
turning to hold the handle as she shut it.  But the quiet 
snick of the latch was enough to make David open his eyes.  

He turned his head to see who had come in.  His eyebrows 
drew together.

"I 'am' sick," he said starkly, his face lit only by the 
wash of light from the muted television.  He sat up, 
pushing the bed table away.

She crossed the room to him, and pressed the dim setting of 
the wall light.  "No, no, you're not.  Nothing's changed." 
She unlatched the bedrail and lowered it.

He followed her movements.  "Then I'm in danger?" he asked 
warily.

Scully perched on the side of the bed, facing him.  "Not 
that I know of." She started to pick up his wrist to feel 
his pulse, but changed her mind, and pressed her fingers 
onto his palm.  His hand closed over hers, strong and 
irrationally reassuring.

"Have you come to discharge me?" he asked, the beginnings 
of a smile starting to show.

"No. I want those last test results to see why you have a 
fever." He shifted to the other side of the bed, giving her 
more room, and she responded to the mute invitation by 
sliding further onto the mattress.

"Well, did you bring me a cheeseburger?" he asked.

She shook her head, smiling unwillingly.  "I just didn't 
want to leave you up here by yourself." She felt almost 
embarrassed.

His thumb rubbed the back of her hand.  "Well, I am kind of 
busy here.  There's a Northern Exposure marathon on right 
now, and I can't remember why Joel ended up in  Alaska."

"You looked very involved in it.  I can always go," Scully 
said, kicking off her loafers.  David released her hand, 
and she reached up to turn off the light, then changed 
position to sit beside him on the bed.  He draped his arm 
around her, and she settled into his shoulder with a sigh.  
She couldn't believe she was doing this, but she wasn't 
really his treating physician.  It felt right.  It felt 
nice to just be there.

As if reading her thoughts, David said, "Relax.  The word 
at the nurses' station is that I'm your new boyfriend.  One 
of the aides told me.  She came in and watched 'Secrets of 
the FBI' with me.  I must say, it was very enlightening.  
Put your feet under the blanket if you're cold."

"You don't feel feverish any more," Scully said.  She 
turned her face into his neck.  She missed the usual David 
smell, that hint of chlorine from the pool and whatever 
swimmer's shampoo he used.

"I like how you check my temperature," he murmured into her 
hair.  His breathing was smoothing out.  They were both 
going to sleep.  She didn't resist.

Just before she went to sleep, she heard herself ask in a 
small voice, "David, do you love me?" and heard him reply, 
matter-of-factly, "Of course I do."

++++++++++

"We should start a support group," Dave told Amanda.  She 
had brought a report from the lab to the hospital as an 
excuse to visit.  He wasn't surprised to see her.  His 
mysterious fever was gone, and he was about to be 
discharged.

"What, the 'I-Fucked-X?'" she replied flippantly.

He stopped in the middle of packing up his bag.  "No," he 
said, his blue eyes very somber.  "I was thinking more on 
the lines of 'The X-Files Broke My Heart.'" He looked 
around, saw his Walkman, and jammed it on top.  "Don't 
pretend you're tougher than you are.  I'm getting out while 
I'm ahead."

"I don't understand.  If you love Scully, why leave?"

"I'm transferring.  When an Assistant Director tells you 
that you should leave, it's not healthy to stay."

"What about Scully?" She sat down on the other bed.

"Yeah, well, I'll have to get over her, won't I? But it's 
not like I ever fooled myself.  Especially since she kept 
calling me Mulder." He looked up from zipping his bag.  
"You can say everything you like about it being better to 
be with her and hear his name than him being with her and 
calling your name.  But it's not."

"Do you think either you or Mulder can stop from quoting 
from movies?"

"Not going to happen.  We're vid kids." He opened the 
dresser to check the drawer.  "You're in love with Mulder, 
but you can't tell me he was happy about finding out Scully 
was seeing me."

"He wasn't.  He got a call from Skinner one morning.  He---
"

David interrupted her.  "Son of a bitch!  I knew that 
relationship wasn't healthy.  He had no reason to say 
anything to Mulder." He straightened up.  "Well, it doesn't 
matter.  He offered to get me transferred to California, 
and I'm going.  It's not worth it."

"But you're in love with Scully."

"But she doesn't love me, and she never will." He sat down 
on the other bed, looking winded.  "So what the hell.  
Might as well get it over with.  You should get the hell 
out of Dodge, yourself.  If you stick around, you'll hurt 
more by the end.  There's the doctor."

The door, which had been ajar, opened, and Mulder walked 
in.

Mulder came in, staring at Amanda.  He looked from her, to 
Dave, and back again.

"I had to bring some results by," she said.  She knew he 
had heard at least part of the conversation----she knew 
that non-expression----but she wondered how much.

Dave didn't say anything at all.  He just waited.

Amanda, with a presence of mind that later surprised her, 
swung her feet to the other side of the bed, slid down, and 
went out the door behind Mulder.  She was down the 
stairwell before she asked herself why she was going.

Answer: she couldn't deal with two upset males.  She really 
didn't want to know any more about Mulder's feelings for 
Scully.  She had come to see Dave for confirmation of her 
worst fear, and he had put into words what she already knew 
what she should do.  She would open that letter from 
Caltech.

Giving up Mulder was going to be like giving up crack.

++++++++++

"Skinner got you a transfer?" Mulder asked.

"I'm definitely off the Alden murders.  He made me an offer 
I couldn't refuse."

"I've had offers I didn't think I could refuse."

Henderson exhaled impatiently.  "Well, that's the problem, 
isn't it? I'm not you."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Mulder said, trying 
for lightness and failing.

Henderson lifted both palms, and let them fall.  "She'll 
never be satisfied with less."

Mulder walked to the window, and looked out.  "Why are you 
so sure?"

"You evidently missed the high points of the conversation 
just now.  Believe me, I'm sure."

Down below, Mulder saw a blonde woman getting into a 
minivan parked beside the service entrance.  "I don't think 
she loves me, either, you know." He drew an s-curve in the 
condensation on the window.

"You two need to work through this crap," Henderson said 
from his seat on the bed.  "And you're being deliberately 
obtuse.  Both of you are.  This isn't a rerun of 'Friends.' 
Everybody knows about everybody.  Except Skinner.  I don't 
know if he's jealous of Scully, or doesn't want you to have 
someone else watching your back."

"Isn't it kind of arrogant to decide this for her? Have you 
thought about asking her?" Mulder wiped the window with the 
edge of his hand.

"I'm deciding this for me," Henderson replied.

"Again, you shouldn't leave her out."

"What do you want? For me to spill my guts for you to 
analyze? It's over.  This conversation is over.  It's all 
over." Henderson picked up his bag and walked out, for once 
getting the last word.

++++++++++

Scully didn't hear from Dave for a week.  When she finally 
called his cell phone, she received a "disconnected" 
message.  She sat and looked at the phone for a moment 
before going to the basement to find Mulder.

"Mulder, have you heard from Dave Henderson lately? He 
checked out of the hospital before they could re-do the 
blood screen."

Mulder didn't look up from his laptop.  "He said something 
about taking a transfer."

"He transferred to the ATF? Already?"

"I don't know about the ATF, but he wanted to go back to 
California.  You know these surfer dudes." Mulder picked up 
a file.  "Did you ever get the results back from the police 
department out there, on that claw?"

"That wasn't a claw," she said automatically.

At lunch, she drove over to Arlington to David's apartment 
building.  He had said once it was a sublet, but surely he 
couldn't leave in a week.  He couldn't pack and leave in 
that short a time.

But no one answered when she rang the doorbell.  He had 
gone.

++++++++++

End 06/06

Notes: All this began before the horrors of Sept. 11, 2001.  
It also began before several major changes in my real life.  
Rewriting this with the enthusiastic encouragement of 
Amanda helped me more than I can ever express.  (So I gave 
her lots of sex scenes!)  Also thanks to Linda, and all of 
you who wrote and asked me if I was going to finish this.  
I can only hope that all of us can return to the little 
pleasures of reading and writing, and thereby find the 
little joys that help alleviate the day to day fears.