TITLE: SHADES OF BETRAYAL AUTHOR: LADY DUCATNIP E-MAIL: LADYDUCATNIP@PRODIGY.COM RATING: PG-13 Summary: A continuation of Lesley Graham's "Last Chance", in which Scully tries to come to grips with Mulder's sudden death.... but then a familiar face enters into the picture. (This is an X- Files/Red Shoe Diaries Crossover...) Really Fun Disclaimer Stuff -- Yes, yes, I acknowledge CC, 1013, Fox, and Zalman King are the owners of these characters, no infringement, but indeed thanks are intended - even though *we* know They wouldn't ever film something like this! And, of course, I must thank David D. for giving me two wonderfully angst-filled men to "play with"! All time or geography screw-ups I apologize up front for (i.e. - I know RSD was made in 1993, not now, but, oh well....) - I tried my best to keep everything hunky-dory. I'm not sure exactly when in our X-F world this would take place..... just pick a place, any place. Xtra special thanks to my great friend Kerry Gallo for her wonderful advice and support (she is the *real* author between the two of us), and Many ThanX to Lesley (formerly LGraham103@aol.com - Lesley, where are you?? !) Although I feel I've described her story enough here so you will get the jist of her story, I strongly encourage you all to read it if you can -- for your "own edification, of course." My rating: PG-13. A few naughty words, but not at all a typical "RSD outing".... you fellow DD fans know what I mean.... ;-) Spoiler warning: None that I can think of.... MSR (sorta?) and Relationship warning!! This story may be distributed wherever - if my name is included. Characters they own, plot I own. =) Please, please let me know what you thought of this, okay? Promise?? Good. This is my first "solo" attempt. (Oh boy....) Okay, okay, enough whining.... (please Lord let me be posting this right... ) Finished : July 15, 1996 Leslie's Challenge: <> Well, here goes nothing.... (nothing simple, that is.... ) Hope you like it! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Shades Of Betrayal" (1a/3) By: Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ J. Edgar Hoover Building Saturday, April 13 7:15 AM EDT I WANT TO BELIEVE 'What a joke', Scully thought as she gazed impassively at the familiar poster. Fox Mulder believed in the seeking of the Truth and the most fantastic of possibilities and look where it got him. Dead. Dead.... not by mysterious men in black or an assassin's bullet as she would have expected -- but by a freak, random accident. A speeding semi-truck crashing into them in the night, tearing apart their rental car, and taking half of her soul with it -- after that half saved her life. Saved her life, but left her behind. So, she stood silent in his office, his territory, surrounded by all that made up his unique life, wearing a simple black suit and black overcoat. , she thought sourly. The funeral, *his* funeral, was in a few hours, in the same cemetery that she had once told his mother she could tell somehow that he was still alive, even when the rest of the world believed him to be dead in the middle of a New Mexico desert. But, this time, he wouldn't be coming back.... he wouldn't come crashing through any doors to protect her ever again. Mulder was gone. She was alone. Dana Scully slowly turned, left the basement office, and locked the door securely behind her. Garden of Reflection Parkway Cemetery Boston, Massachusetts Saturday, April 13 11:35 AM EDT Dana tightened her grip on the umbrella's handle, thinking that if Mulder were there next to her, *he* would be holding it for both of them, protecting them both from the dreary rain that seemed to be never-ending. 'But he is here', she thought off-handedly. 'He's in that beautiful, polished wooden casket not more that 5 feet from me.' Dana closed her eyes again and leaned unconsciously against her mother who stood at her left. Margaret Scully wrapped an arm tightly around her daughter's shoulders, trying to give her as much comfort as she could..... comfort she knew wouldn't be enough. Nothing would dull this pain for her daughter - not the priest's words of faith and salvation, not her mother's consolation.... nothing but having Fox Mulder back at her side. And Margaret knew that wouldn't, and couldn't, happen. The other mourners present included various agents they had known or worked with, AD Skinner, and Mulder's mother. She stood stoically a few feet to Dana's right, a few tears fighting their way free from her eyes. She did not want to make a public display of her sorrow. Scully was sure the Lone Gunmen were around here somewhere, perhaps behind that far copse of trees. Not a large crowd, Scully thought, but Mulder would have preferred it that way. It was too bad that Dana preferred him to be alive. Scully thought back to the viewing of Mulder's body at the funeral home as the priest's sermon became an annoying blur running through the back of her mind. Mulder's mother had wanted a small service there before the burial, and Dana took care of it all for her. Scully, of course, was the first to arrive, and the last to leave. He looked so peaceful, so innocent in that casket that Dana allowed herself a moment to believe that he was only sleeping.... that he would wake up at any moment and crack a joke, maybe a joke at her expense which she would more than gladly laugh at anyway. But, the longer she stood by his casket and stared at him, the more her mind played tricks on her - she could swear she saw his chest rise and fall, his arm move...... Dana realized what was happening, gasped silently, and stepped back quickly from the casket - right into Mulder's mother. They both startled, Dana apologized instantly, but Mrs. Mulder did nothing but place a hand on Scully's shoulder and nod slowly in her son's direction. "Thank you, Dana," she whispered. Dana raised her eyes to meet the slightly taller woman's with a expression of subdued puzzlement. "For... for what?" Mrs. Mulder took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before returning the shorter woman's gentle gaze. "For loving him." After the service was over, the small group filed quietly out of the small funeral home, leaving Dana sitting alone in the parlor, and her mother in the doorway sending the guests on their way. The lights had been dimmed ever so slightly because of the lateness of the day, and Margaret Scully watched with tears in her eyes as her daughter once again approached the casket that held Dana's best friend's body. A best friend that never got a chance to love her daughter the way he wanted or needed to. Dana looked over Mulder's prone body once again, as if to memorize his face or the way he looked, but she had many, many other memories from which to draw his appearance and character up from...... not this pale shell that remained of the complex, uncommon, beautiful man he had once been. Scully slowly reached her hand into the casket. She wanted to desperately to feel the warmth and softness of his hand under hers, but only felt a hard coolness where his flesh was once so yielding.... .. "I am so sorry, Agent Scully." A male voice intruded roughly into her thoughts. Scully turned her head abruptly to see Skinner standing next to her, leaning over her. The crowd was beginning to disperse. The funeral was apparently over. Dana could only nod mutely before returning her intense gaze to the coffin. Her mother gave her shoulder another squeeze before saying, "I'll be right back, Dana." Scully nodded again as her mother led Skinner away to speak to him. She could hear snippets of their conversation as if they were miles away... they were talking about Scully's work, whether or not she should go on in the X-Files.... 'Of course I will', she thought. They were all she had left of him, or herself. She had to go on somehow. She would find the Truth for the both of them, and lose no time doing so. Dana stepped forward and carefully plucked a perfect white rose from the bouquet placed on top of his coffin and stepped back to where she was standing earlier, never looking anywhere else but straight ahead, never allowing a single tear to escape. She didn't leave his side until the casket was lowered into the ground and covered in muddy earth, and the sun, once hidden behind the gray clouds, retired for the day. Even then, her mother had to quietly lead her from the grave to the still-waiting limousine. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Los Angeles, California Friday, April 19 6:25 AM PDT The hazy California sun rose slowly outside, creating deep orange strips of light onto the polished wooden floor below the window. A sudden shadow covered the ribbons of daylight as a man stepped in front of his loft window, gazing at the ascending sun creeping over the outline of the skyscrapers off in the distance. A few skyscrapers the man who was calmly watching another sunrise had helped design. , he thought. Not that sunrises had ever moved him much, not since he lost the one woman he had truly loved - not to a violent mugger or rapist as one would expect here in the city -- but to herself and a terrible secret. Jake sighed and straightened his tie again. He had thought Kate might have turned those feelings of loneliness, of betrayal, around into love and maybe renewed trust again in time. Then she, too, left. The only difference being that she went back to Howard. Howard, he was to find out, was her husband. No wonder he had been having so much trouble sleeping. The loud ringing of the phone brought him back to reality. He let it ring once while he continued to watch the sun, and the answering machine picked up. "Hi, we're not in right now.... Work, work, work...", the recorded voice spoke with an inflection and a humor Jake knew very well. He lept gracefully to the phone and snatched the receiver up from the base. Jake told himself over and over to change that message, but still, something inside him wouldn't let him. "Jake? You there?", a somewhat sleepy and aggrieved male voice intoned. "Yeah, Paul.... I'm here. I'm always here," Jake deadpanned while cutting off the too-cheerful feminine voice emanating from the speaker. He knew Paul wanted to suggest to him to change the message too, but wouldn't. His business partner wouldn't cross that line. "Yeah... yeah you are." Paul laughed a quick nervous laugh before continuing. "Listen, I've got some great news, pal! A contractor in DC called me this morning.... he's heard about your work, and he's very interested in hiring you for a job he's got goin' out there.... it'll pay great, Jake." , Jake thought, gazing out of the window again. The sun was quickly swallowing up all the shadows on the floor at his feet. "Yeah, Paul.... sounds great, but you know I don't like working outside of LA." "This is a great opportunity, Jake.... the guy will even take care of all expenses for you. It'll probably be just an advising job, anyhow. But, he does has some contacts in Congress, so this could also bring in some other more lucrative government contracts....?" , Jake thought dourly. "Just me?", Jake asked tiredly. He really needed to sleep more. "Yep. Just you. He requested the best - *you* - so.... " Jake could almost see Paul crossing his fingers in anticipation. "I'll just stay here and supervise things while you go off sight-seeing." Jake rolled his eyes. "It should only take a week at most, Jake...." Paul was close to begging now. "You'll be back before you know it." Jake sighed again, too softly for Paul to hear. "All right, Paul.... give me his number." "I knew you'd listen to reason, Jake." Jake couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive about this whole trip, and of Paul's enthusiasm about this whole job. Then again, maybe it would be good to get out of LA. Maybe he could escape the memories, if even for a little while. Canoga Park, California Sunday, April 21 10:13 AM PDT Jake closed and locked the small post office box with the tiny key, making sure he had a tight grip on the three envelopes he retrieved. The address was always written in various, flowing scripts, but it was always the same..... Red Shoes PO Box 7956-319 Canoga Park, California 91309 Women's deepest, most enigmatic secrets and erotic encounters wrapped neatly into a few pages of paper and an envelope and mailed to him at a small diner on the out-skirts of LA. Sent to him to help him understand the mysterious motivations of women, and why his fiancee, Alex, had killed herself over a need to regain her 'mystery'. He understood more and more with each letter he received, and even more from Kate herself, but still needed to fathom much more from these letters than he had thus far in the course of a year and a half. 'Just send your secrets to the lonely guy with the dog', he thought with a hint of a smile that, sadly, faded quickly. It helped, but sometimes it just wasn't enough. These new letters he would read on the way to D.C. His flight left in a little over two hours and he still had to get Stella set up at a kennel. Jake waved 'bye' to Joey, the plump Oriental woman behind the counter, and left. He was going to be cutting it close. "C'mon, girl...", Jake said quietly as he motioned to the medium- sized white and black-spotted dog that waited contentedly for him outside the small dive. Jake walked across a few railroad tracks to his convertible, Stella loyally trotting along beside him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ End Of Part 1-A >From trevizo@utep.edu Fri Oct 18 23:58:07 1996 I did not write this. Please send all comments to the author at (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com) __________ / __ __ \ ( (__) (__) ) --------[[[---------]]]------------------------------------------------- (Disclaimers, Lesley's challenge, and author's comments can all be found on Part 1-A...) Summary: A continuation of Lesley Graham's "Last Chance", in which Scully tries to come to grips with Mulder's sudden death.... but then a familiar face enters into the picture. (This is an X- Files/Red Shoe Diaries crossover...) My rating: PG-13. A few naughty words, but not at all a typical "RSD outing".... you fellow DD fans know what I mean.... ;-) Spoiler warning: None that I can think of.... MSR (sorta) and Relationship warning!! (Not much `File in this one.... sorry!) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Shades Of Betrayal" (1b/3) By: Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ J. Edgar Hoover Building Wednesday, April 17 7:30 AM EDT Dana Scully was tired of feeling sorry for herself. Because of Skinner's direct order, she had stayed home since Mulder's funeral doing nothing but the most basic things - cleaning, eating, reading, sleeping (on the rare occasions she wasn't reliving his death in dreams), and then cleaning some more. Scully was sure she had surfed the entire net by now, and that her floor was clean enough to eat off of. All to pass the time. During this time, she had carefully cut out Mulder's obituary from the newspaper her neighbor had saved during the last week and saved it. For what purpose she wasn't sure, but she just felt compelled to do so. It certainly wasn't for the small black and white photo of him - his FBI ID photo - that was used. She had many more better ones that surpassed that one.... ones she could show herself in her mind's eye. But, perhaps it was the fact that her mother, who notified the paper, had included her, along with Samantha, among the small list of Mulder's survivors.... After three endless days of this, Scully needed to work. She needed to work or she would lose what little of her mind that was left to her. She needed to continue her and Mulder's work like she vowed to herself to do at his grave. She owed him that at least. 8:34 AM Scully had been working on updating their latest case files when the call came through. AD Skinner had 'requested' her presence in his office. Now. 'Big surprise', she thought as she hung up the phone. 8:40 AM "Agent Scully, what are you doing here?", Skinner asked. , Dana thought sarcastically. "Working, Sir." Skinner took off his glasses and placed them on the desk slowly. He sat back in his chair, his fingers lightly dancing over his chin as he regarded Scully with a look of steadfast concern. A look Dana was getting very tired of seeing directed at her. "Don't you think that, given the circumstances, you need to take some more time for yourself......?" "No, Sir.", she said curtly, but politely. "I need to work. I thought I had explained that to you." "Yes you did, Agent Scully. But, both on and off the record, I take one look at you and I can see you need more time off...." 'No, I need more time back.... time with *him*!!!!', she wanted to scream at the AD as loud as she could. But, her face remained an impassive mask, her voice steady. "No, Sir." She repeated more firmly than before. "I am ready to resume my work on the X-Files effective immediately." Skinner was quiet for a few more minutes, the only sounds present in the office were those made by his slow, measured breathing. Scully's steady gaze never wavered from his face, even as he replied. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I have the backing of the staff social worker on this, and we both feel that your coming back to work now would only be worse for you than if you...." "Begging your pardon Sir..... the way I feel right now couldn't possibly get any worse, nor are my feelings going to abate in a few weeks." Scully stated simply, evenly. "I need something I can concentrate on fully, something that will keep me busy, involved." "I can appreciate that Agent Scully, and as such, I'm not going to put you on the four weeks leave the staff social worker is recommending", Skinner paused a beat and put his glasses back on before continuing. "Instead I'm going to give you paid leave until next Monday, at which time your request to remain with the X-Files Division will be decided." The AD could tell Scully was about to disagree verbally with his decision and interrupted her before she could get started. "That will be all, Agent Scully." Skinner stared invariably across his desk at Scully until she rose brusquely from the chair and headed for the side door. "Agent Scully....", Skinner's voice called after her. Dana stopped with her hand on the doorknob and her back to the AD. "Please use this time well. Don't look at this as a sentence, but a chance to begin healing...." Scully left as fast as she could, not even bothering to shut the office door as she silently turned and left. Walter Skinner barely noticed as the pencil he gripped in his hand snapped. Dana Scully's Apartment Wednesday, April 17 11:54 AM EDT "Women : do you keep a diary? Have you been betrayed? Have you betrayed another? Man, 35, wounded and alone, recovering from loss of once in a lifetime love. Looking for reasons why. Willing to pay top $$$ for your experiences. Send diaries to: Red Shoes PO Box 7956-319 Canoga Park, CA 91309. All submissions are strictly confidential. Dana read over the ad again. Sure, she had seen it in passing whenever she felt flippant enough to look through the personal ads before, but this was the first time she had actually *read* it. Read it, or took it seriously. Scully rummaged around in her desk until she found some plain stationery and a nice pen. , she rationalized. Besides, maybe it would be good to finally let go of some of all she was holding inside, even if it was to a complete stranger 3,000 miles away. At least this way she wouldn't know him, and she surely would never meet him. Dana pulled the cap off the pen hesitantly and set to writing. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ American Airlines Flight #1121 Los Angeles to Washington D.C. Sunday, April 21 3:00 PM PDT Two hours into the flight, Jake began to get restless. Then he remembered he had about another two and a half hours left to go until Washington D.C. Great. He couldn't even stretch out to accommodate his long legs because he was stuck in the window seat. Perfect timing for there to be a mix-up with the first-class seats. Jake had already read everything in sight - even the vomit bag - and was really beginning to wonder if this trip was really such a good idea after all. At least the old lady next to him had found another gullible passenger to mumble to about her grandkids. He pitied the poor businessman who now sat in the aisle. Jake reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat to find another stick of gum when his hand brushed up against the three letters he had picked up this morning. Thank God for small favors. At least he had something *interesting* to read now. The first one was from a woman in Georgia. Seems she slept with the pool man, then with the gardener, then couldn't decide which one she should cheat on her husband with and was just so broken up about it. Jake shook his head after he read it and put it back in the envelope with an amused grin. The second letter was from a woman in Texas. She was obsessed with a man she saw on a popular TV show and wondered if fantasizing about him all the time while she was with her boyfriend was a form of betrayal to him - not that she planned on stopping or informing her lover of this, of course.... it was just too much fun. Unfortunately, Jake didn't have any answers for these women. Women from whom he was trying to *get* answers. Go figure. The last letter was from... from..... a woman in Washington, D.C. Jake thought. The handwriting was small and determined, apparently from a very serious woman. Hell, she even wrote in print instead of loopy cursive. Maybe this would be of more use to him? ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Dear Red Shoes, April 17, 1996 I can't believe I'm doing this. Pouring out my heart to someone I've never met, when I can't even talk to my own mother about how I feel or what I'm going through. I suppose it was something you wrote in your ad ("...wounded and alone, recovering from loss of once in a lifetime love") that made up my mind to respond. I presume you would know better than any of my friends or family what I'm going through. I too lost a "once in a lifetime love", a week ago today to be exact, and am definitely "wounded and alone". Your ad also asked, "Have you been betrayed? Have you betrayed another?" In a way I believe I have. You see, my "once in a lifetime love" died in my arms after saving my life. He pulled me out of our totaled car after a semi- truck hit us in the dead of night, even though he was badly injured and barely able to move. You see, before this accident, we were not lovers or even a couple - we were work partners, and he was the only man I've ever completely entrusted with my every thought, action, and idea - and even my life. Right before he died is when he confessed to me that he loved me, and then I told him the same. It was so true. I didn't say it simply because he told me he loved me. So, I guess what I'm saying is that perhaps I betrayed him, or him me, in some way by burying our true feelings for each other and remaining completely professional. What I knew before this tragedy even occurred (in some distant way) and what I painfully acknowledge now, was that he was the other half of my soul - the part of me I knew I was missing. The part that was recently ripped from my heart.... never to return. As I look back into the past, I see no other way it could have been for us - we were equals on the same path to discover dark truths hidden from us and the public - and to continue working together we were not allowed to become romantically entangled or involved. When we worked together, we worked as one (excluding a few strange cases or instances), as the perfect team. If I knew then what I know now, I may have chosen the same path, but perhaps worked harder at finding a different means to achieve our united, and dangerous, goal : the Truth, and Justice for whom it was due. How ironic, though. We searched for the Truth, yet the Truth most crucial to us was right in front of us, and we failed to see it or grasp tightly onto it before it slipped through our fingers a mere week ago. I don't know if this pain I am feeling because of his loss would be lessened if we had been lovers, or if it surely would have been multiplied exponentially (if such a thing is possible). All I know is that I feel a heavy burden on my shoulders that I am sure I will carry for the rest of my life; a burden that I cannot seem to ease because of the questions that continue to haunt me. Should I have made that crucial move that would have brought us together? Or, truly, would it have made any difference at all? And, most importantly, did I not only betray him, but myself and all we may have had together as well?? You tell me, Red Shoes. You tell me. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Strange... no signature. In some ways, this letter fascinated him more than any other he had ever received in the past. No other woman's story that had been sent to him previously seemed to affect him as much as this one. Most dealt with sexual confusion, some even seemed to have nothing to do at all with his ad. They were nothing more than erotica with a point, sometimes even a lacking one. None of the letters he had ever been sent before dealt with the true, ultimate betrayal that would always plague mankind : Death. It was uncanny how close they were in their experiences - he could actually relate a little to this woman's story, feel a little of her pain - save a few small details. But, their losses seemed at an equal level. Two loves - one who was taken, and one who had taken herself. Although this letter did little to help him solve Alex's suicide, it increased his awareness of the many veiled meanings of that simple word -- betrayal. The action of it could be inflicted in many different ways, for many different reasons. In it's own way, it was downright spooky. Perhaps he could learn something from this woman's story, or perhaps the woman herself....? Jake turned the envelope over and read the return address to discover the name of this seemingly remarkable woman. 'Dana Scully'. Such a plain, yet enigmatic, and almost courageous sounding name. Jake put the letter back into it's envelope and gazed silently out the window. His curiosity won out over his better judgement. Perhaps he could do a little 'sight-seeing' while he was in D.C. after all. ~~~~~~~~~~~ End Of Part 1-B >From trevizo@utep.edu Fri Oct 18 23:57:05 1996 I did not write this. Please send all comments to the author at (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com) __________ / __ __ \ ( (__) (__) ) --------[[[---------]]]------------------------------------------------- (Disclaimers, Lesley's challenge, and author's comments can all be found on Part 1-A...) Summary: A continuation of Lesley Graham's "Last Chance", in which Scully tries to come to grips with Mulder's sudden death.... but then a familiar face enters into the picture. (This is an X- Files/Red Shoe Diaries crossover...) My rating: PG-13. A few naughty words, but not at all a typical "RSD outing".... you fellow DD fans know what I mean.... ;-) Spoiler warning: None that I can think of.... MSR (sorta) and Relationship warning!! (Not much `File in this one.... sorry!) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Shades Of Betrayal" (2/3) By: Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fox Mulder's Apartment Wednesday, April 24 9:30 AM EDT Dana was surprised the few fish Mulder had left managed to stay alive this long. She fed them as soon as she came in the door; completely out of habit.... Mulder never could seem to remember to feed these poor fish. As she dropped the flakes into the tank, the starving fish frantically swam to the top to devour whatever food they could capture. As she watched them swim about, her expression became blank, and she lost herself in a memory. A memory of how she had watched his fish swim aimlessly about in their little tank while she waited for Mulder's unknown informant, alone in his darkened apartment when Mulder 'ditched' her and took off to Alaska. She felt about as helpless then as those fish - swimming around in never-ending circles and paths for no purpose, and maybe, like them, feeling utterly useless and frustrated being stranded where she was. Then she recalled that if she hadn't made it there when she did..... Dana started, snapping herself out of her thoughts. If she kept thinking that way, there would be no way in hell she could accomplish what she had come here to do. The superintendent of the building had called her early this morning, informing her that Mulder's apartment needed to be vacated as soon as possible, and oh, would it be possible for someone to take care of it? He apologized weakly for having to ask her to do this after, what was the exact wording, "such an awful tragedy", but the end of the month was approaching fast and a new tenant was lined up, I didn't know who else to contact.... Scully didn't listen any further to what the super was rambling on about, she just replied flatly that it would be taken care of, surely by the end of the month, and no, she wouldn't need a key, thank you, good-bye. Dana slowly took off her windbreaker and set it casually on the couch as she had done countless times before and lowered herself down on the couch as well. The silence in the apartment was only interrupted by the sounds air conditioner as it turned itself on or off, or of the filter in the fishtank as it spurted and bubbled. And she sat in silence for a long while, wondering where to start, and wondering when she would stop feeling so numb inside. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Watergate Hotel, Room 4224 Wednesday, April 24 10:18 PM EDT "So, what you're telling me is that you're done..... *already*?" Paul's distant voice toned incredulously over the telephone. "It wasn't a enormous challenge, Paul.... the guy just needed some extra design and structure help. Stuff I could've done with my eyes closed.... I'm surprised his own people couldn't find the problem originally. But, it was kind of a fun project while it lasted." Jake could hear Paul sighing softly in hesitation and he smiled gently. "So, does this mean you're coming back to LA right away?", Paul asked. Jake shifted his position on the hotel bed slightly. "No," Jake said thoughtfully. "No, I think I'm going to take your advice and do a little sight-seeing while I'm here in our nation's capital." "Oh, okay.... whatever." Paul sounded puzzled for a moment before continuing. "I'll, uh, keep an eye on everything here.... you just relax and have fun 'sight-seeing', all right? Don't worry about a thing." Jake nodded and smiled again. "Sure, Paul.... whatever. I'll be in touch." Jake smoothly hung up the phone before Paul could reply. It was time for a little research. After a little bit of hunting around the posh hotel room, Jake found the D.C. white pages and began searching for an address. He flipped to the S's, then to the Scu's. Scudder, Scull, Sculley, Scullin, Scully..... Scully, Dana. An address and both a home number and a work number at the FBI. Jake thought he was probably right earlier about Dana Scully being a serious and courageous woman. She was a G-*woman* after all. Jake verified the envelope's original address from the book and called down to the Concierge's desk for a street map of Washington, D. C. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fox Mulder's Apartment Thursday, April 25 8:30 AM EDT Dana was dreaming again. She knew it, even in her dream, but couldn't stop it. It seemed that her subconscious would always torment her with these images.... images not of a simple, disturbing nightmare, but of a waking reality. A reality she wouldn't forget. In this dream, so familiar by now, Scully bent over a dying Mulder as he half-held her on a black, cold freeway far away from any help that might keep him alive. She could intensely feel the same emotions that had run through her that night in the few moments before he surrendered, albeit a bit too willingly, to death. ==Scully started crying at this point, and Mulder merely smiled again. "You've always... been there. I've treated you like shit and still you were...there... You loved me... Always the only one....and Scully," one tear washed a narrow line through the blood on his face, "I love you too. I have loved you for a long time...Thank you." He let his eyes close briefly, and another tear escaped. "Mulder," Scully, said softly, and leaned closer. "I love you," and she placed a gentle kiss on his parted lips.....== Dana felt the tears spilling over and felt a little bit of everything besides joy take painful precedence in her mind and shot out of sleep. For a short time she was disoriented and her eyes darted around the room taking in her surroundings instantly - the piles of boxes in his living room she herself had packed, the fish, the cool, black imitation leather couch, and his pillow on which she had exhaustedly fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning - and finally was able to force herself to calm down, take a few deep breaths, and wipe the escaped tears from her face. , she thought. Scully clamped down hard on her thoughts, reining them in as if they were runaway horses. She couldn't allow herself to feel this way. For if she did, she knew she would no longer be able to function at all. She would lose herself. Dana quickly grabbed her coat, stood, and, managing to skirt her way past the many stacks of boxes she had managed to pack the night before, left his apartment for hers to shower and change. Then go see Mulder. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Outside Dana Scully's Apartment Thursday, April 25, 9:15 AM EDT Jake sat back down in the driver's seat of his rental car, and shut the door firmly. He had tried ringing Ms. Scully's doorbell, but with no success. Either she wasn't home, or she was still sleeping, and he didn't want to disturb her. It was rather early after all. He chuckled lightly when he realized what time he was used to it being in LA - 3 hours earlier, to be exact - and he was so used to setting his own 'unique' schedules and everyone around him adjusting to them because he was 'the boss'. But, Dana Scully was a complete stranger to him - a fact he had forgotten in his odd eagerness to meet her. Hell, she'd probably end up shooting him for showing up on her doorstep so early, or mistake him for a salesman and probably not even answer the door. Jake decided to come back later, closer to one perhaps, and was beginning to turn the ignition key when a streak of red caught his eye. He turned quickly and looked out the window of his car to see a petite, very beautiful, yet very determined-looking woman hurry from the apartment building he had just left, heading for a blue car a few lengths behind him on the street, her brilliant red hair still somewhat damp from, Jake guessed, a shower. He was going to continue turning the key when he was struck with a strange sensation. This woman *had* to be Dana Scully. Her posture, which nearly radiated a sense of self-confidence and strength, told him all he needed to know. Jake's original impressions of this woman from her writings had, so far, turned out to be very correct. But, before he could get out of the car to introduce himself, however, her car sped past him. His strange curiosity suddenly got the best of him as he started the car, checked his mirrors, quickly pulled out of the space, and began following her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Garden of Reflection Parkway Cemetery Boston, Massachusetts Thursday, April 25 A Few Hours Later "Oh, Jesus, Mulder.... I don't know what the hell is wrong with me....", Dana sighed, her voice sounding defeated. She had been able to hold her tears back on the way here, but now, they seemed steady and unstoppable in their coming. She had been sitting here for only a few minutes, telling Mulder everything, but it had seemed like hours. Scully leaned slightly forward in the grass she was sitting on, next to Mulder's plot, which was just beginning to sprout new greenish sprouts, not giving a thought to the grass stains she was undoubtedly putting on her jeans. She once again forced herself to read his marker, to remind herself of this reality. Fox William MULDER October 13 1960 - April 10 1996 Beloved Son, Brother, And Friend A reality she had to come to terms with, or she'd lose herself and her sanity. "We never even had a real chance," she whispered to the cold stone, her voice breaking just enough to be noticeable. "So why is this killing me?" More silent tears fell as she gazed again at the smooth black wallet she held in one hand - Mulder's FBI ID - and the obituary she had placed within. "Never even had a chance..." she murmured softly before the wallet tumbled from her nerveless fingers onto the soft grass. Scully finally gave in to her sorrow at the only place she knew she could.... while she was alone. Alone with Mulder. Jake watched Dana Scully's small shoulders buckle underneath the weight of her grief from a few yards away. He silently sent thanks for the tree that hid him, but, at the same time, silently admonished himself for watching. He shouldn't even be here. Jake had told himself over and over on the hours-long drive up here from D.C. what a fool he was being for following some strange woman for hours and not even knowing where she was going..... He almost turned back to D.C. a few times, but couldn't seem to make himself do it. His curiosity was most definitely piqued, even though he hadn't the slightest idea what he was going to do when she stopped and got out. Jake realized that the best thing for him to do would be to turn around, go back to his hotel in D.C., pack, and just go home. Go home and leave Dana Scully to her grief - a grief he knew she would, in time, eventually conquer. Not completely, of course, but enough so that each day was made a little easier to get through. It had taken him over a year to come to terms with Alex's suicide, but, Jake was sure of one thing. He could sense from both her writings and from watching her, that Dana Scully was a very strong woman, and she would not want anyone else's sympathy, or empathy -- especially not coming from a complete stranger while she so obviously wanted, and needed, to be alone. A complete stranger who had no business even being around her. After one last long warm look at Dana Scully, Jake turned to leave and leave her alone and in peace. And, it would have worked too, if, upon turning, his foot hadn't landed on a very dry, very large, twig, and if he hadn't spun around quickly, then froze in alarm, wondering if she had heard him. Dana was suddenly struck with a feeling that she was being watched. This feeling soon became confirmed when an unexpected 'SNAP!' reached her sensitive, trained ears from somewhere not far behind her. She slowly lifted her head from her hands and turned around to locate the offending noise while wiping her eyes at the same time. Someone *was* watching her... a man behind a tree a few yards away. A man wearing black jeans, black and silver belt, a maroon dress shirt and, strangely enough, a tan trench coat, frozen in position, looking like a deer caught in a car's headlights. A tall, extremely handsome man with thick, dark, brown hair..... "Oh..... my.... God....!", Dana panted, wide-eyed, her whole body turning around impossibly quick and every muscle tensing. "I'm... I'm really sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt...", the man stuttered, looking like he wanted nothing more than to run away. Unfortunately, to Jake, the enigmatic Ms. Scully looked like she wanted to run too. What the hell had he done.... and why was she staring at him like that? "Oh..... *God*....!!", Dana yelled, even louder this time. She began to stand up, shaking her head in denial, and all Jake could do was stutter more apologies as she became more agitated, pointing at Jake, then the marker, then back at Jake, shaking her head.... each breath she took becoming shorter and even more shallow..... Then, suddenly, she wasn't very agitated - or very conscious - anymore. Dana Scully just collapsed onto the soft grass next to the grave without another word. Jake stood in stunned silence for a moment, almost panicked, reminding himself that he had been about to leave, and he now could. Listening to the startled voice in his head, Jake turned to go again, then hesitated. He couldn't just leave her lying there. Who knew how long she would be out? But, then again, who knew what would happen if she woke up and saw him again? Jake muttered a quick curse under his breath for his childish hesitation, then quickly strode to where Dana Scully lay on the ground. She might need help. As he knelt down next to her, he lightly touched her shoulder and shook it a little bit. "Ummm, Dana....??" , Jake thought hopefully. "Are you okay?", he asked, concerned. Scully shifted a little, which made Jake's heart leap into his throat and irrationally made him want to make himself scarce again. Then, very softly, she murmured something Jake had to quickly bend down to hear. "I'm fine, Mulder." She was still unconscious, but Jake could swear she sounded more than a little annoyed. Jake craned his neck around the marker to see if anyone was around who might go get some help. There was no one around. Jake exhaled quickly in frustration, searching once more for anyone, then looking back at the lovely woman sprawled at his feet. Jake was still trying to comprehend her strange behavior towards him, when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small, compact, black billfold lying near Dana's head. He reached down carefully, picking it up as if by moving it, Dana Scully would wake up and go ballistic again. Grief did strange things to one's mind - he should know. But, as he opened it and perused the inside of the small wallet, he felt that maybe it was now *his* turn to go ballistic, and drew in his breath sharply. It wasn't every day that one "met" their own double. No wonder Dana Scully reacted the way she did when she saw him -- it wasn't every day that one met their newly-dead true love's exact 'double', either. Jake wondered ridiculously for a moment what odds the guys in Vegas would put on this situation before returning his attention to the wallet and the slip of newspaper -- an obituary for one 'Fox William Mulder' -- that he had found next to Dana. The same picture was used both for the ID and the obituary, and Jake was getting a little too uncomfortable watching "his" eyes watching him so intently. This was way too strange. He closed the wallet back up after replacing the fallen obituary inside, and, after a few quiet moments of regarding Mr. Mulder's tombstone, turned his attention back to Ms. Scully, who wasn't showing any signs of waking up soon. Jake supposed that she just fainted with the shock of seeing him. ... no, not him.... *Mulder*.... and that she would be all right in a while. At least he hoped so. Her pale, smooth skin relaxed in unconsciousness, Dana Scully looked contented and at peace. But, as Jake looked closer, the smudges of dark under her eyes and a tiny crease of worry that marked her forehead told him a different story. A story of a woman who had lost too much, but would not allow herself to be lost along with everything else. A woman, that, like him, would confront the harsh cruelties of life, but would not let anyone else view the sorrow and despair that lay inside, under the surface. Quietness and independence would serve as a wall, each new pain inflicted supplying the bricks with which to make it higher, and, in time, much stronger, so that it became nearly impossible to break down. Jake's wall had become too high to even try to break down anymore. He no longer fought against the currents of life, struggling to gain ground. He merely went with them, living a solitary existence ever since Alex committed suicide, not giving anyone enough ammunition to even begin to crack his defenses. It was lonely as hell, and he didn't wish it on anyone else..... especially Dana Scully. Jake leaned down, looked through Dana's coat pockets for her car keys. Upon locating them, he placed the wallet in his trench coat pocket. He then centered his balance and bent farther over Dana, carefully picking her up in his arms. For a second, a small groan escaped her and she unconsciously nuzzled closer to him and he paused for just a moment; a little wary as he gazed down at her sleeping face, but more relaxed than he had been a few minutes ago. Jake slowly made his way to her car and somehow managed to unlock the rear door via the front door locks and lay her out on the car's back seat in what he hoped was a comfortable position. Then he placed Mulder's wallet on the dashboard of her car and wound down the windows so that a cool breeze would find it's way into the car until he could send help. He placed her keys inside her hand, and he fleetingly caressed the back of her hand with his thumb in a compassionate, understanding gesture before shutting both the front and rear doors. After one more stolen glance at the lovely Ms. Dana Scully, Jake turned and walked swiftly to his own car. On his way out of the cemetery, Jake stopped to inform the front office of Dana's location and condition, and upon receiving the manager's word that she would be attended to, he headed back to D.C. as fast as he could to pack his things and book a flight home.... But, not before he did a little writing of his own for a change. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ End Of Part Two >From trevizo@utep.edu Fri Oct 18 23:56:34 1996 I did not write this. Please send all comments to the author at (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com) __________ / __ __ \ ( (__) (__) ) --------[[[---------]]]------------------------------------------------- (Disclaimers, Lesley's challenge, and author's comments can all be found on Part 1-A...) Summary: A continuation of Lesley Graham's "Last Chance", in which Scully tries to come to grips with Mulder's sudden death.... but then a familiar face enters into the picture. (This is an X- Files/Red Shoe Diaries crossover... ) My rating: PG-13. A few naughty words, but not at all a typical "RSD outing".... you fellow DD fans know what I mean.... ;-) Spoiler warning: None that I can think of.... MSR (sorta) and Relationship warning!! (Not much 'File in this one.... sorry!) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Shades Of Betrayal" (3/3 - Epilogue) By: Sarah Roby (LadyDucatnip@prodigy.com) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Garden of Reflection Parkway Cemetery Boston, Massachusetts Thursday, April 25 "Miss? Oh, miss?? You okay?" A concerned, gravelly male voice permeated the warm, comforting, darkness Dana felt engulfing her. It pulled at her, urging her to wake up, to open her eyes. She wanted to ignore it, and willed it to go away. She was so tired.... "Miss Scully? Can you hear me??" She felt a light slap on the top of her hand, then another as the man's voice became more and more insistent. But, it wasn't Mulder's voice.... she could have sworn she saw..... "Yeah," Dana managed to croak out. Then, after clearing her throat, "Yes, I hear you.... where's Mulder?" "Mulder? I'm very sorry ma'am, but I don't know who you're talking about. I'm just the manager of the cemetery, and, boy, you gave us quite a scare...." The cemetery? She couldn't remember..... Dana opened her eyes slowly to behold the ceiling upholstery of her car and then realized she was lying on her back seat, her keys in her hand, and an older, gray-haired man was leaning into her car next to where her feet lay, trying to look cool and collected. How the hell had she gotten back in her car? She sat up very slowly, gently brushing away the manager's offer to help. She gazed out of the rear window, noting that the sun was just starting to descend across the sky, so she hadn't been out for very long...... "Do you remember what happened to you, ma'am?", the manager asked. Scully tried to remember.... she remembered crying next to Mulder's grave, beginning to feel more relieved, then a feeling of being watched, a snapping sound from behind, turning fast.... turning to see.... Mulder? Impossible. Completely implausible, but then again, that's what Mulder believed in whole-heartedly, without question..... And exactly what she wouldn't believe in, without solid proof. It had to be a dream.... a vision, maybe.... a vision of Mulder as unexplained as her vision of her father the night he had died, perhaps? But if he was a hallucination brought on by her grief at losing him, how had she gotten into her car without remembering? And, not to mention the fact that hallucinations didn't usually look scared out of their wits or snap twigs underneath cowboy-style boots. "A little....", Dana began. "But, it's hazy." She looked up into the manager's eyes with a questioning gaze. "Can you tell me how I ended up in my car? I remember being by the grave, then...... nothing...." "No, ma'am..... I'm sorry, I have no idea. A visitor came to the office, and informed me of your location." As Dana looked down at her keys, still trying to unravel the mystery, the manager allowed himself a feeling of guilt at the memory of the tall, dark man asking him not to give his description to Ms. Scully because 'it would only upset her'. He had been very wary, but, sensing the man's sincerity, he had promised him that he wouldn't tell her. As he left to find Ms. Scully, he told himself that if she was hurt, he would surely tell her or the police anyway, but.... here she was.... a little confused, yes, but not hurt. Regrettably, he would keep his word. "Do you remember what he looked like?", Dana asked. "He was, um.... a tall man with longish blond hair. I'm sorry, but he didn't give me his name...", he lied convincingly. "Oh.", Dana breathed, the disappointment evident in her voice. But, then, as if someone had flipped a switch, she seemed to completely change faces and smiled softly at the manager, who was looking at her with an unreadable face. "Thanks anyway. I'm fine now," she said with a convincing smile and a sudden lift in her voice. Scully worked her way out of her back seat and into the driver's seat, starting the engine. She glanced at Mulder's black ID wallet on her dashboard for a moment, thinking, and then waved a friendly wave to the manager as she pulled away. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he did the right thing by not telling her about the soft-spoken man with the haunted eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Los Angeles, California Thursday, April 25 7:45 PM PDT Jake put down the sketch pencil and protractor tiredly in front of him. Since he returned home, Jake had tried to focus on his newest blueprint spread out on the large drafting table, but couldn't seem to. The sun had just started to go behind the horizon a little less than a half an hour before, and it's fading golden-orange rays that dappled the slowly blackening sky were all that was left. He could hear the sounds of a lone freight train echo their way to his loft from the nearby train yards. He sighed deeply. Jake thought again about Dana Scully and their 'meeting'. Was it fate? Could he even call it that? No. Jake didn't believe in that sort of thing. But, then again, Jake wasn't ever truly convinced of the old saying that everyone had a 'twin' of themselves somewhere in the world. He knew Dana Scully would eventually rationalize his appearance in the cemetery next to Mulder's grave into a vision or something, and he felt that was best. The last thing she needed around her was a reminder of what she had so recently lost. She would keep fighting the current, even without Fox Mulder by her side. It was time for a change, Jake decided. A change in his life. It was time to start fighting that current once again. To start living again, even without Alex. Jake stood and walked over to the answering machine and slowly, almost reverently, pushed the 'Play Greeting' button. A few moments passed as the tape wound itself to the proper place and began to play back a delicate, flowing voice. A voice Jake listened to very intently, as if he were memorizing the message dictated in the soft, humor-filled voice. "Hi, we're not in right now.... Work, work, work.... Leave us a message...." After the 'beep', the tape stopped abruptly. Jake reached up to quickly eject the tape and set it in a drawer of the small table the machine rested on. From that same drawer, he retrieved another small tape - a new tape - and placed it inside the cassette holder. Before he pressed the 'Record Greeting' button, he pondered what exactly he should say for this new message. After a few moments he finally settled on an appropriate greeting and pressed the button down firmly. "Hi, I'm not in right now.... um, leave me a message please." It wasn't very smooth, but, it was a start. Jake bent down to pet Stella gently on the head, and then stood slowly to watch the dark orange sun sink completely behind the Los Angeles skyline, creating shadows on the 'streets' of the model city set out in the middle of his floor. As those shadows gradually stretched out upon the hardwood floor, Jake thought again about Dana Scully, and hoped she would find her own way to start over.... and that maybe he had been able to help her with that in a small way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Apartment of Dana Scully Saturday, April 27 11:15 AM EDT Dana watched in silence as the last box was carried in by the movers. She had wanted to keep a few things of Mulder's for herself - namely his fishtank and what little fish remained in it - nothing big. Just a few small personal items that she felt she needed to keep. She arranged for the moving company to move out all the boxes she had packed, and donate them, and his furniture (what little of it there was) to charity. She knew Mulder would give her one of those 'looks' and shake his head at her for even keeping anything of his around, but she didn't care. Besides, starting Monday, she would be taking on more of what she had considered 'his' -- the X-Files. Scully signed the moving bill and thanked the men as they left. She watched them walk down her corridor and out the door before her gaze settled on the rows of mailboxes on the wall just next to the exit. Dana decided to go ahead and recover her mail before she settled down to start going through the few boxes of Mulder's stuff that were sitting in her living room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Apartment of Dana Scully Saturday, April 27 11:30 AM EDT ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ "Dear Ms. Scully, I am hoping that this letter doesn't embarrass or startle you in any way. I am only wishing to, perhaps, lend some beneficial advice to you. I must admit to a modest feeling of uneasiness at writing (replying, actually) to you, for, now, I find myself on unfamiliar ground as well. You are the only woman that has responded to my ad that I have ever answered. You and I certainly share a similar pain. My 'once in a lifetime love' is also dead, but, instead of being murdered or taken ill, she killed herself because of one secret that she felt she needed to keep in order to retain her 'mystery', as she called it. Through letters such as yours (though none have been as enlightening), I have been hoping to understand the 'whys' behind her actions so that I could move on with my life. From your letter, I am fairly certain that your reasons are very akin to mine. You asked if withholding love from each other was, in itself, a betrayal. Well, Ms. Scully, there are many varying degrees, or shades, of betrayal. Should you have made that crucial move that would have brought you and your partner together? In a way, I feel you and your partner were already closer to each other than many lovers could ever hope to be. By sharing a mutual trust, respect, and love, you both were already, in a way, 'together'. Did you not only betray him, but yourself and all you may have had together as well? Certainly not. Whether or not you acted upon your love for each other, the love was there and recognized by each of you. Loving someone, needing them, caring for them is *never* a betrayal. It is a very precious gift. Cherish the times that you and your partner spent together, but never, ever regret what 'might have been'. Remember what was there instead, and the devotion you had to each other. Do not blame yourself for things beyond your control. True love never dies, Ms. Scully -- it only grows more with each memory, every remembered touch, and with time itself. Red Shoes" ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Dana drew in a shaky breath as she re-read the letter she had just opened. She watched as a single tear fell onto the paper. It was strange how the words of a complete stranger could have this affect on her. Stranger even that the postmark indicated the letter was mailed here in D.C., though the return address stated Canoga Park, California. A sneaking suspicion crept into her mind, but she had no proof. Not yet, anyway. In a way, this strangers' words gave her much comfort and allowed her to see her relationship with Mulder from a changed viewpoint. His death still hurt - very much so - but at least she could begin to move on.... Scully stood, and, wiping the tear marks from her face, walked to the phone. She dialed a familiar number, hoping that there would be an answer on the other end. After a few rings she was rewarded with a breathless, "Pendrell.. ." "Agent Pendrell.... it's Agent Scully." "Oh, Agent Scully... I was hoping you would call. How are you doing?" "Better..... um.... are the results back from the wallet yet?" "I just finished 'em, Agent Scully. I ordered a rush on them for you." Scully smiled a quick, but beautiful, smile of gratitude before saying, "And?" "And... we did find a match on those fingerprints." Dana paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Can you give me the name or address?" This time, Pendrell seemed to pause in hesitation. "Maybe it would be better for you to come down and see for yourself, Agent Scully...." His voice became more strained and quiet. "It's really kind of strange." "I'll be right there." Scully hung up, picked up her keys from the table and, on a hunch, carefully put the letter she had just been reading back in its envelope before leaving with it also. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FBI Headquarters Latent Fingerprint Lab Saturday, April 27 12:09 PM EDT Dana stood perfectly straight and austere as she stared incredulously at the computer screen in front of her. "This is impossible!! It has to be a mistake...." "I'm sorry, Agent Scully... it's not. I ran the prints twice - both times were a positive match. Let me go see if the prints off of the letter you sent me are finished processing...." Scully couldn't believe her eyes. The computer-generated California driver's license that Pendrell brought up for her to see completely shocked her. But, at least she knew that now she wasn't crazy. When she was in the cemetery, she hadn't seen a ghost. What, or *who* she had seen, rather, hadn't been Mulder, although the face on the license that stared back at her told her a different story. Agent Pendrell returned with the fingerprint results and the letter, his face sullen. "The partials I lifted off the paper match the ones I lifted from Agent Mulder's ID, Agent Scully....", Pendrell said as he handed Dana the print comparisons. "I know it's awfully strange...." "But 'strange' is right up my alley, Agent Pendrell." Scully said softly, gazing at the paper in her hand with an even, almost hard, expression. Pendrell again returned his attention to the license shown on the screen, a silence falling between the two agents until Scully spoke again. "Can I get a print-out of the license, please?" "Sure thing...." Pendrell pushed a few buttons on the keyboard and a printer across the room began to whir. He went to retrieve the document while Dana put the letter back into it's envelope, grabbed Mulder's ID and started gathering up the test results. "Here you go, Agent Scully..." Pendrell said, handing Scully the license print-out which she quickly took and placed it in the stack along with the other test records. She smiled a brief smile of thanks before turning to leave. "Thanks again, Agent Pendrell.... I owe you one." She had to throw the last part of the sentence over her shoulder as she left the room and the lab door swung shut. Pendrell sighed. Technically, he wasn't 'supposed' to do a print check on anyone unless they were suspected of a crime, but when Dana called him and asked him to do her a favor..... well, he couldn't say no. Especially with Agent Mulder's death not that long ago.... had it been a little over a week already?? Pendrell knew that Agents Mulder and Scully were more than just partners... more like best friends... but he didn't realize until now how deep those feelings for each other went. He had hoped, one day, of getting up the nerve to ask Dana out on a date, but now, he realized that she now would need more friends than romantic prospects. And now, as one of those friends, he told himself he would never reveal to anyone what was in that letter that Agent Scully had him check for prints, or even that he had seen any such letter. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Apartment of Dana Scully Saturday, April 27 8:00 PM EDT Dana finally got Mulder's fish settled in and watched as they began to circle the familiar tank once again. They looked so at peace, so calm, that she was envious. Scully looked around her apartment, her eyes locating each little addition. Besides Mulder's fish, Dana had kept some knick- knacks, papers, and even his ratty, sleeveless, New York Knicks T- shirt, which was now folded nicely in a drawer. Dana also found a few photos in her search of his apartment - some with him and Samantha, very few taken of his parents, and even fewer of him as a boy. She had framed a couple of the better pictures of him and Samantha to show her if, no, *when* she was found, and one of Mulder that looked like it had been taken when he was in fourth, or maybe, fifth grade. In these pictures, he was actually smiling openly and contentedly. Of course, this was before Samantha had been taken away, and his life was turned around so completely and abruptly to mold him into the cynical, paranoid, yet vulnerable and honorable man he had become. Her mind ran in circle after circle, each thought completing a tighter and tighter loop. There was nothing more to do now in terms of her apartment, and she couldn't officially 'work' until Monday morning. Dana pulled the license print-out off the dining room table before walking slowly to the sofa and sitting down heavily. She stared at the face on the license skeptically, trying to come up with any other rational explanation for what, or who, she saw in the cemetery. But, the only explanation that made any sense at all was the one with Mulder's face and his eyes that looked passively back at her from the typical DMV picture. Of course the odds alone of this man looking exactly like Fox Mulder were astronomical and sounded *way* too crazy.... kind of like Mulder himself. At least now she was on familiar ground, and, as usual, her curiosity piqued and her skepticism demanded a chance to be heard. Maybe, one day soon, a new X-File would take her to California, perhaps even to Los Angeles. Stranger things had happened. ~~~~~~~ The End!! ThanX for sticking with it to the end! No sequels planned, unless I want one (sure....), someone else wants one (fine....), or somebody else writes it (whatever....)!!