From: "Denise A. Agnew" Date: Tue, 27 Oct 1998 10:14:38 +0000 Subject: NEW: Salad Dressing (1/6) by D. Agnew (X,UST,H) Okay to archive in Gossamer...all other archives please ask me first. DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program and movie "The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. SPOILERS: Every episode is fair game, including the movie. RATING: PG-13 CLASSIFICATION: X, UST, H SUMMARY: On Halloween, after investigating a mysterious potion, Mulder and Scully are tempted to let their latent feelings run amok. AUTHOR NOTE: This piece is set after my story Acknowledge The Corn. It might be helpful to read that story first, though it isn't entirely necessary in order to understand this story. I consider it set "before season six" but after the movie. Constructive criticism and feedback welcome. Salad Dressing (1/6) by Denise A. Agnew writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk Mulder's Apartment October 31 9:00am For the first time in his life Mulder found the paranormal boring. Dull. Implausible. Even Halloween couldn't burgeon his interest. The sky, a gun metal grey and churning with an approaching storm, couldn't generate his enthusiasm for the otherworldly. "You're not serious," Mulder said, turning away from the window to look a Langly. "I don't believe it." Langly wrinkled his nose, giving it the appearance of one of those nasty vegetables Mulder hated...a rutabaga? Ha! A rutabaga wearing black birth control glasses and a Guns and Roses T-Shirt. The man's long, stringy blond hair often reminded Mulder of a warlock. Then again, none of the witches Mulder had ever encountered had looked like a Halloween costume. Langly snorted. "The great Mulder a nonbeliever? That would be a first." "This isn't the first time I've shrugged off a theory. Don't get cocky." Byers shifted on the couch, his face placid. "You don't think we'd bring you a dead end, do you?" Yeah, right. Mulder stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. A night without sleep had obviously made him lose perspective. Where had his driving need to understand the paranormal vanished? Especially on the one holiday a year where strange things could happen at any moment. Instead, he could almost believe he was dreaming this whole ridiculous episode. Then he would wake up in the morning and realize Halloween had been another holiday. Reading and watching television resided on his agenda this year. Nothing more complicated than that. Byers's composed mask turned petulant. "We thought you'd want to know. This is serious business." "This is about the strangest theory I've heard you guys come up with," Mulder said. "I suppose you think it's a part of a larger conspiracy. Maybe next you'll tell me they're injecting hallucinations into the donuts at Dart Caf around the corner. "I hadn't thought of that," Frohike said. He shifted his combat boot shod feet restlessly. "I've had my last strawberry filled donut." Mulder sat down on the couch next to Byers and turned the laptop so he had a better view. When the Three Stooges had appeared an hour ago with their usual covert paranoia and latest theory, Mulder almost reverted to Scully's customary skepticism. What they proposed seemed highly unlikely, but they hadn't steered him wrong yet. The hair- brained theory might deserve another look. "You're telling me there is a mind-altering substance being injected into people's cappuccino at Mickey's Coffee Cart down the street from the FBI? You know how crazy that sounds? I mean, I've known Mickey for years. His cappuccino doesn't drive me into a jealous rage over..." He couldn't think of anyone he could even be jealous of. He hadn't had a girlfriend in so long...not since Diana, and even those feelings had faded. The Lone Gunman exchanged looks, taking note of Mulder's far away expression. Byers spoke. "You don't have to be currently involved for the drug to take effect. It can work on anyone." Mulder felt perverse. "You're telling me that if I have a latte From Mickey's I might get a sudden hankering for you Byers?" Byer's twitched. "Uh...I don't think so, Mulder." "It makes men want women, and women want men," Langly said, leaning against the desk by the window. "Regardless of their normal sexual orientation." Mulder nodded. "Must be powerful stuff it can even change sexual orientation. In the case of us heterosexual types...you're saying that if I drink this coffee the first woman I see will turn me into a lust crazed maniac?" "It doesn't work that way either. Most likely it'll be a woman you've met, maybe even had lunch with or talked to before. Not a complete stranger," Langly said. "Not a complete stranger, but not someone who is already a lover." Mulder felt more and more like the Twilight Zone had set down in his dreams for the night. "You got it," Langly said. "But why would this drug differentiate one woman or man from another? Why not a complete stranger or someone you are in love with? Why this in between stage? What would be the point?" Mulder asked. "You're missing a piece of the puzzle, Mulder," Langly said. "You can be in love with the person, just not their lover," Forhike said. "Apparently, if you've already had sex with the person the drug won't work." "To what end?" Mulder asked. "If we knew that answer we might be half way to solving the mystery," Byers said. "Why do you think someone would devise this drug then test it out on innocent coffee drinkers?" Mulder asked. The three men exchanged another one of their looks. Finally Langly spoke. "We think it's just another mad scientist, not the government." "Well, that's a relief," Mulder said sarcastically. "Have you any idea who this mad scientist might be?" All three gunmen shook their heads. Standing up, Mulder went to the window again and looked out on the city around him. Outside the noisy city rattled and wheezed and went about its business without a pause to reflect. Maybe he'd stand here until they got bored and went away. He'd think about how people raced back and forth, their lives full of mystery and weirdness and secrets. Hell, his own life would make a good television program or even a movie. He shuddered. Mulder let his mind drift, urging a ridiculous inability to focus on one solid thought to pull him into a sort of oblivion. He'd used this mindless state often when profiling serial killers. The danger came in using it to escape from every day realities. He'd been doing that more and more lately. Retreating from things he didn't wish to think about any longer. Just a day or two without government conspiracies, serial killers, and strange phenomena would give him a perimeter of peace. "Mulder, the evidence is all here," Byers said, pointing at the lap top. "Our sources wouldn't turn us wrong." "These are some of the same people who sell wild theories to the National Inquisitor, right?" Mulder asked, still staring out the window. Langly cleared his throat. "Well, they've been known to embellish things just to get people's attention, but there's always a kernel of truth-" "I still don't believe it." Mulder said, turning around to take in the startled gazes of his friends in conspiracy. "I'm not going to work off a kernel of truth." "You've worked with a single peanut before," Byers said, allowing a smidgen of disdain into his tone. "If I didn't know better I'd say he's turned into Scully," Frohike said to Byers and Langly. "Now that would be a mystery worth looking into." "I don't think the hair color would look good on me, do you?" Mulder asked, his face impassive. Frohike's pained expression turned to mirth. "Ha! I get it. You're making a joke." The corner of Beyer's mouth twitched up in a failed attempt to smile, while Langly remained poker faced. Frohike's laugh choked off in mid gurgle. "Ah, okay. Well, what if you just go down to the coffee cart, purchase a cup of coffee, then take it to the lab for analysis. Maybe you'll be able to find the substance, whatever it is." "Why haven't you guys bought a cup of coffee and tasted it yourself?" Mulder asked. "Might round up a few girl friends for you guys. You could get a life." Once again Byers, Frohike, and Langly exchanged pained expressions. Frohike said, "We didn't find anything when we had it analyzed. Zip." Mulder threw up his hands. "So why would you think I'd be able to find the drug in the coffee if you can't?" Langly spoke first. "You have special labs. We can't do everything. If anyone can find the substance used the F.B.I. can." Mulder simply stared at him. "With Scully's help you can do anything," Byers said when silence had stretched too long. Mulder let his mind drift to what Scully had said to him last night on the phone. "Have a good Halloween Mulder. And do me a favor? Don't call me if you get a case. I don't want to know. I'll be at my mother's this year helping her pass out candy." "Scully isn't going to help me with this. If I investigate I'm not involving her." Langly quirked one brow. "Why not?" "She isn't going to like that," Frohike said, drawing out the sentence in a sing-song voice. Mulder chose the short way around the subject. "Get out of here. I've got places to go and people to see. Not necessarily in that order." "So you'll take it?" Frohike's eyes widened with excitement. "I mean, you'll investigate?" Mulder shrugged. "Maybe. But I can't do it with you three standing around." "Hot damn!" Langly said, giving Frohike a high five. "Don't get your hopes up," Mulder said. "I didn't say I'd do it for sure." Their disappointment hung in the air like a miasma. These men had been good friends when the going had been rough. They'd saved his butt on more than on occasion, most recently when he'd left the hospital with a head injury, determined to find Scully and save her from the virus that could have taken her from him forever. No, they had come to the rescue far too often to be ignored. He couldn't shove these men aside, as tempting as the idea sounded. "Use my office email and send me the information you dug up," Mulder said as he ushered them toward the door. "Hot damn," Frohike said, his tone droll. Mulder sighed and shut the door behind them. He flopped onto the couch to think. Outside in the hall the three men frowned, pausing before they headed for their van. "You know he's not going to believe the report," Langley said. "Even we were skeptical when we first read it." Frohike grunted. "He said he'd look into it if we sent it to him. What more can we do?" Byers started down the hall. "Maybe we could take his suggestion. We could drink the coffee and-" "Hah! And what? We can't very well solve the case if we're caught up in lust induced rage. We need clear heads and calm minds," Langly said as he followed Byers. He looked down at the floor. "The idea is tempting, though..." Byers shrugged. "Who knows what damage could occur before Mulder and Scully can stop this madman?" Frohike's grinned, his small eyes growing wide. "I have an idea." Langly came to a stop just outside the apartment building. "What are you thinking?" "What if Mulder tastes this coffee and Scully tastes it, too? Think of the possibilities." "Now that would be interesting to watch," Byers said. "But I'd be afraid of what could happen. Don't you think we should warn Scully about this?" A long pause stretched as they headed toward the van. "I think that would be a good idea," Frohike said. "Forewarned is forearmed." End of Part One Salad Dressing (2/6) by Denise A. Agnew writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk FBI Headquarters X-Files Office 2:00pm Scully took another sip of her coffee and suddenly wished she had more. Mocha had to be her favorite gourmet caffeine, and lately she couldn't seem to get enough of it. Probably explained why she felt more skittish than a elephant on thin ice. No, if she was honest with herself she'd couldn't attribute her problem to caffeine consumption. Lately she'd experienced odd feelings she couldn't explain. Caffeine wouldn't account for the impulses nagging at her all last week and yet today. It disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. All week she'd been plagued by strange dreams that showed her visions of her future in the X-Files and with Mulder. But the images produced in those dreams could not be followed through. If she did it might end the best working relationship she had. And the thought of losing Mulder as her partner hurt far worse than keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself. The building seemed to moan around her like a demented harpy, and she wondered if the wind could be making the low, rolling noises that sounded like bowling balls running across the floor above her. She peered at the ceiling as if it might answer her question. Ridiculous. She'd let the atmosphere of the holiday get the better of her. When she'd walked down the lonely corridor toward the basement office early this morning, the hall had been cold, filled with a silence deeper than a grave. Outside a strange thunderstorm boiled, mixing with the cold threat of winter to make an odd fusion of the sinister. Perfect atmosphere for Halloween. At least here in the basement she wouldn't hear the bizarre, rampaging storm. Somewhere in the building a hollow bong rang out like a huge grandfather clock. The sound made her nervous, as if it tolled an ominous hour. Disgusted with her jumpy state, she took another sip of coffee, savoring the smooth blend. Halloween with the X-Files. Always an intriguing concept. "You guys have really gone around the bend this time," Scully said as she perused the email on her computer screen. "I don't believe this." The Lone Gunman often cooked up wild theories, but this one had potential to make even Mulder yawn with boredom. Why had they sent her this information when they knew she'd be the least likely to take it seriously? She scrolled through the sixteen pages of documentation they had emailed her, speed reading and hoping she'd discover something of value hidden in the muck. Phrases caught and held in her memory as she skimmed through the more preposterous junk. So far three men and one woman had died after consuming Mickey's coffee. The three men had all committed suicide after being rejected by women they claimed to love. The woman had also committed suicide after a man she pined for wouldn't go out with her on a date. This information alone meant little. But all four people had died within the last two weeks. Each of the four individuals regularly consumed coffee from Mickey's coffee cart. Very odd. Scully continued to scroll through the report. "Where do these guys get this stuff?" she asked out loud. "Not everyone in the city drinks Mickey's coffee." "Conspiracy of the highest order. An aphrodisiac of the most potent kind. Works on the feelings, not just the anatomy/hormonal/sexual context of the infected. Incites various reactions in individuals...a few to violent self-destruction." "Suicide," she muttered. "Death by rejection. Must be someone you are in love with but haven't had intercourse with." Her mind went off on a tangent. Scully remembered her first day back at the office after their adventures in the snow and ice...her narrow escape from becoming an alien's meal...a host for something unspeakable. She'd recovered from the frost bite on her face. She remembered much of what she'd forgotten about the incident. About being caged in something gelatinous and suffocating. About Mulder trying to save her life. About the relief on his face when they'd been tossed onto the ice and collapsed on the snow, every breath a precious commodity. Even the moment before the bee sting came back with perfect clarity. At least now she could recall those revealing moments in the hallway without losing her breath, without feeling the biting pains in her chest and the dizziness that had left her limp and helpless as Mulder's concerned face swam in and out of her vision. The panic in his voice as he'd called for an ambulance. The fading of consciousness. Mulder calling her name. She'd understood then, as she'd understood at no other time, how much Mulder cared for her. She'd ignored what had almost happened before the bee sting. Sealed it away with other intimate details where they couldn't intrude on the smooth routine of her daily life. But despite Mulder's regard for her, she couldn't imagine him drinking coffee and becoming as amorous as a horny toad. No...the theories in this document went way beyond belief and verged on stupidity. She sat her coffee on her desk but accidentally put it down on a pencil and the cup tipped. She grabbed at it, but the rest of the liquid splashed onto her desk. Cursing silently, she grabbed some tissues and dabbed at the mess. Fortunately the coffee had missed important papers and her computer key board. She tossed the empty paper cup and soaked tissues into the trash. Scully heard the doorknob turning and a prickle of apprehension darted up her spine. Amazing how such a little sound could echo like canon fire. Looking away from her computer she turned toward the door as it eased open slowly. So very slowly. The door creaked like something out of a vintage horror movie. Her respiration accelerated, her pulse darting into high gear. She reached for the drawer where she'd stored her weapon. She took few chances these days. "Mulder?" He stepped inside the office and stopped, one hand on the door knob, the other gripping a cup of Mickey's coffee. He grinned. Just about the widest grin she'd seen on his face. "Are you going to shoot me with that, Scully?" With a sigh of relief and exasperation she put the weapon back in the drawer. "Sorry. I'm a little edgy today." "'Tis the season. What are you doing here?" He walked over to his desk and put down his coffee before he took off his coat and hung it up. "I thought you were spending time with your mother." "I am. Later tonight. She had some shopping to do...last minute candy..." she trailed off as Mulder strode toward her, the odd light in his eyes resembling a wolf after prey. "I see." He sat on the edge of her desk, disregarding her frown as he sat right on some of her papers. One corner of his mouth curved up, and she caught herself staring at it with fascination. A flush of heat settled in her stomach, and she shifted in her chair. "What are you doing, Mulder?" "I wanted to try out a theory given to me by Huey, Dewey and Louie." She folded her hands over her stomach. "I didn't watch the cartoons this morning." He leaned a little closer, his gaze going dark. The scent of him, pleasant and warm, invaded her space. "Do you believe opposites attract?" The way this man launched into subjects drove her nuts. But it was a part of him that would never change, of that she was sure. "In science, yes. It's been proven-" "No. I mean in humans. As in couples. Do opposites attract more often than not?" Flabbergasted, she took a deep breath. "I hadn't given it much thought." "Think." He stared at her intently, and for a moment she lost absolutely every thought in her head but one thing. What was that cologne or aftershave he wore? The scent reminded her of a spice, though she couldn't be certain of the ingredient. "Scully?" She cleared her throat. "I suppose it makes perfect sense. When you have two people with opposing viewpoints, perhaps with wildly different occupations, that might cause some excitement of a residual nature." "People who mesh together only in the workplace but not in their social life." He leaned forward a little more, and she let her gaze drift over his face. He needed a shave. How odd. He always came to work clean shaven unless he'd been working on a case and hadn't gone home. "Have you been up all night?" she asked. "No. Why?" "You haven't shaved." His eyes lit up with amusement, and he rubbed his jaw. "Why I didn't think you'd notice. Do you think it gives me that Coke commercial rugged look? You know...the one where-" "I know what you're talking about." She noted the tiny red hearts on his blue tie. Hearts on his tie? "Mulder, your tie has hearts on it." "Old tie from an old girlfriend." A spike of hot disappointment rippled through her like a flood wave. Not only had he come in to work unshaven, he had the gall to wear a tacky tie to work. "I've never seen it before. Who gave it to you? Diana?" His lips twitched. "No. A much older girlfriend. You haven't met her." Before she could stop herself she blurted out, "Phoebe?" "No. Besides, you've met Phoebe. Why do you want to know?" She looked away. "Forget it, Mulder. It's not important." He shrugged. "Actually, this is my Halloween costume. Where's yours?" With a devouring gaze that started at her hair and headed toward her ankles, he took inventory. She'd worn a suit to work; her skirt ended just at the knees. Mulder's gaze hitched on her hem line for a minute and stayed there. The obvious interest in his gaze startled her so badly she almost hopped up and left the office. He done this before...suddenly taken an almost animal interest in her for a few seconds. But it always dissipated like a mosquito buzzing by...a quick annoyance that she might have chalked up to imagination if she hadn't heard the distinct hum. His gaze snapped up to hers. She dared him to look away first. The silence drew out...hugging her tighter...squeezing in her chest like a vice... "Scully," he whispered. She broke. She looked away, noticing for the first time small droplets of sweat on his forehead and the strained look in his eyes. As if he'd pulled himself back from a precipice where he'd dangled for a day and a night. "Let's get back on topic," she said. He swallowed hard. "Girlfriends?" She sighed. "No." "Opposites attracting. Residual as in short term?" he asked as he leaned his forearm on his thigh, bringing him closer. "What?" "The attraction you spoke of. You said it was residual." "Yes. Spontaneous. Reactionary. A combination of the right circumstances and the right time all coalescing into a chemical reaction. Not worth analyzing." "Why is it not worth analyzing? I thought you had a curious mind ready to apply science to anything and everything." "I am applying science." She allowed a small smile to match the one lingering on his lips. "Lust and hormones, Mulder. Sometimes they just run amok. It is what reminds us we are not that high up the food chain. You can be in lust with someone for very short time and it does not mean a thing in terms of compatibility on the job or in personal lives. It does not mean you are in the relationship for the long haul." "Run amok? Is that a scientific term?" She didn't answer for several seconds. Instead she stared at him in disbelief. Where did he come up with these questions? "No." "But what about love rather than lust? Anger and jealousy? Could the same hormones that cause love produce other strange thoughts?" "I never said hormones cause love." She paused, but when he said nothing she continued. "What is this all about?" "A new case I'm involved in. I didn't want to get you involved, too." He stood up. Scully watched him pace the room, her curiosity warring with irritation. "Your shoes will wear out before the floor does, Mulder." He came to a dead stop and put his hand to his forehead. "Maybe it takes more than one cup to really kick in." "One cup of what to kick what it?" Again he strode to her desk. When he settled on the edge of her desk once again, his gaze latched onto hers and stayed. She thought she heard thunder in the distance but dismissed the idea. She couldn't hear the storm way down here. Maybe it was her heart thumping like a crazy drum. "I'm tired," he said. "I need some caffeine. Want some?" "No," she said softly. When he stood for the umpteenth time she reached out and caught his forearm. "Mulder, is something wrong? You are jumping around here like rabbit." He placed his hand over hers. The warmth seeped through her fingers and made her realize how cold she felt. "I haven't slept much all week. Maybe four hours a night." She summoned a smile. "That is almost normal for you." "How would you know? You haven't been in my bed, have you Scully?" End of Part Two -- Salad Dressing (3/6) by Denise A. Agnew writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk For the first time in a long time a blush rose to Scully's cheeks. She tried to pull her hand away but Mulder held it against his arm tightly. She fought for the right words. "If there is something going on, Mulder, you have got to tell me." "Nothing's going on that a little caffeine won't fix." He released her hand. "Besides, you said you didn't want to work this weekend." "If it is something serious..." She hesitated, unable to think of the way to put what she meant into words. "If it concerns your safety or health or-" "I'm fine." Damn him. Why did he always stare at her like that? There didn't seem to be enough oxygen in the room for the both of them. "Would you say we were opposites, Scully?" he asked softly, his voice going husky. "No. Yes." "Can't have it both ways." "We think differently in many respects. We do not agree on many aspects of an investigation. But in that sense it keeps us...on the right track. We can bounce ideas off of each other. Keep our heads straight. Our thinking clear." His expression looked dazed. "You don't want to know what I'm thinking now." His words insinuated. At least she thought they did. Indicated dark thoughts and crazy deeds she couldn't give credence to and wouldn't give space in her mind. She had trouble putting two coherent thoughts together. What the hell was wrong with her? Better to talk...even if what came out made no sense. If she babbled, maybe she could fight her way out of this paper bag that came down over her head, suffocating her. "We think differently, Mulder, but we are on the same side. We have the same goal." "What about chemistry? Do you think we have chemistry?" "If you mean do we have a strong friendship--" "No. Chemistry." She shook her head. She didn't like the feeling he pushed her toward something rampaging and dangerous. Mulder was Mulder. Her dearest friend. Her partner. Nothing must threaten that. Not even the inexplicable feelings she'd had for him the last week. Not even the way he acted now. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, looking at the floor. "It's inevitable when two people are partners for an extended period of time they will have...feelings." "Feelings..." "A good partnership like ours will have its fluctuations. Unavoidable conflicts. Confusion can make people think-" "What is there when there is no conflict and no confusion? We haven't even had a case in a week or two that we can argue about. We've been in agreement with most things for a long time. What does that tell you?" "I think you've had too much caffeine, Mulder." He frowned, the dazzled look sliding from his eyes and retreating into a countenance she knew well. Anger. "We've known each other a long time, Scully. You can practically read my mind. What am I thinking now?" "Unlike you, I have no illusions about my psychic abilities." He made a scoffing noise. "You've seen angels." She sighed. "What does that have to do with this chemistry thing you are talking about?" He flinched, as if she'd slapped him. "Can't you feel it?" Her confusion turned to perturbation in a flash. "Stop being so damned obtuse and tell me what the hell you are talking about. Either that or leave me alone. I need to work." "You need to work or you need to escape what you feel? Isn't that what you're good at Scully? Hiding from what you feel?" The heat of irritation darted through her like a blast from a flame thrower. "This is ridiculous. Do you think it is funny to put me through this?" "Through what?" She stood abruptly. He stood with her. Practically touching, they faced each other like two opponents in a ring, an odd, unbelievable animosity jumping and arching between them like live electrical wires. "We've gone over this before," she said, her throat tight and dry. "My life is my life, your life is yours. Even as close as we are...we are still alone, Mulder. We are individuals with separate lives." He shook his head slowly. "We have the same goals. To find the truth. It is no longer just my truth. You proved that to me when you said you wouldn't leave the X-Files." He licked his lips. "When you said you wouldn't leave me." Chaos danced within her like the sparks in a growing fire. She could say nothing. "We are two of kind. Sealed forever. Unbreakable." He leaned forward until a few short inches separated their faces. "Me without you and you without me is like salad without salad dressing. Healthy, maybe. But very unappetizing." Within his gaze she recognized another moment. Out of her memory he emerged, in the hallway of his apartment complex, begging her not to leave the X-Files. Holding her as she reached up for him and kissed his forehead. The feeling of recognition as she'd watched his face...of knowing something monumental had happened in their relationship. Mulder had admitted that he needed her and if it hadn't been for her he couldn't have gone on with the X-Files. He'd divulged the one thing she hadn't known for certain. He'd admitted he needed her. Had needed her and owed her everything. Never in her life had she felt the combination of satisfaction and amazement such a revelation brought. Mulder had done an incredible job of holding these feelings back from her until she had pressed the issue by showing him she had a life she could go to without him. Her tears had been of sadness and happiness at the same time. Of regret and fear. She recalled her brother's question about where Mulder was during her fight with cancer. Why he hadn't been there much of the time. She'd been unable to answer because she couldn't explain to anyone what she already understood. Mulder's need to reach the truth was the core of everything within him. And Mulder had understood her need to help him find the truth...no matter what the cost. For only in the truth had there been her cure. Without Mulder's dedication to uncovering that reality, she would have died. She owed him more than he realized. More than anyone comprehended. His fingers slid down her cheek with a feather touch, tingling with a hot trail. He smoothed his index finger under her chin and a raw need ran down her body to her toes. She'd heard of time standing still, but never believed it until now. The caress of his finger under her chin tugged at her, and she found herself leaning forward. Forward. Some things are inevitable. Some things cannot be prevented by common sense. However, this time she saved herself from stepping off the edge entirely. Saved them both. With a little gasp she moved back. He stared down at her for a long moment before going back to his desk. He picked up his coffee and started for the door. "I've got some thinking to do. Are you going to be here much longer?" "Another four hours at least." With a cursory nod he left the room. After he left, she tried to forget his strange behavior and her stranger reaction. Sure, he acted oddly with great regularity. But his disconnected speech...the sheer variety of subjects he'd crammed in to one discussion...that wasn't really like him. A fervor had fired his eyes, betraying an emotion deep and engulfing. But Mulder had always been powered by conviction, by a certainty he could find an answer if he tried hard enough. His faith had wavered on more than one occasion, but he'd gotten it back in spades. A frown spread over her lips as she thought back. On their first case her amusement and irritation with his investigative techniques and wild theories had turned to respect. From confusion to wary trust. Case after case that friendship had built to what it was today. Today they had something she couldn't define. She'd experienced enough change...enough life altering experiences in the last few years she wanted stability. Not continual change. But she knew if she continued to be Mulder's partner their lives would be anything but sedate. Moments ago the threads between them had shivered, wavered, pulled taut with a tension that frightened her. In the hallway at his apartment when their lips had almost...touched...she'd been dazed. This time the feelings had been far more intense. Like something out of control. A rubber band ready to snap. For if he yanked on that invisible cord, she'd fall forward into new and dangerous territory. It scared her to think it would be easy for him to dictate her feelings. That her emotions weren't her own at this minute. With a sense of disbelief she remembered something that should have been apparent to her shortly after Mulder walked in the office. She'd been drinking Micky's coffee this morning before Mulder came in. She'd had the mocha three times this week. Could that explain her feelings about Mulder this week? Had he consumed any of Micky's coffee before he came into the office? While she hadn't seen him drink the coffee while he remained in the office, he might have had some before he came in the office. That would explain the way he'd looked at her- No. That would suggest she believed the coffee theory. She leaned her elbows on her desk and rubbed at her temples. A building headache pounded at her, starting slow but relentless. She stared at her computer screen at the report. The coffee theory had come from a set of crazy triplet pseudo scientists who weren't always right. Nothing said they were correct this time. Sighing, she logged out of her computer and shut it down. She couldn't tell Mulder about this report. If the Lone Gunman had sent it to her in confidence they must have a good reason. But what? End of Part Three -- Salad Dressing (4/6) by Denise A. Agnew writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk Mickey's Coffee Cart 2:30pm Rain threatened, thunder rolling across the heavens with the steady rumble of a freight train. Mulder looked at the sky and hoped the storm wouldn't come before he could interview Mickey. Mulder watched Mickey froth milk for cappuccino. With a wide smile the big man greeted customers with politeness and a good sense of humor. It still didn't seem possible Mickey could be tampering with the coffee. The verdict was still out, however. Mulder decided that one coffee had revealed some intriguing feelings within him, but it hadn't proven Mickey's coffee held a strange drug. Perhaps a second cup would confirm once and for all if the coffee contained an elixir. Like most things in Mulder's life, he found it easier to test theories on his own rather than wait for the lab to experiment. He'd dropped off the remainder of the first cup of coffee he'd purchased from Mickey at the lab for examination. In the meantime he'd get another cup and then head back to the office before Scully could depart. Looking for any sign Mickey could have injected a strange element into the coffee, Mulder tried to appear nonchalant. Then again, he couldn't stop thinking about the peculiar feelings he'd experienced when he'd walked into the office today and seen Scully. Overpowering. Odd. Scary. As if he couldn't get enough of her...couldn't stop looking at her. The crazy coffee theory might have merit after all. Mickey filled the cup to the brim, snapped on a lid and handed it Mulder. Straightening to his full six feet six inches, Mickey asked, "You becomin' addicted, Mulder?" "Addicted to what?" Mickey leaned forward slightly, a smile conveying his delight in mystery and in everything that couldn't be explained away. His pale green eyes reminded Mulder of peridot, with the keen, eerie substance of a night creature. His thin, lined face said he might be sixty or sixty- five, but Mulder believed the man could be older. Sighing, Mickey brushed a hand through his thick, wavy gray hair, and the mass moved around his shoulders like a live thing. "Addicted to the substance." Mulder flinched. So Mickey intended to tell him point blank about what ingredient tainting the coffee? "Substance?" "Yeah." Shrugging one shoulder, then looking around the area, Mickey said, "Somethin' in the air." "Pollution?" Mickey frowned, the gesture turning down his wide mouth and making his already droopy mustache drop still further. "No, damn it. Take me seriously." "When have I ever not taken you seriously?" Appeased, the older man smiled, revealing yellow teeth. Probably stained from coffee. "Sorry, Mulder. I guess I'm on edge these days." "Why?" "Police been snoopin' around my cart like it was a donut shop." "I'm surprised at you, Mickey. I didn't know you believed that old stereotype." "Damn you. You know what I'm talking about." Another customer arrived, and Mulder moved out of the way. After Mickey had frothed the milk and applied it to his customer's steaming hot coffee, he snapped on the lid and shoved it at the man. He snatched the five dollar bill out of the man's hand and gave back change in record time. Mulder noted Mickey's jerky, nervous movements. The customer left. "Why do you think the cops have been sniffing around your cart?" He took a sip of the scalding brew before he remembered what might be in the drink. "I think they think I have somethin' to do with those suicides. You have to heard by now. Some people think I've been puttin' some crap in the coffee." Mulder nodded and took another sip. "I've heard. I don't believe a word of it." Mickey's face relaxed a fraction. "Thanks. I guess you wouldn't be drinkin' it if you believed it, would you?" "It's pretty absurd. What would you gain from putting a drug in your coffee?" He watched the other man's face, trying to gauge for a reaction, but one never came. "Unless you've gone stark raving mad, of course." Mickey's hand slapped down on the small counter space in front of him, and Mulder flinched. "Give me a break. I couldn't pass chemistry in high school much less dream up a love potion." "Is that what it's supposed to be?" Mickey's brows furrowed together. "You just said you don't believe I'm puttin' crap in my coffee." "I don't." He took another swig of his coffee, and an image of Scully popped into his head. Scully. Hell, she kept hopping into his head like a dream. Like a vision that wavered and held, tantalizing without coalescing into reality. "But what I want to understand is why anyone would start this rumor. Do you know anyone who might have a vendetta against you? Someone who would want you discredited? Maybe a competitor?" "No. Hell, Mulder, my sales have actually gone up since this rumor started going around. Can you believe that?" "I believe it. There are a lot of lonely people out there. Probably hoping your love potion will bring them together. They're willing to forget the possible danger." Mickey frowned again. "What danger?" "People are crazy, Mickey. They could dream up love problems, reasons for suicide, you name it. They don't really need a strange drug, but since they don't want to take responsibility for their own actions, they can blame it on something else. Whatever is convenient." Mickey nodded. "You got that right. Hell, I been workin' this cart before it even became popular to drink this fancy stuff. Hell, if they don't like my coffee they can just not come back. I don't give a damn." "So if it isn't your coffee causing these cases of lust, what is going on?" "I don't claim to know." Seeing the blank look on the man's face, Mulder tried another tactic. "You asked me if I was addicted to the substance. What substance?" Mickey let out a guffaw. "What I meant was whatever it is that IS causing all these suicides and stuff. Just because it isn't my coffee doesn't mean some sort of wild love couldn't be happenin', right?" "I just said it's probably an excuse people are using." Shifting on his feet nervously, Mickey sighed. "Yeah, well, it's makin' me crazy to know people think it's my doin'." Mulder almost groaned. First the Lone Gunman had almost convinced him. Then Mickey had almost persuaded him. It was crazy. Plain crazy. Suspicion rose in Mulder. Perhaps Mickey wanted Mulder off his trail and figured the way to do that was to act the innocent. As much as he didn't want to believe it, the possibility could be there. Mickey might be lying. "Have you experienced the...love thing?" Mulder asked. Mickey laughed. "I've had a love thing for a certain lady for a good three years now. No. Probably longer than that." Mulder lifted one brow. "Oh, yeah? Who?" Sighing heavily like a love sick teenager, Mickey looked into the distance. "She's beautiful, that's for sure. Pretty in a soft, quiet way, you know?" When Mulder nodded he went on. "Actually, she's been comin' to get my coffee for about five years. As long as you have." Mulder took a healthy swallow of his coffee. "Let me guess. Lucinda Bannerstone." Mickey choked back a snicker. "Give me a break. Besides, Lucinda's engaged. The one I want is free and clear." Mickey peered at Mulder as if he contemplated something vast and grave. "At least I thought she was. But...I don't know if I should tell you who it is." "Why should I care who she is?" Mickey put his hands on his hips. "Okay, I'll tell you. It's Agent Scully." Surprise rammed though Mulder like a jet engine propulsion system. "What?" Cringing slightly, Mickey frowned. "Damn it, I knew you wouldn't like it." Taking another gulp of his coffee, Mulder hoped the heat would bring him to his senses. He tried to straighten his expression. "You just took me by surprise, that's all." "You sure you don't care?" "Why should I care? Scully can date who she wants." "She's not dating me. Though I wish she would." "You asked her?" "No." Mulder felt a smile teasing his lips, even though he felt that electrical burn of his emotions turning him in to a deranged man. "Why don't you ask her if she'll go out with you. You might be surprised." Mickey grunted. "I'm too old for her, that's why. Besides, I think she has eyes for only one man. Though I don't think she'd admit it even to God." Somewhere deep inside Mulder contemplated who that man could be. A slow curiosity bloomed in to full fledged green eyed jealousy. "Who is he?" Leaning on the counter, Mickey gave him an uncomfortable look. "You don't know?" He chuckled. "Shoot, maybe there's hope for me yet." "What are you talking about?" Mickey winked. "I figure it's another agent. Or maybe a colleague." Thoughts jumbled in Mulder's head as he tried to imagine who it could be. Pendrell had been dead for some time, and he always knew that Pendrell's infatuation had been one-sided. Tom Colton didn't even bear thinking about. Who could it be? No. It couldn't be. But it must be. The thought terrified him in a sick, twisted way. The Three Stooges. She might be in love with either Huey, Dewey, or Louie. Seconds later he took a last gulp of his coffee and then pitched it into the waste basket alongside Mickey's cart. "I've got to go, Mickey. See you tomorrow." * * * FBI Headquarters 3:20pm Mulder saw Scully heading for the parking lot and almost called out to her. But, no. That would ruin his plan. Instead he followed her, suspicion looming in his mind like the remnants of a bad dream. He thought about the time Scully had thought Mulder had betrayed her. He also remembered how she'd held that gun on him, so sure he had been in on the conspiracy all along. Only her mother's intervention had stopped her from shooting him. Would she have shot him? The question still popped into his mind from time to time. Now, without questioning his reasoning, he used stealth to trail her, watching as she climbed into her car. As she sped out of the parking lot he followed her, keeping his gaze glued to her car. He hung back as far as possible. He couldn't underestimate her abilities as an agent, and if she saw him following him, he figured she might try and throw him off. But he didn't want to lose her. He'd almost lost her several times. Most irrevocably to the virus that had locked her in ice and fear. At the same time, he found his mind wandering to his meeting with Mickey. The man did seem honest about having nothing to do with a foreign substance being put in the coffee. It didn't cross Mulder's mind that following Scully was paranoid. As if he might be following Scully to a lover's tryst. To the place where she went when she wasn't at home and wasn't with him. He'd find out which one the Three Stooges caught her fancy. He let a smile cover his lips, then he pressed down on the accelerator. End of Part Four -- Salad Dressing (5/6) by Denise A. Agnew writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk The Lone Gunman Headquarters 3:25pm Scully pounded on the door of the Lone Gunman Headquarters, hoping they'd open the door quickly. Rain had begun to pelt her on the head, and lightning arched between the clouds. "Scully," Frohike said, his brows arching in surprise. He moved back from the door and let her in. "We didn't expect to see you so soon." She wandered into the room slowly, watching the three men for signs of subterfuge. Instead they managed to look grave and even wide-eye innocent. "I got your report." They gathered around her. "What did you think?" Byers asked. "I thought it was a crock." Frohike winced. "We thought you might." She shoved her hands in her coat pockets. "Then why did you send it to me? Why not Mulder? No doubt he would go for such a wild theory." "Because we..." Langly trailed off, looking at Byers and Frohike like he was sinking fast and need a life preserver. "We thought you'd need a warning. We talked to Mulder this morning, and he eventually seemed to take us seriously. But we knew there was a chance he'd taste the coffee before he had it analyzed. You know how he is." She sighed. "I know how he is." "So we sent the report to you as a heads up," Byers said, breaking from the little circle and sitting in a chair. "We thought you'd keep him balanced just like you always do." "You wanted me to investigate with him to keep him in check." "Exactly," Frohike said. "And maybe let you know how his behavior could change." "Well, he has had the coffee and I have had the coffee. I have been drinking it for some time, including a half cup this morning before I got your report. Mulder, I think, had almost a whole cup." "Oh, crap," Frohike said, turning a worried grimace on his friends. "What happened?" "Uh, maybe she doesn't need to tell us...unless she wants to, of course," Langly said, looking uncomfortable. She paced across the room, aware that her silence drew out the drama. Part of her enjoyed their discomfort. They'd started this escapade. Thunder rumbled loud and ominous, as if heralding the beginning of a ghost story. "Mulder was acting a little strange. As if he was...attracted to me in an odd sort of way." "Oh, crap," Frohike said again, wringing his hands. Langly let a smile part his lips. "He acted more attracted to you than he usually is?" Scully gaped at him. "What do you mean?" "We've always...assumed you and Mulder...you know," Byers said, shrugging, his eyes downcast. "Well, we thought you might be involved-" Lightning stabbed the earth like forks of fire, and thunder rattled the building. Ire filtered through her attempt to be unruffled. "Involved how? "Let's be honest," Langly said, pushing his black glasses higher on his nose. "Mulder cares a lot about you." Embarrassed, she hoped her discomfort didn't show. "Of course. We have been partners a long time. We trust each other with our lives. We have been through a lot together. But just because we have experienced some extraordinary things does not mean we..." She glanced from man to man, trying to read in their faces what went on in their minds, but they had cloaked their expressions. A long silence dragged on and on. "This could be dangerous," Byers said, standing up. "What if he gets jealous or something?" "Jealous of who?" Scully asked. Thunder cracked louder than before. Frohike jumped like someone had goosed him. "One of us?" She couldn't help but smile. "And what on earth would make you think he'd be jealous of any of you?" They seemed to consider this a moment, then they relaxed. Despite Frohike's admiration for Scully, even he found it hard to believe Mulder would be jealous of him. "You're right," Frohike admitted. "Sounds pretty bogus." "And there is no one Mulder needs to be jealous of," Scully said, sinking onto a stool next to a computer. "Besides the fact I have not dated in a long time." Byers looked worried. "Wait a minute. We all know it doesn't need to be a legitimate reason to be jealous. This substance seems to make people believe things that aren't true. So it's conceivable he could be jealous of one of us regardless of reality. We've heard what this stuff can do." Scully couldn't believe she was hearing this. "He doesn't even know I'm here." The three men let out a collective sigh of relief. "If you see him do not tell him I was here," she said. "Assuming this substance is real...and that is stretching reality pretty far, then you need to consider your safety." "You got that right," Frohike said, picking up a pencil and twirling it in his fingers like a baton. "We've seen Mulder madder than a hornet and it isn't a pretty sight." "You said you had some of Mickey's coffee this morning. Did you notice any reaction that might confirm the coffee may be drugged?" Byers asked. She didn't know if admitting what had happened this morning in front of these three would be a good idea. Reluctantly she said, "Yes. I had the coffee, and I did notice something." "Something?" the men asked in unison. "I've had the coffee several times this week and thought I might be...my feelings for Mulder have been odd." "Odd?" they asked together again. She stood up, half tempted to dart out of the room to get away from voicing inner secrets she would rather keep to herself. Another part of her didn't like the idea of going into the driving rainstorm. "I've felt a need to be near him." "That's all?" Frohike said almost hopefully. "No." She walked over and reached for the door knob, allowing her hand to rest on the cool metal. The sensation made her more aware, more certain she resided in validity rather than a dream world where ridiculous conversations went in circles. "Then you're convinced there is something to our theory?" Byers asked. "No." She watched them glance at each other in exasperation. "At night I dream about my work with Mulder, and what our relationship in the future might be like. I wake up in the morning certain it has come true, and I am afraid of the implications. Then I see Mulder sitting at his desk acting as he always has, and I am not sure of anything anymore. When I got your report about the coffee and then Mulder acted strangely this morning, it made me think about what I have been trying to deny. Denying my concerns might explain the dreams I have been having. The coffee does not necessarily have anything to do with it." As if sensing that was all they'd get from her, the men waited patiently for her to end the conversation. She opened the door and gave them a last look. "Despite what I believe or do not believe, I will keep you posted about Mulder's behavior and let you know of any changes." Before they could say a word, she left. Thunder joined the hollow sound of the door slamming shut behind her. As she walked through the rain, she realized one thing most of all. She hadn't asked them for help. She'd used them as a sounding board to confirm what she already knew. A weary smile crossed her lips. She'd never have guessed the Lone Gunman would have the beneficial effects of psychotherapy without the cost. She hustled into her car and drove away, unaware of the dark figure huddled behind a trash bin. Several moments later, a rain drenched Mulder came out of hiding and headed for the Lone Gunman's Headquarters. End of Part Five -- Salad Dressing (6/6) by Denise A. Agnew writer@agnewdt.demon.co.uk The Lone Gunman Headquarters 3:50pm None of the three men were prepared for Mulder when they opened the door to him minutes after Scully left. They all stepped back as Mulder came in the door without invitation, his hair plastered to his head, rain dripping off his open coat and soaking his shirt and pants. "Mulder," Frohike croaked. "What are you doing here?" "I followed Scully," Mulder said, slamming the door behind him with enough force the other men jumped. "Why did she come here?" When Mulder stepped up to Frohike, his face a mask of anger, Frohike found he couldn't say a damned thing. Denying that she'd been there would have been stupid. Since Mulder had knocked on the door seconds after Scully had driven away, it was obvious Mulder had seen her. Byers edged forward cautiously. "She was worried about the coffee situation." "How did she know about it?" Mulder asked, still towering over Frohike. Frohike slumped into the chair behind him and stared up at Mulder. "We sent her the report by email this morning the same time we sent it to you." Langly tossed Frohike a piercing stare, and Frohike cursed himself for wimping out and dumping the information so easily. So much for having balls of steel. "You sent it to her after you talked to me? Why?" Mulder asked, turning on Byers and Langly so quickly they stepped back. Byers put out a hand as if to ward Mulder off. "Take it easy Mulder. We knew that she'd want to know...even if she told you originally she didn't want to be disturbed tonight." "You didn't trust me with this case on my own?" Mulder asked. "Frankly, Mulder, no," Langly said. "You see, you're too involved with...with unresolved emotions to see this whole thing clearly. You might go off half cocked without thinking things through." "Like I usually do," Mulder said. Langly shrugged. "Yeah." "You need Scully," Frohike said. "As much as I hate to admit it," he finished wryly. Mulder stared them down, then the ire seemed to leave him. "I know." Mulder shivered, as if he might be a deflated balloon losing air. He leaned against a desk. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so out of control. It was nuts. Silly. Idiotic. And he'd just scared the crap out of his friends. He smiled the tiniest smidgen. The expressions on their faces were priceless. Maybe he ought to shake them up a little more often. Aware he pushed the edge of reason, he straightened up to his full height. Byers continued to hold his hand up like he might offer a clove of garlic to a vampire. Frohike gripped the armrests of his chair. Langly's mouth hung open. Something perverse pushed Mulder the next step. "So why did she come here, then?" Mulder asked. "Was it to visit one of you? "No. She wanted to see all three of us," Frohike said. "All THREE of you?" "Mulder, you aren't thinking clearly right now. You don't know what you're doing," Frohike said. "She doesn't have the hots for us. Not even me." Mulder almost laughed. "Uh, huh." Then he sobered, his voice going soft, "Well, then who is she in love with?" The three men exchanged looks. Byers stepped forward, finally dropping that protective hand. "You have to ask us that after all these years? Are you visually impaired?" "Byers!" Frohike snapped, obviously afraid Mulder would do something rash. Mulder wanted to pretend he didn't know what they meant, but he was tired of prentending. "Don't think your political correctness makes it easier for me, Byers. I'm blind. And maybe deaf. Perhaps mute." Without another word he turned and left. After the Lone Gunman managed to get back their frazzled nerves, it occurred to them Scully might need a warning. "I'll call her now," Frohike said, reaching for the phone. "Do you think two people have ever been so damned blind in their lives?" Byers asked. "Not in this century," Frohike said, sighing. He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Maybe they aren't blind," Langly said. "Maybe they are too afraid to do anything about it. Their lives the last few years have been about one truth and one truth only. Anything else is just chicken feed. Until they reach the ultimate truth about the conspiracy, there might be no room for anything else." * * * FBI Headquarters Once again, out of the cavernous expanse of the basement, Scully heard thunder. She'd taken her time driving back in the deluge. She didn't look forward to making her way home in the mess. She hadn't experienced a storm this bizarre in a long time. After calling her mother and assuring her she'd be on time, she prepared to leave the office. Scully didn't know for certain if Mulder would come back to the office, despite his earlier question about how much longer she'd be there. Tired and due at her mother's house not long from now, she retrieved her briefcase. Out of the silence the phone rang. Scully jumped, her heart pounding hard and rapid, practically cutting off her breath. Feeling ridiculous for being so edgy, she grabbed the phone. "Agent Scully," she said a little breathlessly. Static crackled over the line. "Hello?" "Agent Scully, it's Frohike. You might want to leave the office now." "What?" "Mulder stopped by," Byers said, and she realized they were using a speaker phone. She sank into her chair, she dropped her briefcase. "What happened?" "He got a little angry," Langly said as if he might be talking about nothing of consequence. "What did he do?" Her voice rose, concern making her sit forward in her chair. "Nothing serious, but he was acting mighty strange. He admitted he followed you here," Langley said. She let out a disgusted noise. "Why on earth would he follow me?" "He said he wanted to know why you were being secretive," Byers said. She felt like Alice In Wonderland and wondered if she'd fallen down a rabbit hole. "Secretive about what?" "He had to know whether he could trust you," Frohike added. Static popped, hurting her ear. "We reassured him that he could, and that you'd proved that a dozen times. We tried to reason with him, but he looked a little wild-eyed. It was the most bizarre thing we'd ever seen him do." "Are you saying he looked dangerous?" After a long pause Frohike said, "Possibly. He said he'd..." Static crackled along the line once again. She frowned. "Frohike? Frohike are you there?" The line went dead. She'd never been truly afraid of Mulder but one time in her life, and then it had been an unexplainable subliminal message transferred to her brain through signals over a television. Could Mulder be experiencing the same type of paranoia? Not likely. She'd reconfirmed with the lab that Mulder had given them a sample of the coffee. They hadn't found anything unusual. Not even milk, cream, sugar, or sweetener. She waited for some time, wondering what she might say to Mulder when he came through the door. Then she got tired of waiting and realized if she didn't get a move on it she'd be late getting to her mother's house. With the weather in turmoil, she didn't want her mother to think something had happened to her. Mulder's bizarre behavior would have to wait until later. She grabbed her briefcase, stepped outside and closed the door. She headed down the hall. Then she heard Mulder's footsteps. After all this time she'd know his walk anywhere. Damn. She didn't want to deal with him right now. A quick get away was often impossible with him. She didn't move, stuck to the spot like she'd grown roots in the bottom of her feet. When he came around the corner he didn't even look angry, but she took a step back, apprehension rifling through her. She couldn't be afraid of him. No matter what, he would never intentionally hurt her. How many times had he proved that? As he walked his damp coat swung open, ruffling out behind him like a cape. "Scully, I need to talk to you." Before she knew what he had in mind, he stood practically nose to nose with her, staring her down at her with his usual inscrutable expression. "Mulder, can we talk about this later? My mother expects me soon." "The lab tests say there is nothing in the coffee. I think this story the Lone Gunman sent is full of-" "I know. A wild goose chase." "The murders might be worth investigating anyway. They have that paranormal redolence to them," Mulder said. "They do." His mouth fell open. "What, no arguments about scientific proof and validity? No exhausting sessions explaining why the murders aren't an X-File?" "Not yet. I'm sure I will think of something." "Looks like we have a case to investigate, then." She pursed her lips. "Not tonight, though." "Maybe after you're done at your mother's house?" he asked hopefully. "I have a headache." He frowned. "Are you all right?" "Yes. I just think I've had a little too much coffee today." He smiled, and she enjoyed the rare sight. "Tomorrow." "Tomorrow." She started to pass him, eager to leave the tight personal aura that defined their space...not their individual range but a collective infinite distance only they shared. He reached for her arm, preventing her escape. "They called you to tell you I was coming back to the office," he said. She nodded. "They thought you might be coming back. You must have scared the hell out of them. They made you sound like a monster. They told me to get out of the office." "Meddling twits." "Well meaning twits." A silence passed and she stepped slightly back. "I've got to go, Mulder." "About this morning..." "I know, Mulder. We both believed the coffee story a little too easily. We bought into the whole package without more thorough investigation." An expression almost like pain came into his eyes. "Why do you think that is?" "Because of what we feel and what we have experienced." "I know what we've experienced, Scully. What do we feel?" he asked softy. She swallowed hard. If he couldn't yet define his feelings, as she couldn't define hers, then now was not the time to make meaningless declarations. She could be as cryptic as Mulder when the moment warranted. "As many chances as we have taken over the years, there are some things we still will not risk." "Risking pain? Risking happiness?" he asked softly. "Both," she whispered. He nodded but said nothing, and as the moment drew out, she remembered the time Mulder had held her and almost kissed her. He had the same look in his eyes right now, and she knew that if she reached for him he would kiss her. Somehow she was as certain of this as anything in her life. Everything within her drew tight, and the impulse to touch him battered at her relentlessly. But unlike her dreams this last week, she didn't reach for him. She couldn't. She wouldn't. A part of her remained afraid that if they attempted another kiss something horrible would happen and they would be torn apart again. It might be ridiculous. A phobia. But right now she couldn't shake the feeling that it was safer to leave things as they were at this moment. He released her arm. "Happy Halloween, Scully." "Happy Halloween, Mulder." Smiling she walked away, leaving him standing in the hall. The End -- Denise A. Agnew "I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself...my temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever." Mr. Darcy, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE