FACES OF FREEDOM

By Traveler

Written for Virtual Season 13 Memorial Day Special. This story follows the events of

the VS universe.

Rated: PG13 for a few bad words

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully and the characters of The X-Files are used without

permission but always with love.

Summary: A little moment of remembrance we often overlook.

“Here, this spot is fine,” Mulder deposited the cooler and two folding chairs on the

lawn at Maggie’s announcement. They had parked in the shopping plaza and walked

down to the lawn in front of the high school. The parade didn’t start for another

hour yet and that was a good thing because it would probably take that long for Tara

to haul the stroller out of the van, set it up, get Claire settled into it and walk down

here. He knew Scully was back there somewhere with Matthew. He opened the

chairs and motioned for Maggie to sit down.

“Have a seat Fox, it’s going to be a long day,” Maggie said, patting the arm of the

other lawn chair.

Accepting her invitation, Mulder eased himself into the chair, gripping the arms of

the chair he leaned his head back, letting the late morning sunshine warm his face.

The Baltimore area had bypassed spring this year. Even at eleven in the morning he

could already tell it was going to be another hot day. The polo shirt he’d put on that

morning was sticking to his back already and a bead of sweat trickled down his left

temple. After a moment he felt Maggie’s hand come to rest on top of his right hand.

He opened his eyes and turned to face her.

“I never a get a moment alone with you like this to thank you, Fox…”

He looked at her somewhat confused, “For what?”

“For all you do for us. This is Memorial Day. I want you to know I’m grateful.”

Mulder pulled his hand out from underneath hers, winced a little and looked back up

the street hoping to catch a glimpse of Scully. As matriarch of the Scully clan,

Maggie by all intents and purposes should hate him for what his involvement with

her daughter had brought to the Scully family. That she not only accepted him as a

faux son-in-law but actually felt compelled to thank him made him somewhat

uncomfortable. How does one respond to something like that? He turned back to

face her with a somewhat puzzled look on his face, “Memorial Day is a day for

remembering those who died in service to our country, Maggie. I don’t …”

“For remembering what they’ve done for us,” she replied touching his arm again.

“Perhaps something we should have done when they were still alive.”

He swallowed hard at her sweet words, and reached over to put his left hand on top

of hers in a comforting gesture, “You’re welcome,” was all he could say when he met

her eyes.

Suddenly two sticky hands wrapped themselves around his face, knocking his

sunglasses askew, “Guess who?” a voice giggled behind him. He let go of Maggie’s

hand and reached behind him.

“Must be – Spider Man Junior!” Mulder exclaimed, reaching under Mattie’s T-shirt to

tickle him, making him squeal with delight.

Scully opened the chair she’d been carrying for Tara and then sat on top of the

cooler next to Mulder.

“Aunt Dana, if you sit on that how we gonna get the food?”

“Matthew, we just got here!” Tara admonished him as she came up behind him with

Claire in the stroller.

“He’s a guy, Tara; we’re always hungry for something.”

“Yes, you are,” Scully met his eyes and smiled when he waggled his eyebrows at her.

Climbing off the cooler she opened it and proceeded to pass out sandwiches.

Matthew reached in and pulled out two juice boxes and handed one to Tara for his

sister. Mulder grabbed the can of ice tea Scully offered him momentarily

contemplating whether to drink it or pour if over his head. “Ah, nothing like tea and

turkey by the side of the road.”

“Do I detect an air of annoyance at this family outing Mulder?” Scully sat back down

and proceeded to unwrap her own sandwich.

“What?” When he looked at her over his can of tea he could see she hadn’t thought

his comment was too amusing. “No, not at all, it’s just been a long time since I

experienced this side of suburbia.”

After a quick lunch Mulder and Matthew had retired to the lawn in front of the school

for a game of catch while they waited for the parade. Scully had taken the chair

Mulder had vacated and the gals passed the time planning out the rest of the day.

There would be a trip to the cemetery and then home for a cookout where Mulder

would be asked to test his barbequing skills.

The boys came back from their game as a sizeable crowd was now gathering along

both sides of the street. Mulder understood now why Tara had insisted they leave

early and picnic. Memorial Day’s three day weekend had become the “unofficial”

beginning of the summer season and everyone came out to celebrate especially on a

beautiful day like today.

“You want the chair back?” Scully asked him, taking in his sweaty appearance.

“No, I need to cool off,” he said flapping his now untucked shirt at her. “But I will

take another tea, if you’ve got one.”

Mulder chugged another tea and wondered how many of the people that now lined

the street really knew why there was a Memorial Day or what exactly they were here

to commemorate. The kids came out to have fun and that was fine but in the back

of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder about the adults and teens who all seemed

more interested in cell phone conversations than what was currently going on.

“You gonna help me catch candy?” Matthew turned to ask him, looking up the street

to see if the parade had started yet. The sound of a police siren sounded off in the

distance and Matthew jumped up and down.

“Candy? Is that why you’re here Matthew?”

Matthew turned to look at Mulder like he’d just asked the dumbest question. “I’m

here to remember the soldiers.”

Looking past Scully, Mulder caught Tara’s attention and then turned back to

Matthew, pulling his baseball cap down over his eyes, “So, am I buddy.”

“Hey! I can’t see when you do that!”

“I know, and then I can get all the candy!” Mulder teased.

As the sounds of the parade drew closer people began to crowd the street. Moving

their chairs closer or sitting on the curb. Those who had come late pushed in closer

for a better view. Scully pulled the cooler over in front of her and told Matthew to

climb on it so he could see. Mulder picked up Claire and swung her up onto his

shoulders gripping her knees so she wouldn’t fall. “Guess you’re on candy duty now,

babe,” he poked Scully and smiled at her when she turned around.

The parade’s color guard followed the lead police car with each branch of the service

represented. Mulder scanned the crowd. Very few of those seated stood as the flag

passed by and fewer still removed their caps or placed their hand on their heart. It

seemed like it was only the elderly who now remembered the proper etiquette for

observance of the nation’s flag. He guessed it only happened at sporting events

because people were reminded to do so. Maggie stood as the flag came by followed

by Tara and Dana. He heard her whisper in Matthew’s ear to remove his cap.

Mulder smiled at Tara when she watched her son return a salute to several retired

military personnel seated across the street from them. Bill had taught his son well.

The first band was the Drum and Bugle Corps from the Naval Academy at Annapolis,

they’d been playing a series of patriotic music as they approached and were now

playing American the Beautiful. When Maggie began to sing along with some of the

adults in the crowd the rest of the family joined in. Scully turned to Mulder, “You’re

not singing, Mulder.”

“I don’t want to scare everybody, Scully.”

Pursing her lips, she looked up at Claire who had covered her ears and then turned

back to watch the Corps end the song with flourish of drums.

The parade lasted almost an hour. Every department of the military had been

represented as well as just about every local baton corps and little league team.

Classic cars had been filled with the Veterans of Foreign Wars and politicians who

had rained candy on the crowd in hopes of securing votes. The city had polished up

all their machinery and rolled it out so the tax payers could see that their dollars

were going to good use; further evidence to Mulder that local parades hadn’t

changed much in his lifetime.

The final band in the parade was the local high school’s marching band. They had

been playing military songs along the route and as if on cue struck up the Navy’s

fight song when they passed in front of their little group. He watched Maggie’s eyes

fill with unshed tears.

Somewhere along the way someone had handed the kids small American flags. They

both waved them frantically at a color guard of mounted police that brought up the

rear of the parade. Maggie leaned over Matthew, “You can put that on your Daddy’s

grave when we go to the cemetery.”

As Scully helped Claire down from Mulder’s shoulders Tara and Maggie started to

pack up for the walk back to the van. She watched him bend over and grip his

knees, stretching his back. “She’s getting too big for you to do that, Mulder.”

“Either that or I’m getting too old,” he turned to look up and her with a sheepish look

as she rubbed his back and then he straightened up.

“Now everyone runs home to barbeque,” Mulder commented, taking Scully’s hand as

they began the walk back to the parking lot. Maggie and Matthew walked on ahead

with Tara.

“What is with you today?”

Mulder caught the annoyance in her voice, “Nothing,” he answered trying to find

words that would placate her as his eyes scanned the dissipating parade crown. “I’m

no different from anybody else here Scully, it’s the apathetic attitude of the nation

these days. Most of these people didn’t come here to commemorate those that have

died defending our freedom. You saw what I did, a lot of blood’s been spilled for that

flag and people can’t even get up off their ass to show their appreciation. Most of

them only came here to watch Billy march in the parade,” he winced at the

realization of what he’d just said. “That didn’t come out right, did it?”

Scully shook her head but didn’t comment.

“The Memorial Day holiday dates back to May 30th, 1868 when flowers were placed

on the graves of all Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.

It wasn’t until World War I that the day was changed from honoring not only Civil

War dead but all those who had died in any war. Of course now it’s become part of a

three day weekend kick off the summer celebration thanks to that National Holiday

Act. A lot of people feel that doing that has distracted from the spirit and meaning of

the day. I gotta say I agree with them.”

“I thought I read somewhere where the Veterans of Foreign Wars have been trying

to introduce a bill to have it changed back to May 30th.”

“I think they’ve been trying to do that for sometime. Maybe it would change the

rather nonchalant way the public observes the holiday.”

“Did you know that you’re supposed to fly the flag at half staff until noon and then

full staff from noon to sunset today? Matthew caught me on that this morning when

he was helping me put up your Mom’s flag. Of course we’ll have to wait until we get

home to take care of that. Your brother taught him well, Scully.”

“He had a good teacher too, Mulder.”

Mulder had seen many photos of Captain Scully over the years but because of his

sudden death back when he was first partnered with Scully, Mulder had never had

the pleasure of meeting the man. He’d often wondered over the years of his

relationship with Scully what the Captain would have thought of him. “I’m sorry I

never got to meet your father, Scully.”

His comment momentarily brought back that fateful night and Scully looked up

ahead to her mother. How many years had her mother spent raising four children on

her own while her father spent a lifetime serving his country? They never had gotten

to spend his retirement years with each other. “He was a very proud man, Mulder.”

“Maybe the wives of servicemen need a memorial too,” Mulder acknowledged, almost

as if reading her thoughts.

Scully wasn’t sure what had brought on the sudden air of patriotism that surrounded

her partner. Normally he was more inclined to voice his opinions on the ineptitude of

the present administration than anything else. She turned to comment and then

suddenly realized he was no longer walking beside her. Turning around she found he

had stopped a few yards back. Maggie and Tara had already reached the van and

were in the process of loading the kids into it. “Mulder?”

“You know what your mom said to me?” he asked walking up to her. “She thanked

me, said she was grateful for everything I’ve done for her family. What the hell does

she have to thank me for? How was I supposed to respond to that?”

Scully’s brow furrowed. She knew Mulder had comfortably accepted his place in the

Scully family but she also knew that he still had doubts about his own self worth. It

troubled her to see him question his value in society. “I don’t think she expected

you to say anything Mulder. She knows what this life you’ve chosen has cost you.

That you continue to pursue it because you know it’s the honorable and moral thing

to do just like the other men who have served this country.” She reached out to

clasp his hand, “But she also wanted you to know that we’re all grateful for the little

things you do, for what you do for the women in your life,” a gentle smile graced her

lips. “And for being there for the kids; your time is more valuable to them than

anything. And because we all know that you do them because they are things you

want to do, not because you feel they’re something you think you owe this family.”

She searched his eyes, hoping to find he accepted the gratitude. “I’m sorry you

never got to meet Dad, too. He was a good judge of character and he would have

seen right through that cool exterior of yours to the man you really are. You’re a

good person, Mulder. When will you accept that about yourself?”

He stood there for a moment, slowly closing his eyes to think. Good person or not,

he did owe this family. When he opened them again Scully had already turned away

and was heading for the van.

Forty-five minutes later Mulder brought Tara’s mini-van to a stop off to the side of

the drive the wound through Hopewell Cemetery. He sat for a few minutes while the

gals got the kids out and Tara opened the back hatch to take out the flowers they

had brought for Bill’s grave. She gathered the large bouquet of red roses in her

arms and took Claire’s hand, heading up the slope to the grave site. Maggie took

Matthew’s hand and followed her pausing for a moment as Mulder got out of the van.

She waited as he walked around the back to where Scully stood waiting for him.

“Scully,” Mulder tilted his head asking for a moment alone.

Scully looked towards her mom who still waited at the base of the hill with Matthew,

“I’ll be right there, Mom.” She watched her mom turn and head up the hill with

Matthew and then turned to Mulder who stood with his hands in his pockets.

“What is it, Mulder?”

“I’m – gonna go for a walk,” his voice was soft, his eyes asking for gentle

understanding. “This is a family moment, Scully.”

“Mulder, you are a part of…”

“I know, I know, I…” Taking his hands from his pockets he placed them gently on

Scully’s shoulders. “You and your Mom and Tara need a moment for this and I need

to go make peace with something myself. Can you understand that?”

She didn’t really understand what he was referring too but on the other hand she

couldn’t refuse him either. “All right,” she replied, meeting his eyes, “We’ll just meet

you back here at the van, okay?”

He smiled and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, “Love you.”

When Scully had started up the hill to join her family Mulder turned away and

headed up the cemetery drive. Hopewell was an older cemetery and the lawn was

dotted with small American flags that had been placed on servicemen’s graves. It

made him glad that some cemeteries and groups still took time to do that. He didn’t

know where he was walking; he just knew he needed to assemble the thoughts that

were rambling about in his head.

Something about the day had triggered a multitude of emotions within him. His

mother, his father, his sister, Scully’s father, her sister, her brother; their lives

hadn’t been lost on any historic battlefield like many of the men and women who had

been laid to rest here. Their lives had been lost for a freedom most of the world had

no idea that were in jeopardy of losing.

He fought the urge to run, it was always his way of putting the pieces together and

clearing his head. Sooner or later this battle for freedom would boil down to the

survival of the fittest. Trouble was that in today’s world most people were so

consumed by fighting for their own survival, whether it was physically or financially

that trying to get them to see the scope of the conflict to come was almost

incomprehensible.

His biggest question was how he fit into it all He was no military strategist. Fact

was the military, or part of it, was very likely involved in the whole conspiracy on a

global scale. The men and women who lay here had known what they were fighting

for; they believed in the cause and were willing to give their lives for it. He’d long

ago accepted that fate of himself but how do you convince a world? How do you get

a world to believe in a threat you have no proof exists?

Before he knew it, his leisure stroll had turned into a brisk walk and he found himself

back at Tara’s van without the answers he had gone looking for. The family was still

up at the grave, Maggie had her arm around Tara and Scully stood holding Claire and

Matthew’s hands. Mulder turned and walked slowly to the other side of the drive

where a large oak offered him some cooling shade, “And in the end, Mulder, if you

can’t convince them, then everything these men and women who have come before

you have fought for is lost,” he whispered to himself.

Up on the hill Scully leaned over her brother’s children and whispered to them, “Why

don’t you put your flags on the grave with the flowers,” Claire let go of her hand and

gently bent down to stick her little flag in the ground next to the headstone.

Matthew remained at her side, “Matthew?”

“I want to give mine to Uncle Mulder,” he answered looking up at her. She glanced

over at her mom and sister who had heard Matthew’s request. At their quiet smiles

of acceptance she turned back to Matthew, “I think he would appreciate that,

Matthew.”

Mulder stood by the side of the drive for several minutes. The warm breeze rustled

the leaves over his head and ruffled his hair. He took a moment to hand comb it

before sliding his hands back into his pockets and walking out on to the lawn. He

silently counted the flags that fluttered in the warm breeze. Too many lives he

thought to himself, too many lives lost for a cause many people today take for

granted.

“Dammit, Dad,” he looked up then, through the stately old trees that dotted the

cemetery into the sky as if expecting his own father to hear him. “What was the

purpose of it all? I don’t understand it! It would have been nice if you’d given me a

fucking clue!” He heaved a big sigh at his own frustration, “Nothing I do, none of the

pain or the blood gets me any closer to making any sense of it. I just want to know

that I’m doing the right thing!” It suddenly dawned on him that Scully had asked

him that very same question oh so many years ago; he’d had no answer for her then

either. “What the hell am I here for? What did you die for Dad? If I die, what will I

have died for? I just want to know that it’s worth the fight.”

Suddenly realizing he’d been talking aloud he glanced down and gasped. His eyes

scanned the scene around him in amazement. Across the cemetery lawn before him

stood shadows; ghostly images of men and women dressed in military attire from

the Civil War to the present. Their faces took his breath away and he staggered

back at their presence. He blinked, hoping to quell the images but when he opened

his eyes again three more and materialized before him.

His father, flanked by Scully’s father and brother stood before him. “Dad?” Mulder

choked out.

Bill Mulder took a step towards his son, “I died for you Fox, they’ve all died for you.”

his father said, glancing behind him at all the faces that stood witness. “You already

understand the greater purpose, son. It all comes down to one word, as it has in

every generation – freedom.” Mulder swallowed hard, his father’s voice momentarily

chilling him. “And if you die, it will be for the freedom of those who come after you,

it’s that simple. You’ve already realized this on your own; it’s why you do it.

Nothing in the world is more valuable.”

Someone was trying to pull his right hand from his pocket, he jerked and then

glanced down to see Matthew standing next to him holding the little flag he’d

received at the parade, “Here, this is for you,” he offered, handing Mulder the flag.

Mulder took the flag from Matthew’s outstretched hand and glanced around. The

images that had been there only moments before were now gone and Matthew gave

no indication that he’d seen them. He stooped down to meet Matthew’s intense blue

eyes, “I thought this was for your Dad, why are you giving it to me?”

“Because,” Matthew said, meeting his eyes. “You’re fighting for our freedom too.”

Mulder swallowed. Yes, he was, and even though he may someday just be a number

on a casualty list like so many that came before him. He now understood that his

efforts would not have been in vain. Matthew and Claire were proof of that. He

reached for Matthew, wrapping his arms around him in a gentle hug and blinked

back the water that had filled his eyes, “Thank you,” he whispered as Matthew

returned his hug.

Behind them on the drive, Scully stood next to Maggie and her sister-in-law and

witnessed the exchange with pride.

When Mulder stood up, Matthew wrapped his arm around his legs. He reached down

and ruffled the boy’s sandy red hair as they both looked out across the lawn of little

flags in silent memory.

AUTHORS: NOTES: Thanks to my buddy Chris for the title to this piece and to Vickie

for always being there to beta my creativity. And most importantly, take a moment

to thank a serviceman this Memorial Day.

1

TITLE: Daybreak

AUTHOR: Erin M. Blair

E-MAIL: eblair@sonic.net / erinmblair@gmail.com

FEEDBACK: Yes, please.

DISTRIBUTION: VS13 exclusively for two weeks; OK

to Gossamer and Ephemeral thereafter.

RATING: PG

CATEGORIES: SRA — Story, Romance, Angst.

KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance.

SPOILERS: Up to Je Souhaite; VS11 Displacement

DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter.

SUMMARY: Mulder reflects about plans for Memorial Day

with Scully.

NOTES: This story is written especially for Virtual Season’s Memorial Day Challenge.

I would like to dedicate this story to my friends at MR, especially Lisa, Vickie, Nubie,

Sally, and XSketch. Special thanks to Lisa for beta reading my story.

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

Daybreak

Written by: Erin M. Blair

The sun was beginning to shine.

Mulder pulled back the curtains to see the sunrise. He could not believe that

he stayed here all night working on the backlog of case reports that needed

to be written.

He’d promised Scully that he would help her prepare for the Memorial Day

holiday at her mother’s house. He was going to barbecue hot dogs. Scully

bought three packages of hotdogs, that way, she gets to have her preferred

brand: Nathan’s Hotdogs. They tried other brands before until this one became

THE BRAND FROM HEAVEN!

Scully walked in. “Mulder, did you stay here all night?” She paused while she

sat down on her chair. “Do you know what today is?”

Mulder nodded. “Yes, you’ve told me about it several times. I volunteered for

barbecue duty, remember.”

“Memorial Day.”

“First, we have to go to Arlington to visit your Dad’s and Bill’s graves. I

know you would like to put flowers on their graves there,” Mulder said. He

stood up and walked toward Scully to fold her into his arms. “I know how much

they meant the world to you.”

“I know,” Scully murmured wistfully. “Do you want to visit your family’s

graves? I know you weren’t on speaking terms with your parents. After we

found out about Samantha…”

“Scully, thanks for the suggestion. Even though you’re not my wife, I

consider you as my family.”

“Are you finished writing the reports?”

Mulder nodded. “All done.” He turned towards his desk and grabbed the case

reports off his desk. “We’ll take these off to Skinner and then I’ll take you

for breakfast. You didn’t eat, did you?”

“Nope. I only had a bagel because I knew you’d be here. I had the same

thought about a decent breakfast as you did.”

Mulder placed his hand on Scully’s lower back. “Let’s get out of here,

Scully.”

*~*~*

The End

1

COURTING SHAKESPEARE

A joint production by AnubisKV5 and Foxglove

Disclaimer: Any recognizable character belongs to CC, 1013 and Fox. All are used

without permission and no profit will be made.

Author Notes: This piece of fiction is dedicated with thanks to AnubisKV5,

because without her support, the wonderful suggestions and excellent beta, it

probably never would have seen the light of day.

Feedback greatly appreciated.

AnubisKV5: AnubisKV5@cs.com

Foxglove: pjoz@hotmail.com

Special Note: At the time we were writing this, Anubis was watching the NBA

Playoffs and in reality, the Detroit Pistons and the Miami Heat played Monday

night (Miami Winning – yay!!).

But since we had written the majority of the story and were very close to the

deadline, we decided to use a little ‘artistic licence’ and use the Playoffs our way.

The Dallas Mavericks played the Phoenix Suns on Tuesday night with the Suns

winning (boo!! — Since Foxglove resides in Australia and Anubis is in Texas, you

can guess whose opinion was the “boo!”. However, Anubis would have been much

happier had the Dallas Stars not bombed out in the first round of the Stanley Cup

Playoffs. Still, there’s always next year….)

Chapter One

The artificial whiteness of the weather person’s teeth as they flashed smile after

ingratiating smile towards the camera, frayed Fox Mulder’s nerves to the breaking

point. “Get on with it already.” He growled as they struck up another inane and

unnecessary conversation with the news announcer. Impatiently, he shifted

position again on the couch, slinging his arm along the back and propping both

feet onto the coffee table, carefully avoiding the large bowl of buttered popcorn

and a sweaty bottle of Shiner Bock, two essential components for every red-

blooded American male intending to spend the entire afternoon being a couch

potato and catching up on their favourite sport.

Finally, the camera swung around to the announcer, whom, with a well-rehearsed

shuffle of papers, presented an equally vacuous expression to their unseen and

long-suffering audience.

His patience sorely tried, Mulder gritted his teeth as they began to read out a list

of community announcements. He let fly an off-color remark directed at the

stations’ programming manager and began tapping his fingers in increasing

irritation.

At long last the news broadcast ended and the familiar TNT logo for the NBA

Round Three Playoffs game took its place. A voiceover announced the teams who

were playing and sighing happily, Mulder reached forward, grabbed the bowl of

popcorn and balancing it precariously on his lap, he took a large handful.

“There better not be any popcorn left in between the cushions when you’re done.”

Full of playful admonition, the voice was close to his ear.

Mulder tipped his head up to see a pair of shining blue eyes looking down at him.

“Would I do that?” He asked seriously.

“Have you ever looked under those cushions?” Scully leaned over the back of the

couch and wrapped her arms around her partner’s neck. “I’m sure some of the

stuff I’ve found under there could be classified as an X-File all of its own.” She

pressed her lips against his temple. “Game started yet?”

“Almost.” Mulder ran his fingers down Scully’s arm. “You sure you don’t want me

to come with you?”

“You’re welcome of course, but you know we’re just giving the church a cleaning

don’t you.” Scully wrinkled her nose. “I would have begged off except for having

to drive Mom.”

“Your Mom never ceases to amaze me, you’d think seeing as she’s got a fractured

wrist, she would have given it up this time.”

“I think Mom sees it as an opportunity to play supervisor.” Scully grinned. “I’ve

already told her she’s not climbing any more ladders.”

“And you honestly think she’ll listen to you?” Mulder was skeptical.

“Probably not, but at least I can keep an eye on her this way.” Scully shook her

keys as she wove her fingers through Mulder’s thick hair. “I’d better get going;

want me to bring dinner home?”

“Sure, what do you feel like?”

“Pizza’s fine by me.” She smiled at her partner’s suddenly worried expression. “I

promise, only half vegetarian.”

“Good.” He nodded his concentration pulled back towards the television screen

just as “The Star Spangled Banner” the National Anthem began, announcing the

beginning of the game between the Detroit Pistons and the Miami Heat. Mulder

just loved watching Shaquille O’Neal hit the court.

Whichever team won the Eastern Division would play the winner of the Western

Division for the NBA Championship – and that was also currently being decided in

the Best of 7 Games between the Phoenix Suns and the Dallas Mavericks.

Scully shook her head in amusement, issuing a final warning as she pulled the

door open. “And remember what I said about the popcorn.”

Mulder was barely aware of her by this time. As she shut and locked the door

behind her, she suspected that if Old Smokey showed up in a N.Y Knicks uniform,

a basketball in one hand, a burning Morley hanging from his lip, sporting a pink

ballerina tutu and floppy clown shoes and sat down next to Mulder, he’d be so

engrossed in the game, he would probably just offer CSM the bowl of popcorn

and a cold one.

Scully snorted at the image and was on her way.

Chapter Two

“Jeez, I could have done better than that! What a crock!” Mulder shook his head

in disappointed exasperation at the mediocre performance on the screen and

slumped back onto the couch holding his unopened bottle of beer.

A commercial break interrupted the game and tipping his head back against the

couch, Mulder closed his eyes. “Would have been more entertaining cleaning the

church.” He complained, imagining throwing dirty crumpled paper towels into the

wastebasket and mentally shouting “nothin’ but net.”

Blindly he reached out for the bowl of popcorn, his fingers caught the edge and

knocked it sideways spilling several kernels down between the cushions.

Grumbling in annoyance, he placed the bowl on the table and pulled the cushions

onto the floor.

Mulder collected the loose pieces and took the handful into the kitchen; coming

back into the living room, his eyes were drawn to the image of an overly-excited

sportscaster on the screen.

The announcement of a special All Star Game on the Memorial Day weekend in

D.C. between some of the best current and former players in the Western and

Eastern Conferences teams in the NBA had him in seventh heaven.

Mulder’s immediate compulsion was to head straight to the computer to see what

seats were available.

The television burbled softly away in the background, but Mulder’s interest was

elsewhere.

Chapter Three

After purchasing the tickets, the price of which he had at first hesitated over until

he realised that a large percentage of the fee was to be given to various

Americans Veterans’ charities; he had decided to check his email.

One particularly vague message from the Gunmen had sent him in search of

another site, which had in turn caught his attention.

He didn’t hear Scully’s key in the door and was unaware of anything until she

softly called his name causing him to jerk around in surprise. “God, you startled

me.”

“Something’s caught your interest.” Scully commented peering over his shoulder

at the screen.

“Some information the guys sent me; don’t think it’s going to lead anywhere.” He

caught Scully’s hands in his as he swivelled back and forth in the seat. “You’re

back early aren’t you?”

“Mulder, its after six.”

“Really? Did you bring dinner?” Mulder sniffed the air theatrically.

Scully mouth twitched in exasperation. “My afternoon was wonderful, thanks for

asking, Mulder. I’m sure that I heard everything that there is to know about the

precious grandchildren of every committee member and how special and talented

they are and this one is going to be a doctor and that one is destined to be a

lawyer.” She dropped her shoulders in weariness.

“Parents who want their kids to be lawyers should be imprisoned for life for ‘cruel

and unusual punishment’. It should be a Federal crime.” Mulder deadpanned.

Scully snorted at his remark.

Mulder laughed with her, noticed that she looked tired and pulled her onto his lap

pressing a kiss into her hair. “My poor Scully, was it really that bad?”

“Not once I escaped.” She giggled.

“What do you mean?”

“I volunteered for the job that no one ever wants to do.”

Mulder screwed up his nose. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s amazing just how long it can take to clean one rest room.” She raised both

eyebrows. “Especially when there is a comfortable couch in there and plenty of

peace and quiet.”

“You shirker.” Mulder exclaimed in mock horror. “Leaving those poor women to

do all the hard work while you lazed about in comfort!”

“Honestly, if I had to listen to much more of their bragging I was going to pull my

badges and read them all their Miranda rights.”

“What about your Mom, didn’t she wonder where you’d gotten to?”

A blush crept over Scully’s cheeks, tingeing them a pretty shade of pink. “Ah, no,

she actually joined me.”

Mulder’s low rumbling laugh filled the room as he tightened his grip around the

slender body in his arms. “Oh, I like you sneaky Scully women.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Scully leaned back against the solid chest behind her.

“My Mom’s opinion was that she knows that she already has the cutest and

smartest grandchildren and doesn’t need to prove it to anyone.”

Mulder chuckled. “So tell me, what’s the gossip?”

“Gossip!” Scully turned and looked her partner in the eye. “That makes me sound

like one of the ‘Blue Rinse Group’, I’ll have you know mister, that my Mother and

I spent quite an agreeable time talking about all sorts of things, Tara and the

children, you…”

“Me?”

“Yes Mulder, you.”

“Good or bad?”

“Hmm, let me see.” Scully pondered for a moment watching as Mulder’s

expression turned from one of surprise and began to border on apprehension.

“Don’t worry, it’s all good. Mom actually wanted to know if we’d be out of town

this weekend.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Mulder hurriedly asserted.

She raised her eyebrows at his decisiveness. “That’s what I told her, so she

wanted to know if we were going to the D.C. Memorial Day parade, because she

wanted to take Tara, Matthew and Claire.”

“I hadn’t thought about it one way or another, I assumed your Mom would be

having a barbecue like she always does.”

“No, this year she said there’s so many community events going on, she wants to

spoil the kids a bit.”

“Sounds fine by me.” Mulder agreed. “We’ve got the three days off.”

“Speaking of community events.” Scully let a small smile lighten her face.

“There’s one that I want to attend, but you need tickets.” Almost as an

afterthought she added. “But they’re free.”

“That sounds doable.” Mulder turned the chair so they were facing the computer,

bringing both arms around her sides; he placed his fingers on the keyboard.

“Let me up so you can see.” Scully protested.

“Why, are you uncomfortable?” Mulder breathed into her neck, making her shiver.

“No.”

“Well neither am I; okay, what’s this thing you want to see, Scully?”

“It’s a production of ‘Pericles’…”

The name pricked Mulder’s memory but he typed it into the search engine

nevertheless.

“…by the Shakespeare Theatre Company.”

Mulder’s fingers stilled. “Scullee…”

Twisting from her position in his lap, she looked him in the eye and turned the

same tone of voice back on him. “Mulder….”

“Shakespeare?” He asked plaintively.

“Yes Shakespeare.”

Mulder heaved a tortured sigh and continued the search. After several minutes he

found a site with information on the program; from there he followed the links in

order to book seats.

And that’s where he discovered the problem.

Chapter Four

“No tickets available for this performance, or this one, and again.” Mulder rubbed

his cheek against Scully’s shoulder privately hoping the trend would continue.

“Wait Mulder, here.” Scully pointed to the screen. “On Monday night.”

Screwing his eyes shut, Mulder cringed mentally. Monday night, didn’t it just

figure? The same night as the game that he had tickets for, tickets that he had

probably paid far too much money for but all the same, how was he going to

explain this one?

“Monday night.” He reminded her. “It’ll probably be a late one, don’t forget we’ve

got work the next day.”

He had sounded far too happy about this, even to his own ears, and Scully shot

up from his lap with a sudden move. Leaning against the desk, she folded her

arms and stared at him. “Mulder?”

“Um, yeah?” He swallowed.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Since when are you worried about something like that?” Scully’s eyes narrowed.

“Have you got something planned with the guys for that night?”

“No, not at all.” Mulder defended himself refusing to look her in the eye, Scully

would see right through him if he did.

“Then why all the sudden concern about how late it’s going to be?”

“I was just thinking that with the parade during the day and then going out at

night it was going to be very tiring.” Mulder endeavored to keep his explanation

believable.

“Your thoughtfulness is touching.” Scully replied wryly. “But I’m sure we’ll

manage.”

“We?”

“I’d really like to see this performance Mulder.” She reached out and placed a

small hand on his cheek, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his lips.

Mulder sighed and closed his eyes. The look in her eyes. The touch of her hand.

How on earth could he refuse this woman anything at all?

The simple answer was, he couldn’t.

So as usual where Scully was concerned, he surrendered.

“Okay, let’s see what we can find.” Moving the chair closer to the desk, Mulder

set about ordering tickets. “Seats fifty-six and seven in row C.” He announced

after a few minutes.

Scully’s beaming smile and shining eyes took away any reservations over whether

he was doing a good thing. The kiss he received pushed all thoughts of that

wonderfully anticipated basketball game out of his mind immediately.

Chapter Five.

“Mulder, we’re going to be late.” Scully called back towards the bedroom.

“Don’t worry, everything’s under control.” Mulder sauntered out into the living

room.

Scully eyed him appreciatively; the jeans were a perfect fit, the geometric

patterned shirt unbuttoned over a snow-white tee shirt, well worn sneakers and

finger combed hair all added up to the ideal and quite gorgeous package. “And

they say women take forever to get ready.”

“Hey, I have to make the right impression on my best girl.” He declared.

Scully smiled in delight. “Mulder, you should know by now that you don’t have to

dress to please me. I’m happy however you’re dressed…or undressed for that

matter.” She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair.

“Um, actually Scully.” Mulder hedged, his panic expression clearly pasted on his

face. “I was talking about Claire.”

His comment rendered her speechless until she saw the glint of amusement in his

eyes. She smacked his arm playfully and leaned in close. “You know as long as

she sees you, I don’t think Claire cares how you’re dressed either.”

Mulder’s hands wrapped themselves around his partner’s waist. A low voice

smooth and sultry sounded against her ear. “Remind me later tonight that you

don’t care how–or if–I’m dressed, I could do with some appreciation.”

Scully felt a shiver all the way up her spine at his words. “It’s a date mister.” She

replied huskily.

They stood in each other’s embrace for another minute exchanging sweet kisses

before Scully moved away. “Come on, we’ll never get a parking spot if we don’t

get moving.”

“Hey I told you, everything’s under control.” He took her hand. “I’m dropping

you, your Mom, Tara and the kids off on Constitution Avenue, it’s not too far a

walk to get to the main centre of the parade route from there. I’ll go and park the

car at the Hoover and catch up with you.”

“Got it all figured out haven’t you?”

“Someone’s gotta be organized.” He boasted.

As Mulder locked the door, Scully turned on the step below him. “There’ll be

thousands and thousands of people there, if you can’t find us, give me a call.”

Mulder put a hand to his back pocket, then to his shirt. “Um, just a minute, forgot

my phone.”

He disappeared back inside leaving Scully chuckling in amusement. “Sure Mulder,

someone’s gotta be organized.”

Chapter Six

Crowds of pedestrians all heading in one direction lined the pavement as Mulder

pulled into a “No Parking” zone. Everyone exited the car quickly, Tara efficiently

strapping Claire into her stroller and Maggie taking Matthew by the hand.

Scully pressed a kiss to her partner’s cheek before scooting out and joining her

family. She bent down and looked through the window. “We’re going to try and

get positions on the curb side, so keep an eye out.”

Mulder nodded in agreement before pulling back into traffic and driving away.

The parade was due to start at nine a.m., and Maggie and Tara both had the

belief that the children would not have the patience to wait for any length of time,

therefore it was a fairly long walk until they managed to find a location where the

children would have an unimpeded view.

They found the perfect place on Constitution, across from the Air & Space

Museum.

Before too long the crowd had grown around them and anticipation was building

up. Scully seated on the edge of the curb next to Matthew glanced at her watch,

if the parade had started on schedule, the military flag bearers and drum corps

should be coming into view any minute. As soon as the thought had entered her

mind, her ears picked up the faint strains of drums and music in the distance.

First however, she looked skyward at the approaching sound of the U.S. Air Force

Jet Fly Over.

The adults in the crowd quieted somewhat when one of the outside jets peeled

away into the “Missing Man” formation, recognizing the aerial salute to all soldiers

who died in the service of their country.

A minute or so later the crowd began to get visibly excited and Matthew, wearing

his little sailor suit and hat, turned to Scully. “Where’s Uncle Mulder?”

“He’ll be here soon, he had to go quite a long way to park the car.”

Some people dressed patriotically in red, white and blue came into sight and as

they neared, Scully noted they were handing out small versions of the American

flag. Both children received one and began waving them enthusiastically.

The flag bearers came into view, including representatives of the United States

Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps and Coast Guard. Each was

uncompromisingly correct, holding the flags bearing the emblem for the branch of

the service in front of them. The representative carrying the American Flag

consisting of seven red and six white stripes and fifty white stars in a rectangular

field of navy blue, held the national symbol higher than the rest in the traditional

military manner.

Everyone stood to honour them and held their right hands over their hearts in

salute to the Flag; while current military members and veterans saluted the Flag

they had served.

Scully glanced down beside her and smiled, noticing how young Matthew had

obviously been correctly taught to salute the nation’s flag. Claire was

enthusiastically waving her flag and shrieking in glee at all the colourful sights.

The military drum and fife corps directly behind them was playing John Phillip

Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes Forever.” While a very long time and well-known

patriotic song, it had been selected as the Official March of America after the

tragic events of September 11, 2001, in Pennsylvania, Washington D.C. and New

York City.

After the flag bearers and the drum and fife corps passed, came the lead

convertible vehicle, its passengers, the Grand Marshall the actor Gary Sinise, the

Mayor of D.C. and the ex-astronaut and U.S. senator John Glenn, waving at the

cheering crowd.

Following slowly behind was a line of vintage cars, each one adorned with a sign

proclaiming which organization they represented.

Matthew climbed excitedly to his feet as a bright red fire truck drove up the

street, its lights flashing. Scully scrambled up next to him just as a large warm

hand came down upon her shoulder. Mulder edged in beside her. “Did I miss

much?”

“You missed the flags and the “Stars and Stripes”, John Glenn was in the lead

vehicle and that sexy actor Gary Sinise, but other than that, nope, the Mayor and

a few old cars.”

“Well I’m sure the Mayor will forgive me for not waving at him this year.” He

grinned. “And Sinise isn’t exactly my type.” He nudged her and winked.

The line up of participants continued, including Reserve Units of the Armed

Forces, marching bands from high schools and universities around the country,

Boy Scout troops, elementary school children, floats covered in red, white and

blue streamers, specially made floats representing various national emblems,

including a very impressive bald eagle made solely from flowers including

thousands of carnations and military vehicles with proud troops marching

alongside.

Several vintage cars drove through, carrying tiny, elderly women, their hair held

back by red bandannas tied on top and their long sleeved white shirts rolled up

above their elbows. All were waving proudly at the crowds. The sign on the car

read “Rosie the Riveter” and “We Can Do It!” The woman on the sign was wearing

the same bandanna, rolling up the sleeve on her raised bent arm.

This brought a smile to Mulder’s face, remembering one of his next door

neighbors on The Vineyard who he’d only ever known as Mrs. Patrick. She had

been a “Rosie” — one of those select few women who had been small enough to

crawl into the wings of the various planes and rivet the bolts together. Mrs.

Patrick — all 4’11” of her, had become something of a second mother to a lonely

boy after his sister had disappeared. She often had snacks waiting for him and in

return, he’d cut her grass or do other odd jobs just to get a hug and a kiss on the

cheek from her.

A twinge hit Mulder’s heart when he remembered learning of her death while he

was away at Oxford.

Mulder glanced down at Scully’s diminutive form, smiling faintly as he realized

she could have qualified as a “Rosie.” However, he wasn’t quite stupid enough to

point that out to her.

In the middle of the parade there was another Fly Over by vintage World War II

aircraft. Scully nudged Mulder pointed skyward and identified each craft.

“The lead is a P-51 Mustang fighter…the one on the left is a Navy F4F Wildcat…the

one on the right is a F6F Hellcat…the one behind is a F4U Corsair.”

“Ooh.” Mulder leaned into her ear. “I think I just got turned on.”

Scully grinned but elbowed him anyway. “Shut up Mulder, there are little ears

here.”

Mulder just waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

Behind those fighters came larger planes. “Those Mulder are the Bombers. The

first one is the B-24 Liberator…the next is the B-25 Mitchell…”

The roar of large engines overhead nearly drowned her out, but she yelled over

the din, “And that one is the infamous B-17, the Flying Fortress!”

They watched as it flew away. “The Fortress was the largest bomber ever built. It

had a top speed of 295 miles per hour Mulder.” Scully watched the plane

disappear into the distance. “It was the only four-engine bomber, carried a

bombload of 17,600 lbs and carried twelve .50 caliber machine guns. They could

fly for incredible distances and at very high altitudes.

Mulder just stared at her. “How do you know all of this?”

She glanced at him, a tear in her eye. “I listened to my Dad when he talked and

even though he was Navy and the Navy had their own aircraft, he was a student

of World war II planes.”

Mulder smiled and hugged her. “I’m glad you had your Ahab Scully. He and your

Mom made you the woman I love.”

Scully smiled shyly and stole a brief kiss as another loud but talented band

marched up the avenue.

Of course no parade would be complete without Members of Congress and the

House of Representatives gladhanding the crowd and waving to have their faces

seen. Scully could almost hear Mulder’s eyes rolling at these displays.

Local businesses and industries were well-represented, brightly coloured helium

balloons of all shapes and sizes including an impressive one of “Uncle Sam”, an

old yet easily recognized American symbol, festooned most of the entrants and

the crowd waved and cheered as each one passed.

Mulder leaned over and conferred with Tara and Maggie and after a quick

conversation, Claire was unstrapped from her stroller and hoisted up onto

Mulder’s shoulders. She clutched her flag in one hand and buried the other deep

into his hair eliciting a good-natured cringe.

Occasionally, Claire whacked her flag on Mulder’s head in her excitement and he

cast a baleful glance at Scully, who was trying very hard not to laugh at him.

Both Tara and Maggie had obviously been watching too and were having a hard

time keeping straight faces

The music from the bands as they passed was loud and cheerful and each was

barely out of earshot before another one took its place.

Veterans from far too many wars past who were able to march did so, while aged

and infirm Veterans were spirited along the parade route in convertibles, on horse

drawn ceremonial carriages and even on antique artillery.

As the sound of horses’ hooves grew louder, unable to control her excitement,

Claire squealed in delight and jiggled up and down on Mulder’s shoulder’s, when a

line of mounted troops came into view.

Then came a sight that brought tears to Scully’s eyes and as she looked over at

her Mom and sister-in-law she found them equally affected.

Marching down the street, their officers’ dark navy jackets, perfect white hats,

flashy buttons, epaulettes, rank insignias and brilliant white trousers standing out

came the U.S Navy Honour Guard fronted by Navy Flags and carrying their

parade rifles. Behind them in a long procession, came rows of white uniformed

seamen. She felt fingertips brush hers and turned her head to see Mulder offering

a warm smile. She grasped his hand firmly and leaned in to his comforting

embrace.

“Fair winds and following seas, Ahab,” Scully whispered, then glanced over to see

her Mother mouthing the same words with tears in her eyes. Scully turned teary

eyes up to Mulder’s and squeezed his hand tighter.

Finally, over two and a half hours later, the procession began to come to an end.

Police squad cars and motorcycle officers, their lights flashing, drove slowly down

the street behind the last marchers, followed up by mounted police. Mulder lifted

Claire from his shoulders and deposited her back into the stroller.

Before Mulder could straighten up, Claire grabbed him by the ears, held on tight

and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on his face. Mulder’s eyes went wide and Scully

tried not to laugh.

“Love oo, Unka Mudder.” Claire told him with a huge drooling smile.

Mulder glanced at all the Scully women, recovered, kissed the little girl on the

cheek and patted her soft hair. “I love you too, Claire sweetie.”

Tara thanked and hugged him profusely as she strapped her daughter in securely.

Matthew pulled away from Scully’s grip and knelt down next to his sister.

“Didja see the fire engines and the guns and the big planes, Claire?” He asked

excitedly.

Claire waved her flag in his face. “Horsies!” She crowed in elation, pointing at the

receding mounted police and excitedly bouncing up and down in her stroller.

All three Scully women laughed quietly at her giddiness and waited for the crowds

to thin before they started back to the car.

“Why don’t you all wait here, I’ll go and get the car and pick you up.” Mulder

suggested.

Scully looked around aware of all the barricades still in place. “Mulder in case you

didn’t notice, you can’t drive through here right now.”

Mulder patted his hip pocket where he kept his badge. “That’s why they put the

‘I’ in the ‘FBI’ Scully. For ‘Ingenuity’.”

“Mulder.” She frowned. “You wouldn’t abuse the authority of your badge…just for

a parade would you?”

Mulder stood tall, thrust his chest out dramatically, looked comically offended and

told her. “I am an officer of the law, a federal officer at that. I have sworn to

serve and protect and that includes protecting the fairer sex.”

Scully’s eyes narrowed dangerously at that remark but Mulder held a hand up

before she could say anything.

“Come on Scully, we all know you could kick my ass all the way up Constitution

Avenue and back without breaking a sweat.” He leaned over and quickly kissed

her. “But what good is that badge if I can’t take a couple of very tired kids and

two very tired Moms out of here. I can sneak one by to pick up some really tired

kids, can’t I? Pleeeasse, Scully?”

He indicated the kids, not to mention Tara and Maggie Scully, who both looked

worn out. Claire had actually zonked out and was asleep in her stroller, her flag

still held tightly in her little fist.

“Well.” She reached up and kissed him softly. “Okay. Only this once.” Then she

leaned close to his ear and whispered. “But if Skinner finds out, I don’t know you.

Just remember to hurry, I have plans of appreciation for that very fine ass this

evening.”

Mulder’s smile widened, he returned her kiss and with a pronouncement of, “Be

right back, Ladies.” He started off.

“And what a very fine ass it is indeed.” Maggie remarked, shocking her daughter

silly.

Scully spun to stare at her Mom, her eyes widened and when Tara and her Mom

started laughing, she realized that they’d heard the entire conversation. “Mom!”

“I’m a mother Dana, I’m not dead.” Maggie responded with a sly smile.

Blushing furiously, Scully leaned over to Matthew. “Hey Matty! What about that

Happy Meal we promised you?”

“Yes!!” Matthew responded with a shriek, which woke up his little sister, as Scully

knew it would, distracting the two other Scully women with her cries.

Feeling only slightly guilty, Scully sat down on the curb, took a swig from her

water bottle and watched Mulder’s backside. She grinned in a slightly wicked way,

certain he was sashaying his hips provocatively just for her.

She refused to look at her Mom to see if she was watching the same sight

because … because, if she was, well … it was just … never mind. Scully

shivered.

Chapter Seven.

The age-old cry of “Stop Thief!” cut through the post parade excitement, Mulder’s

head swivelled, automatically seeking out the cause of the distressed shriek. Just

as he turned, a lithe figure sprinted through the Scullys’ small group catching

Maggie a glancing blow as he dashed past.

The surprised look on the bystanders’ faces, Maggie’s muted cry of alarm from

across the street and Scully’s breathless exclamation, all registered in Mulder’s

mind in the same instant as he took off after the young mugger. The kid was a

good twenty feet in front of him and all he could see was the faded denim jacket

as he weaved in and out the crowd. Mulder’s feet pounded the pavement,

gradually narrowing the distance between his quarry and himself.

Somewhere during the chase, he began to give thanks to whatever force it was

that had compelled him to take up running in the first place. Because this kid,

while he didn’t have the build of an athlete, sure had the speed of one.

Eventually however, longer legs and sheer determination won out and Mulder was

close enough to reach out and snag the back of the kid’s jacket. His fingers

clenched in the collar and he jerked his arm backwards, stopping the boy’s

headlong rush.

The sudden shift in gravity caused the boy to stumble back against Mulder’s

larger body, somehow their feet became entangled with each other’s and both

lost their footing, falling towards the pavement in a twisted jumble of limbs.

Mulder’s left hand was still gripping the kid’s collar as they fell and he felt his

right elbow take the full brunt of their combined weight as they hit the concrete.

Pain ricocheted from the joint up to his shoulder and streaked down to each

individual fingertip, causing him to clamp his lips down on an agonized cry.

“Shit man, let go o’ me.” The disgruntled voice broke through the fog creeping up

around Mulder’s awareness and he realised that his quarry was struggling to get

to his feet.

“Just keep still.” Mulder ground out the words through tightly clenched teeth.

“What d’you think you are, a cop or somethin’?”

“Close enough.”

A crowd of curious gawkers had gathered around them, although none bothered

to offer any assistance. Mulder climbed awkwardly to his feet, his one good hand

still tightly gripping the boy’s jacket and hauled the miscreant up with him. He

held his injured appendage close to his body; the waves of pain making him feel

decidedly ill.

The bulk of a uniformed police officer pushed through the inquisitive horde

silencing the buzz of voices and took in the sight before him. “One of you boys

want to tell me what the hell’s going on here?” He demanded.

Mulder shook the kid standing in front of him. “Federal Agent Fox Mulder, Officer.

I believe this offender is in possession of property that does not belong to him.”

“That right kid?” The cop eyed the miscreant in Mulder’s grip standing dejectedly

before him.

“I aint saying nothin’.” Came the mumbled reply.

The cop’s eyebrows rose in a near perfect imitation of Scully’s, or so Mulder

thought. “That so?” He enquired. “What’s this then?” He pulled at the item hidden

beneath the scruffy denim jacket.

“It’s mine.” The boy’s answer was surly.

“So, you won’t have a problem with me having a look then, will you?” He held out

an expectant hand and sullenly the boy handed over the small but heavy

handbag.

Again the cop’s eyebrows rose. “You making a fashion statement kid?” He

rummaged through the contents, pulling out a small purse and examining it.

Looking up, he observed the boy for several seconds. “Well, I’ll grant you that

your mother may have had a weird sense of humour and saddled you with a

name like Ethel Louise, but I’m not gonna believe that you are anywhere near

eighty-six years old.”

As the cop reached out towards him, the boy took a step back, colliding with

Mulder and jarring his injured arm.

A pain-filled hiss escaped his lips and his vision was spotted with sparkling lights.

His knees threatening to fold underneath him, Mulder let go of the boy’s collar

and clamped his good hand around his upper right arm.

The murmuring crowd parted again and a familiar and extremely welcome voice

called his name. “Mulder?”

Scully took in the sight before her, her eyes instantly cataloging details and

assessing the situation. Noting the fine sheen of perspiration coating her partner’s

face she eased in beside him and gently gripped his left arm guiding him back a

few steps until his knees hit the seat of a park bench. “Mulder, sit down.”

“I’m okay Scully.” He panted.

“You are most definitely not okay, now sit.”

Complying with her instruction, Mulder eased himself down onto the hard wooden

seat, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, breathing harshly.

“Let me see.” Small gentle hands worked at his tightly clenched fingers, pulling

them away.

“Ma’am?” The questioning voice of the officer drew her attention momentarily

away from her partner.

She looked up into blue-grey eyes. “Yes, Officer…?

“Czerniejewski, Ma’am.”

Scully blinked at the tangle of consonants that flowed from the man’s lips and

received an answering smile. “It’s okay, I get that a lot.” He tipped his head in

Mulder’s direction. “You know this man?”

“Yes, I’m his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. We’re FBI agents. I’m also a

medical doctor.” She pulled her badge from her jeans pocket and showed it to the

officer. He nodded after inspecting it and Scully returning it to her pocket.

“I’m going to need a statement from him, Agent.”

“I’ll make sure of it as soon as he’s had some medical attention.”

“It’s okay Scully, I can do it now.” Mulder struggled to sit up, wincing slightly. He

addressed the officer, the convoluted surname no impediment.

Recalling the facts with a clarity made easy by his eidetic memory, Mulder ended

his statement with a small shrug, causing a grimace to cross his face.

“C’mon Mulder, let me look.”

“I just wrenched it when I fell Scully, that’s all.”

“It looks like a lot more than a wrench Mulder.” She ran her fingers down his arm

and took hold of his wrist.

Officer Czerniejewski broke into her concentration. “Uh, Agent Scully, if I need

any more information, where can I get in contact with both of you?”

Her attention firmly fixed on her partner, Scully answered briefly. “Headquarters,

the switchboard will put you through.”

Nodding, the officer eyed the two agents for another few moments before

tightening his grip on one of the boy’s now handcuffed arms. Before leaving, he

ordered the now diminished crowd to be on their way.

“Okay Mulder, I want you to straighten your arm out to your side.”

Teeth gritted, he did as she requested but only managed to partially unbend his

arm before he gasped. “No, hurts.”

“Mm hmm, all right, try this.” She took his clenched fist in her hand. “Open your

hand and turn your palm so that it faces the ground.”

Mulder was able to accomplish that small movement but not without pain. “Good,

now turn it the other way and face the sky.” Again, he complied, but his

breathing echoed the discomfort he was feeling.

Mulder eyed his partner’s beautiful face, brows drawn together in concentration

as her fingers gently palpated his limb. “So, I just wrenched it huh?”

Scully looked up and shook her head. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news

Mulder, but you’ve done a whole lot more than just wrench it. In fact, I think I’d

be correct in saying that you’ve fractured it.”

The word “fracture” sank into Mulder’s brain bringing with it terms like “sick

leave” and “desk duty”. Hopefully he’s escape “hospitalisation” and “operation”

being added as well.

His heart sank and he shook his head. “No, I’m sure it’s just a wrench, see…it’s

feeling better already.” Slowly he clenched his fist again and began to straighten

his elbow, a few seconds into the exercise his face paled and he dropped his head

forward. “Oh shit, shit, damn.”

“Hold still.” Scully instructed firmly, taking his injured limb and supporting it.

“Mulder, you’ve got three major nerves running through your elbow joint, you

keep moving suddenly like that and you’ll be in a world of pain.”

“It can’t be broken Scully, I’ve got tickets…” He stopped suddenly as her eyes

narrowed. “I mean we’ve got tickets for your show tonight.”

“It’s not important Mulder, however you are and we need to get you to the

hospital for x-rays.”

“But what about your Mom and Tara and the kids?” He nodded at the

aforementioned group standing worriedly by.

“My Mom managed to corral four kids by herself for years Mulder, I’m sure she

and Tara will be able to manage two between them.”

“But, the car…”

Scully placed a finger against his lips effectively cutting off his protest. “Don’t

worry, everything is under control.” She echoed his words from earlier in the day.

A wry smile graced Mulder’s face. “Yeah but have you got your phone?”

Chapter Eight.

“Boy, you sure did a number on this didn’t you?” The doctor hadn’t introduced

himself but Mulder noted the name of Lacey on his I.D. tag. Strong fingers

probed his injury, hurting a little more than Scully’s had. “What were you doing,

playing basketball?”

“I wish.” Mulder murmured in a heartfelt tone still sweating and panting with the

pain.

“Ah, a fellow bb fan.” He smiled and the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled.

“Reason I asked is, this sort of injury is fairly common with that sport.” He

continued his examination. “So what did you do?”

“Fell.”

“I gathered that, what were you doing when you fell?”

“Apprehending a bag snatcher.”

Lacey’s eyes travelled from Mulder’s elbow to his face. “You a cop?”

“FBI.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you guys did stuff like that.”

Mulder sighed. “Still law enforcement, a crime is a crime.”

“That’s true, okay, I’m going to send you down to x-ray and then we’ll have a

better idea of how much damage you’ve done.”

“How long will it take to heal?”

“Without the x-rays, I can’t give you a definite time frame, but I’d say you’ll be

looking at being in a cast for at least six weeks.”

“Shit.” Mulder sighed despondently. Desk duty. Crappy, hellacious, mind boring,

ass numbing desk duty. And after that, physical therapy hell. He groaned.

“Look at the bright side, you can take it easy, catch up on all the games on TV.”

He made a few notations on Mulder’s chart. “Like the one on tonight, man I would

have killed for tickets to that game.”

“Yeah I can’t go either.”

“Missed out too did you, I was working when they announced it, otherwise I

would have been straight on the telephone to grab some.” Lacey told him.

“No, I’ve got tickets, I just can’t go.” Mulder twisted his left arm around behind

his back and dug his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

Flipping it open clumsily, he pulled the two tickets that he’d been carrying around

with him ever since they had arrived mid-week. “Here.” He thrust them out at the

man. “Someone may as well get some use out of them.”

Eagerly Lacey reached out to take the tickets printed with the NBA logo but

halted his hand in mid move. “No, I can’t.”

“Hey it’s not a bribe.” Mulder told him. “I’m the agent, you’re the doctor. Other

way round, it would be.”

Lacey still hesitated.

“Well they’re going to be wasted then.” Mulder shrugged, then winced at the

movement.

Tentatively, Lacey took the tickets, and then examining them closely looked up at

Mulder in delight. “You have got to be kidding me, these are great. Courtside

seats!” Trying unsuccessfully to wipe the grin off his face, he asked. “Why can’t

you use them?”

“I have other…ah, commitments.”

“And you can’t get out of them?”

The door opened behind Lacey and Scully poked her head around the side. “You

still here Mulder?” She entered the room and walked over to where Mulder sat on

the edge of the bed. “Hi, Dana Scully. I’m Agent Mulder’s partner.” She offered

her hand to Lacey.

“Mark Lacey.” He smiled in return, swapping the tickets to his left hand and

gripping hers firmly. “Are you partner partners or just partners?”

Scully smiled at his odd question. “Both.” She turned to Mulder. “I thought you’d

be down in x-ray by now.”

“He’s just about to go, Mr. Mulder and I were discussing basketball.”

“A kindred spirit, I take it.”

“Yeah.” Lacey’s eyes were drawn again to the two tickets in his hand. “I don’t

know how to thank you.”

Mulder broke in hurriedly. “That’s fine, I just hope the tip is a good one.”

Scully was bewildered. “Tip, what are you talking about?”

“Basketball Scully, I was just giving the doc my opinion on who I think is gonna

win.”

Her sharp eyes caught sight of the slips of colourfully printed cardboard in Lacey’s

hand. “What’re those?”

“Tickets to the game tonight.”

Mulder spoke up. “Doctor Lacey was just telling me he’s going to the game that’s

on tonight.”

Lacey frowned before he read the warning in Mulder’s eyes. “Yeah, I was just

bragging a bit.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Uh huh.” She looked from man to man searching each face for any sign of

falsehood.

“Well, I’ll go round up an orderly and I’ll see you back here in a while, okay, Mr.

Mulder.”

“Yeah, just do me a favour and drop the Mr. part, would you?”

“I can do that.” Lacey answered as he stepped through the door.

Scully planted her hands on her hips and faced her partner. “Anything you want

to tell me Mulder?”

“Apart from my arm is killing me and I could do with some really good painkillers,

no I don’t think so.”

Just at that particularly fortuitous moment an orderly appeared pushing a

wheelchair.

“Mulder, I’ll follow you shortly, I just want to call Mom and let her know how you

are.”

“Okay, tell her I’m sorry for upsetting her plans.” He tossed her an apologetic grin

as he settled into the wheelchair.

As soon as Mulder was out of sight, Scully left in search of his doctor, finding him

at the desk filling in paperwork, she approached him. “Dr. Lacey, I wonder if I

might have a moment of your time.”

“Sure.” He flipped the chart shut and met her eyes expectantly. “What can I do

for you?”

“Those tickets you have, did Agent Mulder give them to you?”

“Ah well, you see…”

“Doctor, I’m not angry, in fact I’m probably feeling a little feeling guilty if

anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“From what I have gathered, Agent Mulder had tickets for this game tonight,

however I more or less demanded that we go and see a production of

Shakespeare. He never told me about the game or that he had plans, he just

went along with mine.” She twisted her lips in chagrin. “Did he say anything to

you?”

“No, not really, I asked him why he couldn’t go and he just said he had other

commitments. When I enquired why he couldn’t get out of them, he sort of just

shrugged the question off, didn’t reply. That’s when you arrived.”

“Okay, thanks Doctor Lacey.” She made to leave but turned back again. “Um,

would you mind not saying anything about this to Mulder.”

Lacey frowned. “If you want my opinion, which you probably don’t, but I’ll tell you

anyway, you two seem to keep too many secrets from each other.”

Scully’s expression softened. “Not any more.”

Chapter Nine.

“You certainly made an impression Mulder, the handbag belonged to a Mrs. Ethel

Parker, who just happens to be a war widow and she had her husband’s war

medals in it. They were priceless to her. Mr. Parker had apparently been in the

Army Air Force in the infantry and had acquired the Medal of Honor, the

Distinguished Service Medal, two Purple Hearts, the Distinguished Service Cross,

and, posthumously, the World War II Victory Medal,” Scully recited from memory,

impressed.”

Tiredly, Mulder flexed his white powder-coated fingers as he slumped back into

the comfort of the couch. ” The only impression I’ll be making for a while will be

the dint in the furniture.”

“Don’t put yourself down, Mulder,” Scully told him. “You did good. Mrs. Parker

was very sweet and wanted to thank you herself, but her son needed to take her

home.”

He listened to her but glumly observed the cast encasing his arm from fingertips

to just below his shoulder. “How’m I supposed to do anything like this?”

“We’ll just have to be imaginative.” Scully purred in his ear as she snuggled up

against his good side.

“If that was an invitation, I’m sorry to say I’ve got far too many meds swimming

around my bloodstream to take you up on it.”

“Not an invitation, just a promise.”

“Oh, okay.” He shrugged. He peered at his watch. “We’ll have to get ready soon.”

“What for?”

“We’re still going to the performance Scully, you’ll just have to drive.”

“Mulder, we are not going anywhere.”

“Yes we are.”

“Mulder, listen to reason, your body has had a major shock today, you need to

stay home and…”

“And do what, sit down? I can do that if we go out, too.”

“I was going to say relax, there’ll be crowd of people there Mulder, your arm

could get bumped.”

Mulder gave her a loopy smile. “You can be my bouncer.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Scully sighed. “Mulder, in all good conscience I can’t let you do this.”

Mulder struggled upright. “You can’t let me…Scully, last time I looked in the

mirror, I was an emancipated adult.”

“Who has a complete fracture of the elbow.”

“And who can sit on his butt at a performance of Shakespeare just as well as he

can sit on his butt at home.” He pushed his bottom lip out into a pout. “Scully,

you know how much you wanted to see this, it’s the only night we could get

tickets. Don’t make me go alone.”

His last words prompted a small snort of laughter and Scully shook her head. “I

know, you know.”

“Huh?”

“About your tickets.”

“Uh…my tickets?”

“Yes, the ones you gave to Dr. Lacey.”

“Oh, those tickets, well they weren’t really…”

“Don’t tell me they weren’t yours Mulder, like those videos that weren’t yours all

those years; don’t lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Scully.” He frowned.

“You were just going to say they weren’t your tickets.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her

forehead. “I was going to say they weren’t of any use to me because I had

something else to do.” He took her hand in his. “Come on, you’re going to have

to help me get dressed.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

Chapter Ten.

The star-littered sky provided a perfect backdrop for their surroundings; trees

strung with a myriad of fairy lights encircled the amphitheatre where the

performance was presented. The warm early summer night was filled with the

scents of nature and Scully sighed in absolute pleasure as her eyes followed the

story unfolding on the stage.

She glanced to her side and smiled. Mulder was fully enjoying himself as well; his

injured arm fastened securely to his side, he was relaxed in his seat, a small dose

of painkillers in his system and with his eyes shut.

Fortunately for him, whoever held tickets for the next couple of seats never

showed, so he had plenty of room to slouch and he was taking full advantage of it

Scully leaned over and tapped his arm, “What’s the score?” She whispered.

Pulling the bud of the earphone loose, he opened one eye.

“Scully 2, Mulder 0.” He answered.

Scully laughed wondering if he was still truly loopy from the “good stuff.”

She leaned close to him, blew in his ear, which elicited a delicious shiver, then

whispered. “When you’re feeling better, mister, you are gonna get sooo lucky!”

Mulder’s eyes blinked open wide and a leer appeared on his lips as he stared back

at her. “Can’t wait, gorgeous. Can’t wait.”

With that, he put the earphone bud back in and leaned back, squirming to get

comfortable. Scully watched him happily.

She couldn’t wait to tell him about the next few days she’d asked off, which

Skinner had approved for both of them.

They’d be going to Miami in a couple of days to watch the Heat play the Detroit

Pistons in the final round of the NBA playoffs. Better yet, she’d managed to do it

all and get courtside seats without Mulder knowing.

In reality, it hadn’t been that difficult because he’d been knocked out from the

painkillers.

Mulder was going to be in basketball heaven. Even though it wasn’t his beloved

New York Knicks, the fact that she’d arranged for Mulder to meet “The Shack” —

Shaquille O’Neal — and get an autographed basketball. It would be like manna to

a starving man.

Scully’s slightly wicked grin returned.

Oh yeah, Mulder would be her very, very happy G-Man.

She knew that her thanks would be given to her in the privacy of their bedroom,

only minutes after he found out. She knew his cumbersome cast wouldn’t stop

him.

After all, as Mulder had told her earlier that day, that’s why they put the “I” – for

“Ingenuity” –in FBI.

The End.

NOTES AND DEDICATIONS FROM ANUBIS:

Apologies For The Length, But Please Bear With Me…

I’d like to dedicate my part of this story to FOXGLOVE, who originally asked me to

beta, and then asked for research help on Memorial Day traditions and history in

America. As I am known as a “Virtual Font of Useless Information” by personal

friends, and having an extreme interest in both Texas and U.S. History, I was

glad to help. Having been to D.C. on many occasions, visited The Wall, the Tomb

of the Unknowns, Arlington National Cemetery and so many Civil War battlefields,

and having attended Memorial Day parades and ceremonies hither and yon,

Foxglove ended up using some of my suggestions. She eventually offered to give

me co-author credit. Thank you, dear Foxglove; was a joy. I’m glad to know an

Australian who appreciates a United States holiday. I will always know of and

remember ANZAC day in return. Thank you, Foxglove You are my Sister Down

Under.

Because this story (my part anyway) was completed on Memorial Day (May 29th,

2006), I have other dedications as well specific to that holiday:

To my late FATHER, who proudly served his country in the United States Army Air

Force in World War II. He served double-duty as both a talented airplane

mechanic (everything from bombers to fighters to anything that flew) and as a

weapons instructor. He was an Expert Marksman with a handgun (revolver and

automatic) and all sorts of long arms (rifles — bolt action and automatic). He

worked on all the planes mentioned in the parade, along with many more, and

taught me all about them. He was awarded the following medals: The

Distinguished Service Cross, the Army Achievement Medal, the Army Service

Ribbon, the Weapons Qualification Badge, the Marksmanship Badge, the

Distinguished Pistol Shot Badge, the Distinguished Rifleman Badge, the Expert

Infantryman Badge and, at the end of the War, the World War II Victory Medal.

He was honorably discharged at the end of the War. I hope you’re enjoying

Glenn Miller and the Army Air Force Band’s music in person as much as you did

while in the AAF and after the War. Thank you for being the loving, caring but

strict when necessary kind of father that you were. I miss you terribly, Daddy.

Nothing can stop the Army Air Force.

To my sister AJ, who was a police officer and who died in a violent, unexplainable

car accident very early on a Friday morning in March, 1984. Although homicide

was suspected (and still is), it was never solved. Even though she was not on

duty at the time of her death, she was given a full honors police funeral with

police escort, lead by her boyfriend who was a motorcycle cop. AJ, you were a

pain in the a** to me, sis (and I know I was just as big of one to you), but I’d

take ALL those pains to have you back. I miss you and I miss your clear-as-a-

bell gorgeous soprano voice. Oh, thanks for the tip on that horrible Frankenstein

B-movie. I did watch it — and a few days later you were gone. I love you.

To my “cousin” BILL, who served in the U.S. Navy on both the U.S.S. Forestall

and the U.S.S. Enterprise between Korea and Vietnam. He came home safely

and was honorably discharged after 6 years in the service. Be safe piloting that

plane of yours, wherever you fly these days. Remember, that’s my much-loved

cousin you’re ferrying about up there! By marrying her, you became my cousin,

too. Fair winds and following seas. I love you, Bill.

To my late cousin SAM, who served in the U.S. Army at the very beginning of

Vietnam, though he was stationed primarily in Germany. He was honorably

discharged and returned home after four years in the service. Thanks for the

bullwhip, Sammy; you taught me how to use it well. <g> You are missed

terribly. An Army of One.

To Mrs. Patrick, who was a REAL person in my life, my next door neighbor when I

was growing up in Dallas and who, at a whopping 4’11” had been a “Rosie” in

World War II at Love Field where my Father was stationed and where they met.

Through her, my Father met her husband and they and my parents moved to the

same street in Dallas after the War. She passed away some years ago. Her

husband is still living, with one of his children, north of Dallas. I love you both.

To my ancestors, JAMES and JOSHUA (on my Dad’s side), blood brothers who

fought in the Civil War (1861-1865) in the United States. Joshua joined the

Confederate Army and James joined the Union. Joshua was shunned by the

family for his enlistment as a Confederate. In a cruel twist of fate, Joshua and

James ended up at Shiloh at the same time, meeting on the battlefield, face to

face, and James ended up killing his younger brother Joshua in hand-to-hand

combat with a bayonet (neither had had time to reload their rifles and therefore

were reduced to bayonets). James was then shunned by the family for killing the

enemy, his brother. It was a no-win situation. I’ve been to Shiloh and seen

where Joshua died. I don’t know how or where James died as he was made an

outcast. Both were lost. I hope you are both now at peace.

To my two dear friends DCA and KRS who were lost in WTC I and WTC II,

respectively, on that fateful day, September 11, 2001, and who were never

found, I miss you both. Your senses of humor were deadpan and lethal, your

talents unique and your friendship irreplaceable. Since we all knew each other, I

hope you’re together having a good time and talking about old days in fandom —

perhaps having a discussion with The Great Bird of the Galaxy. You are also not

forgotten.

To DAVID EARL BROACH, a personal friend from my young-to-teen years in

Dallas where he and I were both born and raised. We were great friends. David’s

tour of duty in Vietnam began on June 24, 1969. He was Regular Army SP4 – E4 –

4th Infantry Division, Ranger Airborne, which was one of the most dangerous

outfits of which to be a member. David — or as his buddies in ‘Nam called him —

“Dallas” (because they already had a “Tex” in their ranks) came home on leave to

Dallas in July of 1970. I saw him at church, and all of us — especially the girls —

had a great time hugging such a gorgeous male soldier in full uniform. Boy, did

he enjoy the attention! He was truly “GQ handsome.” Admittedly, most of the

girls had a crush on him, along with him being a good friend to so many. My

friend Karen and I were especially good friends with David, even though he was 4

years older than we were. Shortly thereafter, David returned to Vietnam for his

next tour (for which he “re-upped” <re-enlisted>). He didn’t have to, and it

wasn’t a requirement. Six months was considered a complete tour of duty in a

very difficult and unpopular war at home. When he returned to ‘Nam, he was

made Point man of his four man unit, which was part of the LRP (Long Range

Patrol). On August 3, 1970, he and his buddies were on LRP in the Phu Yen

Province of South Vietnam. Unfortunately, being man on Point, he stepped on

and triggered a ground mine and, in his position, David took the full brunt of the

blast and was killed in action, instantly. He was only a few weeks shy of his 20th

birthday. He was returned to us in Dallas, to his parents and his sisters David

was given full military honors and funeral, and the huge church was packed. My

friend Karen stood side by side with me in the choir loft that day, holding hands

and crying our eyes out, because, at David’s parents’ request, the Youth Choir

had been asked to sing. Karen and myself, my late sister and one of my cousins

were members of that choir, as David had been before he felt the calling to join

the Army. I *still* don’t know how we did it, but somehow, that huge choir did

our best performance ever. The main song I remember singing was a special

arrangement of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” David was a Texas son who

was taken far too soon — and he will never be forgotten. One of his sisters had a

son whom she named “Earl David.” His other sister named her son “David Earl.”

And his niece named her son “David Thomas.” I’d been looking for years for

David’s parents, and through a stroke of luck, fate, God’s grace, or a combination

of them all, I found one of his Army buddies on Memorial Day this year. We’ve

shared our remembrances of David, or as his buddy called him, “Dallas” and I’m

pleased that I was able to bring a little bit of happiness to one ex-soldier who

came home but who still feels guilty for having left his friends behind 36 years

ago. I also talked to David’s parents in the first time in decades. It was

wonderful because they remembered me, my sister, my parents and my friend

Karen and her sister and parents. And now Karen knows, too.

To quote your Ranger buddy’s email to me today, David:

“The ties after 36 years have never been broken & the tears seem to have cut

lines in the face that they flow down. At sometime in the future the one that

came home forever will leave this place & finally be returned to his friend that

gave his all to come home.”

As I told David’s buddy today — he came home for a REASON. I’m glad his name

is NOT on The Wall. If he hadn’t come home, his children and grandchildren

wouldn’t be here, and he would not be here to give David’s parents friendship and

some peace and closure. He’s no less of a hero because he came back and David

didn’t.

Be at Peace, David. You ARE remembered.

War is hell. Whoever said that didn’t say enough. But what else CAN you say?

Except — THANK YOU — to every man and woman, whether military or civilian,

who fought for the United States of America, for our rights and freedoms — and

for having the courage to do so. To all police, firefighters and every other service

organizations who work to keep us safe, thank you.

Thank you to everyone in Pennsylvania, New York City and Washington D.C. who,

on September 11, 2001, risked their lives — and of whom many were lost — in

trying to save all the innocents who died in those horrific acts of murder in that

field in Pennsylvania, the WTC in NYC and the Pentagon in D.C.

Thank you to all of the United States’ Allies. Your own popularity with your

citizens have suffered because of your alliance with my country of birth,

regardless of which war or act of terrorism.

Last but not least — to XFQBB — you know why — and to your late Daddy who

proudly served in the U.S. Navy overseas in World War II, who was honorably

discharged and who came back home to your family. May he also rest in peace.

(I’ve been told that at my age it’s “childish” to still call my father “Daddy,” but

that’s how I knew him, all my life, that’s what I called him when he took his last

breath, and I will never think of him any other way. The name was bestowed

upon him with love from me and my sister as young children, and is still meant

with deep love and devotion. If you, as the reader, do not care for it, that’s your

opinion and you are entitled to it. I know many other adult women who call their

fathers “Daddy” as well. Their fathers will always be “Daddy” in their hearts,

too.)

24

TITLE: Shooting Hoops

AUTHORS: XSketch and Sally Bahnsen

EMAIL: XSketch@hotmail.com, salbahnsen@optusnet.com.au

CATEGORY: MSR, MT, A

RATING: PG-13…..maybe a little more for violence and language

SUMMARY: One crazed fan, one ignorant athlete, one game and two FBI agents do

not mix. Could this night *really* get any worse? Hell yes!

FEEDBACK: Even fanfic writers need nutrition! Why not feed two today? You know

you want to… <g>

DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully are our slaves to be emotionally or physically

tortured whenever we wish. Huh? Oh, apparently there’s new rules: some guy

called CC and a big ol’ corporation called Fox own ’em 😦 Just as well we get no

monetary benefit out of this then, isn’t it? LOL

ARCHIVE: Two weeks exclusive to VS13

AUTHORS NOTES: Written with love for the VS13’s Spring Sports Special. We should

also note that we took some artistic license and swapped round the venue for the

last basketball game of the series because it was more fun to have it at The Garden,

so please don’t come chasing after us with pointy items unless it’s to poke us into

writing more 😉

DEDICATION: (Sally) This story is dedicated to the gals at MR. But especially the

nubester, for being a worthy opponent and for making me smile everyday.

(Sketch) For Nubsie, all at MR, and my writing buddy on this, Sal – this has been an

awesome writing experience, thank you sooo much 🙂 Also a nod to Kathy Bates,

whose portrayal of Annie Wilkes in the film version of Stephen King’s ‘Misery’ creeps

the living hell out of me more than Donnie Pfaster, even to this day! And, lastly, Mr

P.

====================================================

The ball bounced – one, two, three – against the shiny wooden

boards. One foot fell gracefully in front of the other before both

legs coiled and then propelled the body they were attached to into

the air. Hundreds of flashbulbs flickered to life for a hundredth of

a second, but the ball’s aim remained on target as a long, muscular

arm launched it ever forward.

The LED clock on the scoreboard counted down another second.

2.

The whole crowd of spectators snatched in a breath; waiting,

anticipating.

Yet somewhere above and beyond the crowd, perched precariously on a

metal rafter as far from where the light reached as possible, a very

unimpressed soul shook her head, wiped away the beads of sweat

blurring her vision, and then lowered it back to stare through the

scope. A black barrel sliced through the shadows as she sought out

her prey once more, and–

1.

With purpose, the basketball left the palm’s cradle, and spun through

four revolutions until it hit the metal hoop it had been heading

towards, where it then hesitantly teetered for an instant – chance,

air current, weight, Newton’s theory of Gravity and one hundred other

factors congregating to decide the orb’s fate, whilst Todd Hooper

(who had put it into play) landed back on his feet and prayed for

this game-winning two-pointer.

The shadow-shrouded figure didn’t care either way, though. For

years, up until just a few days ago, the result scores of her

favorite sporting team’s games had meant everything – the world – to

her, but then the final straws of patience, loyalty and tolerance had

snapped, and now the only thing that did matter was taking down

Hooper for being such an ignorant, arrogant pig.

One lousy autograph! That was all the lonely stranger had asked for

in her dozens of letters to the star athlete, and yet no reply had

come. So, it was time for the good ol’ logic to kick in: if one

devoted fan wasn’t allowed to have the simplest of things like a

signature scrawled no-matter-how-quickly on any item at hand, why

should anyone else have the chance?

0.

A finger rested against the trigger and started to apply pressure.

The orange Spalding was finally given its decision and fell through

the hoop.

Spectators went wild as the horn to mark the end of the game blew.

Crosshairs remained fixed on Hooper’s head, and the assassin was just

about to pull the trigger completely back, when suddenly a blinding

flood of camera flashes illuminated the whole arena and members of

the audience swarmed onto the court.

One more attempt to find and shoot down the player, but the chance

had come and gone within the blink of an eye.

There was no time to regret or linger, though – the assault rifle had

to be packed away and an escape needed to be carried out before the

janitors and security did a sweep of the place. For now, the only

consolation to take away was the fact that there would always be

another chance…

And, with a small smirk, the figure already decided upon when that

next time should be – in one week, during the team’s game against the

New York Knicks.

Now, that would really get some attention.

*****************

Two cups of coffee in a cardboard tray and a box of Krispy Kreme

donuts were balanced precariously in Scully’s left hand while her

briefcase hung like a lead weight from her right. She kicked twice at

the door with her right foot before it swung open wide enough for her

to squeeze through.

Mulder sat with his feet propped on his desk, his tie loosely knotted

and the top button of his shirt undone. It was barely 11 am, yet he

looked as if he’d put in a full 8 hours. There was even the beginning

of a 5 o’clock shadow darkening his jaw line. The handset of his

phone was pressed between his ear and shoulder, both hands busy

twirling a freshly sharpened pencil. He smiled when Scully entered

the office, dropped the pencil and made a half-hearted effort at

shuffling files to make space for the coffee and donuts.

Scully caught the tail end of Mulder’s conversation as she plunked

her Krispy Kreme bounty and coffee tray on the desk.

Mulder nodded his thanks at Scully and spoke into the handset. “Okay,

yeah. Tonight? You can? Here? Yeah, yeah, that’ll be fine. Okay,

thanks. No, really. I owe you one– No, make that a hundred! Yeah,

you too. Bye.”

Scully nearly jumped out of her skin when Mulder slapped his desk and

let out a very uncharacteristic ‘yee hah’! When he stood and did

what Scully could only describe as a happy dance, she was seriously

considering calling 911. Instead she stood very still and raised her

left eyebrow as both crossed over her chest.

“Is everything okay, Mulder?”

He came around to the front of his desk, placed his hands on Scully’s

shoulders and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on her forehead. “You are

not going to believe what just happened!”

“Try me.” Her eyebrow remained embedded in her hairline, and it was

taking every ounce of self-restraint not to reach up and check his

pupils for evidence of a head injury.

Mulder released her shoulders and did a quick foxtrot kind of pace

around the office, before coming to a halt in the middle of the

room. In a very ‘Adam West’ sort of way, he then pointed his finger

at the ceiling while turning to face Scully and announced, “Have I

got a surprise for you?!”

“Hmmm.”

Pausing only long enough to check his watch, he raced back to the

working side of his desk and this time enthusiastically gathered his

strewn files into a neat pile. “We’ve gotta get this report written

for Skinner. I wanna be out of here by 2 o’clock.”

“Mulder, will you stop, and just tell me what the hell is going on?”

“I’m taking you out tonight, Scully. The tickets are being FedExxed

to the Hoover Building even as we speak, and I think you’ll be pretty

pleased when you see where we’re going to be seated.”

Scully felt herself relax and a warm, gooey feeling pooled in the pit

of her stomach. Mulder was going to surprise her with a romantic

night out. He’d organized tickets. Great seats, he’d said. She

imagined all kinds of scenarios. Andrew Lloyd Webber had top

billing, or could it be the Kirov Ballet? Had she hinted to Mulder

that she would love to see their performance of William Forsyth’s

masterworks?

“Come on Scully, quit daydreaming, we’ve got work to do.” She glared

at her partner for interrupting her visionary splendor and watched as

he took a long swig of his coffee around a huge mouthful of glazed

cream-filled donut – a little dollop of custardy cream clinging to

the corner of his mouth. For one mad second Scully wanted to leap

across the room and lick it off… But then she came to her senses,

straightened her hair, and wiped two sweaty palms along the side of

her skirt. Taking a delicate sip of her own coffee, she gave herself

a mental slap, metaphorically rolled up her sleeves and seated

herself behind her desk to write her own report. The quicker the

paperwork was done, the quicker they could leave the office and the

quicker her fantasizing would become a reality.

*****************

MULDER/SCULLY RESIDENCE

3:12 PM

Scully sunk down in the warm tub of water, bubbles fizzing and

popping around her ears. She felt wonderful. Mulder had picked up the

FedEx envelope from the front desk of the FBI building around 1:30pm,

still refusing to tell her exactly where they were going, only that

she would get the surprise of her life.

She still couldn’t believe that Mulder had organized this himself. Oh

god! What was she going to wear? If she didn’t know where they were

going, how would she know how to dress?

“Scully?” Mulder rapped lightly on the door and opened it just wide

enough to peek in. “Are you nearly done? We need to think about

leaving – I want to beat the crowd so we can get something to eat.”

He was taking her to dinner, too? Oh, Mulder. She smiled

indulgently. “Okay, I won’t be long.”

Five minutes later, Scully was shaved in all the right places, blow-

dried, talcum-powdered, moisturized, and deodorized. Dressed in only

her underwear and bathrobe she was applying the finishing touches to

her make up when Mulder again rapped on the bathroom door, this time

a little more forcefully. He opened the door and came in, clearly

agitated. “Um, Scully, we really need to get on the road.”

Scully tucked her mascara back in its cover and reached for her

lipstick. “You know, Mulder, you better tell me where we’re going or

I’m not going to know what to wear.”

“Dress warm. I’d suggest jeans, sweater and probably some kind of

jacket.”

Scully stared at Mulder’s reflection in the mirror. “Jeans? But…”

But Mulder wasn’t listening. He was eyeing his watch as if he could

control the time by mind power alone.

His earlier happy dance in the office had definitely morphed into the

dance of the impatient. “Scully? Will you be much longer? Tip off’s

at 7:30 and I really want to grab a bite to eat before the start.”

Scully abandoned her lipstick and turned slowly to face her partner.

“‘Tip off’?”

“Yeah, the game starts at 7:30.”

“What game?” She took a step towards him.

Mulder sighed and grinned. “Okay, I guess I’m going to have to tell

you. I really wanted this to be a surprise, but…I have got

corporate seats for the Knicks versus Nets game. We will be

practically court-side where we can get up close and personal with

all the action. Scully you’ll be able to smell the sweat!” Mulder’s

smile was so wide she was worried he’d rupture a cheek muscle.

Meanwhile, she could feel her own face contorting into a deep frown –

the earlier warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach quickly turning into a

solid lump of ice.

She had to swallow twice before she could bring herself to speak.

“We’re…we’re going to a basketball game?”

“Scully, not just any basketball game. The *Knicks* versus The Nets

game. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get tickets for this

game?”

Actually, no, she didn’t. It wasn’t something she thought about on a

regular basis. In fact, truth be told, it wasn’t something she had

ever thought about at all, in her whole life. She had reservations

about baseball, but at least she liked it – understood it… But

Basketball? It was like another language that she had no interest in

learning whatsoever.

Scully took a long look at her partner, tamped down her rising fury

and considered the way he was practically bouncing off the bathroom

walls with unbridled enthusiasm. He was genuinely pleased with

himself, and just as genuinely expected her to share his excitement.

There was an empty, hollow feeling in her gut, her eyes stung with

disappointment, and when she swallowed she noticed a nasty lump

hovering at the back of her throat, but she was not going to let

Mulder see how stupid she felt. So, in a quiet voice, she said, “I

better finish getting ready or we’ll be late,” and then turned back

to the mirror to pick up her lipstick.

Mulder came up behind her, wrapped both arms around her and squeezed

her in a big bear hug. “This is going to be great, Scully. It’s a

once in a lifetime opportunity.” Scully noticed his broad grin had

settled into a wistful smile. He was already at the game, imagining

the plays in his head. He gave her one last squeeze, a gentle kiss to

the crown of her head, studied his watch one more time then

announced, “I’ll go bring the car around while you get dressed.” His

exit reminded Scully of a big Afghan pup, bouncing on all fours.

The surprise of her life, she reflected dubiously. Yeah, he was right

about that.

Scully sighed. God, she loved that man, but sometimes he just really

pissed her off!

*****************

MADISON SQUARE GARDEN

APRIL 19th, 2006

6:48 PM

Like a vulture patiently waiting for its next meal to drop dead on

the ground below it, the slim, solitary figure dressed all in black

rested against one of the room supports high up in the eaves of the

stadium and intently watched the deluge of sports fans (most adorned

in their extortionately expensive yet tacky team paraphernalia) pour

in and fill the seats.

Tonight was the night.

Tonight *had* to be the night: it was the last game of the series for

both teams (neither of which had a chance of going through to the

playoffs whatever the outcome of this match-up anyway), and Hooper

had been allowed to live a week too long – there could be no re-

planning and waiting for the next season.

No, tonight.

Definitely tonight, no matter what it took or who she needed to take

out to get to that conceited, obnoxious, ignorant, self-centered

bastard who didn’t even care about the people that essentially paid

his wages enough to give one measly autograph.

The figure reached for the long black duffel bag and pulled it closer

to comfort herself.

‘He’ll learn. They all will.’

*****************

“I still say it wasn’t right to do that! What if Skinner finds out

you’ve been recklessly waving your ID credentials around just to get

special treatment?”

“Scully, if I hadn’t we’d still be stuck at the damn turnpike!”

“Yes, but I don’t think a du–…a basketball game constitutes as a

‘federal emergency’.”

As he handed over their tickets and they finally filed into the arena

at twenty-past-seven, Mulder shot his partner an unappreciative

glance, and Dana felt the last glimmer of hope she’d been clinging to

that this was just a bad joke fade away – taking with it any argument

she may have had left within her.

‘Dumb, pointless basketball game…’

His features quickly melted into a smile as he looked toward the

court, and before she could say anything more there was the familiar

feel of his hand pressing against her back. “Come on, Scully, let’s

go find our seats.”

Shuffling forward – moved by the force of his hand as opposed to her

own will – Scully blinked several times. “But we haven’t eaten since

this morning!”

“We’ll just have to grab a ‘dog or something during the half-time

period,” he dismissed, never faltering in his progression toward the

courtside. “If you hadn’t spent so long in the bathroom or the

traffic hadn’t been so clogged we woulda gotten here in time to get

something more an–…” He trailed off, looked down at their ticket

stubs and then at the seating either side of them, mumbling,

“…section 27, row c, seats– Aha! Here we are! Isn’t this great?”

His words ran over and over in Scully’s head as he directed her to

their seats. She appreciated that this meant a lot to him, and was

even pleased to see that joyous, excited, relaxed aura surrounding

him, despite the cost of her own boredom and disappointment (for

God’s sake, she loved him – of course she wanted to see him happy!),

but if he ignored her or made one more snide crack, she would not be

held responsible for any physical damage she would be driven to incur

upon him.

Let down, starved, and out of place… Scully highly doubted this

night could possibly get any worse.

*****************

The game started on time without a hitch, and everything seemed to be

going smoothly.

Except, for one embittered soul, the plan was going far from well.

The center, Todd Hooper, hadn’t started the game – wasn’t even on the

substitutes’ bench.

High above the court, the crazed fan gripped frantically at the black

gun bag beside her on the framework. This couldn’t be happening…

Dammit, she deserved her revenge!

Tears of anger and hurt welled in her eyes as she prepared to stand

and leave. But then she faltered – actually looked back down at the

court to reconsider any further course of action, as if intuition was

telling her there was still hope…that vengeance could still be won.

So, she stayed.

And the decision paid off: not one minute after she retuned to her

place, a whistle was blown and her prey entered the arena – waving

self-righteously at the cheering crowd.

*****************

Scully let out a deep sigh as her stomach loudly begged for some –

*any* – form of sustenance, and glanced down at her watch for the

hundredth time since the game had started, briefly lifting it to her

ear to check it hadn’t stopped.

The minute hand was mocking her, she just knew it. She suspected

that whoever had gotten them the tickets (more than likely Danny) was

off somewhere having a good laugh at her expense too.

“Come on!” Mulder suddenly called out as his beloved team advanced

towards the opponents’ hoop.

She studied his face as he watched the game – followed the line of

his unshaven jaw as it constantly moved, like the ocean – and

literally felt her mouth watering at the thought of how tasty he

always looked…

…which, in turn, had her thinking of food again, and set her

stomach off once more with its desperate gurgling and growling.

Maybe if she weren’t so bored, she’d be able to distract her hunger,

but the game was far from entertaining or remotely interesting, and

the only thing she could think about was how lovely it would have

been if he’d just been thoughtful enough to take her out to that show

or that restaurant…anywhere but here!

Another deep sigh as she sat back and distractedly lifted her chin up

to look at the roof structure.

And that’s when she saw it. Out of the corner of her eye and for no

more than a second, but there nevertheless, and something about it

niggled at her senses: a figure, dimly highlighted by the lighting

rig below where it stood, crouching down until the blinding glare

from the lamps made it impossible to see.

“Mulder,” Scully started, never lowering her gaze as she tapped his

arm. “Mulder, there’s someone up on the roof supports.” He didn’t

respond, so she tried again. “Mulder!”

“What?” He was clearly desperate to turn his attention back to the

game, but, bless him, at least he looked genuinely concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw someone above the court.”

Mulder shrugged, briefly glancing back at the gameplay before looking

at his partner again. “It’s probably just security…The place is

swarming with them.”

She shook her head, dismissing the comment. “It wasn’t–”

The short, sharp whistle blow cut her off, and before she knew what

was happening, the whole stadium was ringing with the sound of

applause and cheers, and Mulder was on his feet joining in as if she

wasn’t even there.

That was the last straw, and Dana quickly moved out into the aisle to

report what she’d seen to one of the arena police as a throbbing

headache begun to build behind her eyes. She thought she heard his

voice calling after her, but the noise from the spectators washed it

out, and she was past the point of caring enough to return to her

seat.

Although she couldn’t turn fast enough on her heels when a gunshot

ripped through the air and panic ensued.

Ducking for cover and reaching instinctively for weapon that wasn’t

there, Mulder turned and looked for his partner – only just

realizing she was no longer at his side. “Scully?” A quick glance

at the rafters and he leapt back to his feet, desperately searching

for her amongst the fleeing crowd. “Scully?”

“Mulder! Over here.”

She forced herself upstream against the surging mob, inching her way

back towards her seat, but for every foot of progress she made, the

panicked spectators forced her further away from her goal.

“Mulder!”

Mulder caught a glimpse of red hair crushed between a sea of people.

“Scully!”

“Mulder, he’s in the rafters.”

“Call for back up. I’m going up there.”

“No wait, Mu–”

But Scully was pushed backwards and her last glimpse of Mulder was of

him scrambling over rows of seats heading towards the back of the

stadium.

“Dammit!”

*****************

Mulder leapt across the seats, taking the rows two at a time. Most of

the spectators had made a beeline for the nearest exits leaving seats

empty and a relatively easy path to navigate.

Nervous glances towards the roof produced no sign of the shooter, and

he wondered anxiously if maybe the gunman was lining up for another

shot.

By the time he made it to the top of the stadium Mulder was wiping

sweat from his eyes and gasping for breath. The ladder reaching up to

the roof supports was in the western corner against the back wall.

Using the seats as cover, Mulder crept between the rows, searching

the eaves above for the shooter and wishing he had his weapon.

“Hold it! Don’t move. I’m armed and I will shoot.” The orders were

issued with authority from somewhere behind Mulder, but there was no

mistaking the underlying fear in their delivery. Mulder couldn’t see

who was speaking to him and he wondered briefly if he’d found the

shooter, or more to the point, if the shooter had found him?

*****************

The rush of people forcing Scully toward the exit never seemed to

end, and it was by pure luck that she somehow managed to shoulder her

way through the flow and out into a clearing at the side without

being knocked over. She glanced back in the direction of the court,

wishing she could see what Mulder was doing, but then ‘Agent’ mode

kicked in, and Dana quickly reached for her phone as she ran in

search of the security office.

“This is Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI – I need immediate

police back-up at Madison Square Garden…We’ve got shots fired by a

sniper!”

By the time she’d confirmed the location, any other pertinent

information and hung up, she was opening the door to the security

supervisor’s office.

“Hey! What the hell d’ you think you’re doin’?” a large man

exclaimed, standing up from behind his desk and moving around to bar

Scully’s entrance.

“I’m a federal agent–”

“I don’t care – you can’t just burst in here like you own the damn

place!”

It wasn’t something she enjoyed at any particular time, but now was

really pushing her tolerance for dealing with a complete asshole.

“You’ve got a sniper out there who may have shot someone – or even

still may if you don’t do something – and you’re worried about the

protocol of your office?” She barked, forcing her way past the taller

figure and then sharply turning to face him. “Why aren’t you out

there doing anything?”

As if it answered all her questions, the guard unsnapped a two-way

radio from his belt and waved it in front of her face. “You think I

haven’t a clue what’s goin’ on? We’ve got venue staff struggling to

calm thousands of panicking spectators down and I got a team sweeping

that arena tryin’ to determine where the shot came from.”

“I know where the shot came from.” If she wasn’t so worried about

what Mulder was doing, Dana wondered if she would have just left this

jerk in the dark and taken control of everything herself, but lives

were at stake and they needed all the help they could get.

What was that she’d thought about the night not getting any worse?

The uniformed man straightened at the new tidbit of information –

chewed at the inside of his mouth as he sized the red-haired woman

up. She knew where the shot came from? Was it just pure coincidence

that an FBI agent was at the stadium on the night of an attack and,

furthermore, could pinpoint the origin of the shot, or was there

something else going on here?

He frowned, and inconspicuously rested a hand atop his holstered

pistol. “Who’d you say you are again?”

Scully noticed the uncertain, protective stance and gave an

understanding nod of her head as she slowly reached for her ID…only

to remember it was in her jacket pocket, which she’d taken off and

draped over the back of her seat once they’d settled down.

*Shit*

***************

Mulder raised his arms above his head, not willing to identify

himself until he knew who he was dealing with.

“Okay, turn around nice and slow, keep your hands where I can see

them.”

He did as he was told, turning in a slow arc until he was facing the

man issuing the orders.

A security guard.

Mulder’s knees trembled with relief and he let out a slow breath.

“I’m a fed –”

“Shut up! I’m doing the talking. Now, what the hell are you doing

hiding out up here?”

Mulder kept his voice nice and steady. “My name is Fox Mulder. I’m a

federal agent. My ID is in my pocket.”

“Oh sure, we get a sniper and there just happens to be a federal

agent watching the game.” The man licked his lips, adjusted his

stance. “Okay, come over here; keep it slow, one step at a time.”

“Contrary to popular belief, occasionally we do get to experience

life outside of the Bureau.” Mulder informed the guard as he edged

his way towards the man. “I’m *not* the shooter and every second you

waste talking to me is giving him more of a chance to get away.”

Mulder ran his tongue over his lips, his mouth dry but his brow wet

with nervous perspiration. “I’m going to reach into my back pocket

and get my ID.”

The security guard, a tall man who looked to be in his late fifties

shuffled his feet and corrected the grip on his weapon. “Don’t try

anything silly, son.”

“Believe me,” Mulder insisted, “I have no intention of trying

anything.” Mulder pulled out his ID, held it up for inspection and

then tossed it at the man’s feet. The security guard picked it up,

keeping his weapon trained on Mulder’s chest. He studied the ID and

scrutinized Mulder’s face, waiting for what seemed like an eternity

before finally loosening his grip on the gun and lowering it to its

holster.

Mulder relaxed visibly, and easily caught his ID when it was tossed

back at him.

“What are we dealing with?” The man moved to stand beside Mulder.

Pointing towards the roof beams, Mulder shared what he knew. “I’m

going up there to check it out, my partner’s down there somewhere

hopefully organizing back up. You need to let the police know what

we’ve got and I want you to keep everyone not involved in law

enforcement away from here. Okay?”

The uniformed man nodded and gave Mulder a dubious look. “Should you

be doing this alone?”

“Probably not, but I’m off duty,” Mulder called over his shoulder as

he ran towards the ladder.

***************

“My name is Special Agent Dana Scully,” she hesitated, inwardly

cursing herself for not thinking to snag her coat as she’d stormed

off. “My badge is in the arena with my belongings – I was here just

watching the game and happened to look up and see someone in the

rafters shortly before the shot. Wh–”

“Sir, this is Virgil up on deck 6,” the radio crackled to life,

cutting Scully short. “Just encountered a Fox Mulder from the FBI –

he says the shooter’s up top.”

‘Please don’t play Superhero, Mulder,’ she prayed, lowering her head

as her eyes briefly slipped shut.

“Two feds?” the security supervisor coughed, “Isn’t this just my

lucky night?” He paused and then spoke into the walkie-talkie,

“What’s going on up there?”

There was a silent pause – only broken by the faint crackle over the

speaker – and then “Crazy bastard’s gone up to talk the perp down.”

She wasn’t surprised, but Scully still felt something heavy settle

within her stomach as her head snapped up – the image of him climbing

up the rows of seats as the distance between them had increased

playing over and over in her mind. She opened her mouth to say

something, but another voice was talking over the radio before she

had chance.

“Mack reporting in.”

This appeared to be what the supervisor had been waiting for as his

features lit up and he quickly asked, “Go ahead, Mack.”

“The players are all accounted for and uninjured, but we got an

injured civilian.”

“I’m a medical doctor,” Scully suddenly announced, wishing that one

fact could solve everything. “Look, Officer–?”

“Gene Wilkes – Captain Gene Wilkes,” the broad figure introduced –

shoulders relaxing fractionally. “Agent…Scully? I’m sure you’re

just trying to help, but we got a medical team that’s equipped to

deal with any emergency an–”

“And they may be lucky to get in there at all with their first aid

kits!” she exclaimed. “Look, that’s my partner in there going after

that sniper and there’s an injured person I might be able to help –

at least until the first-aid team or EMTs do arrive. Yes, I’m trying

to help, but this is my job too – even when I’m off the clock – and

I’m not about to back down from that. I just need to get back in

that arena.”

Wilkes considered what she’d said, but knew that without any time to

waste on arguing, all he could do was agree and help in whatever way

he could. “I’ll help you get through the crowd,” he finally

acquiesced, re-holstering his radio and moving aside so that Scully

could leave the room first.

***************

“Oh god, oh god.” What had she done? There were people everywhere,

running, screaming and she couldn’t even tell whether she’d hit her

target. To top it all, her shoulder ached from the recoil – she

hadn’t expected that. All she wanted to do was make that uppity

bastard pay. And had she? Oh shit, there were no more chances and

they’d put her in jail and then what? Run. She had to get away or the

place would be swarming with cops and they’d catch her and she’d be

locked up. Hands trembling, sweaty inside her leather gloves, she

slung the rifle over her shoulder and crawled along the scaffolding.

Shit, what was that? There was someone coming up the ladder. She

shuffled backwards until she was up against a railing, cornered. Oh,

god, who was it? The cops? She pulled her rifle from her shoulder and

took up aim. She wasn’t going to jail, no way. Whoever it was had

better keep their distance.

***************

Mulder peeked over the top of the ladder. The ceiling was a maze of

scaffold-like beams and rafters. He looked left and right and saw

nothing but rows and rows of latticed steelwork disappearing into

gloomy darkness. Carefully, he pulled himself up, the skin on the

back of his neck prickling in anticipation of a bullet taking him out.

Nothing happened.

Mulder climbed a little further so that he was perched on all fours

along a narrow platform. The roof rafters branched off on either side

of him and stretched out into gloomy darkness in front. There were

huge spot lights a few feet below the small platform, anchored in

place with thick rope. Electric cables were threaded along the beams,

coiled on the ground at regular intervals. Warily, he crawled along

the scaffolding straight out in front, painfully aware that one wrong

move could send him hurtling to the ground.

“And just where the hell do you think you’re going?” A loud ‘click-

click’ informed Mulder a weapon had just been cocked at about the

same time as his mind processed that the voice he was hearing

belonged to a woman.

In the shadow to his left, he was just able to make out a small

figure crouched in the corner. As his eyesight grew accustomed to the

semi-darkness there was no doubt that this was the shooter. The woman

was dressed all in black, her gloved hands wrapped tightly around the

barrel of a telescopic rifle.

“What are you doing up here?”

There was an edge to her voice, desperate.

“Would you believe I’ve come to check out a report of bats in the

belfry?”

“Don’t give me that shit. What the hell are you doing here!?” The

woman handled her weapon nervously.

“Why do you think I’m up here?” Mulder asked in that smooth-as-

chocolate voice, hoping to draw the woman out.

“I think you’re about to meet your maker, that’s what I think.” The

woman stood up, the rifle an ugly extension of her arms as she raised

it to her shoulder.

“WAIT! Wait.” Mulder cautiously moved from all fours to a kneeling

position, holding one hand up in a defensive gesture.

The woman took aim, “What have I got to wait for? The cops’ll be here

any minute and then I’ll be behind bars.”

“No one knows you’re up here. There’s just you and me.” Mulder tried

to get a look at what was happening below him, but the angle was

wrong to get a good view. From where the shooter was, she could

probably see the whole stadium. “Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Her finger twitched against the

trigger.

“Because you look like you need someone to talk to. You look like you

could use a friend.”

“It’s no good. I’m going to jail.” Mulder thought he could detect a

slight shift in the shooter’s mood. “I killed him.”

“Tell me your name.” Mulder insisted quietly.

“Laura,” she answered, just as quietly.

“Laura, my name’s Mulder.” But the woman wasn’t listening to him. She

was staring off to a place that existed only in her head.

“I shot him.”

“Who, Laura? Who did you shoot?” Despite hearing the sound of the

gunshot, Mulder had no idea whether she’d actually hit anyone.

“Todd Hooper.” She practically spat the name. Then more quietly,

almost like a whiney child. “I only wanted his autograph. He couldn’t

even stop for 10 seconds and scribble his name on a photo.” Her voice

grew angrier, “He’s an arrogant bastard!”

Mulder started to rise to his feet, still holding his hands out

defensively.

“Laura, we don’t know that you actually hit anyone. If you missed

then there’s no harm done.” He was all the way up now.

“I’ve gone to every game. He was my hero. All I wanted was a little

signature.”

“Laura?” Mulder took a step towards her.

“He just brushed me off, didn’t even look at me.”

“Laura, why don’t you give me the gun?” Inching closer.

“What?” She seemed to see Mulder for the first time since he stood

up. “What are you doing? No! Get away from me!”

“Laura, take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Get back!”

“Don’t make this end badly. If you give me the gun now, nobody else

needs to get hurt.”

“You’re a cop!” Laura raised the gun. “You’re not going to take me! I

WON’T GO TO JAIL!”

The woman was almost hysterical. Mulder needed to calm her down

before the situation got out of control.

“No one wants to put you in jail.”

“Bullshit! Get away from me.” She took a step backwards, stumbled

slightly and in an attempt to right herself her finger squeezed

around the trigger.

Mulder saw the flash of gunfire just before he felt the bullet enter

his left leg above the knee. One millisecond later his brain

registered the pain. Instinct made him clutch at his wounded leg, the

sudden movement throwing him off balance. With sheer terror, he

realized that he was toppling sideways with nothing to break his

fall. Desperately, he fought to find something to hang onto but his

hands, slick with his own blood were unable to find purchase on the

metal railing and he slid over the edge of the roof beam hurtling

towards the ground.

In the space of a second, Mulder discovered it was true what people

said about your life flashing before your eyes when facing death. And

just when he’d resigned himself to the fact that he’d never see

Scully again, never have the chance to say goodbye and tell her how

much he loved her, his descent came to an abrupt halt.

He felt something wrap tight around his left ankle and his knee

cracked in protest as it took the full strain of his weight. It was

then Mulder realized that he was dangling in mid air.

The bullet wound burned in his thigh, his knee and hip screamed with

the sudden wrench of his broken fall and his ankle felt as if

something were trying to cut right through the bone, but God-dammit

it, he was alive.

**************

Despite the unwavering bedlam as everyone fought to evacuate the

building as quickly as possible – cries and screams and yells

probably audible within a twenty mile radius of the building – moving

against the crowd certainly proved to be easier with the broad figure

of Wilkes leading the way, and it wasn’t long before Scully was back

inside the arena. She looked up at where she’d spotted the shooter

as she moved toward the injured spectator, but the bright floods

blocked her vision so for now she would just have to draw comfort

from the idea that Mulder knew (in his own strange way) what he was

doing.

“This is Katie,” Officer Mack started as Scully crouched down in

front of the seated ten-year-old girl and pulled back the bundle of

tissues that had been pressed against her bleeding left arm. “She

and her mom were watching the game – her dad had just disappeared to

use the john…”

“Does her dad know?” the female agent queried, carefully inspecting

the wound.

“We put a message out over the PA system, but he’s not shown up yet.”

“Judging by the crowds out there, he’ll be lucky to get in at all…”

Dana remarked, distractedly. She paused and smiled reassuringly at

the girl, who was braving it enough to not cry. “You’re gonna be

okay, Katie,” she nodded before turning her attention back to the

security guard. “Where’s her mother then?”

“We took her aside just to help calm her down – she was getting

hysterical, and we didn’t want her scaring the kid anymore.”

“You didn’t wanna scare her but took her mom away?”

“Is it serious?” Wilkes quickly cut in, bending over to glance at the

wound also.

Scully shook her head, replacing the wad of tissues and standing up

before reaching once more for her cellphone. “The bullet’s just

nicked the skin…She’ll need stitches, but nothing serious.” She

stepped away and looked once more up at the lighting rig well above

where she stood as her fingers tapped out 911 on the keypad.

The sound of a woman’s voice shouting filtered through the air, but

the echo made it impossible to locate, so she assumed it was the

girl’s irate mother and lifted the phone to her ear.

“911 – how–”

*BANG*

Everyone ducked down and several guns were instinctively drawn…

But Scully stood frozen and aghast as she saw first the gun flare,

and then – shortly after – Mulder’s form come into view…falling

towards her…

He was falling from the ceiling!

“*Nooooo!*”

*****************

From his precarious position, Mulder could see the whole stadium.

There was an unearthly silence as he hung suspended above the seats,

swinging idly in a tight circle. He thought he saw a flash of red

hair below him. No, it couldn’t be. But then he saw it again.

“Scull-eee!” His voice was raspy, strained. Could she even hear him?

The look of shock on her face mirrored the fear he knew was etched on

his own. He may have been spared the finality of hitting the ground,

but how long would the cable be able to hold him?

Blood flowed freely from the wound in his leg, dripping on his face,

and splattering to the floor below. Adding insult to injury, he felt

his cell phone slip from his pocket and plunge towards the ground.

And then the cable shifted, just an inch or two, but Mulder’s body

jerked downwards with the sudden movement.

His head throbbed and his vision blurred as gravity forced too much

blood to his brain.

How the hell was he going to get out of this one?

*****************

Scully’s phone slipped from her grasp and landed on the polished

floor just as Mulder’s fell from his upside-down pocket and smashed

alongside it.

She went to run forward in a desperate attempt to try to catch him or

at least break the fall, but as quickly as his descent began, it came

to an abrupt stop, and she was left blinking with confusion as he

seemingly floated in mid air (the pain and terror carved in his

features visible even from this far below him).

“Mulder?”

One of the lights in the rig blew, sending sparks flying everywhere,

and a horrid creaking scratched at her senses.

“He’s snagged on a cable!” a voice suddenly exclaimed from somewhere

behind her.

*****************

The throbbing pain in his leg, loss of blood and his good friend:

shock, all combined to send his heart rate skyrocketing and his head

spinning. The roaring in his ears told him it would only be a matter

of time before he would pass out. The only saving grace was that he’d

be spared the agony of being awake when he finally plummeted to an

almost certain death below.

Mulder caught another glimpse of Scully standing beside a small child

with a crowd of security guards gathered around her. She was staring

at him, at first with uncertainty, then she seemed to come to a

decision and with a new kind of fear in his heart, he understood what

she was planning to do.

He shook his head ‘no’ at her. If she tried to help him she risked

being taken down when the rig gave way. He mouthed the words ‘I’m

sorry’, and ‘I love you’ just before she took off in much the same

way he had done what must have been only 10 or 15 minutes ago.

‘Oh god’ he prayed, ‘please let me go before she gets to the top.’

And with that last thought, his vision faded to black and the noise

of screams and yelling grew more distant as he slipped into

unconsciousness.

*****************

Scully held her breath, her heart hammering against her chest at a

million miles an hour, as she saw the cable cradling his foot slacken

even further. It wouldn’t be long before the whole lighting rig

crashed down to the court’s surface with him.

She had to rescue him. There had to be a way.

Mulder shook his head as if begging her not to try to help. Scully

knew he wouldn’t want her up there risking her own life, but she’d be

dammed if she was just going to stand by and watch him fall to his

death.

When he mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’, Dana knew she couldn’t

wait any longer.

“I need some guards to come up there with me, someone to get the

tallest ladder this place has…and will somebody *please* call for

EMTs!” she barked out orders, rushing in the direction she’d seen

Mulder take not ten minutes earlier and refusing to pause long enough

to see if anyone was obeying or following her.

*****************

The first thing Scully encountered when she finally made it to the

top of the stadium was another security guard, his panicked

expression telling her he’d been witness to Mulder’s fall.

A few seconds later, two more security staff joined her at the base

of the ladder.

“We’ve got to go up. He needs help.” Scully stated the obvious, but

by doing so it at least made her feel as if she was doing *something*.

The first guy moved to the side, but caught her arm as she went to

climb the ladder. “The shooter’s still up there and since your

partner fell, there’s no guarantee that structure is still stable.”

It was logic she would have used in any other situation, and dammit

she was trying to stay as calm as humanly possible (had to, in fact,

congratulate herself for actually pausing long enough to listen to

these people who didn’t value Mulder’s life anywhere near as much as

she did), but the longer they stood here debating the ‘right’ thing

to do, the shorter her partner’s chances of getting out of this alive

became.

And she wasn’t going to let him fall.

“Whether anybody goes up there or not, that whole rig is gonna go,”

she snapped, tightly gripping onto one of the ladder’s rungs with her

right hand to both support her shaken, terrified frame, and make the

point very clear that there would be no stopping her.

“And the shooter?” Wilkes suddenly quizzed as he approached the small

gathering. “You wanna get yourself shot, too? Or maybe someone

else?”

This was ridiculous – there was no time for this! – and with one last

shake of her head as she glanced up at where Mulder hung, Dana

started her ascent up the ladder; shaking, sweaty palms making it

difficult to retain hold of the rungs.

At the base of the ladder, Wilkes shook his head in disgust and then

quickly snatched up his radio. “Maintenance? Anyone from

maintenance there?” There was no reply, so he tried again to no

avail. “God damn…” Wiping a hand across his dry mouth, he glanced

up at the dangling figure raining blood upon the court and then at

the three guards gathered beside him. “Virgil, you go up there with

her – make sure you keep me informed on *everything* that’s going on,

no matter how insignificant it may seem.”

“Yes, sir!” the tall, gray-haired guard affirmed with a nod of his

head.

The supervisor smiled his appreciation at the older man before

barking into the radio once more, “Mack? Where’s that medical team?”

“They’re on their way, captain.”

“What about the emergency services?”

“The same, except there’s traffic all the way back to the Hudson so

they may be another ten minutes. Hope you didn’t have any bets on

this game, sir.”

“Under the circumstances I’ll pretend you just didn’t say that,”

Wilkes coughed. Clipping the two-way back on his belt, he started

making his way back down the seating blocks. “You two,” he called

over his shoulder before he got too far out of earshot, “with me – we

gotta go get that scissor lift and move some people so that we can

get it in here!”

*****************

There was a metallic groaning noise and some movement as Scully

pulled herself up onto the beam and took stock of her surroundings.

The first thing her gaze fell on was the cowering, whimpering woman

huddled at the far end of the walkway – a bolt-action rifle discarded

and balancing hazardously on the strut five feet away.

“I–…He–…I didn’t mean–…*Make it stop*!”

Scully considered her options, decided the sniper was subdued enough

to not be a further threat, and then carefully inched toward where

her partner hung.

“Mulder? Mulder, it’s me – can you hear me?” she called, leaning

over the edge. From this angle, she couldn’t see his face or exactly

where the bullet had hit him, but she could see the pool of blood on

the floor below and, added to his non-existent reply, it was enough

for her to fear the worst. “We’re gonna get you out of this, so

don’t worry. Just…Just hang in there, partner, okay?” She hated

the pun, but hoped he could draw some strength from the hint of humor.

He still didn’t respond, but the framework let out an even louder

protest as Dan Virgil appeared at the top of the access ladder.

“His foot’s tangled in the cable,” she announced, never taking her

eyes off the black length saving her partner’s life but feeling her

fear rack up another notch as it dropped from the bar a fraction.

“But he hasn’t got long.” Quickly, her gaze lifted to fix on the

sniper.

“They’re getting the personnel lift in – it won’t reach high enough,

but they’ll have a much better chance of safely catching him when he

goes,” the security officer replied. He put a foot up on the rafter,

but when it shifted and let out a screech, he quickly reversed the

move and sighed when silence fell once more.

“What’s your name?” Scully ground out, trying to remain as composed

as possible but knowing she was failing miserably. “Why did you do

it?”

Laura shook her head and continued to babble nonsensically to herself

as she rocked back and forth.

“*Who are you*?”

“…–uleeee…”

Faint and barely there but there nevertheless; Scully’s head snapped

around at the sound of Mulder’s whimper of her name and she quickly

shifted to lean as far over the edge of the beam as possible.

“I’m here,” Dana gently assured, outstretching a hand to tenderly

brush against his shin – unaware that the movement would send yet

another surge of pain wracking through his leg and body. He

instantly hissed and shuddered in response, and she quickly pulled

the offending hand away. “Oh, Mulder…Why is it only you that can

get into these messes, and so frequently, too?”

This time his only reply was a low groan.

“Can you tell me where it hurts? Where did you get hit?”

“Hurtsss…wooo-zy…ti-tired-”

“No, don’t close your eyes…You know the drill by now: you have to

stay awake!”

“… sssss…heav–…head…”

“No!” She sat up, feeling even more helpless than she had before as

she looked out at the arena. He was going to fall and she couldn’t

stop it, just as she hadn’t been able to stop them from coming to the

game in the first place, or hadn’t been able to stop him from running

after the homicidal bitch that now cowered like a big baby in the

corner and…

…And she had to stop thinking like this. Mulder was counting on

her to save him and arrest the perp. He was counting on her to remain

rational and take charge. Basically, he was counting on her, and

blame or negativity wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“Virgil, we’ve got the lift,” the security supervisor’s voice

suddenly came over the walkie-talkie. “We should be there in three

minutes.”

As if sensing its chance to take them all down with it was slipping

away, the rig creaked, groaned, shuddered, and then dropped several

inches. Another light exploded in a shower of sparks and Mulder’s

unconscious body swung limply back and forth like a pendulum – the

momentum causing the cable to tighten impossibly further around his

ankle.

“Sir, we…we don’t have three minutes,” Virgil managed to rasp out

into the radio as he clung for dear life at the ladder.

The tears had been welling up, unshed in the face of professionalism,

but now there was no holding them back as Scully desperately reached

over to grab onto Mulder’s left foot with both hands and pulled as

hard as she possibly could. As expected, his weight was too much to

lift, but she wouldn’t give up – *couldn’t* give up…

“Help me…please…Please, God, no…” Her head lowered as the sobs

flooded from the depths of her being and trembling hands continued to

scrabble at his leg. “Please…”

Her last word was as quiet as possible, but Virgil had heard enough,

and decided there was only one chance left. As carefully as

possible, he clambered onto the beam too and smoothly moved up next

to the female agent, outstretching his own hands to tug at Mulder’s

leg also.

Suddenly from the other side of the court, there was a motorized

sound, and both the security guard and Scully lifted their heads to

see the large vehicle with the powered platform on the back drive

into the stadium until it was just below them.

“Lock it down!” Wilkes’s voice could be heard commanding as his two

colleagues rushed to either side of the vehicle.

“See? It’s gonna be okay,” Virgil smiled at Scully, pretending to

ignore the increasing groan emanating from each end of the strut.

“He’ll be safely on the ground again in no time.” There was a

whirring noise from below, and when he looked again, the platform was

beginning its steady but slow climb upwards.

Very slow climb.

…Maybe too slow…

“It’s not gonna hold any longer!” he called out.

Wilkes shook his head with non-acceptance at the obvious. With the

platform half-way as high it could go, he refused to believe they

would lose this one now.

With a deafening crash, the rig dropped a further ten inches. Scully

grabbed for Mulder instead of the beam and almost threw herself off,

whilst Virgil reached in his pocket and withdrew a knife.

And all the while this was happening, the sniper responsible for

everything continued to cry to herself.

All three men on the platform raised their arms in the air as the

platform reached its peak.

“Cut it, Dan!” one of them called.

Virgil nodded and lowered his knife to the cable.

Dana heard the words and saw the action, but nothing registered until

Mulder’s body started free-falling again.

“*No*!”

The awaiting guards were able to slow his descent, but the agent’s

weight slipped through their fingers and dropped onto the blue

platform with a muffled clang. The fact he was safe just a matter

of feet and not meters below, though, sent a wave of relief beyond

anything imaginable sweeping through Scully’s body…until the beam

buckled again.

“Jump!” Virgil ordered, grabbing Scully’s arm.

“What about her?” – pointing toward the huddled figure.

“I’ll get her – just go!”

Even more structural groaning, and she obeyed, easily dropping the

ten feet to crouch down beside Mulder’s motionless form without a

backwards glance.

“Lady, this is gonna fall in a minute, so why don’t you just come

here?” the guard started, standing up and taking a step toward the

sniper.

“I’m not going to jail!”

“No – you’re gonna end up dead if you stay up here, so…” Another

step, more weight placed where it wasn’t sturdy, and the rig had had

enough – without warning the whole thing broke away from its supports

and tumbled toward the floor. Virgil instinctively grabbed out for

the first thing he could, and the next thing he knew he was being

helped over the bar and onto the now-crowded platform.

But the last thing heard from Laura was an ear-piercing scream, cut

off by the almighty crash of metal smashing into the stadium floor.

It all became too overwhelming, and before she even had chance to

examine her partner’s injuries, Scully passed out.

*****************

MULDER/SCULLY RESIDENCE

3 DAYS LATER

8PM

Mulder leaned back on the couch, his left leg stretched out in front

of him and propped up on several pillows. It still throbbed

mercilessly and every four hours on the dot, Scully would arrive with

his painkillers and stand over him while he took them. Not that he

needed any encouragement – the pain was sufficient enough that he

didn’t feel in the least bit inclined to argue.

Not only had he suffered the bullet wound, but his knee and ankle had

also taken a battering when they had taken the full brunt of his

weight after he fell. Torn ligaments in both joints only added to his

woes…not to mention the bruised ribs and grazed shoulder courtesy

of his rescue drop.

For the last three days Scully hadn’t left his side. She hovered

protectively over him in the hospital, checking and double-checking

whenever a member of the medical staff came in to take his vitals or

administer medication. By the time he’d been released she had just

about pissed off every staff member she had come in contact with. In

fact, when Scully had wheeled him towards the exit earlier that day,

he could have sworn he’d heard a not-so-subtle cheer go up.

“Mulder, here.” Scully pulled him back from his reverie, thrusting

more pain meds and a glass of water towards him. “It’s time.”

He swallowed the pills, drank all of the water and shifted uneasily

on the couch. At the moment his leg wasn’t too bad, all things

considered, but every time he moved, or breathed deeply or god

forbid, coughed, his ribs screamed bloody murder at him.

“How are you feeling?” She sat on the arm of the couch, staring into

his eyes in a way that Mulder doubted very much meant that he was

going to get lucky that night. He saw concern, and in an odd sort of

way: fear, distance. ‘His’ Scully had almost completely disappeared

behind an aloof curtain of professionalism, and despite her constant

close proximity, Mulder felt as if she were miles away in every other

respect.

When he woke up in the hospital, he was sure he’d be in for an

earful. Usually she would kick his ass from here to kingdom come for

being so reckless; running off again and putting himself in danger.

But she hadn’t said a thing, just looked at him with something he

couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. She’d been walking on eggshells

now for three days, treating him like he might disintegrate into a

million pieces if she so much as looked at him sideways.

Scully continued to watch him, her face too pale and her eyes haunted

as if she were seeing something unbearable over and over in her

mind. She was really starting to scare him.

“Scully?”

She stared right through him.

“Scully!”

She snapped back to the present with a soft gasp, and an almost

imperceptible shake of her head.

Mulder reached out and took her hand and made space for her beside

him on the couch. “C’mere.” He pulled her gently down.

“No, Mulder, your injuries. . . ”

“I’m fine.” He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile and,

mustering all his strength, stretched his arm out along the back of

the couch, inviting her in. She slipped into the warm cocoon of his

body, careful of his ribs and shoulder. Mulder refused to accept her

distance and scooped her closer, clenching his jaw against the pain

in his side.

Gently, he rubbed her arm, long soothing strokes from elbow to

shoulder until he felt her begin to relax under his touch.

“Scully, are you all right?” He felt her stiffen, and she snapped her

head around to look at him, her expression making him wonder if he’d

just sprouted another head.

“Why would you ask me that?” She frowned, her tone defensive.

“I don’t know, you just–…you haven’t been yourself. Scully, you’d

tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“Something wrong.” She repeated under her breath. And then she puffed

a soft snort. “Something wrong.” Her gaze turned inward and she was

lost in space again.

“Scully?” She came back to herself almost immediately, turned back

to look at Mulder and seemed as if she was about to say something.

But instead, she covered her mouth with her hand and ran from the

living room.

A few seconds later Mulder heard the bathroom door close and the

sound of painful heaving coming from down the hall.

“Oh shit!” What the hell was going on with her? Mulder eased his

leg off the couch, his movements slow and awkward and riddled with

pain. He scooted forward and grabbed his crutches from the floor

beside the couch. Again those damn ribs begged him not to move but

this time he just ignored them.

“Don’t get off that couch, Mulder.” Scully was in the doorway, her

face pale and the hair around her face wet.

“Jeezus, Scully, what happened? Are you okay?”

“No. No, I’m not.” The words hung like ice in the room.

Slowly, Mulder sat back, keeping his leg straight out in front of him

and one arm wrapped around his middle. The pain in his side was like

a knife in his ribs.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, Scully?” Despite the burning

in his side, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine, a heavy lump

in his stomach. She was frightening him. Had that damn cancer come

back?

“What would be the point, Mulder?” She’d taken to pacing now. Her

arms wrapped tightly around her chest.

“Wha–…what do you mean?”

“Because we’ve had this conversation a thousand times before, and not

one of those times has it ever made any difference! Have you ever

taken any notice?” She stopped, sucked in her bottom lip and

chewed. In exasperation, she dropped her hands to her sides and

sighed. “Just what would be the point?” This was more to herself

rather than Mulder.

Suddenly, it was starting to dawn on him. This was the ass-kicking

he’d been waiting for. No problem, he knew he probably deserved it.

All he had to do was sit there and ride out the storm.

“Scully, I’m sorry. I know you were scared when I fell – shit, *I*

was scared! I–”

“No more, Mulder.” She looked at him with an expression that chilled

the blood in his veins.

“No more what?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“I can’t take it any more. The other night, when you were

dangling…” She shook her head, her body trembling slightly.

“…bleeding, and the roof was falling and I had no idea…I didn’t…

I– ” She sucked back a sob, raising a trembling hand to her face to

cover her mouth. But another sob broke free, louder, filled with

hurt, confusion, and it was the worst sound Mulder had ever heard in

his life.

“Scully, come here.” He shuffled to the edge of the couch. Scully

didn’t move, she’d turned her back on him and he watched in horror as

her shoulders shook with all the pain and fear and stress of what

she’d been holding back since the other night.

“Scully, please.” His own voice was quaking. “Please, babe, come

here.”

She turned to face him, her bottom lip still trembling, her sobbing a

painful sound that caught in her throat and Mulder felt his world

start to crumble. God, what had he done to her?

He pushed himself up, every muscle in his body protesting, but none

of his injuries hurting as much as the ache in his chest. He took one

limping step towards her, his abused leg screaming at him to stop and

for a moment his vision grayed and his stomach rose and he had to

grab onto the wall for support.

“Mulder! What are you doing?” He felt Scully grab his arm and wrap

it over her shoulder, carefully guiding him back to the safety of the

couch. She eased him down, lifted his leg and propped it back on the

pillows. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He couldn’t remember, his head was still woozy and he wasn’t too sure

about the stability of his stomach, either. If he could just rest and

get his breath, let his head clear.

“Mulder? Can you hear me?”

“I’m okay, I’m alright.”

Mulder felt the couch dip, and Scully’s warmth pressing against his

side. For once his ribs didn’t complain.

He looked up at Scully. “What…what did you mean…you can’t…take

any more?”

She closed her eyes, effectively shutting him out again.

“Scully? What are you — ”

“I don’t *know*.” She shook her head. “I don’t know, Mulder. It’s

just…I can’t watch you die again. For all intents and purposes you

should be dead. You have no right to be here, laying on the couch,

talking to me.” Then, very quietly, “I thought I’d lost you.” Her

words were trembling and she shuddered against him.

“You’re going to leave me.” He knew it. Somehow, all along, he knew

it would happen.

But Scully stared at him wide-eyed with shock, her head shaking.

“No. No, never Mulder. God, why would you even think such a thing?”

“But…what else is there? You love your job, you can’t quit the

FBI.”

“I love *you*.”

It was Mulder’s turn to shudder. Memories of hurtling toward the

ground had snapped him out of sleep and kept him awake without fail

over the last few nights, and that was scary enough, but…What if it

had been Scully up there, dangling from the cable only seconds away

from death – her blood decorating the basketball court? How would he

be reacting right now? The words ‘strait’ and ‘jacket’ crossed his

mind.

He reached up and cupped her cheek. They hadn’t spoken of Laura or

passed comment when they’d seen the news reports on the television at

the hospital, but none of that mattered. What did, however, was that

he’d rushed off without her watching his back or a second thought and

put his life dangerously on the line yet again with almost fatal

consequences. He needed to apologise for putting her through that

helpless nightmare. “I’m sorry, Scully. I’m sorry for what you went

through.”

She took his hand and stilled the gentle caresses on her cheek. “I

know you are.”

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Mulder said, “What are

we going to do?”

Scully shrugged. “I don’t really think there’s an answer. I…I guess

I was…I’m…. I’m maybe…suffering some kind of delayed shock.”

She squeezed his hand. “I was so certain that I wouldn’t be able to

save you in time.”

“But you did, Scully.”

“Mmmm.” She smiled at him and after a few moments added. “You really

thought a basketball game was going to be the surprise of my life?”

“Hey, I dare you to tell me you weren’t surprised.” He teased,

relieved that Scully’s mood had lightened a little.

“Well, next time you want to surprise me, how about you make it

something a little more sedate.” She traced a lazy circle on the palm

of his hand. “Did I ever mention the Kirov Ballet are performing at

the Kennedy Center?”

“Ballet–” He was mid protest when he remembered her sobs, the look

of utter devastation on her face. With a brighter tone to his voice,

he said “The Ballet sounds like a great idea, Scully.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep – it’s not nice.”

“Seriously, if that’s what you want, then we’ll go.”

She frowned and pulled away fractionally. He actually sounded…

genuine? “Really? You – Fox William Mulder – would go to the ballet

with me?” She reached up and felt his forehead. “You don’t seem to

be running a fever…Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” And with that he pulled Scully down so she was

laying along the length of the couch, cradled in his arms, and

despite the throbbing in his ribs and leg, for just a moment, he

didn’t think life could get any better than this.

“Hey, Scully?”

“Mm hmm?”

“Do they sell hot dogs at the Ballet?”

“Oh, Mulder!”

==========

THE END

Title: The Fine Art of Basketball

Date: April 19, 2006

Author: Kathy Foote

Summary: Mulder attempts to teach Matthew the fine art of basketball

Category: mild MSR and lite MT

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, these characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013

Productions, and Twentieth Century Fox. I wish they were mine, but they aren’t.

Archive: Two weeks exclusive with VS13, then anywhere is fine by me

Authors’ note: This story was written for IMTP Virtual Season 13, Sports Special

Thanks: To Emmy, my number one fan, who has begged me to write another story.

To Mom, my wonderful sounding board and proofreader. And last, but definitely not

least, to my inspiration and beta reader, Vickie Moseley.

Feedback is very much appreciated and can be sent to kmfoote@charter.net.

The Fine Art of Basketball

Tuesday evening

Mulder and Scully’s Place

Mulder was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner, since tonight was

his night to cook. He could hear the murmur of Scully as she talked on the phone in

the living room. He could tell she was talking to her Mom, because of the snippets of

conversation he caught. Turning down the heat on their dinner, he slipped from the

kitchen into the other room intending to sneak up on her.

“Ok, Mom, I’ll ask him and let you know. Bye.” She was hanging up the phone,

when a pair of arms snaked around her waist and tightened, pulling her against the

body behind her. Mulder immediately began nibbling on her neck. She tilted her

head slightly giving him better access to her neck.

“Mulder, what about dinner?” she asked in a distracted voice.

“It’s almost ready. I’m just having an appetizer,” he said as he nipped at a tendon in

her neck.

“Behave,” she countered playfully slapping at his hands still wrapped around her

waist. “Come on, Mulder, I’m hungry.”

“Mmmm, me too,” he growled.

“For _food_,” she stated. Slipping from his grasp, she headed straight for the

kitchen.

Unhappy that his impromptu necking session was cut short, he followed her. “Hey,

what did your Mom want?”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Mom and Tara have some shopping to do on Saturday

and wanted to know if we could watch the kids for a few hours.”

“That’d be great! I really love those kids. What’re we going to do?”

“I thought we’d take them to the park. The weather is supposed to be really nice

this weekend. There’s a real nice park by Mom’s.”

“I know the park. They have a basketball court. Maybe I can bring my ball and play

basketball with Matthew. He asks me every time he sees me when we’re going to

play.”

‘It’s settled then. I’ll call Mom back and tell her we’ll be there around 11:00. How’s

that?”

“Perfect. Now let’s eat. I got _big_ plans for dessert.”

Saturday Morning

Tara’s House

Saturday turned out to be an exceptional day, blue skies, warm temperatures,

absolutely perfect. Tara had the kids dressed and ready to go when they arrived at

the house. Each was dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes, similar to Mulder

and Scully’s attire. Tara made sure each child had a light jacket, in case they got

cool.

The kids were practically bouncing off the walls, so they wasted no time in getting

them into car; Claire in her car seat and Matthew buckled into the seat next to her.

As soon as they pulled away from the curb, the questions started.

“Where are we going, Aunt Dana?” Matthew asked.

“Where goin?” mimicked Claire. She was at the age where she wanted to repeat

everything Matthew said. At least, she tried to repeat what he said. Matthew didn’t

mind mostly, but sometimes it got on his nerves. His Mom said that Claire just

wanted to be like her big brother and that usually made him feel better. He liked

being the “big brother”.

Scully turned in her seat so she could address the kids in the back seat. “Mulder and

I thought we’d go to the park for a while and then maybe ice cream. What do you

think about that?”

At the word “park”, Matthew’s face lit up and at the word “ice cream”, Claire became

quite animated.

“I cream, want I cream,” she shouted.

“We’ll get ice cream later, sweetie, but first we’re going to play at the park. Would

you like that?”

“k,” she said a bit sullenly.

“Uncle Mulder, can we play basketball?” Matthew asked excitedly. “There’s a court

at the park. Please? Aunt Dana and Claire can play too.”

Mulder glanced at Matthew through the rearview mirror. “I think that’s a great idea.

I have my ball in the trunk. I thought you might want to play.”

“Yippee,” Matthew cried out with delight, throwing his arms into the air.

“Peee,” Claire squealed, copying her brother’s arm movement. Her brother’s

excitement was infectious.

Mulder pulled the car into the parking lot adjacent to the basketball court. There

was no one on the court, for which, Mulder was quite grateful. He wasn’t sure what

he would have said to the kids if it had been occupied. He noted that the playground

on the other side of the court was full of small children. The benches that

surrounded the area were filled with watching parents.

Scully unbuckled Claire from her car seat, while Matthew released himself. He leapt

out the door and met Mulder at the back of the car.

“Can I carry the ball, Uncle Mulder? Please?”

“Sure, Matty.”

“Mulder, I think Claire and I are going to check out the playground while you guys

play.” Scully then knelt to address Claire at her own level. “Hey Claire, you want to

try out the swings?” Claire loved the swings. She could sit in a swing and be pushed

all day long.

At the word ‘swing’, she grabbed her aunt’s hand and began dragging her toward the

playground. Scully had no choice but to follow her.

After the girls were gone, Mulder turned to Matthew. “Matty, I’m going to teach the

fine art of basketball. The first thing you have to learn to do is dribble the ball.”

Matthew looked puzzled at the unfamiliar term, so Mulder explained. “Dribbling is

bouncing the ball with one hand. You have to be able to dribble the ball while

running at the same time.”

He demonstrated the basic dribble. Matthew watched intently. When it was his turn,

he tried to mimic Mulder’s movements. He did pretty well. Matthew was a bit of a

natural athlete; he was pretty good at all the sports he played. Mulder was proud of

him and it was fun teaching him the various sports.

“How’s that, Uncle Mulder?”

“Hey, that’s really good, Matty. You want to try shooting the ball?”

Mulder took the ball and got down on his knees, so he was closer to Matthew’s

height. “You hold the ball in your fingertips,” he explained as he demonstrated the

technique of throwing. “Raise your arms above your head and kind of push the ball

toward the net with your right hand.” He sunk the ball easily.

“All right,” Matty shouted. “Can I try now?”

Mulder handed him the ball. Matthew had a little trouble controlling the ball with one

arm, so Mulder suggested he use both hands to shoot until he got comfortable with

the ball. Each successive shot got closer and closer to the basket, until finally, on his

tenth try, the ball went into the basket.

“Nothing but net,” yelled Mulder. He made a big deal out of the accomplishment by

cheering and giving Matthew a high five.

Claire, who was quite content swinging while Scully pushed, heard the commotion.

“Want down,” she told Scully, “want down now.” Scully rushed to stop the swing

before Claire squirmed right out of it. Once she was free of the swing, she toddled

back to the basketball court, with Scully hurrying along behind her. She knew

someone was having fun and she didn’t want to miss any of it.

Matthew ran up to Scully as soon as she stepped onto the court. “Aunt Dana! Aunt

Dana! Did you see that? I threw the ball in the basket.” he said proudly. “Nothing

but net…right Uncle Mulder?”

Scully gave the child a big hug and told him how proud she was of him.

Claire spied the ball and scooped it up into her arms. “I frow,” she yelled and

proceeded to toss the ball all of 2 feet. Matthew laughed at her attempt, which

didn’t go over well with Claire.

Mulder could see a storm brewing and, wanting to avoid that, he rushed over and

knelt down in front of Claire. “You want me to help you, Claire?” With tears in her

eyes, she nodded her head.

Mulder scooped her up by her arms and placed her on his shoulders. He

maneuvered them close to the basket. Scully, realizing what his plan was, handed

the ball to Claire. She carefully placed the ball over the basket and then released it.

The ball fell through the net and bounced on ground. Everyone broke into cheers,

including Matthew and Claire giggled with delight.

“Again!” she cried. They repeated the exact routine five times, until Mulder placed

Claire on the ground and told her it was Matthew’s turn.

Just as Matthew was preparing to sink another basket, three men in the early

twenties came strolling onto the court. They deposited their shirts on the bench and

waited a few minutes for Mulder and his group to leave. When they showed no signs

of vacating the court, the guys decided to confront them.

“Hey, Pop? Why don’t ‘cha take the little wife and kiddies home? Play time’s over.”

“Listen, fellows, we were here first. The kids really want to play basketball. We

probably won’t be too much longer, if you could just wait a little while. OK?”

Mulder didn’t wait for a response. He returned to instructing Matthew on shooting.

The guys were stunned by what had transpired. The one known as Rick found his

voice first. “No, it’s not ok, _Pop_!” he yelled back. “Now what’re we gonna do?” he

asked the two with him.

“I dunno…leave?” offered Derek.

“Leave? I wanna play b-ball dammit! Let’s just force him off the court.”

“Force him off the court. How do you plan to do that?” asked the third guy

incredulously.

“I don’t know, Brad. Let’s just start playing around them. They’re bound to leave.”

“What about the kids?” asked Derek. “They might get hurt.”

“Then he better leave,” stated Rick, “Come on.”

The three men moved onto the court and started passing the ball around and

shooting baskets. They were purposely throwing the ball close the Mulder’s group,

but careful not to actually hit anyone.

Mulder turned to address the men again. Scully grabbed his arm. “Mulder, what’re

you doing?” She didn’t want any trouble; not with the kids here. Mulder assured

her he had it handled, which of course, worried her even more.

Mulder walked up to the man that seemed to do all the yelling. “Tell you what. I’ve

a proposition for you. I’ll play you’re best player, one on one, 21 points. The winner

gets to keep the court.”

The three men simultaneously burst into laughter.

Mulder looked Rick directly in the eye. “So? What do you say?”

Rick sized him up and figured he could wipe the court with this old guy, so he

agreed. “You’re on, Pop. I’ll even give you the ball first.”

Scully wasn’t so sure about this, but Mulder obviously had a plan. She and the kids

moved to sit on the bench. Derek and Brad moved to stand on the opposite sideline.

Mulder positioned himself just outside of the court, while Rick stood directly in front

of him. Mulder faked to his left, and then ran to the opposite side, right past Rick.

He easily sunk the ball for two points. Scully and the kids cheered from the

sidelines.

Rick was not happy. He snatched the ball and moved to stand just outside the court,

ready to bring the ball in. Mulder situated himself facing his opponent, a few feet off

the line, so he could cover both sides.

“Lucky shot, old man. Last one you’ll get.”

Rick tried a move similar to Mulder. He faked one direction and moved to the other.

Mulder was ready and moved with him. Rick was so sure he would get past Mulder,

he was protecting the ball, dribbling it out in front of him. Mulder easily stole the

ball from him and headed for the net in the reverse direction. Again, Mulder had no

problem making the shot.

Groans could be heard from Rick’s sideline, while cheers rang out from Mulder’s.

The game continued in this manner for about 5 minutes. Mulder was winning and

Rick was getting increasingly frustrated. He had tried all kinds of maneuvers, but

Mulder countered each one. Rick’s buddies had begun to razz him from the

sidelines. Rick did not want to lose, especially to this old guy, so he decided to turn

up the heat a little bit and play more aggressively.

The next time Rick had the ball, when Mulder jumped to block his shot, Rick brought

down his elbow into Mulder’s face, catching him on the left jaw. Mulder stumbled

back, stunned from the blow and Rick scored easily. A chorus of boos was heard

from the Mulder bench. Mulder looked over and saw Scully’s worried look, but he

just gave his head a little shake, indicating he didn’t need any help; he could handle

this.

When they returned to the edge of the court, Mulder confronted him about that last

play. “That was a foul,” he said rubbing his sore jaw.

“That’s called street basketball, old man. Too much for ya? Wanna quit?”

“Not on your life. My ball.” Mulder brought the ball out and worked his way to the

basket. It was more difficult, because Rick kept pushing him and bumping into him.

When Mulder reached up to dunk the ball, Rick was there, fouling him again. He

caught Mulder in the midsection with his shoulder; knocking him to the ground and

causing him to lose the ball. Rick snagged the ball and scored easily.

Again, the sound of boos could be heard from Mulder’s bench. This time, a few were

even heard from the other bench.

Mulder was getting mad. He was beating this guy and it was obvious he didn’t want

to lose, even if it meant cheating. He wasn’t going to lower himself to his level, so

he had better try staying out of his way before he got really hurt. Scully would kill

him if that happened.

Mulder brought the ball out again and charged the net. This time when Rick tried the

same move, Mulder ducked under his arm, swung around and tossed the ball in the

net. The boos were replaced by cheers.

The game went on like this for another 10 minutes; each point taking longer and

longer to make. Finally, the score was 18 to 16, Mulder’s favor. Rick was getting

more irritated by the minute. He’d tried every dirty trick he could think of, but

Mulder kept getting past him.

By this time, Mulder had a swollen jaw, bloodied lip, and a respectable set of bruises.

He was tired of this game and just wanted it to end. It was his ball and he only

needed 3 points to win. Instead of bringing the ball out, he took one step over the

line and shot from there. It was a perfect throw…nothing but net.

“Three points and I win,” Mulder declared.

“No way, man,” Rick yelled, as he got into Mulder’s face. “You cheated.”

Before Mulder can respond to the accusation, Derek and Brad had moved from their

bench to stand beside Mulder.

‘That’s enough, Rick,” Brad said, “You lost fair and square.”

Rick stood there, a foot from Mulder, red-faced from exertion and anger. He looked

ready to attack, but with his friends siding with Mulder, he really didn’t stand a

chance.

“Fine! He can have the stupid court.” Rick spun on his heel and started to walk off

the court. He turned back when he realized he was alone. “You guys coming or

what?”

“I think I’m gonna hang here a bit,” announced Brad. “I’ll catch ya later, Rick.”

Rick fixed Derek with a glare, waiting on his response.

Derek didn’t really want to stay here, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen to Rick rant

and rave about his loss. ” I think…um…I think I’m just going to head on home,”

stammered Derek. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He took off across the parking lot,

obviously in the direction of his home.

Rick looked stunned. Not only did his buddies side with his adversary, but also now

they didn’t want to hang with him. Hell, Brad even opted to stay here.

“Hmmph! I’m outta here. Have fun with the _kiddies_!”

As soon as Rick had stormed off the court, Mulder turned to Brad. “Thanks for your

help. I really didn’t want to get into a fight with that guy. Playing him in basketball

was physical enough.” He winced as he rubbed his swollen jaw.

Brad said, “No problem, Mister…uh…”

“Mulder. The name’s Mulder.”

“Well, you played a hell of a game, Mr. Mulder. I’m Brad.” He held out his hand.

Mulder rolled his eyes at the use of mister in front of his name. It sounded odd,

even coming from someone half his age. “Nice to meet you and just call me Mulder.

No mister. OK?” He grasped Brad’s outstretched hand and returned the

handshake.

Scully, seeing the handshake, decided the face-off was over. She wanted to see how

bad Mulder was hurt. She and the kids raced over to him. Scully was immediately

assessing the damage, while the kids were hugging his legs and offering

congratulations.

“That was great, Uncle Mulder. You really whooped that guy. But…why did he keep

hitting you?” asked Matthew.

Before Mulder could answer, Brad stepped in, “Because Rick didn’t play fair.

Basketball isn’t about hitting. It’s about skill and outsmarting your opponent. That’s

what your Uncle Mulder did.”

“Thanks, Brad,” Mulder said, acknowledging the compliment. “By the way, this is

Dana Scully and her niece and nephew, Claire and Matthew. This is Brad.”

Brad nodded at Scully and held out his hand. “Ma’am.”

It was Scully’s turn to roll her eyes. These guys made her feel so old. She caught a

quick glance at Mulder’s smirk, before he removed it from his face. She returned the

handshake and let the “ma’am” thing slide.

“Uncle Mulder was teaching me the fine art of basketball,” Matthew pointed out.

That brought a smile to Brad’s face. He retrieved the neglected ball and handed it to

Matthew. “If you learn to play half as good as your Uncle, you’ll be quite a player.

Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned?” Matthew was all too eager to

comply.

For the next hour, the group had a wonderful time playing basketball. When it was

time to go, they invited Brad to get some ice cream with them at the little shop

around the corner. He was honored to be included and accepted the invitation

graciously.

Later that Afternoon

Tara’s House

The kids were pretty tired by the time they returned home. They had had a big day

playing at the park and then topped it all off with a sundae. Claire had fallen asleep

in her car seat and Matthew kept nodding off.

Scully carried Claire into the house. Matthew followed behind and Mulder brought up

the rear. “We’re home,” Scully called out.

Tara came out of the kitchen and took Claire from Scully. “Oh, this is one sleepy

little girl. Did you have fun, sweetie?” Claire nodded her slightly, but that was the

extent of her movements.

She looked over at Matthew, “How about you big boy. Did you have fun?” He too

nodded his head lazily, obviously exhausted from his day’s adventure.

Maggie stepped in from the kitchen and was shocked when she took in Mulder’s

appearance. “Fox! What in the world happened to you?”

Mulder was caught off guard. He had forgotten how he must look. “Oh…well, we

went to the park and I taught Matthew how to play basketball.”

“Basketball?” Maggie asked incredulously. “Looks more like boxing and you were the

punching bag.”

The End

8

Dogged

By Martin Ross

Category: Casefile

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The way to a man’s crimes sometimes is through his stomach.

Disclaimer: Once again, a nod to Chris Carter.

“A gurgitator?” Scully choked.

It was a particularly apt reaction, given the immediate subject matter.

“Or competitive eater, if you prefer,” Mulder sighed patiently.

“I’d prefer to be home,” Scully groused as she dodged a hyperkinetic toddler. When

her partner had proposed a Saturday jaunt to the Big Apple, she’d been pleasantly, if

warily, surprised. When Mulder packed his ID and gun, Scully’s suspicions had been

confirmed. Astroland — one of the last of the great amusement parks on Coney

Island — was packed on this unseasonably warm late spring day, and packed with

New Yorkers, which to Scully’s view elevated the situation to a Yellow Alert.

“It’s one of the most truly democratic sports endeavors, Scully,” Mulder continued,

having developed a resistance to her whining on the drive up. “An opportunity for the

everyman to compete, stomach to stomach, with his fellow everymen. Or

everywoman, I suppose — Sonya ‘The Black Widow’ Thomas, AKA Lee Sun-Kyung,

set the U.S. hotdog record last year. World record, of course, belongs to Takeru

Kobayashi of Japan. Winner every year since 2001, topped out in 2004 at 53 1/2

wienies.”

“Cut to the chase, Rain Man,” Scully said, as a large woman anointed her with a

dripping soft-serve cone. “Why are spending this beautiful, sunny Saturday chubby

chasing?”

“That’s a common misconception, Scully. Thomas and Kobayashi are svelte and

sassy gurgitators. Being overweight isn’t an advantage: Stomach elasticity is usually

considered the key to eating success, and competitors commonly train by drinking

large amounts of water over a short time to stretch out the stomach. Excess fat on

the body is a disadvantage — it prevents the stomach from expanding as much as it

otherwise could.”

“Fascinating,” Scully grunted as the pair approached a elevated stage surrounded by

Yawkers and tourists loaded with digital cameras and empty calories. The large

scarlet “Beefy Barkers” banner flapped in the hearty spring breeze, with the Yankees-

capped Barkers hound undulating somewhat obscenely above the throng.

Mulder shouldered past a gangsta-garbed gawker on the sidelines. “The Beefy

Barkers competition is one of the first of the season — the Nathan’s Famous Fourth of

July International Hot Dog-Eating Contest is the Superbowl, the Gala of Gustatory

Glory.”

“The Gaudy Gathering of Gratuitously Gluttonous Gawkers.”

“You’re an acutely acidic architect of alliterative allusions, Scully. Haul your perky

little ass — I think they’re about to start.”

“La-dies and gentle-men,” a lanky, buxom brunette in a red Beefy Barkers T-shirt

and white short-shorts heralded from the stage. “If I could have your attention?

Welcome to the Sixth Annual Beefy Barker Weiner Wolf, everybody!!”

“We’ve brought together some of the world’s top competitive eaters today, and we

plan to gorge them with our new Barkers DeLuxe jumbo franks. All-beef, no

byproducts, and now enhanced with calcium. The first wiener that’s a winner in the

war on osteoporosis.”

“Ahh, the pageantry,” Scully murmured.

“Helping us today is our panel of celebrity judges and sausage aficionados.” The

Beefy Barker babe gestured toward a trio of individuals onstage. “Wolgang Rainier,

star of the McBain action films, is a long-time bratwurst buff, while Frida Cornthwaite

is managing editor of The Processor, the industry’s major lunchmeat and wiener

journal. Gary Diggs is the former bass guitarist for Tuberculosis and an avowed

frankfurter addict. Give it up, folks!”

Diggs grinned lazily under his Raybans as a smattering of applause echoed through

the park. A stone-faced Rainier appeared ready to shower the crowd with bullets.

Cornthwaite looked merely frightened.

“Now, under International Federation of Competitive Eating rules, all our competitors

today are over 18 years of age. Anyone who suffers what we call ‘a Roman incident’ –

– and anybody who saw the famed Burt Reynolds coliseum sketch can guess what we

mean — is disqualified if the result of that ‘incident’ touches the plate or table. Once

time has elapsed, competitors can rid themselves of the massive amount of food

they’ve just eaten however they like…”

“I believe I’m going to rid myself of a massive amount of food in about three

seconds,” Scully groaned. “Why are we here, Mulder?”

“He’s standing right there — the skinny guy.” Mulder pointed to a thin but steel-

abbed young man standing to the right of the stage between a large, long-haired

Sasquatch and a petite Asian woman. “Jacob Custer — first place in the 2001

national Bagel Eating Competition, 2002 winner in the world Pie Eating Derby,

second runnerup in the Nathan’s dog competition three years running. Jake was a

major player in gurgitation ‘til three years ago, when he was sidelined by a digestive

parasite that resulted in a very public ‘Roman incident,” which by the way…”

“I got it. What’s this geek’s day job?”

“Actually, a geek is a carnival or circus performer who eats traditionally non-food

items. However, Jake is quite comfortable as a software designer — or at least he

was until recently. He and a couple of work associates broke off from Cloysoft last

year to launch their own music and movie download software. One of Cloysoft’s

competitors offered a few million basically to shut them down, and the partners got

medieval on Jake’s ass. He didn’t get a penny out of the deal, and he called them

‘cybercannibals’ in a web interview. That’s why he’s back on the competitive eating

circuit, or so they say.”

Scully glanced up at the stage as the wiener wench introduced Jake to lukewarm

applause. “What do you say, Mulder?”

“One of the partners, Donald Bakke, disappeared last weekend between subway

stops. His fiancé filed a report, but the NYPD couldn’t find any clues. Then Sal

Bahnsen — the other partner — vanished Tuesday after leaving his loft studio.”

“And you think he had something to do with it?”

“I made a few calls, and Bakke’s girlfriend said he’d been talking about mending

fences with Jake. What if Jake decided he didn’t want to mend fences with him?”

Scully sighed as Sasquatch mounted the stage, waving both colossal arms WWF-

style. “Mulder, this is New York – I’m amazed anyone makes it home alive. Did the

cops talk to Custer?”

Mulder studied his shoe for a moment. “They weren’t exactly dogging his trail. They

found Bakke’s wallet a block from the first subway station, empty, and Bahnsen’s got

a history of enthusiastic partying and three-day blackouts. They think he’ll show up a

few days from now with a Robert Urich of a headache. And they say Jake is totally

chipper and cheery – showing up to his new telemarketing job, sharing caffe lattes

with his pals, just generally not acting like a double murderer.”

“I have to admit, it doesn’t sound precisely like a compelling case, Mulder,” Scully

said as the crowd applauded apathetically for the lanky third contestant. “What’s got

you so convinced of this man’s guilt?”

“I have a theory,” Mulder said cryptically. “Hey, here come the wienies.”

“Thought they already introduced them.” Scully shook her head silently as the

emcee’s twin triplets marched onstage carrying three silver trays laden with super

sized New York-style kosher dogs and three plastic cups.

“Papaya juice,” Mulder ventured. “The beverage of choice for Big Apple hotdog

aficionados. I did tell you this was Jake’s return engagement, didn’t I? His little

episode traumatized him right out of the game.”

“Game?” Scully breathed. “With half the population suffering from obesity and

cardiac disease and the other half living below the poverty line, I can’t think of any

more fitting salute to American decadence and overindulgence. I can hardly stomach

this.”

“Might be that tightly constricted sphincter of yours.”

A shot broke the air, and Jake Custer and his rivals dove into their steaming piles of

wieners.

“A reverse Kobayashi,” Mulder marveled as Custer’s cheeks puffed with meat and

dough. “See how he’s shoving the bun in first, then splitting the dog and swallowing

both halves together. It’s Kobayashi’s technique backwards. Shrewd modification –

the moist dogs probably help chase the dry buns better.”

Scully’s brow arched. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on by your esoteric

knowledge.”

“The big fella’s doing the Kobayashi Shake – the champ wiggles his upper body to

work the food down his esophagus. And she may not be flashy, but see how she’s

using the papaya juice as a lubricant?”

“It’s etched permanently on my retinas. Have you unearthed any clues yet?”

“Matter of fact, yes. See how Godzilla’s fading already? But Jake’s still going strong –

he’s halfway through his dogs.”

Custer’s female competitor suddenly paled, and expelled a chunk of frank. The

wiener wench blew a whistle, and the woman slunk dejectedly from the stage. The

giant glanced sideways at Custer, gaining his second wind and shoving two dogs at

once into his wobbling jowls.

Without looking up, Custer began to rip and shovel dogs in a blur of gluttonous

frenzy. A sweat broke on Goliath’s brow, and as the emcee sounded an airhorn, he

staggered back deliriously. Custer pumped the air with his fists, cheeks still

distended, and the crowd came to life.

“Wonder how he trained,” Mulder murmured. “This is his first competition in nearly

three years, but he doesn’t seem to have missed a beat. You know, stomach

elasticity is considered the key to successful competitive eating. Wonder how he got

his tone back. Ok, let’s go.”

Scully stood transfixed, pondering Mulder’s cryptic inquiry. Then, as he strode

through the departing throng toward the stage, she gave chase.

“Wow, dude, that was awesome!” Mulder proclaimed as he hopped on stage and held

out his fist. Grinning around a mouthful of wiener, Custer bumped Mulder’s knuckles

and reached for his juice.

“I mean, look at Big Boy over there. Looks like he’s about to hork.”

Custer glanced toward the vanquished titan, who flopped onto a nearby bench. He

swallowed twice and reappraised Mulder. “Good to meet you, pal, but I gotta get my

check. Ciao, OK?”

“Aw, sure,” Mulder smiled goofily. Then he blinked as he examined the single dog

remaining on Custer’s tray. “Jesus, what the hell?”

“What?”

As Scully stared, puzzled, Mulder plucked a small, stringy object from the frankfurter.

“Looks like some kinda worm, dude. Oh, yeah, it’s one of those whattya call its. My

cousin had one…”

Custer backed almost off the back of the stage, a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Mulder chuckled, displaying the creature. “Tapeworm. This thing’s

pregnant, you may be able to triple your hotdog intake three times overnight.”

And that’s when all hell – or the nearest equivalent – broke out.

New York Police Department Forensic Laboratory

3:23 p.m.

“Even if we find what you’re hoping to find, Mulder, I’m not sure this would hold up

as evidence.”

“Plain sight,” Mulder emphasized as he watched the lab technician processing the

sample he’d secured as Custer stumbled from the stage. “No warrant needed.”

“But it’s, it’s entrapment,” Scully protested. “It’s forced…regurgitation. Not to

mention that you had that parasite in your pocket in the car? And by the way, what

do you hope to find?”

Mulder leaned on an autoclave. “What if Bakke and Bahnsen had second thoughts

about screwing Custer over, and dropped in on him to make peace. Except maybe

they weren’t offering a big enough peace, and he lost his cool. So then he’s left with

two dead buddies in the middle of Manhattan. How does he dispose of the bodies?”

Scully frowned, then her jaw drooped. “You cannot possibly be serious.”

“He’d compared his former partners’ theft of his idea with cannibalism. Maybe he

decided to mete out a little poetic justice and came out of retirement for a little

‘competitor eating.’”

“And then Custer, what, decided to top it off with a few dozen hot dogs?”

Mulder shrugged. “You may be closer than you think. Maybe his act of cannibalism

kicked off some kind of primal appetite.”

“You know what I think, Mulder?” Scully murmured. “I think your theory is—”

“100 percent bovine DNA.” The technician sighed as he handed Mulder a computer

printout. “Well, and traces of some kind of fruit.”

“Papaya,” Scully supplied. “Well, Mulder, at least your little test has vindicated the

Beefy Barker folks.”

“Glad I missed the Yankees for this,” the tech snorted, heading for the hall.

Mulder studied the DNA analysis glumly.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she finally said, quietly. “I know…” Her lips twitched. “I know it

must be eating you up.”

Apartment of Jacob Custer

Greenwich Village, New York

6:06 p.m.

The door crashed in as Custer was prepping dinner. He dropped the knife onto the

table next to the unconscious Sal Bahnsen and dropped to the tile.

“Second course is in here, Agent,” the cop informed Mulder. “Pulse is weak, but

Bakke’s still alive. Probably drugged ‘em.”

“You,” Custer gasped as he recognized his “fan.”

“Sorry to just drop in at suppertime,” Mulder said, kneeling next to the near-

murderer. “It wasn’t too hard to trace the chloroform and the duct tape you bought.

Don’t feel too bad, though – I almost blew it. ‘Til I realized I had it backwards.

Stomach elasticity, Jake. The hotdogs were just the prelim – you were warming up

for the main event.”

end

Softball Accident

By Erin M. Blair

At noon, Mulder decided to play softball with his fellow agents. He reasoned that he was in the

best shape ever in his life. After going through a horrifying case while barely escaping injury,

he needed to kick back and enjoy himself. Usually, he was too busy with cases to take part,

but this time he was free. He waved to Scully, who was sitting in the stands, not wanting to

take part. She agreed to come and watch him play.

Just a simple game – what could go wrong? He thought to himself as he ran to first base.

Nothing could go wrong, right?

But nothing was simple for Mulder.

On that day, everything turned out so wrong that a few simple calls did not pan out for his

team. When he was sliding onto third base, he got his foot caught on the base and twisted his

ankle. Although the ball gently hit his ankle, it still made the matter a lot worse for him. He

was still in pain. The first thing he heard as he hit the ground was Scully’s screams to let her

onto the field. He writhed into a ball on the ground holding his leg, grimacing as the pain

reverberated in and around his ankle.

Scully arrived at his side. Her doctor bag ready in her hand – the one she always carried with

her – for emergencies. “I think the game’s over for you.”

He carefully got up and nodded. “I know. It’s very hard to walk.”

A pale-faced young FBI Agent Jim Rodgers stood by, looking on helplessly with concern lining

on his face. He was the second baseman who had accidentally hit Mulder with the ball. “I’m

sorry, Mulder. I hope you’ll feel better. I… feel bad about this.”

“Don’t be, Rodgers. It could have happened to anyone.”

He turned towards Scully who was carefully helping him walk off the field. “Do you need help?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

The young agent quickly got on the other side of Mulder. With his assistance, Scully was able

to help him off the diamond while bystanders looked on with worry. They took him to the

team’s clubhouse and sat him down on the bench.

Scully inspected the injury, sighing. She put her doctor bag underneath his foot for elevation.

“Mulder, you’ve certainly done a number on this.”

“It’s not broken, is it?”

“No. It is tender to the touch but I think we should get this checked out at the ER – just need

to be sure that you didn’t tear any ligaments. It’s probably an ankle strain,” she said, carefully

placing ice to his ankle to stop the swelling. After that, she carefully wrapped an ACE bandage

around his ankle after putting on a protective brace for support.

Jim sighed. “This game was the first that I’d played. I graduated from Quantico last month

and this was the first chance I was able to play.” He paused. “I played college softball.”

Mulder nodded thoughtfully. He sighed, wincing as he limped along with them. “I played

cricket at Oxford. However, I always loved baseball.”

Scully smiled. “And basketball.”

“Yeah,” Mulder said.

Scully and Rodgers helped him to Scully’s car. His car wasn’t working and he’d left it at the

duplex. Besides, they enjoyed commuting together to work. “I guess it was a good idea that I

arrived with you, Scully.”

“It makes things a bit easier, that’s for sure. Besides, we saved a lot of gas money.”

“What kind of treatment will you be giving him?” Jim asked, as he helped to put the seat

buckle on Mulder.

“I’ll be taking him to the ER and taking it from there. Probably RICE. I am hoping that he

didn’t tear anything, but his ankle looks badly bruised and very tender to the touch.”

“I hope nothing’s broken,” Mulder said. He winced with the pain throbbing from ankle to his

brain. It was so hard for him to walk and took almost all his strength to try.

“Call me with updates, Agent Scully,” Jim said. He looked at Mulder, sighing. “Again, I’m so

sorry. You’re in my prayers.”

“Thanks, Rodgers.”

* * *

Scully arrive with Mulder at the ER. The on staff doctor took an X-ray of his ankle. They waited

in Mulder’s examining room for the results. He was the first one to speak. “How bad do you

think it is, Scully?”

“I’m hoping for the best, Mulder. I think we need to wait and see what your X-ray shows.” She

paused. “I already know what the treatment there will be.”

“You do?”

Scully nodded. She was about to say something when the doctor came in with Mulder’s file in

hand.

Dr. Kennedy smiled at them. “Agent Mulder has a tiny tear in the ligaments of his ankle.”

“Grade 2?”

He nodded. “We’ll give him crutches and a prescription for a pain reliever. He’ll need to be on

crutches for a week and he has to keep it elevated. He’ll need some physio.”

Mulder nodded. He didn’t like it, but knew it could have been a lot worse.

“It’s recommended that you follow RICE protocols, Agent Mulder. And don’t walk on it for a

couple of days.”

“RICE means rest, ice, compression, and elevation.”

“If you’re still in pain, come back in a couple of days so I can reevaluate you.”

“Just two days of elevating my ankle?” Mulder asked. He wanted the doctor to reaffirm the

length of time.

To his relief, the doctor agreed. He gave the prescription for a pain reliever and crutches to

him. After the doctor left, he turned towards Scully. “I guess there won’t be any cases for

awhile.”

“Mulder, you have to take it easy.”

Although he was in pain, he smiled at her remark. “Oh, don’t worry, Scully. I’ll be a model

patient.”

Scully smiled at him. “Why do I think you won’t be?”

* * *

After going home with Scully to their duplex, Mulder wondered how he was going to let himself

rest his ankle. He’d always been a bad patient, but this time he vowed that he’d do anything

to speed up the recovery process and let Scully take good care of him.

After she propped up his foot with pillows on their bed, Scully looked at him. He was finally

listening and following doctor’s orders. “Wow, Mulder. I’m impressed. You’re actually doing the

whole RICE protocols without any fuss.”

“Aw, Scully, I’m trying to see the silver lining in all this. I admit that it’s hard for me not to

walk. There are times when I want to go out and jog around the block. Whenever I put weight

on my ankle, it hurts.” He paused. “I know I’m whining…”

“Mulder, you know you’re taking too much by heart. It’s just a tiny tear. And you have to tell

yourself that you’re healing.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself.”

* * *

Mulder had fully recovered from his ankle injury, according to the new X-ray that his doctor

was holding in his hands. He smiled. This was the news he wanted to hear. When he saw

Scully in the waiting room, he gave her the brightest smile he could muster. “I’m healed,

Scully!”

There were no words, but a matching smile appeared on her face. She knew they would be

having their own private party later.

~ * ~ *

The End

Underneath the Stars

Written by: Erin M. Blair

Mulder smiled to himself as he led Scully to their bench at the Lincoln

Memorial. “We hardly come here anymore. I’ve been missing it.”

“I know the feeling, Mulder. Why now? Why so late? It’s almost ten o’clock

at night.”

He put his hands in his pockets and felt the lining of his trench coat. Then,

he felt a gust of wind blow open his jacket. It was nippy from being outside

in early March. He was shivering underneath his clothes. “I don’t know. I

guess I miss being here with you.”

“Aw…”

“Do you need anything to warm you up?” He asked, tempted to gather

her in his arms. He wanted to show her off like a prized painting because she

deserved to hear everything.

Not until they flush out the Consortium.

Until that moment comes, he was sharing this beautiful night with Scully.

They both looked up to see the only light coming from the stars, it looked as

though they were watching over them..

“I only want you, Mulder.”

“What?”

“I only want you to keep me warm.”

“Always.”

“And thanks for bringing me here. I believe your sister is smiling at us.”

He smiled through his sudden tears. “You remembered.”

She nodded. “Yes. How these stars are old souls looking for new homes. It

described them perfectly. I’d never thought of them that way. When we read

her diary and found what happened to her, I believe she’s watching us, even

guiding us to search for the truth. No matter how sad; no matter how painful

and no matter how happy – she is watching us.”

“Thank you.” he slipped his hand around hers.

“I have to believe that.”

Her words touched him and nodded. “I know. I believe the same thing,

Scully.”

~~

The End

Title: Snowthunder

Author: Vickie Moseley

Summary: Snow and lightning can make for plenty of thunder.

Rating: E for everyone

Category: Fluff (just like the white stuff that came from the

sky)

Written for the Virtual Season 13 “Lights in the Sky” special

Archive: two week exclusive on VS 13, then anywhere

Disclaimer: Scientific disclaimer: During the Blizzard of ’06, I

don’t know that there was lightning during the snowstorm.

However, it is documented that some parts of Nebraska got

over 20 inches of snow in less than 24 hours. So I figure it had

to have been coming down pretty hard some of that time. If

there wasn’t any lightning, there probably should have been.

Fan fiction disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

Comments: vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Snowthunder

By Vickie Moseley

I-80, Eastbound

100 miles out of Lincoln, NE

March 20, 2006

8:14 pm

“Have you noticed we’re the only car on this road, Mulder,”

Scully ventured to speak after half an hour of silent foreboding.

All around them was white. Not for the first time since they’d

started out that day was she wondering how her partner

managed to keep the car on the road — it all looked like a

blanket of marshmallow fluff to her.

“What time does our plane leave?” he asked, ignoring her

comment.

She looked over at him and noticed his fingers were in a white

knuckled grip on the steering wheel. She felt some relief; at

least he wasn’t oblivious to their precarious situation. But at

the same time, it angered her that he seemed to be pushing on

when reason and common sense would have had them holed

up in some high school gymnasium by now. Only in the

Midwest would there be a blizzard on the first day of spring!

“Scully? Departure time?” he repeated in a low growl.

“Nine forty-five,” she said through clenched teeth. She glanced

at the speedometer. They were crawling along at just over

forty miles an hour, as fast as they dared to go in the slick and

deep snow. “I don’t think we’re going to make our flight,” she

said quietly.

“No, right now I’m just hoping to make Lincoln,” he admitted.

“Maybe we should stop,” she suggested.

He took his eyes off the windshield long enough to give her a

dubious look. “Have you seen an exit sign lately?” he asked

derisively. “Because if you have — ”

She was about to answer, and not very politely, when Mulder

let out a gasp and steering wheel seemed to take on a life of its

own. Mulder fought for purchase against wheels that were

intent upon blazing a new trail, one not in the visions of the

civil engineers who designed the interstate system. The car

spun helplessly, leaving the two occupants slightly seasick.

There was a terrifying second when the world seemed to up-

end and then just as quickly, the car stopped, windshield now

pointing at a 45-degree angle to the horizon.

The only good thing about spinning out and sliding into a ditch

in a blizzard was the fact that it tended to include a soft

landing. Since both agents were wearing their seatbelts, and

the car’s front end was pointing upwards, thus avoiding any

airbag deployment, injuries were of a more emotional nature.

It took Scully a few moments to calm her pounding heart and

work the kink out of her neck enough to look over at her

partner. He was staring straight out the windshield, his panic

look firmly in place.

“Mulder?” she ventured, but one look and she knew it was not

the time to speak. They sat in strained silence for a few

minutes and then Mulder seemed to gather his inner resources

and look over at her.

“Cell phone?” he asked.

She dug through her purse, pulling the phone out and clicking

the on button. She chewed on her lip. “No Service,” she said

sheepishly.

“A hundred miles out of Lincoln and they don’t have cell

towers,” he stormed, then just as suddenly, he took a deep

breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Sorry. I know that’s

not your fault.”

“Mulder, I’m sure they have trucks out. Someone is bound to

find us,” she offered.

“Scully,” he said, licking his lips. “While you were asleep a little

while ago — ”

She frowned at him. Then, she realized something. The radio

was off. Mulder’s constant companion on any long car ride —

any oldies station he could find. When she’d fallen asleep after

the last fill-up, the radio had been on. Now, the car was silent.

“Mulder, why did you turn off the radio?”

” — and you know how these state troopers are, always closing

this or that with the first snowflake — ”

“Mulder, what was on the radio that caused you to turn it off?”

she demanded, fear now gripping her chest tightly.

“They closed the interstate,” he blurted out. “About two hours

ago.”

She looked at him with confusion. “How could they — ”

“They said the storm is right over the I-80 corridor. It’s stalled.

But see, I knew we were only about 150 miles from Lincoln and

I figured that we could make 150 miles easy and if it got bad

we could pull over in some little town along the way — ”

“They closed the interstate and you kept going?” she clarified,

her voice taking on a particularly shrill tone.

“I didn’t think — ”

“Well, that’s sure as hell painfully obvious,” she shot back.

Suddenly the sky was lit in all directions and almost

immediately a clap of thunder shook the car and rolled for

several seconds.

“Scully — ”

“We’re in big trouble,” she answered.

“Doesn’t that mean — ”

“Very heavy snowfall. Yes. Sometimes as much as 3 or more

inches an hour,” she finished his sentence. “Mulder, we’ll be

buried.”

The next flash seemed to surround the car and the thunder

roared and rolled even louder. “It’s right over head,” she said.

“Really? I was sort of hoping it was going to be one of those

times when we ‘lose nine minutes’,” he tried to joke. She

wasn’t buying it. “OK, serious conditions here.”

“Turn off the car,” Scully said suddenly.

“Scully, we need the heat — ”

“Carbon monoxide, Mulder. The exhaust pipe is surely clogged

with snow at this point. We can’t risk it.”

He nodded reluctantly and in a second the engine stopped but

the car lights stayed on, running off the car battery. “What

provisions do we have?” he asked.

She unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled into the back seat. In

a few minutes, she’d pulled down one section of the backseat to

reveal the interior of the trunk. It took some pulling and one

nail was lost to the cause, but before long she had both their

suitcases and briefcases lying out in the back. She zipped open

first Mulder’s case and started handing him articles of clothing.

“Layers, lots of layers.”

“Of all times to forget my sleeping bag,” he pouted, but did as

she ordered. It wasn’t easy for him to get his sweatpants on

while sitting at the steering wheel, but soon they were both

layered to the point it was difficult to move.

“Scully, not to be a worry wart, but how much air do you think

we have in here?” Mulder asked, noting that the windows were

now covered with snow.

“We should have enough for a while. Snow doesn’t pack down

that hard. If it gets stuffy, we can make a hole with the ice

scraper out the window,” she suggested. She crawled back into

the front seat and started to rummage around the floorboards,

smiling triumphantly when her search was successful.

“Hungry?” she asked. In her hand were a bag of sunflower

seeds and a 32 oz. bottle of water.

“So that’s what you were doing inside while I was pumping the

gas,” he said with an answering smile. He took the seeds and

tore open the package with his teeth. After pouring out a

handful he handed the bag back to her. “So, I guess this

means you really do love me, huh?”

She smiled at him and shook her head. “Guess so,” she

agreed.

The lightning flashed around them, the thunder seemed to

shake the car for hours, even though it was only a couple of

seconds. Mulder reached over and took Scully’s hand, noting

how cool it was. To his dismay he also found it was trembling.

Drastic times called for drastic action.

“Hey, we might not have sleeping bags, but nothing says we

have to stay in the front seat,” he suggested with wiggling

eyebrows. “C’mon.” He dropped her hand and climbed

between the bucket seats. When he was settled the back, he

patted his lap. “Hey, good lookin’ — wanna neck?”

She couldn’t help herself, she burst out in giggles. “‘Neck’,

Mulder?”

“Yeah, well, we live together, we share a bed, but when was

the last time we necked in the backseat of a car, Scully?” he

asked playfully.

“Mulder, we’re stuck in a ditch in the middle of a blizzard on a

closed road that no one is going to travel down for days — and

for your information we have NEVER ‘necked’ in the backseat of

a car!” she exclaimed, but before he could apologize, she was

sitting in his lap. “Hi there,” she said coyly.

“Hi,” he replied back, giving her the shy smile she found so

endearing.

“So, how do we go about this ‘necking’ stuff,” she asked,

batting her eyes for effect.

He chuckled and leaned forward. “Well, if I remember correctly

— what I’ve read, mind you — you kinda start like this . . . ”

The lightning had moved on from overhead, but every once in a

while the car still shook with the sound of thunder. The car was

shaking for other reasons, as well and the two people in the car

need not have worried about keeping warm. The windows were

fogged and sweating. It was just starting to get interesting,

from Mulder’s point of view, while he tired to figure out the best

way to remove the three layers of sweatpants and dress pants

he was encased in, when Scully froze.

After a minute, he noticed she wasn’t returning his favors and

started to get worried. “What? What is it?”

“Isn’t it awfully bright in here?” she asked. She barely had the

words out of her mouth when the car started to shake violently,

sending her sliding off Mulder’s lap to land on the back of the

seat.

It was bright, very bright and the shaking had turned into

movement. He grabbed for her to keep her from tumbling any

farther because the car was slowly being dragged up the side of

the ditch. Without warning, it stopped.

They looked at each other in terrified silence until there was a

pounding on the driver’s side window. Muffled by the wind,

Mulder thought he heard someone yelling.

He scrambled to get into the driver’s seat and unlock the door.

Shoving against the now frozen lock, he finally got the door

open and was greeted by a wide-eyed young state trooper.

“Thank God,” the trooper said, shaking his head. “Are you

alone?” A beam of light was flashed around the car, finally

landing on Scully, still in the back seat.

“Um, no,” Mulder said, although he realized it was a moot

point. “My partner — ah, we’re with the FBI, we were trying to

get to Lincoln — ”

“Well, this car will never make it there under these conditions.

C’mon, I think there’s room in the truck cab. We’ll take you to

the nearest town and you can pick up your car when the

weather breaks.”

Kearney, NE

10:45 pm

It had been a long and near silent ride to the neighboring city

of Kearney. Mulder couldn’t help but notice the grins that were

exchanged between the trooper and the state highway

department truck driver, but both men were polite enough not

to laugh out loud in the agents’ presence. He just hoped they

weren’t the type to write letters to their Congressman.

Scully’s face still burned bright red in the light of the dash.

Whether from the wind beating it had taken while they moved

from stranded vehicle to state truck, or from the rather

compromising position they’d been found in — Mulder would not

even venture to guess. But he was pretty sure she wasn’t

speaking to him. For that matter, he was just a little afraid

they might live their lives with her never speaking to him again.

It certainly didn’t help matters that she had to sit in her

partner’s lap for the ride, since room was indeed limited.

When they arrived in Kearney, they were taken to the high

school where the Red Cross had set up a shelter in the gym.

Cots were assigned, along with blankets and pillows. Coffee,

hot chocolate, tea and snack foods were in plentiful supply.

After the initial rush, they were able to make their way back to

their cots and settle in for the night.

The silent treatment was killing him. As Scully took off her

shoes and prepared to lie down with her back toward him,

Mulder couldn’t take it anymore.

“OK, I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry,” he blurted out,

probably a little too loudly.

She rolled over and eyed him critically. He did his best to look

contrite. In fact, he looked pretty darned miserable. She sat

up on her cot and rested her arms on her drawn up knees. “Do

you even know why you’re apologizing?” she asked with one

raised eyebrow.

“For not stopping when the road was closed, for not pulling

over when it got really hard to see, for making us miss our

plane, for trying to seduce you in the middle of a blizzard — ”

At her harsh look he lowered his voice. “Well, for _almost_

seducing you in the middle of a blizzard.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I’m not mad at you, Mulder.”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “You sure could have

fooled me,” he shot back.

She looked at him again, this time with a bland expression.

“Mulder, in all the time we’ve been together, how do I usually

express my disgruntlement with you?”

“You yell at me. You slam things. You get this little wrinkle

right in the middle of your forehead and you give me the death

glare that never fails to turn my bowels liquid.”

She snorted. “Nice image, thank you,” she said dryly. “Mulder,

have I done any of those things tonight?”

He thought for a moment and then slowly shook his head. “No.

You haven’t. Which is what has me so scared,” he admitted.

“I’m afraid I’ve really screwed things up this time.”

Her soft chuckle should have given him some comfort, but it

only confused him more. “OK, then why have you been giving

me the cold shoulder since we were rescued?”

She leaned over and grabbed his shirt collar, since he’d long

since dispensed with his tie. She pulled him over so that he

was only inches from her face. “I’ve been trying to figure out

how the hell we’re going to find someplace dark, quiet and

_deserted_ in this school full of refugees so that I can finish

having my way with you.” She smiled at him and gave him a

small shove so that he landed on his own cot.

His grin was first delight and then deviousness. He looked

around, carefully surveying their surroundings. “There has to

be a janitor’s closet around here somewhere.”

Outside, the thunder boomed.

the end.