From: <gotthebug@aol.com>
To: <whispers_@hotmail.com>
Subject: Challenge story submission
Date: Monday, September 30, 2002 10:16 PM

Senders email: gotthebug@aol.com

Tempestuous
By Piper Sargasso

Rating: NC-17

Keywords: MSR

Category: X, S, OB (weak casefile, big-time MSR)

Feedback: Loved to pieces! Write to: PiperSargasso@aol.com

Disclaimer: Characters within belong to CC, 1013 and Fox. No infringement 
intended.

Summary: While investigating a case in Southern Indiana, Mulder and Scully 
are brought together under unusual circumstances.

Author's Notes: This is for the Whispers of X Challenge. Requirements 
listed at the end. Special thanks to Mimic for the fantastic beta job.

Dedicated to Carol, a fellow Believer who never fails to brighten my day 
with her incredible words of praise and encouragement. And to Circe 
Invidiosa, who so generously created a page for me on her website. You can 
find my other stories, as well as hers at:  
http://www.invidiosa.com/pipers/


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Mulder, wake up!" I nudged my sleeping partner with an elbow before he 
could do further damage to my silk blouse. Disoriented, he mumbled a 
groggy, "Huh?" before nodding back off. Really articulate, Mulder. But at 
least he was facing the opposite direction.

I looked down at the yellow-tinged ring of drool with mild irritation. I'd 
been mildly irritated all day, as a matter of fact. Upon walking into the 
office, I was bombarded with a series of slides with Mulder's usual 
commentary to accompany them, then was informed that I needed to be ready 
for a flight that left in three hours. This whole case was pointless, in 
my opinion. I mean, a haunting? Mulder must have been getting pretty 
desperate to get out of the office. I wondered what strings he pulled to 
get this approved.

I'd been a good sport, so far. Didn't say a word when he dropped this 
little bomb on me, though I knew he'd been planning this for at least a 
day or two. Seriously, nothing gets approved with the Bureau that quickly 
unless it's vital to a case. But I stifled my annoyance and left to pick 
up some things at my apartment while he waited in my living room. It 
wasn't the first time that he'd done this and it most certainly wouldn't 
be the last. There was little point in complaining. 

Not a word was said when he dozed off right after takeoff – while I was 
talking to him. I could see by the dark circles under his eyes that he'd 
probably been gathering information on this case all night. I was gracious 
in not shoving him off of my chest when his head lolled onto it, mid-
flight. He was sleeping, after all, and had no idea what he was doing. 

But the moment I realized the warmth that was spreading just above my left 
breast wasn't from his hot breath, but from drool escaping his open mouth, 
I drew the line. Looking over at him, sprawled out into the aisle, 
frowning in his sleep from the interruption, I felt a small but fleeting 
tug on my heart. He could be so cute when he slept.

The captain's monotone voice droned over the intercom, announcing our 
descent into Indianapolis. Great. From there, it was a puddle-jumper all 
the way into Evansville. As big as that town was, they didn't have an 
international airport. Indianapolis was the closest we could get on a 
commercial airliner. I always have a Buddy Holly moment when flying on 
those things.   

We hit a pocket of turbulence and the plane dipped, leaving my stomach up 
where the plane used to be and jerking Mulder out of his deep slumber. He 
sucked in a huge breath of surprise. It was all I could do to keep from 
laughing at the wide-eyed look on his face. 

"Welcome to Indiana, Mulder," I said sarcastically.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Scully didn't look so well. Her face was completely drained of color. Tiny 
blue capillaries showed beneath the pale skin and she was trying not to 
wobble as we exited the plane. 

I wasn't feeling so hot myself. The short flight down from Indianapolis 
was scary as hell, if you want to know the truth. The mid-afternoon sky 
was almost enough to make me want to stay grounded for a while, case or 
not. Angry black clouds encased us as we flew through some serious rain. I 
was amazed we even got the go-ahead for takeoff. The plane bounced and 
dipped against the resulting turbulence. Needless to say, both Scully and 
I were gripping the armrests like they were the last lifeboat on the 
Titanic.  

After obtaining a rental from a very exuberant Budget agent, we drove 
toward the quaint town of Newburgh. 

"Looks like a pretty nasty storm is headed this way," I commented. Scully 
nodded in agreement and continued to look outside the window. I knew she 
was less than thrilled with the idea of investigating this case, but I 
felt it merited the benefit of our expertise. 

The town of Newburgh is filled with restored historical homes and is 
situated alongside the Ohio River. The owner of one such home, a Mrs. 
Avery Maire, contacted our office a week ago to report strange sounds and 
wispy puffs of smoke appearing in her two-story Victorian house. She also 
claimed that the sounds could be followed out to the riverbank, where they 
would cease and the apparition of a man would suddenly appear. Such 
stories often surround bodies of water, drownings and mishaps being common 
occurrences there.

Steering the car through the narrow, rolling streets, I strained to see 
through the downpour rushing over the windshield. Finally, I found the 
house. 


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Here we are," he announced. Mulder has a knack for stating the obvious 
sometimes. 

I looked out the window dubiously. The rain was really coming down. The 
last thing I wanted was to leave the dryness of the car and run out into 
weather like that. For about three seconds, I weighed my options. One, I 
could sit here and act like a child, refusing to go anywhere. Two, I could 
suggest that he go first, while I searched for accommodations for the 
evening. Or three, I could stop whining and start behaving like a 
professional. Honestly, it was only a little rain.

Heaving a sigh, I pulled out my umbrella, opened the door against the 
resistant wind and stepped out into the onslaught of rain. Did I say "a 
little rain?" Maybe "deluge" would've been more appropriate. The wind 
kicked up and blew my umbrella inside-out. I heard Mulder's car door slam 
and the steady beat of his footsteps as he ran to join me. We sprinted the 
length of the steep steps up the lawn, which led to the wrap-around porch. 
The rain was so heavy it nearly blinded us as it beat down on our exposed 
heads. Once sheltered, I shook out my useless umbrella and bent it back 
while Mulder knocked on the heavy oak door.  
 
A loud barking preceded the opening of the door. An elderly woman in a 
long, flowered dress looked us up and down. "Yes?" she asked in a voice 
that sounded too strong to belong to such a fragile-looking body. She 
tussled with a dog that desperately wanted to push its way past her. 

Flashing my drenched badge, I spoke loudly over the raucous noise of the 
downpour. "Mrs. Maire? We're agents Mulder and Scully, with the FBI."

Mulder broke in, "You contacted our office about some paranormal 
activities surrounding your home."

Understanding dawned on her. "Oh, yes! Oh, it's been an absolute 
nightmare. Please, won't you come in?" She smiled brightly and leaned down 
to grab the collar of a very large Labrador. In doing so, she'd opened the 
door widely, giving us our first glimpse of the animal. It bucked and 
snarled as she spoke firmly to it. "You behave, Princess." She gave us an 
apologetic glance, "Princess isn't used to strangers. Please, make 
yourselves comfortable."

We warily sidestepped them and took a seat on the couch. The home was very 
tastefully decorated, true to the era in which it was built. Tiffany lamps 
illuminated beautiful antique furniture and knickknacks. A floral rug with 
a salmon-colored background covered much of the hardwood floor, allowing 
only a few feet of the rich, cherry wood to show along the walls. 

The home was truly beautiful. Mrs. Maire had added coziness to the room 
with several lush, green plants. Antique portraits and paintings hanging 
on the walls completed the look. 

She let "Princess" go and sat in the Queen Anne chair across from Mulder 
and I. The dog stood guard at her side, snarling and growling at Mulder 
with some very sharp teeth exposed. Her tongue shot out every few seconds 
to lick at her lips, which were pulled tightly back. It was clear she 
didn't like Mulder too well.

"Ah, Mrs. Maire?" Mulder began nervously. He started shifting 
uncomfortably in his seat, nearly climbing the back of the couch. I 
stifled the urge to laugh. "Would you like to, ah, tell us – whoa, nice 
puppy! – tell us where you first saw the apparition?"

His back was smashed into the cushions, striving to create a smaller, less 
threatening target, eyes wide, hands out in a defensive gesture. Princess 
continued her warning growls, tensed and leaning forward. She was just 
looking for an excuse to pounce.

I opened my mouth to ask Mrs. Maire to put the dog in another room until 
we were finished. Mulder chose that moment to readjust his position. 

Big mistake.

Princess sprang forward like a lion on a wildebeest and clamped her jaws 
onto Mulder's inner thigh, just missing his crotch. He howled in pain and 
vainly pushed at the dog. Mrs. Maire stood up, mouth wide open in shock as 
she took in the scene while I pulled at Princess' collar. Finally, the dog 
loosened her hold on her own, satisfied, and sauntered off to another part 
of the house. 

Poor Mulder never had a chance.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After refusing my partner's demands to examine the wound, I excused myself 
and hobbled off into the bathroom where I could lick my damaged pride. How 
embarrassing was that? Above me, the heavens rumbled loudly. Great. We 
were going to have to bunk down for the night and pick up here tomorrow. I 
pulled down my ripped pants and looked at the bite mark on my leg. Shit, 
that's gonna leave one hell of a bruise. I eased my ruined slacks back 
over my legs and carefully returned to the sitting room. Princess my ass.

Scully looked over at me from her position next to the large bay window. 
She was alone in the room. "Mulder, Mrs. Maire just heard on the radio 
that a tornado has just touched down in Evansville. I think we should find 
a place to stay for the night."

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"She's in the other room, listening to the rest of the report." She 
grinned. "She's offered to let us stay with her for the duration of our 
investigation."

"You didn't say yes, did you?" I didn't like the way she was still 
grinning.

"Of course not, Mulder," she said in a syrupy sweet voice, "I explained to 
her that you're allergic to dog hair."

I laughed in spite of myself. Mrs. Maire stepped into the room. "You two 
had better get moving. The storm here's getting much worse. Mr. Mulder, 
I'd like to apologize for Princess's behavior. She's just a little 
defensive when it comes to me, I suppose."

"There's no need to apologize, Ma'am. Could you please direct us to the 
nearest motel?"

"Well, the closest thing would be Charlotte's B&B. Just follow the river. 
It's about a mile down the road. You can't miss it."

A bed and breakfast? We'd never get that approved. "I was actually 
thinking more along the lines of a motel."

She shook her head. "Nothing like that for miles, Mr. Mulder. The closest 
would be in Evansville, and I doubt you'll make it in time." She pointed 
at the threatening, black sky outside. Sighing in defeat, I thanked her 
and motioned to Scully for us to get going. 


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Charlotte's Bed and Breakfast was just as exquisite as Mrs. Maire's 
beautiful Victorian. Decorated in the same style, it was like stepping 
back in time. No doubt, the city's history played a large part. Several of 
the homes, like the B&B and Mrs. Maire's, had been proclaimed historical 
landmarks. Each had a green, rectangular plaque to signify this. 

Our accommodations were located at the bottom of a hill, facing the Ohio 
River. As we walked up to the high counter to check in, there was talk 
between the woman behind the counter and what appeared to be another guest 
about the dangerous water levels. Apparently, the river flooded quickly 
there. Being on low ground was a concern.

"Yes?" the woman behind the counter asked as we approached. She was an 
older woman, about sixty-five with mellow blue eyes and a kind smile. 

I leaned over the counter-top and said, "Yes, we'd like two rooms for the 
night."

The woman shook her head slightly. "Sorry, dear, but I have only one room 
available and it's only because of the weather I have that." She dropped 
her voice to a stage- 
Whisper. "Tourist season, you know."

I looked warily at Mulder, who appeared to be a little uncomfortable about 
the situation. There was really no choice in the matter; the nasty storm 
brewing outside was picking up velocity and we'd never make it into the 
next town in time. Surely we could deal with the arrangements for one 
night. 

"That will be fine," I told her. After filling out the requisite 
documents, we trudged our dripping bodies and luggage up the woman's 
pristine staircase. The red, floral runner turned nearly black in places 
where we trickled water. She showed us to our room, to the left of the 
stairs and opened the door.

"If you need anything at all, please, feel free to let me know. I'm 
Charlotte. Dinner is served at six-thirty and breakfast is come as you 
like. I stop serving at eleven, however, to prepare for lunch. The kitchen 
is always open, so if you need a snack or drink at any time, you can help 
yourself to whatever's in the fridge. Bathroom's down the hall, to the 
left. We have only one, so please remember to be considerate of the other 
guests when you shower." A loud rumble of thunder sounded above the house, 
followed by flash of lightning. She wrung her hands and looked heavenward. 
"You two settle in and make yourselves comfortable." Offering us a tight 
smile, Charlotte bustled off downstairs.

We stepped into our room, which matched the rest of the house-turned-bed-
and-breakfast. A high, queen-sized canopy bed sat on the far left side of 
the room, a gauzy scarf draped above it. The headboard was intricately 
carved with flowers and fairies, as was the canopy frame. The bed was like 
a little island in itself, enticing in its intimacy. Matching nightstands 
were on each side of the bed. A massive armoire stood on the opposite 
wall. Mulder, being the curious soul that he is, felt compelled to open 
it. Much to his delight, the doors revealed a television and VCR, along 
with a nice stereo system. The bright grin on his face let me know that it 
was doubtful I'd get much sleep that night. Men and their electronics.  

The room was lit by two torchieres with wrought-iron, dragonfly shades 
pointing toward the ceiling while several sconces on the walls held soft-
white light bulbs, diffusing the light into a warm glow. The warmth of the 
room as a whole was a huge contrast to the violent storm raging just 
beyond the heavy, jacquard drapes that framed the two windows overlooking 
the river. A rug nearly identical to them was situated in the middle of 
the floor. 

Mulder shut the door and flopped his suitcase on top of an upholstered, 
Queen Anne chair. It was just wide enough to accommodate the luggage. 
"Mulder," I warned, "you're going to ruin the upholstery with all that 
water."  

He looked at me blankly for a beat, then slid the suitcase to the floor. I 
sighed as he dug through it to find dry clothes. Here I was, in an 
absolutely stunning and romantic room – with Mulder. It seemed like such a 
waste to me. I really didn't feel like mothering him, but the physician in 
me nagged at the back of my head.

"Mulder," I began as I pulled off my blazer, "I <will> be examining your 
injury." He looked at me like a child being forced to eat his broccoli. 
That was just too bad. I could not, in good conscience, allow him to get 
infected. Mrs. Maire had assured me that the dog's immunizations were up 
to date, but infection could easily set in, regardless. He'd been trying 
so hard not to limp on his way into the house and up the stairs but his 
cowboy-walk told me what he wouldn't. The man was in pain.

"You know, I still have some Vicotin left over from your last fiasco. But, 
I'd have to examine you first, of course." I smiled. He shot me a look of 
irritation. She with the prescription painkillers wins. 

"Fine," he answered tightly. Scooping up a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he 
walked out the door. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Well, this was a situation fit for prime time. A dog attack – apparently, 
a very <comical> dog attack, judging by Scully's barely contained look of 
glee - followed by a storm rivaling that of Noah's little cloudburst. Now 
I have to drop my pants in front of Scully, whom I will be sleeping next 
to for the night. It wasn't looking good.  

Well, I decided, I'll just refuse. The pain wasn't that bad. Who needed to 
walk straight? As long as my thighs didn't rub together, I'd be fine. 
Resolved, I walked down the hall to dress in the bathroom. 

The large bathroom was just as frou-frou as the rest of the place. An old-
fashioned claw tub jutted from the middle of the back wall, the copper 
plumbing of the shower exposed with the large head bowing down like a 
wilted sunflower. Fluffy rugs lay on either side of it. The sink was one 
of those pedestal-style ones with a burgundy and lace skirt hanging off 
it. Large bulbs lined the top of the mirror above. I imagined Scully would 
feel right at home here. 

Damn woman, luring me with drugs. I decided to resist at all costs. 
Quickly dressing, I walked back down the hall and entered our room. Scully 
stood next to the window, staring at the rippling water across the street.

"Listen, Mulder," she told me.

I crossed the room to stand beside her and strained my ears. The faint 
sound of a continuous, wailing siren drifted through the thick-paned 
window. It was actually frightening, in a primal sort of way. I recognized 
it as the tornado warning system. 

"It must be coming from the West. Evansville is the closest town to have a 
siren like that," she said. I looked at the trembling hand holding the 
draperies back.

"You okay, Scully?" She looked shaken.

Nodding, she responded, "Yeah. As a young girl, I had a frightening 
experience with severe weather. I guess it kind of stuck with me."

"What happened?" I pressed. 

She sighed. "I was in school. I think it was the fourth grade. Anyway, we 
were in class. There had been a storm earlier, but it looked like the 
worst had passed. The wind had been thrashing the trees outside the 
classroom window, but suddenly, it became very still. The sky turned a 
strange shade of green. I swear, Mulder, it was like the world stopped, it 
was so quiet. Then there was a loud siren, different than a fire alarm, 
and we all had to file outside the classroom and line the walls. Each of 
us faced the wall on our knees and covered our heads with our arms while 
the teachers looked on. We stayed in that crouched position for at least 
twenty minutes when, suddenly, there was a sound like a train plowing 
through the school. After it was all over, I found out it was the roof of 
the gym being ripped off by a tornado. It was the scariest experience of 
my life."  

I looked at her for a moment, a bit taken aback by her admission. It took 
a lot of willpower not to scoop her up into my arms and hold her to me. 
She looked so fragile. But, I knew she wouldn't appreciate the gesture, so 
I held my eager arms safely by my sides. 

She turned away from the window and walked over to the armoire. Tuning in 
a local station on the radio, she listened to the weather report. A funnel 
cloud had been spotted over the East side of Evansville and two more 
tornadoes had touched down in nearby Henderson, Kentucky. 

"Well, I suppose leaving this house is completely out of the question," I 
mumbled. I considered it to be a miracle that the power hadn't been 
knocked out yet. As if on Satan's cue, the lights flickered and all went 
dark. The silence that followed boomed in my ears. In the absence of the 
familiar hum of electricity, I could hear the sound of my own breathing 
amplified.

"Aww, damnit all to Hell!" I exclaimed. Scully tensed beside me in the 
darkened room. "Sorry, Scully. You okay?" 

"Yeah, Mulder. I'm fine." She began rooting through her suitcase, finally 
producing a small Maglite. "I'm going to go downstairs and see if 
Charlotte has any candles." She left the room, letting the door click 
softly closed behind her.  

I pulled the drapes back as far as possible and hooked them behind some 
decorative holders with little cherubs on the wall next to the windows. In 
the sparse light, I closed my suitcase up and tucked it beneath the bed, 
out of the way.  Otherwise, with my luck, I'd trip over the damn thing. A 
few moments later, Scully returned with a small box of various candles, a 
lighter and a kerosene lantern. She set the candles up around the room as 
I followed behind her, lighting them. The lantern was placed on the tiny, 
roll-top desk on the far right side of the room. It gave off the most 
light.

Satisfied with the placement of the candles, Scully turned to face me with 
both hands on her hips. 

"Drop 'em, Mulder."  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"What?" he croaked. I bit back a smile. 

"I need to examine your wound, Mulder. Or would you rather continue to 
walk like you've just popped out of a spaghetti western for the remainder 
of our trip?"

"No, Scully. I'm okay. The mutt just nicked me."

Yeah, pull the other one a while, Mulder. "Well, regardless, it's my duty 
as your personal physician and, might I add, ass saver to render medical 
treatment on an as-needed basis. Don't argue with me, Mulder. Just drop 
your pants and get up on that bed."

Well, that seemed to work. He grudgingly pulled his jeans off and climbed 
gingerly onto the edge of the bed, awaiting my examination. He looked 
every bit like a willful child who'd been ordered to sit still for a shot. 
I retrieved the lantern from the desk, placing it on the nightstand and 
knelt before Mulder's bare legs.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I wanted to say, "Well, if you wanted me in your bed that badly, all you 
had to do was ask, Scully," or something equally smart-assed, but the look 
on her face advised me otherwise. Damn. She was never any  fun when she 
went into "doctor-mode." 

I hopped up on the bed as nimbly as I could manage. The pain from that 
rabid beast was slightly more than I would ever admit to Dr. Scully there. 
Drugs or not, a man had to have his pride. 

She dropped down to her knees in front of me, unknowingly providing a 
visual of every inappropriate fantasy I'd ever had about her. Sneaking a 
cheap peek down her button-down blouse – which was still wet, by the way -  
I briefly feasted my eyes on pure, beautifully rounded cleavage. Better 
get out of those wet clothes, Scully. Wouldn't want to catch cold, would 
you? 

I gave myself a mental slap and tried not to focus on her hot breath on my 
leg, or the tender touch of her silky hand on my inner thigh. Tried to 
redirect my attention, away from the gentle whisper of that same hand as 
it slid an inch or two closer to the promised
land. Unintentional, sure. She would never <intentionally> feel me up. 
Don't think about the almost imperceptible way her skilled hands jittered 
against the sensitive flesh of my leg or the lightning-quick glance to my 
crotch, so fast, I almost missed it. Ignore the way her little pink tongue 
flicked out to lick that sweet bottom lip before she returned her gaze to 
the task at hand.

Yeah, forget all that. That's gonna happen. Oh, and Mulder? Stop 
breathing, while you're at it.  

I tracked each slight movement of her hands, every rise of her chest as 
she breathed. My own breath quickened and my pulse raced in my veins. She 
was just too close. I wondered if she could hear the loud beating of my 
heart.

"See, Scully?" I rasped out. "Just a little nick."

Her hands stilled on my legs and she turned big, luminous blue eyes up to 
look at me. Mouth slightly parted, she blinked and nodded her agreement. 
She stood and brushed her hands on her slacks, avoiding my eyes. Her small 
body was silhouetted against the far wall by the warm glow of the 
candlelight. The image trembled in the flickering light.

"It needs to be dressed, Mulder," she replied quietly. 


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He stared down at me, his gaze burning into me with lowered, green eyes. 
My heart did an embarrassing little flip-flop and it was then that I 
realized I was shaking. Barely, but shaking, nonetheless. I had to get 
control of the situation. It was the candlelight and the storm, that's 
all. Nothing to get so bent out of shape about.

A loud crack of thunder made me jump as I walked over to my medical bag. I 
hated feeling afraid, especially of something as natural as a storm. 
Gathering gauze, first-aid tape and triple-antibiotic medicine, I crossed 
the room to administer to his injury. 

"You're lucky you had a Tetanus booster recently. Now, I need you to go 
into the bathroom and wash that for me."

"Scullee! You could've said something before I went to change before."

"Mulder, don't whine. It's unattractive. I had to look at the bite first. 
Now go - you don't want me to pull out the antiseptic."

He slid off the bed and bent to pull his pants back up. "And get yourself 
a glass of water downstairs while you're at it. You'll need something to 
take these pills with."

He flashed me a sour look and walked out of the room. I took advantage of 
his absence and quickly changed into dry clothes. I'd been too preoccupied 
with Mulder's injury to even think about it before. He returned a few 
moments later with a small, plastic cup in hand. 

"Look, Scully!" he grinned and held out the cup for me to see. "Marvin the 
Martian. Charlotte said one of her grandkids left it behind after a visit. 
Took a lot of convincing, but she let me buy it from her."

He was so excited, it was hard to burst his bubble. "Mulder, you do 
realize that you can buy those at any discount department store in 
America, right? You didn't have to con it away from that woman's 
grandchild."

He frowned. "Scully, I'm disappointed in you. To think I would actually 
swindle a woman out of her horde of cartoon-themed cups - I only bought 
one, you know. To commemorate the occasion."

"And what occasion would that be, Mulder?" I asked. 

"Why, the first time we get to sleep together, Agent Scully," he replied 
sweetly.

I felt my mouth drop open in pure shock and actually stumbled backward. 
Mulder granted me an amused smile. Damn that man! Just when I think I've 
lost the ability to be surprised by his comments, he bowls me over with 
another one. Always coming out of left field. 

"Lower your pants and get back on that bed, please," I said firmly. The 
heat of my flushed face burned, equal to the heat I felt gathering in my 
lower stomach. Calling on all my strengths as a doctor and professional, I 
ignored it and brought the first-aid supplies to the bed, resuming my 
position at his feet. I sat the supplies down on the nightstand and looked 
up at him. All the mirth was gone from his eyes, replaced by a darkened 
gaze. He held a pillow in his lap.

"Mulder," Jesus! Was that my voice? "You'll need to move that pillow. I 
can't get to the wound properly."

He looked away. "Can't, Scully."

Oh. Oh!  

Well, I didn't want to embarrass either of us, so instead I moved the 
pillow up a couple of inches, where he held it in place, out of my way for 
the most part. I gently pried his legs apart, lingering perhaps a little 
longer than necessary. His skin was warm and the hairs tickled my palms 
and fingertips. Clearing my throat, I reached over to the nightstand and 
grabbed the triple-antibiotic ointment. Very carefully, I applied the 
ointment to the bite, barely smoothing it onto the injury. His leg jumped 
at the cold contact, so I held a firmer grip on his thigh with my left 
hand. It really was just a small bite. I think his pants had taken the 
worst of the attack. We were fortunate that there was minimal bleeding 
and, therefore, no need to elevate the leg. The last thing I needed was to 
baby Mulder on bed rest, no matter how short the time might be. 

I dressed it with a gauze pad and secured it with first-aid tape. Allowing 
my willful gaze to travel up his thigh, over the pillow and into his eyes, 
it became obvious to me that he wasn't the only one having trouble. All I 
could think about was the fact that in a few short hours, I'd be climbing 
into bed with this man. God help me.

My lips suddenly felt very dry. Mulder's eyes dropped a little lower, 
watching my tongue moisten them. The mugginess from the late August 
precipitation seemed to be seeping into the room. I opened my mouth to 
tell him I was finished, but no words came forth. He inhaled sharply and I 
looked down at my hand. Somehow, it had managed to creep up the inside of 
his thigh, mere inches away from what he was trying to cover with that 
ridiculous pillow. I snatched my hand away quickly and scrambled to my 
feet.

"Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes, Mulder." My voice shook 
slightly and I couldn't meet his eyes. Without another word, I hastily 
walked out the door before I could further make an idiot of myself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner was uneventful. Nice, even. There was quiet and polite conversation 
about the weather. The handful of guests were all friendly as we sat 
around the candlelit table and exchanged pleasantries. We found that two 
of them were permanent residents and two other couples were on vacation 
there. One was on their honeymoon.

Every time I tried to catch Scully's attention from across the table, 
she'd drop her eyes to her plate. She was edgy, and understandably so. I 
wished I could take the last thirty minutes back and start over – 
beginning with the moment I made a supreme ass of myself by sporting wood. 
A pillow, Mulder? Yeah, she'll never guess what was under <that>. I waited 
for the earth to open up and swallow me whole, but I knew the Universe 
wouldn't be that kind. 

Finally, dinner was over. Scully insisted on helping Charlotte with the 
dinner mess while the rest of us went back to our rooms. I plopped down on 
the bed, wincing when the shock vibrated through my sore leg. Rolling 
lazily to my feet, I went to pick through Scully's bag. After all that 
mess earlier, she'd forgotten to give me the pills. Really, the pain was 
manageable, but I read the dosage and took them anyway. I figured Scully 
was probably a kicker and I wanted to be as numb as possible for later.

The lights were still out, so I had nothing to do but wait for her to 
return. Plopping back on the bed, I tried not to think about the reason 
she wanted to put distance between us. It was all my fault. You'd think I 
was a hormonal teenager, the way I reacted the moment I thought of her 
hands on my bare skin again. She hadn't even touched me yet. Humiliating.

I got up and looked out the window. The storm had calmed considerably. 
With any luck, the power would be back on soon. I hoped so – with nothing 
else but Dana Scully beside me for entertainment, there was definitely 
more humiliation on the horizon. 

About twenty minutes later, she returned. I was lying on my back again, 
feeling no pain. 


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


"Hey, Scully. I was afraid I'd have to send out a search party for you," 
he said from the bed. His head rested atop his hands and his eyes never 
left the ceiling as he spoke. 

"Mulder, we forgot your – "

"Took 'em," he interrupted. 

I paused. "How many did you take?"

He sat up, partially, and propped his head on his arm. "I read the bottle, 
Mom. Two, just like the directions say."

I shook my head at him. "Mulder, the dosage is one." He just stared at me.  
Whatever. It wasn't going to hurt him. At least his mind seemed to be off 
– other things. I looked down at my watch. Only seven-thirty. 

"Do you think you'll be okay if I go take a shower?" I asked him.

"Gee, I don't know, Scully. Maybe you should take me with you so you can 
make sure I keep myself out of trouble." He waggled his eyebrows. I rolled 
my eyes. Yeah, he was back to his usual self. I gathered up my clothing 
and toiletries, then headed for the bathroom.

I showered quickly in the weak light of two kerosene lanterns left in 
there for everyone's use. The last thing I wanted was to be caught under 
the water when the storm picked up again. Stepping out, a vase of dead 
flowers caught my eye. I thought it was strange that such an immaculately 
run place contained such an oversight. It stuck out like a sore thumb with 
its withered buds and wilted, dry petals. It was kind of sad, really. Sort 
of a fitting metaphor for my life, as it were. 

The thought was too depressing. Pushing it away, I dried off and dressed, 
cursing the impulse that made me choose a silk slip with spaghetti straps 
to sleep in for this trip. Then again, I hadn't expected to be sharing 
with anyone. I dried and brushed my hair, wrapped my robe around me and 
gathered my things up. The cooler air hit me in the face the moment I 
opened the door, making me dizzy for a moment from the temperature change. 

Pausing outside the door, I took a deep, cleansing breath. It was going to 
be a long night. I steeled my reserve and walked into our room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She breezed through the room in her big, terrycloth robe and dropped her 
stuff into the open suitcase. I shifted under the covers, propping my head 
on my hand, and watched her.

"Mulder, I'd like to turn in early, if you don't mind," she said, hands on 
hips and expectant look on face. 

I couldn't resist. "Sure, Scully. Climb on in. I know how anxious you must 
be to join me." I grinned at her consternation and patted the empty space 
beside me. She rolled her eyes and went about blowing out all the candles. 
Bringing the lantern to the nightstand, she stood next to the bed and 
extinguished our last source of light. I listened, without comment, I 
might add, in the darkness to the sound of her robe sliding to the floor. 
She slipped between the sheets and shifted until her back was to me. 

"'Night, Mulder," she mumbled. 

"'Night, Scully."

I lay there for a good forty-five minutes, wondering how I could possibly 
be expected to fall asleep when my partner was half-naked not a foot away 
from me. I doubted she could sleep either, judging by the cadence of her 
breathing. The sweet smell of honeyed peaches lingered between us, growing 
stronger each time she moved. 

She smelled like heaven. My hand wandered on its own volition to graze the 
fabric of her pajamas. Silk. Jesus. I tensed, waiting for her to react to 
my touch. I guessed that she hadn't felt it and raised my finger to feel 
the texture of the silk again. I imagined her skin would be much smoother. 

She shifted, this time onto her back. Almonds. The scent of almonds lay 
beneath the stronger fragrances, subtle and unassuming. Just like her. I 
breathed the scent in slowly, not wanting to attract attention to myself. 
Her foot wandered over to my side, brushing softly against me. I exhaled 
loudly. 

"You okay, Mulder? How's your leg?" 

"It's fine. Pain's gone completely."

She hummed in response, then rolled onto her side, back facing me once 
again. 

Eventually, she fell asleep. I was right about Scully being a kicker. 
She's also a blanket hog. She wasn't used to sharing, and it showed. 

As I lay flat on my back, my thoughts drifted to a case we were on about 
two weeks prior to this one. Scully was wearing those stilts she likes to 
call shoes, standing next to me as I slouched against the wall. We were 
looking over a file together when she decided to go on a coffee run for 
the both of us. On her way out the door, she must've gotten a little too 
close to me, because her hair brushed against my lips, wispy as an angel's 
kiss. She never knew it, but thinking about it ever since then had been 
driving me crazy. It was like setting a buffet in front of a starving man 
and snatching it away as soon as he reaches for the first roll. 

I thought about her perfume that day. Honeysuckle with rose undertones. A 
lot of women had abandoned those scents for less old-fashioned ones. Not 
Scully. Her perfume is as classic as she is.

I leaned over slightly and indulged in another good pull of her light 
fragrance into my lungs. It was fainter now that her hair had dried 
completely. I rolled over and pressed my nose into the mass of wavy hair 
that fell gracefully over the white pillowcase, praying that she wouldn't 
catch me in the act. I could only imagine trying to explain that one. 

My hand snaked down to grasp a small piece of her pajamas again. I trailed 
down to the small of her back, to my little safe zone, and pinched the 
fabric between my fingers. Silk is very sensual, when you think about it. 
The slight whisper of the fine threads as they rub against each other, 
watching it flutter against a woman as she walks – or the feel of it as 
she wears it to bed, sliding it along the length of your body. You can 
feel the heat radiate through the thin, almost gossamer fabric – heat like 
I was feeling from Scully at that moment. 

Emboldened in my search, I reached around slightly – just to sample the 
texture, of course – and opened my eyes wide when the garment ended just 
below her hip. Not modest pajamas, but – a slip?

Christ, was this going to be a long night.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I awoke the next morning as if in a cozy bubble. Warmth and security 
surged through my body, enveloping me. I hummed, smiling against the crisp 
sheets of my bed, languidly stretching out my muscles. I never wanted to 
leave that place. 

Then, I heard Mulder's answering hum in my ear. Eyes snapping open, I 
attempted to turn my head to assess the situation, but couldn't move. I 
was on my side, just as I had been when I finally fell asleep the night 
before. His arm was thrown around my waist, just above my hip. He had me 
pulled flush against his body. 

My right leg was pinned between his two legs, tickled by his hair the same 
way my hands had been when I was tending to him the previous night. The 
feel of his breath puffing on my exposed neck was comforting, yet 
dangerous at the same time. Each hot burst on my skin sent a warm pool 
into the pit of my stomach. 

Well, I supposed it couldn't hurt to stay here a little while longer. The 
thought of moving, or waking him to move was akin to stepping into an ice 
cold shower. I didn't want the warm feeling to go away.

I snuggled closer, if that was possible, inadvertently pushing my rear up 
against his groin. Mulder groaned softly and thrust slightly forward, 
pressing his morning erection into my lower back like the rude poke of a 
stick. A very big stick. 

Half awake and still delighting in my fuzzy awakening, I shifted as far up 
the bed as his strong arms would allow and cuddled into the arch of his 
body once again. He responded with another small moan and pushed back 
against me, more insistently. 

Oh, my.  

I'd somehow managed to position myself in such a way that his poking was 
aimed right where I wanted it the most, right between my upper thighs, 
grazing my clitoris through the thin panties I wore. 

I couldn't resist doing it again. I pushed back, he thrust forward. 
Closing my eyes, I rolled myself into his groin hard, gasping softly as 
the contact produced waves of pleasure, rocketing through my deprived body 
like icy little fingers. His push forward was equally heated, driving me 
closer to resolution. 

"Mmm, Mulder," I whispered. Suddenly, he stiffened.

"No, Scully. I won't do it this way." 

I disentangled myself from his limbs and sat up, looking at him. "What?"

Mulder sat up, too. He looked miserable, avoiding my eyes. "It can't be 
like this."

"But Mulder, I-"

"No, Scully." He grabbed my hand and looked down at me for the first time 
that morning. His eyes watered slightly as he pressed my hand against his 
heart. "I won't do this to you, Scully. You deserve so much more. <We> 
deserve so much more." 

I was a little stunned - he was putting the possibility of a relationship 
ahead of satisfying a baser need. How could I ever have expected anything 
else from him? Nodding weakly, I pulled my hand away to get down from the 
lofty bed. The storm had subsided altogether through the night, leaving a 
bright sky to dry up the puddles that lingered in its wake. 

I gathered some clothes and a toothbrush to take with me to the bathroom. 
Turning back to him before I left the room, I smiled softly. "Thank you, 
Mulder."

He smiled in return. I closed the door and went to prepare for the 
investigation ahead.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted up from the kitchen. I pulled on 
some clothes and waited with a grumbling stomach for Scully to return from 
the bathroom. 

I knew I'd done the right thing. She was never meant to be taken advantage 
of. Dana Scully was not a woman built for meaningless quickies. She was a 
woman made to be cherished and loved, to be stroked and brought to passion 
by the hands of a man who worshipped her. I couldn't bring myself to allow 
our hormone-driven dry humping to reduce or undermine what we could have 
together. 

The door opened, revealing a freshened Scully. She clasped her little 
makeup bag in one hand. 

"That couple on their honeymoon wanted to use the bathroom. Together." She 
blew out a breath. "I'm going to have to finish getting ready in here and 
then we can go."

I smiled. "You never had roommates in college, Scully?"

She whipped around to answer, "College was a long time ago, Mulder. I've 
long since forgotten what it's like to get kicked out of the bathroom or 
clean shaved beard stubble out of the sink." She turned back around and 
sat at a little vanity in the corner.

Shaved beard… What the hell? 

"Scully? Is there something you'd like to share here?" 

She gave me a secretive smile over her reflection in the mirror and went 
about applying her makeup.

For my own sanity, I decided to let it go. The last thing I wanted to 
think about was a young Scully cleaning up after another man in college. 
Yeah, I'm a little possessive. I can't help myself. When she was finally 
finished, I persuaded her to come downstairs for breakfast before heading 
back out to Mrs. Maire's home. 

Placing my hand at the small of her back, I ushered her out the door of 
our room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As we walked down the stairs, the delicious smells of various breakfast 
foods hit me for the first time. I think I was too preoccupied before to 
notice them. My short time in the bathroom gathering my thoughts had done 
me a world of good. Thankfully, Mulder didn't want to sit down and have a 
long, involved discussion about any of it. I didn't think I could handle 
it at that point.

Breakfast was as good as it smelled. We even met another guest, Mr. Mason. 
He was a friendly man, down from Gary for an antique car show they held in 
Evansville called Frog Follies.

"You see," he told us, "everyone soups up these old classics and displays 
them at the 4-H Fairgrounds. It's a really big event – thousands come out 
every day of the weekend it runs. Hell, we even race 'em sometimes!"

We ate and listened as he explained all the different styles of cars. 
Nearly all of them were from the earlier decades. "I've got a 1955 Willys 
Ms. Charlotte was kind enough to let me store in her garage while I'm 
here. Named her "The Groundhog." If you folks want to see her after I get 
back, just let me know. I'm happy to show 'er off!"

"Thank you, Mr. Mason. I'd like that," I answered. I always did enjoy 
admiring the older models. Must be a product of my childhood, growing up 
around Naval bases that sometimes hosted those same events. 

Mr. Mason excused himself and set out for the fairgrounds. I glanced over 
at Charlotte, who was busy washing the dishes, and lowered my voice. "I 
think we should start today by looking for another place to stay."

"You're not going to find anything, dear." Charlotte tossed over her 
shoulder. "Between the 'Follies and the storm, everything'll be booked 
solid."

I looked at Mulder. We couldn't stay in the same room for the duration of 
the trip, that was for sure. "Are you certain? Surely there must be 
vacancies somewhere."

"Nope," she responded. "I already did some calling around for a young 
couple who stopped by earlier. Everyone's booked. The tornado did enough 
damage to force some parts of town out of their homes and that car show 
always fills up the motels."

Great. "Well, Mulder, we could always stay with Mrs. Maire. She did 
offer."

"And sleep next to Kujo? I don't think so!" 

I couldn't help the small bark of laughter that escaped my mouth. Mulder 
frowned. "I'm glad you're amused, Scully. That dog should be put down."

"Right. You'd never be able to live with the guilt."

"May I make a suggestion?" Charlotte cut in, "Stay here tonight. If you 
check out, I'll have to turn your room over and I'd really hate to see you 
without a place to stay."

I liked Charlotte. She was a kind woman and her concern for us touched me. 
Looking back at Mulder, I asked him what he thought. He nibbled on his 
last piece of bacon and answered, "Anything's better than staying with 
that rabid mutt."

I took that as a yes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


We pulled up to the front of Mrs. Maire's two-story home around 10:00 that 
morning. It looked a lot nicer in the daylight. Less foreboding. The 
river, to the far right of the house, calmly flowed by as the birds 
chirped in the thick trees above. If it weren't for the leaves littering 
the yard or the smaller, fallen branches, you'd never tell a severe storm 
had taken hold of this small community. 

As in many older, preserved towns, the stairs leading up the high lawn 
were steep and narrow. This close up, you couldn't see the house at all 
unless you were on the top few steps. The house itself was beautiful. I 
didn't notice the day before all the stained glass windows that crowned 
the clear panes below.

I remembered that I once told Scully I wanted to settle down in a place 
like Home, Pennsylvania. But I thought this place was just about as close 
to perfect as it could be. Small town – with cable - and large town 
convenience mere miles away. I pictured coming home to a place like this, 
walking into the house I shared with Scully, being knocked down by an 
excited puppy. Scully's stomach bulging in a little pooch as she rested 
her hand upon it. The way the light would glint off the gold band and 
refract from the diamond…

I shook myself from my daydream. Whenever whimsical notions popped up in 
my head, I swatted them away like annoying flies. It did no good to think 
of impossible things. Raising my hand to knock, I sent a silent prayer to 
whoever was listening to make sure Princess was locked away. Damn dog.

"Oh, hello there!" Mrs. Maire said with a smile. "Please, come in." She 
moved to the side to allow us entry. As I walked past her, she placed a 
hand on my arm and added, "And don't you worry, Mr. Mulder. Princess is 
safe and sound in my bedroom. What with your allergies and all, I thought 
it would be best." She winked and gave me a smile. I looked over at 
Scully, who was grinning from ear to ear. 

We took our seats. "Mrs. Maire," I began, "Please tell us the first time 
you experienced any unusual activity."

She sat back in her chair and thought for a moment. "Well, I'd say the 
very first time was about five months ago. I was sitting at my kitchen 
table, writing a letter to my daughter. All of a sudden, I saw this big 
cloud-like thing, floating through the room. Then it just – disappeared."

"May we see the kitchen, Mrs. Maire?" Scully said. The older woman nodded 
and led us into her large kitchen. "Here," she said, "it stopped right in 
front of the island. That's where I was." She pointed to the dinette 
across the room. 

I walked over to the window. The kitchen was adjacent to the river, which 
was right over the lawn and down the knoll the house rested on. "Mrs. 
Maire, you said that there were noises you couldn't explain."

"The loudest thumping you'll ever want to hear. And a voice, like someone 
whispering only you can't understand a blessed word. I've even tried 
talking to it before, but it never responded."

I nodded. "You also said that there was an apparition of a man who 
appeared just out there?" I pointed outside the window. 

"Yes. I followed the sound of his voice outside and saw the figure of a 
man, hovering by that drop over there. When I peeked over the edge, I saw 
him just standing on the riverbank, so I decided to climb down and take a 
look. By then, he was gone."

"And this has happened on more than one occasion?"

"Oh, yeah. Happens all the time! Only this last time, he seemed to be 
trying to tell me something about the river. I've been trying to get help 
about this for a long time, Mr. Mulder. I'm surprised that the police 
thought this was important enough to contact the FBI." 

Scully raised her eyebrow and looked pointedly at me, arms crossed and 
lips pursed. It was no secret she thought this was a waste of time. Maybe 
it was. But as long as we got out of that office, I didn't care. 

"Mrs. Maire, I'd like to take a look outside." I told her.

She nodded, "Of course. Please, take your time."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mulder headed out the door, leaving me to stand in the kitchen with Mrs. 
Maire. In his absence, I listened to anecdotes about her grandchildren, 
her personal religious beliefs about the "ghost" and some very personal 
questions about my relationship with Mulder. I also found out that she 
hadn't had regular visitors since after her husband died two years ago. 
Much of her family had either passed on or lived far away. 

Excusing myself, I stepped out to the side lawn to speak to Mulder. He 
stood next to the drop-off, staring at the swirling river below. 

"Mulder."

He turned around slowly. "Did you find out anything new about our amazing, 
disappearing man, Scully?" A shaft of light shone through the leaves of 
the tree above us, striking Mulder's eyes as they danced mirthfully. 

I looked at him for a moment, all embarrassment of my actions earlier 
dissolved. He was really a beautiful creature, stunning in his silent 
strength and unassuming good looks. He wasn't the sort of man that would 
turn your head at a quick, first glance. His beauty hit you full force 
only after speaking to him, even if only for a moment. The way all his 
attention instantly focused on you like he had tunnel vision was 
overwhelming in its intensity. It's what every woman dreams of in a man, 
and I was fortunate enough to have him as a partner and friend.

"You could say that," I answered. He turned his back on me, staring out at 
the muddy water once more. 

"I want to drag the river," he stated plainly.

I stood there, dumbfounded. Why the hell would he want to do that? Walking 
around him, I joined his side and looked up at him. "Mulder, I see no 
reason to go to that extreme."

"There's a reason that the spirit of that man stops here. His appearance 
began only a short while ago – aren't you the least bit curious?"

"Curious enough to spend valuable time and tax dollars dragging the river? 
No. Mulder, this is a ghost story, derived from loneliness. A poor soul 
trying to give herself a reprieve from her forlorn existence. Nothing 
more."

"Loneliness? That's your explanation? I don't buy it, Scully."

Well, that was a surprise. "It has been proven that some people who have 
isolated themselves or have experienced acute loneliness are prone to 
fantasy. The very fact that Mrs. Maire has willingly withdrawn from 
society speaks of her present state of well
being. All she has is that dog, with all of her family living so far 
away."

"I don't think these phenomena can be reduced to something so trite."

"Well, it's possible that she's been experiencing what is known as a 
waking dream, where visual and auditory hallucinations occur while awake."

He looked doubtful. "I'm familiar with the term, Scully. Somehow, I doubt 
that's the case here."

I blew out an impatient breath. "It's also possible that the clouds of 
smoke gathering in the kitchen could be attributed to a bit of material 
drifting in the eye's vitreous humour, known as a 'floater.'  Such things 
can cause the illusion that something is moving in the peripheral vision. 
I'd like to examine the house and see what I can find."  

"Well, you do that. I'll be at the library seeing what I can dig up on the 
history of this house. I've already arranged for a sketch artist to come 
by later today and do a composite of this man." He started to walk away, 
but stopped and turned to face me. "And Scully? If you happen to 
experience any 'hallucinations' while I'm gone, make sure to give me a 
call." He grinned broadly and made his way toward the front of the house.

I stared at his retreating back, shouting at him, "Fine. You make the 
call. And I expect you to write this one up, Mulder. I don't want to be 
responsible for explaining why we required all that manpower based on a 
story and a hunch." He raised a hand in answer and continued walking. I 
could just imagine the victory grin on his face and it irritated me beyond 
reason. The man was relentless, but there really had to be a line. 
Unfortunately, I'd lost this battle. Walking back into the house, I 
informed Mrs. Maire of our intentions and went about searching the house 
for more plausible and down-to-earth explanations for the phenomena. 

Everything seemed to be in excellent order, especially considering the age 
of the structure itself. The plumbing and electrical wiring were current 
and had recently been inspected. There was no gas leakage of any kind to 
be found. Since the owner was a non-smoker, cigarette smoke couldn't be 
the culprit. After a very thorough search of both the house and the 
surrounding grounds, I was at a loss.  

I said goodbye to Mrs. Maire and walked outside, squinting against the 
mid-afternoon sunlight that seeped through the canvas of leaves above. 
Mulder had left the car for my use. He must have decided to walk to the 
library. Everything in town was very close, so he had only a short walk. 
We'd learned all of this from Charlotte earlier that morning at breakfast. 

It was truly a beautiful day. There was little evidence of the disastrous 
storm the day before, as store and homeowners alike had cleared away much 
of the debris that littered sidewalks and lawns. I drove with the windows 
down, delighting in the feel of the warm air lifting and blowing through 
my hair. In a few moments, I was pulling into the parking lot of the 
library. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Poring over my heap of books and papers, I was intrigued by the history of 
the small town of Newburgh. Settled in 1803, it was one of the oldest 
communities in Southwestern Indiana. In 1916, it entered the Union when 
Indiana became the 19th state. In 1862, it had the distinguished honor of 
being the first town north of the Mason-Dixon line to be captured by 
Confederate forces. 

All that history, and yet, little of the stories of hauntings and legends 
that usually accompany it. In fact, the worst this town had endured was 
the indignity of being bested by the Confederates when they crossed the 
Ohio and confiscated supplies without ever having fired a shot. That's one 
thing they wouldn't boast in a welcome brochure, I mused.

"Having any luck?" a female voice interrupted.

I looked up and peered at the speaker through my glasses. Scully stood 
there, mouth dropped open slightly. "You okay?" I asked. 

She flushed, "Uh, fine, Mulder."

I frowned. "Okay," I said. Whatever was wrong with her, she looked all 
right now. "I couldn't find anything of much use here. The house was used 
as a political meeting place in the Civil War, but nothing extraordinary 
has ever happened there or on the grounds it rests on."

She sat in the mauve chair across from me. "I couldn't find anything 
either. The house seems to be in excellent working order." She sighed.

"Well, I'd like to go back there later, around the time that she said she 
first encountered the 'hallucination.'"  I used air quotes and grinned, 
just to irritate her. 

Looking at her watch, she diplomatically ignored my attempt. "That would 
be in another three hours. I'm starved, Mulder. Let's go see what's on 
Main Street."

We left the car in the parking lot and strolled down the hill that was 
Main Street. It consisted of small shops, tightly packed and lining the 
narrow street. It was quaint and reminded me of an English countryside 
village. We found a sandwich shop and grabbed a late lunch.

As we were finishing, Scully surprised me. "Do you want to take a walk? 
It's such a nice day and we have a couple of hours to kill." She looked at 
me with big, blue eyes. Honestly, she had no idea that I could deny her 
nothing under normal circumstances, but she could wrap me around her 
finger with a look like that.

I smiled. "Only if we can check out this Dam Park I keep hearing about"

She wiped her mouth and dropped the napkin into the empty sandwich basket. 
"Deal. Let's go."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun gently spread its warmth over us as we walked down the cute little 
historical district housing much of the limited business in the town. I 
removed my blazer and draped it across my arm to allow the sunshine to 
beat gently on my exposed skin, relishing the feel of the slight breeze 
that stirred the heated air around us. We walked down the hilly street to 
the river that lay below. 

"Looks better from far away," Mulder commented. It was the perfect 
compliment to the scene from the top of the hill, framed by the old 
buildings. Close up, it was a dirty, debris-filled body of water. It was 
disappointing, really. As if we'd expected something different from the 
river that ran beside Mrs. Maire's home. 

We wandered along the bank and came across a small ice cream shop. "C'mon, 
Scully, have some with me," Mulder insisted. I agreed and got a Black 
Forest cone, laughing when the cherries and hot fudge started to dribble 
down the still-warm waffle cone onto my hand. Mulder looked at me in 
wonder.

"What?" I asked.

He just stared, shaking his head slightly with a serious expression on his 
face. I sobered instantly. Things were changing between us, especially 
since that embarrassing little incident earlier. It was almost palpable. I 
also knew that neither of us had the guts to give it that final push 
forward. All the old arguments notwithstanding, we were both just too damn 
scared. But the way he was looking at me… It may have been a while, but I 
could still remember the way a man looks just before he's about to kiss 
you. 

Not able to stop staring at his lips, I mumbled, "We should get going."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Her voice snapped me back into reality. Jesus. What the hell was I 
thinking? 

"Yeah," I rasped out. 

We walked back, following the river until we reached the end of the 
street. Neither of us spoke. I wondered, what was she thinking? What if 
she didn't want any of this? I was worried that I'd screw this up before 
it even had a chance to begin. Trudging up the hill, her hand brushed 
mine. She gave me a small smile and relief washed through me. I was making 
too much of her silence.

Twenty minutes later, we were pulling up to the front of Mrs. Maire's 
home. She seemed relieved to see us.

"Oh, it'll be so nice to have someone here when it happens," she exclaimed 
as soon as we entered. "I can't tell you how many times I've told my story 
to my kids, only to have them treat me like I was losing my marbles." She 
laughed and shook her head. 

I smiled politely. It was a shame that this friendly woman was closeted 
away from the world, having only the grocery delivery man and weekly phone 
calls from her kids to keep her company. 

"I'd like to be clear – you said that the image appears to you at around 
this time in the kitchen?" 

"Yes," she answered and looked at the massive grandfather clock, which 
showed the time to be quarter 'til six. "Then it makes all that racket. 
We'd better get in there soon, or else you'll miss most of it." She walked 
into the kitchen with us following closely behind.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If I thought we were wasting our time before, I was absolutely certain of 
it now. Four hours past the time we expected the "ghost" and not a single 
rattle that couldn't be accounted for. 

"I'm afraid it isn't going to show tonight," Mrs. Maire said sadly. I felt 
bad for the poor woman. She had so wanted someone to believe her. "It's 
never this late, you know." Looking into her coffee cup, she sighed and 
spoke softly, "My oldest son wants to put me into a home. He thinks that 
I've finally lost my mind." She lifted her watery gaze to meet mine. "I'm 
not crazy. I know what I saw."

All I could do was nod. It was the first time in my life that I actually 
wanted to believe in the existence of such a thing. My heart went out to 
the elderly woman. Steeling herself, she rose with her head held high with 
dignity and walked over to the counter. 

A sudden loud crash startled us. Mulder and I jumped to our feet instantly 
and my eyes darted quickly to the source. Mrs. Maire stood at the counter, 
staring out the window with her jaw dropped open. At her feet lay the 
shattered remains of the coffee pot, black liquid and glass mingling on 
the ceramic tile.

"Mrs. Maire?" I asked urgently. No response. I grasped her elbow and 
repeated myself. "Mrs. Maire? Are you alright?"

Her mouth opened and closed like a floundering fish. She was focused on 
something outside the window. "Mulder, we need to get her into a chair." 
He quickly came to her side to assist me. As we attempted to pull her 
toward the table, she resisted. Pointing one shaky finger at the window, 
she licked her lips and said, "There it is."

Mulder let her arm go and looked outside. "What is it?" I asked. He didn't 
answer right away, so I stepped over to his side and looked out the window 
with one hand on my weapon, tensed and ready for anything. 

"Nothing," he said. "There's nothing there."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Scully walked through the room, wearily depositing her blazer on the 
chair. I watched as she dropped onto the bed and rubbed her eyes in 
exhaustion, then scooped up her toiletries and headed for the shower. 

On the way back to the B&B, she'd tried to convince me to cancel the 
dredging scheduled for the following afternoon, but I'd been adamant about 
moving forward with it. I just had a feeling, something I could never make 
her understand. Scully dealt in facts, not feelings. 

I patiently waited for Scully's return, studying the composite sketch of 
the man drawn earlier, then took my turn in the shower. As the warm water 
lapped over my tense muscles, my mind wandered into familiar, dangerous 
territory. I've often fantasized about my luscious partner, but this was 
different. This time, I had very real, very recent memories to tease me, 
my very own arsenal of erotic imagery. The sight of her kneeling before 
me, the feel of her hot breath, puffing from her parted, full-berried lips 
and the intensity of her gaze as she pretended to play the ideal 
professional, trying so hard not to let me see the interest she held in 
other parts of my healthier anatomy. The feel of her body as it pressed so 
perfectly into mine, like the other half of me I never knew was missing. 
Grinding and pushing into me, moaning softly in a sort of abandon I never 
thought I'd be blessed to hear. 

All of these things ran through my mind at the speed of light, making my 
wandering hand that much harder to stop. Before I knew it, my hand had 
made its way down my slick, soapy body and grasped my cock, stroking it 
harder and faster as the urgency overwhelmed me. I couldn't think about 
anything but the sight of her in those moments, with her eyes dropped 
almost coquettishly and her tongue darting out like she was starved. When 
I came, it was with her name on the tip of my tongue. It was all I could 
do to keep from calling it out loud.

A little drained, a little ashamed, I got out of the shower and toweled 
off. I'd done the right thing. It would've been a very <bad> idea to crawl 
into bed with Scully with a raging hard-on. Still, I felt like an asshole 
for using her to get off.

Just what the hell was going on with us, anyway? Just as soon as I feel 
like I have a firm grasp of "the rules," she goes off and changes them on 
me. I thought about how completely wonderful and right it felt to wake up 
with her tiny body cradled and entangled in mine, yet, what was I supposed 
to think about it? The worst thing I could imagine would be to spill my 
guts to her and have to see the look on her face that said she didn't feel 
the same. I could handle anything but that.

I dressed and walked down the hall for another night of sheer torture.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The man could be so infuriating at times. I couldn't believe he still 
wanted to follow through on that request to drag the river, even after his 
proof-positive failed him earlier. He himself admitted to seeing nothing. 
Why, then, did he insist on going forward on this? 

I sat on the bed, smearing lotion on my legs and massaging it into the 
skin while I continued my internal rant. Waste of funds and time. Can't 
believe he always has to go out on a limb, after all the hoaxes and 
inaccurate accounts we'd seen. 

Mulder poked his head inside the door mid- tirade like a child would when 
he knows he's about to be chewed out by a principal. I ignored him. If he 
wanted to put on the puppy-dog face, then let him. I'm far too old to be 
moved by such a childish act. He slunk inside the room, shutting the door 
and locking it behind him, then climbed up into the high bed effortlessly. 

I pumped more lotion into my hand and massaged it into the other leg, 
slowly, to get all the kinks out. Mulder turned on the TV with the ever-
present remote at his bedside and began channel surfing. 

"Scully, what is that?" he asked, never looking away from the screen.

I sighed tiredly. "What's what, Mulder?"

He turned to face me. "That lotion. What's it called?"

His question threw me for a loop. It was a rare day that Fox Mulder was 
interested in my fragrance of choice. "Am I to hope that my answer will 
determine this year's Christmas present?"

He cocked his head and smiled slyly. "Maybe."

"Well, in that case, I hope you aren't shy about shopping in women's 
lingerie stores." I quickly finished before the customary comment from him 
could be delivered. "It's called Secret Crush."

He scrunched up his nose. "You're kidding."

I shook my head. 

"Scully, it sounds like something in some high school girl's locker."

I shot him a withering look. Actually, I'd thought the same thing until I 
tried it, but I'll be damned if I'd tell him that.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, it's nice." He turned back to the TV, 
leaving me a bit stunned. In his own, Mulder-esque way, he'd just given me 
quite the compliment. I smiled in spite of myself and went back to finish 
my legs. 

I was exhausted. The day had been strange and basically unproductive, as a 
whole. There had been no sightings or strange noises, no evidence of any 
kind that would support Mulder's belief that we were dealing with a 
haunting. And I didn't even want to contemplate our actions earlier in the 
morning. Thank God Mulder was gentleman enough to let it go. I didn't 
think I could handle a lengthy and uncomfortable conversation about it.

I placed the lotion on the nightstand, shutting off the lamp that rested 
there, and slid between the sheets, snuggling against the silkiness of the 
cotton. Quality was certainly not sacrificed here, that was for sure. 
Settling onto my side I tossed a "G'night, Mulder," over my shoulder and 
closed my eyes against the flashing of the television in the darkened 
room. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two hours. Two long, difficult hours, propped against pillows, listening 
to the cadence of Scully's breathing as I flipped through the channels. My 
program of choice was the worst idea I'd ever had, but after an hour and a 
half of fighting the urge to settle on my usual late-night premium 
channels, I finally gave in.

And damn, but I was sorry I had.

On the screen was a couple engaging in a test of wills in an office 
setting. I'd gathered that the petite brunette was the man's assistant. 
These movies aren't exactly of the cerebral variety, so I was able to 
catch on to the flimsy plot easily. The woman sat on the edge of her 
boss's desk, garter purposely exposed as she thrust her breasts forward. I 
glanced over at Scully. Still asleep, thank God.

I turned my attention back to the screen. The woman was issuing some sort 
of challenge… Holy shit! That's my kind of woman! Made me want an 
assistant of my own. The man smiled in response to the challenge and took 
her hand as she led him to the elevator. They cut to the outside of the 
building, businessmen and women milling around in power suits. A large, 
stone fountain was situated in the front and the man sat down on it. The 
woman smiled and lowered herself, lifting her skirt before settling down 
on his lap, facing the crowd. He reached between them to unzip his fly and 
she raised up slightly, then sat back again. The man moaned loudly as she 
slid down on him and gasped. 

I couldn't help but think of me and Scully in that situation, in the 
middle of a crowded place with her sweet ass on my lap, gliding up and 
down on my cock. Would she moan like the woman on TV, or would she play it 
cool, doing all she could not to attract attention? I pictured what she 
would look like to the outside world, the world that had no clue how crazy 
she was driving me as I was buried deep inside of her. Her eyes – would 
they be open, or closed? Open, I decided. She wouldn't want to give our 
secret away. The tell-tale signs would be obvious only to me, by the 
sounds of her breath puffing erratically and the fierce beating of her 
heart against my hand as it held her to me for balance, beneath her 
breasts. 

"Mulder, what are you watching?" Scully's voice made me jump a mile high.

"Jesus, Scully! You scared the hell out of me."

She didn't respond, just sat up and stared intently at the television. Oh, 
shit, I thought. Here's where I get an ass chewing for watching Skinemax 
while she was so innocently sleeping beside me. 

After several long, uncomfortable moments of silence, she finally spoke 
up. "Humph! Yeah, like that could happen."

Shocked, I whipped my head around to face her. "Huh?"

"I mean, look at that," she continued. "Tell me that this isn't one of the 
most ridiculous scenarios you've ever seen." 

Way to crush a dream, Scully. "What's so ridiculous about it?" I ventured.

"Well, first of all, they'd never get by with that. Look at that place! 
It's packed to the gills with people, yet there they are, in the middle of 
the crowd and no one notices?" she snorted. "Yeah, right. Secondly, look 
at that angle. It is physically impossible to make love at that angle. 
That is, unless his penis is attached to his thighs. Honestly, you'd think 
they'd at least attempt to make it look real." She shook her head, wide 
eyes still glued to the screen. Just as the onscreen couple was finishing 
up, the woman made a comment about finishing up some Xeroxing for him. 
"Oh, please! She's his <secretary>?"

I smiled and faced her again. "I believe the PC term is 'assistant'."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever. Mulder, how do you find this even 
remotely appealing?"

"Well, it was appealing, up until about ten minutes ago," I chuckled 
lightly.  

"Well, it's not at all realistic." She quietly listened to more of the 
dialogue. Something the woman in the movie said made her eyes go wide in 
disbelief. "That was their first time?" 

I wasn't sure what had gotten into her, exactly, but the conversation was 
actually making me a bit uneasy. Maybe it was the relaxed atmosphere of 
the town or the hour, but she wasn't talking like the Scully I knew. 
Still, I was intrigued.

"Apparently so," I answered. 

She snorted. "What a romantic. I wonder why he didn't just prop her up on 
the desk and have his way with her."

I shifted slightly. Careful, Scully. That little scenario was a common 
occurrence in my fantasy world. Clearing my throat, I posed the question I 
never thought I'd have the balls to ask. "Wh-where would you prefer?" 

She looked at me and I swear I could see her breathing quicken beneath 
that thin layer of silk. "Um," her eyes darted away for a millisecond, 
then returned to stare courageously into mine. I realized how close our 
faces were – maybe about a foot apart. "Truthfully, Mulder? I couldn't 
think of a better place than here."

Holy shit. 

"Yeah, it's really – nice here," I stammered nervously. Real smooth, 
dumbass. She smiled tightly in response.

"Turn off the TV, would you? I'd like to get some sleep tonight." With 
that, she turned to face the other wall and lay down. A golden opportunity 
and I missed it. Jesus, life wasn't fair.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

What the hell was I thinking? 

I laid there, as still as possible and willed my heart and breathing to 
return to normal. That was the most incredibly stupid thing I'd ever done 
– and subtlety? God. Would the humiliation never cease?

Behind me, Mulder turned the television off and settled in next to me. I 
could feel the heat of his body against my back. What had I expected in 
that brief and ill-advised exchange? That he would proclaim his undying 
love and devotion to me? I prayed that the whole thing would just – die. 
The very last thing I wanted was for it to be an issue.

All I could think about was the look on his face when I answered his 
question. He was scared. I couldn't say I blamed him. Life is measured in 
leaps - sane, logical leaps. This was the wrong leap at the worst possible 
time. But, when would it be time? Had we missed the boat? Would I wake up, 
twenty years from now, filled with the regret of having let this pass? It 
was simply too hard to contemplate. It hurt too much.

I listened to his breathing, noting that he was as wide awake as I. There 
was nothing standing between the two of us now. We were raw, exposed. This 
morning was the ultimate crumbling of our stubborn wills. And now this… 
Someone, something was about to break.

I never imagined it would be me.

I rolled around to face him, surprised that he was turned toward me, and 
smiled.

"Hi," I said.

He smiled back, a broad grin that lit up his whole, beautiful face and 
replied, "Hi."

I raised a hand to rest gently on his smooth cheek. He searched my eyes, 
brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't want to do this anymore," I 
whispered.

He laid a light hand on top of mine. "I don't either."

"I'm tired, Mulder. So tired of pretending that this isn't what I want."

His eyes bore into mine. "Then don't." 

Drawn together by a force stronger, wiser, more powerful than us, we 
tasted each other's lips for the very first time. It was sweet, innocent. 
Lips caressing with loving tenderness as he tangled a hand into my hair. 

"You know I love you, Scully," he said earnestly, in a way that made my 
bottom lip tremble. Oh, Mulder. Of course I know. I smiled warmly, nodding 
as butterflies did a cute little square dance in my belly. 

He caressed my cheek with one warm hand, mirroring me as the other hand 
continued to sift through my hair. Eyes darkening in the splash of light 
from the window, he looked at my mouth hungrily and licked his lips. "And 
I can't, won't pretend any longer. I know what I want, Scully, and what I 
want is you."

Before I could respond in kind, he claimed my lips, crushing them against 
his in a stormy clash of tongues and teeth. It was unreal, dizzying in its 
all-encompassing intensity. Dangerous and right, all at once. He tasted 
beautiful.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She tasted beautiful. Like mint and vanilla and just pure Scully. Just 
like I imagined she would – more delectable than the sweetest truffles, 
softer than the finest silk. And I love her; oh, God do I love her.

Impatiently, she pulled at my hips, urging me to climb onto her. Far be it 
from me to deny a lady. She hastily broke the near-brutal kiss; licking 
her plumped lips before gasping out a shaky, "Need you, Mulder. Want you." 
I bent to nibble one perfect, taut nipple through the silk of that damned 
slip that had driven me to insanity the night before. The gasp and 
answering arch of her back were like heaven.

My arms shook with the weight of my nervous desire, straddling the woman 
that I've loved for years and trying not to gape as she irritably yanked 
at the thin straps of her slip until none of its silkiness concealed the 
marvel that was her breasts. Perfection. High on her chest, pert and the 
perfect size. I had to taste her, had to see if they were as good in my 
mouth as they looked to my hazed eyes.

They tasted faintly of roses, of that essence I'd only previously gotten a 
hint of. That slight whisper of her true scent – sitting next to her in 
the car for endless hours or standing close to her in the confines of our 
office. It was stronger here, and I followed it down to where it was 
stronger still, placing feather-light, open kisses on her ribs, around the 
clothing gathered below her breasts, on her tight belly, around her navel. 
I flicked a tongue out to sample the satin of her skin, blazing a trail to 
the delicious dampness between her legs, wantonly displayed to me. She was 
feral, humming in the back of her throat as I drank her in, bucking 
unabashedly while grasping hands full of my hair. I breathed her in. This, 
this was Scully. The true woman, pure and undiluted. 

The throbbing of my own need was of little importance. I had stumbled upon 
my deity, my salvation. There was nothing but the veneration I wanted to 
lavish upon her. Her pleasure was my own, and the feeling was as foreign 
as it was intoxicating. When she climaxed, she was a thousand times more 
beautiful than any depiction of angels and a part of me touched Heaven 
with her. 

Wordlessly, she urged me upward. I sat up on my knees and slowly pulled 
the silk slip down her body, watching as she shivered from the feathery 
contact in her highly sensitized state. Realizing that I was still fully 
clothed, I pulled my t-shirt off, tossing it to over the side of our bed, 
our canopied nest, and shifted to yank my boxers off. I settled between 
her thighs and jumped at the electric spark of her hands around my cock as 
she guided me inside her. Deeper, deeper I plunged until I was fully 
submerged and surrounded by her. 

Her arching back and meeting thrusts were divinity, tenfold. My body 
thrummed with a pleasure I'd never known, fueled by the need I'd felt for 
this woman for more years than I cared to admit. It was like being 
suspended in that glorious place between build-up and release 
indefinitely. Pleasure and frustration, battling for dominance. Spiritual 
and overwhelming. 

All at once, I could sense the rush of orgasm come toward me in a flood of 
warmth. Reaching a hand down between us, I rubbed at the hardened pebble 
of Scully's clit in time with our grinding thrusts. In a sudden sunburst, 
I came, feeling an exquisite tightening and answering rush of heat wash 
over my buried cock seconds after. Sweaty and weak, I rolled off of her 
fevered body and pulled her against me in an embrace.  

"Love you, Mulder," she breathed out. "So much."

We held each other for a long time, listening to one another's hearts and 
breathing as they slowed to normal. Nothing in the world could ever 
compare to that moment, a defining moment in my life, as far as I was 
concerned. It was that one moment you just knew was the purpose of your 
existence. 

Elated but weary, I coaxed up the forgotten blanket at the foot of our bed 
with the only leg not pinned between Scully's and covered us in the 
chilliness of the room. She sighed and snuggled into my arms, mumbling 
nonsense into my neck as she slept. 

My Scully.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When I wake up in the mornings, I do so in stages. I'm not a grump, nor am 
I disagreeable in the early hours. I'm simply just not what one would call 
a "morning person." First, I become vaguely aware of my surroundings, but 
cannot be bothered to open my eyes, no matter how the alarm clock 
protests. Second, I stretch out my limbs, relishing the feline luxury of 
the feeling it brings. At this point, I will slap at the snooze button, 
sometimes for the second time. Finally, I open my eyes and adjust to the 
diffused sunlight through my blinds. On average, it takes me about twenty 
minutes to "wake up."

That morning, however, it took all of twenty seconds. 

It was lovely, before awareness hit. Like being cradled in the puffiest 
cumulous cloud, only warm. In those pre-dawn moments of nearly-awake, I 
idly wondered if it was what a mother's womb felt like to her baby. So 
soft and cozy and utterly delicious. Then, the cloud moved. 

"Morning," it said. That's when I remembered. Nibbling, licking, lapping. 
Grinding, thrusting and pure, unadulterated bliss.

And there I was, wrapped snugly in his embrace with the covers up to my 
chin in the middle of the most exquisitely intimate bed. The canopy, with 
its trailing gauze around the bedposts created a little nest of sorts, 
sanctuary from the rest of the world. 

My feelings toward Mulder hadn't changed. Not in the least. It was just 
that things are often so very different in the light of day. I was 
excruciatingly shy now and embarrassed by my behavior. What must he think 
of me? 

I hazarded a wary, sideways glance, trying to gauge his reaction. Out of 
the corner of my eye, I could see the flash of teeth. I turned to face 
him, still unsure of what to expect. I'd be so humiliated if I saw regret 
in his eyes.

Mulder stared at me, not six inches from my face, with the goofiest grin 
I'd ever seen him wear. He looked like a lovesick teenager.  

"'Bout time you woke up, sleepyhead," he said jovially, giving me a good 
squeeze with his arms. Relief washed over me like an absolution. Could it 
really be? Had we finally evolved to the people I'd feared we'd never 
become? Had we taken that final leap, the insane, illogical leap I so 
craved – and everything was okay? 

It was so surreal. And almost life-affirming. For so long, I'd lost my 
bearings in a sea of cynicism. That day, I learned that not everything had 
to hurt. Love didn't have to be painful. It could be wonderful and simple 
when two people loved with the depth Mulder and I felt for each other.

We made love in our little haven twice more, before the team was due out 
at Mrs. Maire's home to begin the river search. Afterward, we walked down 
to Main Street, indulging in a cappuccino and some of the best donuts I'd 
ever tasted from a tiny, family owned bakery on the strip. Laughing out 
loud felt wonderful. 

Finally, duty reared its ugly head. We walked back to get the car and 
drove over to meet the team.

"You know, Mulder," I began as we exited the car and started our trek up 
the stairs of the lawn, "it's very likely that Mrs. Maire's hallucinations 
are a symptom of Alzheimer's." Damn! Why hadn't I thought to look up her 
medical records?

Mulder said nothing. I stopped at the top of the stairs, crossing my arms 
and looking up at him. "Please call off the search. You and I both know 
there's nothing in the water." Please, Mulder, I'd wanted to say. No more 
ammunition for them to use against you at the Bureau. I knew he understood 
the silent plea, as he always did. Just as I understood the silent answer 
- Scully, you know I have to do this. It was our usual, unspoken argument, 
and it always ended the same.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour after our arrival, there was a commotion on the riverbank below 
Mrs. Maire's yard.  We'd been sipping on iced tea on the back patio and 
nibbling homemade petites fours she'd spent the morning baking and glazing 
for her "guests." Up until that point, I'd almost been convinced that 
Scully was right – that I'd jumped the gun and called for an all out 
search – all for nothing more than an elderly woman's overactive 
imagination. 

Following the cacophony of shouts and orders, I slid down the drop-off in 
a manly show of agility and ran down the few yards to where part of the 
team stood on land. 

"What is it?" I asked the Sheriff's Deputy. 

He shook his head in disbelief, the hand holding the walkie-talkie dropped 
to his side like it had suddenly turned to lead. "They just pulled a body 
out of the river," he said, never taking his eyes off the boat. I squinted 
against the glare of the sun off the water. Sure enough, a body was being 
hauled aboard. "I – This was the last thing I expected to find, Agent 
Mulder. I thought we were wasting our time here." I was beginning to 
myself, buddy, I thought.  

Several minutes later, an ambulance attracted nosy neighbors as the 
paramedics joined the crew by the river. Mrs. Maire had a small dock she 
shared with the family behind her house. The body was transferred to a 
stretcher and the pockets emptied for clues as to the identity of the 
hapless man. He was bloated and unrecognizable from the prolonged exposure 
to water, so it was very fortunate that the man's wallet was still in his 
pocket. It would've taken a long time to make a positive ID.

"Well, I'll be damned," I said in sheer amazement. The driver's license 
named the victim to be one Jason Halifax of 404 Middle Street, Newburgh, 
Indiana. D.O.B. 3/16/71. But what was really extraordinary was the 
picture.

Scully leaned over and grasped the other half of the license, eyes wide. 
The man looked exactly like the description Mrs. Maire had given to us and 
to the sketch artist. I pulled the drawing from my pocket and put it next 
to the ID.  

They were the same man. 



~ The End ~



 ~ Challenge Elements ~

1) A Tornado
2) Sex in a crowded place
3) A Marvin the Martian cartoon
4) A broken coffeepot, not related to the tornado
5) A groundhog
6) A cold shower
7) A vase with dead flowers in it