Title:   Image

  Author:   Shawen A. Greer

  Rating:   R

  Classification:   MSR, some UST to RST, mild angst

  Summary:   A new case brings Mulder face to face with a

  mysterious stranger who forces him to deal with his secret

  desires as well as revealing some of Scully's as well.

  Disclaimer:   Do I really need to put this????  You already know

  the X-Files belongs to CC, 1013, and Fox right?  Well, if not,

  you do now.

  Distribution:   Anywhere as long as my name and email stay

  attached, but please ask first.

  Feedback:   I love feedback!!!!!  Please do! 

  shawen@altavista.com.

  Or check out my website for my other stories as well as some of

  my favorites by other authors.  The Hall of 'X'

  www.geocities.com/Area51/Quasar/8840.  And if you visit, it

  would make my day if you would sign the Guestbook! :)

  

  

  

  -Apartment 42 

  Thursday 8:40 pm

  

  It had been a particular exhausting day of reports and paperwork,

  and Mulder had welcomed the thought of coming home and

  taking a long hot shower.  He loosened his tie from the collar

  that had restrained it all day and paused to rub some of the

  tension out of his neck.  Sequentially, the remainder of his suit

  was then thrown casually into the chair next to his bed leaving

  him only in the comfort of his boxers.  Feeling hungrier than he

  remembered being, he decided to delay the shower for leftover

  pizza and made his way to the kitchen.

  

  After retrieving the white cardboard box and the six-pack of Sam

  Adams that he had purchased on the way home, he took his usual

  place on the couch.  It took only a few minutes of quickly

  scanning the viewing possibilities on TV, for him to decide on

  the History Channel and their documentary on ancient Greece.

  

  At the end of the program and his fourth beer, he proceeded to

  the shower he had postponed earlier welcoming the even further

  relaxation.  He turned the knobs releasing the water in a

  pounding force and stepped behind the curtain into the quickly

  mounting blanket of steam.  A sigh of release escaped him as he

  stood motionless, allowing the hot water to knead his tired

  muscles and his thoughts as always turned to Scully.

  

  He enjoyed the fantasy world he had created in which she was

  his lover and his ultimate erotic fantasy.  In his heart he loved

  her, as he could no other, and his desire for her was painfully

  hard to control when he was close to her.  The intoxicating smell

  of her perfume and the way she bit her bottom lip taunted him

  daily, and he had narrowly escaped surrender many times.

  

  The heat and the steam worked their magic and eased the

  transition from reality to a dream state almost fully allowing his

  fantasy to take shape.  He imagined her naked body joining him,

  taking his wet body in her arms from behind and touching soft

  kisses between his shoulders.  Her small delicate fingers gently

  caress his taut stomach before moving upward to play with the

  hair on his chest as it rises and falls, his breath coming in

  staggered gasps.  Her breath is cool to his hot skin as her tongue

  traces his spine sending uncontrollable shivers traveling through

  his body.  Her hips press up against him as her hands travel back

  down, further this time, causing him to whisper her name in a

  low moan that seems to excite her, causing her hands to become

  faster and stronger.  Unable to control the fire ignited now low in

  his belly, he takes her in his arms and kisses her transferring the

  passion in his own body to her.

  

  Mulder snapped himself back to reality with a shake of his head

  as he cooled the temperature of the water pelting his excited

  flesh.  He struggled to regain control over his pounding heart, his

  breath in shallow pants in the rapture of his fantasy.  He refused

  to ever let his mind take over beyond those initial touches not

  wishing to cheapen her, or his love for her with the same lustful

  thoughts provoked by pornographic material that he reveled in at

  times.  She was so far above that, and his desire for her was only

  an extension of the deep-rooted love that he had for her.  His

  thoughts were meant to be an enhancement of what he hoped

  would be his future, not a cheapening of his longing for her. 

  

  After a few moments, he re-adjusted the water to a more humane

  temperature, and quickly followed his mundane showering ritual. 

  He turned the knobs for the final time and slid the curtain back to

  reveal the envelopment of steam concealing the doorway and

  other details of the small room.  He stood for a moment, the

  water dripping from his hair and his wet skin, racing down each

  curve of his body as he again sighed, trying to complete the

  exorcism of her vision from his mind.

  

  He dried himself off, the towel now as warm as the air around

  him, and wiped his reflection into the clouded mirror.  He

  wrapped the blue towel around his waist, remarking silently that

  it matched the blue of her eyes, and removed his toothbrush from

  the usual spot on the wall.

  

  After brushing his teeth, he returned once again to his bedroom,

  pulled on his boxers, and climbed under the covers of his still

  unmade bed.  He turned out the light and arranged the extra

  pillow snugly next to him, while uttering a silent prayer that it

  would some day be Scully in his arms instead of the cold, lifeless

  form he held every night.

  

  

  

  --Basement office   J. Edgar Hoover Building 

  Friday 7:45 am

  

  Thanks to the assistance of Sam Adams and a shower hot enough

  to induce fatigue, Fox Mulder had slept peacefully in his dreams

  and was now anxiously awaiting the arrival of his partner to

  discuss the new case they had just been assigned.

  

  His wait ended as Scully entered the room, cheerful and smiling. 

  "Good morning Mulder, isn't it a beautiful day?"

  

  "It would seem that spring has sprung wouldn't it," he smiled in

  return, "the flowers in bloom, the buds on the trees, the birds and

  the bees oh wait, that's something else."

  

  Her blue eyes sparkled as she raised an eyebrow in sarcasm

  shaking her head in retort to the typical innuendo she had grown

  accustomed to.  He watched her as she made her way to her desk

  to set about her various tasks for the day, noticing every

  movement with great detail to add to the collection of images

  and memories in his head.  Her hair had that little "bounce" in it

  today that he loved, and it softly framed her porcelain skin.  Her

  long black skirt stopped just short of her ankles, and flowed

  along her small but shapely figure, enhanced further by the

  tailored jacket that just fell to the curve of her hips.  He could

  feel his breath quicken slightly as he looked at her, the ability to

  swallow becoming more difficult as he watched her casually

  push her hair behind her ear. 

  

  " Muse, tell me the deeds of golden Aphrodite the Cyprian, who

  stirs up sweet passion in the gods and subdues the tribes of mortal

  men and birds that fly in air and all the many creatures that the

  dry land rears, and all the sea: all these love the deeds of

  rich-crowned Cytherea."  His Homeric quote was meant to introduce

  their case, but seemed appropriate directed at her. 

  

  Her attention was quickly gained at the eloquence of his words. 

  "Excuse me?"

  

  "How's your mythology Scully?" he asked as he walked over

  and leaned on the corner of her organized desk, not really

  expecting an answer, handed her the case file, and began his

  synopsis not waiting for her to read it.

  

  "A rare collection of paintings depicting the gods and goddesses

  of ancient cultures, donated by Sir Francis Walter Reed, arrived

  yesterday for a special exhibit at the Museum of Art to mark its

  gala opening of the Deity Wing, set aside for all manner of art

  depicting religion and deity, etc., etc."  She leaned back in the

  chair and crossed her arms across her front in preparation of a

  long dissertation, her head slightly tilted to the side.  

  

  He raised his eyebrows in mock offense and continued the

  details of the case.  "Some time between the hours of 4:30 pm

  yesterday evening and 6:30 am this morning, the image of the

  Greek goddess Aphrodite, known also as Venus to the Roman

  culture disappeared."

  

  She took a moment to process the information, expressionless

  and unmoving, preparing her thoughts before speaking them. 

  With a deep breath and a shift of her weight in the chair, her

  brows knit as she began her rebuttal in her normal fashion. 

  "Disappeared."

  

  He returned to his chair and propped his feet up on his desk,

  unconcerned about the other files now under his shoes, and

  locked his hands behind his head waiting for her to sort out the

  information presented.

  

  "Mulder, would you like to tell me why suddenly the theft of a

  priceless piece of artwork has now become our jurisdiction?"

  

  "I don't recall mentioning that the painting was stolen." he

  retorted with the smug look he always wore at the failure of

  mentioning an important detail.

  

  "You said that the painting was missing.  I am assuming that you

  are not of the suspicion that it has been misplaced."

  

  "I never said that the painting disappeared Scully, only that the

  image of Aphrodite had disappeared," he paused, "from the

  painting."

  

            xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  

  --Museum of Art 

  Friday 9:00 am

  

  The resonant sound of Scully's heels danced on the gray marble

  walls of the foyer, elegant with its brass trim and ornately

  detailed tapestries.  The creative vision, it seemed, had been the

  likeness of a fairy tale castle, decorated for the ball, with the

  crests of the noble families of the kingdom proudly displayed. 

  At the far end of the foyer, framed by the carved likeness of

  pillars, was a large entrance with a blue tapestry displaying

  "Deity Wing" in gold script.  They showed their badges to the

  guard at information desk, to which he politely nodded and

  motioned in the direction of the wing entrance where a slightly

  older gentleman in a gray suit now waited for them.

  

  When they reached him, he extended his hand to each agent

  respectively, introducing himself as Brent Collins, the museum

  curator.  He was politely formal with his British introduction as

  he escorted the agents into the hall of the exhibit.  Scully lagged

  slightly behind the two men observing their similarities.  The

  charcoal gray suits walked shoulder to shoulder, each a clone of

  the other, aside from the touch of silver in the dark hair that

  topped the one.

  

  "So Agent Mulder, they tell me that you are the authority when it

  comes to the unexplainable."

  

  Mulder couldn't help but smile at the man's accent that subtly

  reminded him of a Tim Curry character.  "I tend to be a little

  more open to the possibilities than others I suppose."

  

  The first works to be presented in the long tranquil hall were of

  the Christ as well as his Blessed Mother, with paintings

  representing the crucifixion as well as various visions accounted

  throughout the world.

  

  Mr. Collins halted suddenly, facing them with concerned eyes

  and a knit brow.  "Agents, I have no idea how to explain to you

  what you are about to see or not see as it were.  Its just the

  damndest thing!"

  

  As Mulder prepared to further question the mystified man, his

  attention was diverted to his partner who stood in an odd stance,

  mouth open in a silent attempt to speak.  Her panicked eyes

  retained their wide stare on the wall in front of her, as her

  fingertips lightly rested on her chest, just below her cross. 

  Mulder let his gaze drift over the curator's shoulder to the

  painting bewitching his partner, and the flames surrounding the

  heart struck a spark of remembrance.  "Maybe we'll just have to

  see for ourselves, Mr. Collins." he answered as he gently tugged

  at Scully's black sleeve to break the spell and lead her away

  from her memories.

  

  The Grecian display was situated near the end of the exhibit, and

  Scully noticed the dramatic change as they passed from the

  darker, fanciful style of the multi-limbed gods of the Hindu, to

  the romantic style of the Greco-Romans.  One long painting on

  the far gray wall, however, did not conform to the layout so

  elegantly portrayed in the other paintings.  Though the rich blues

  and violets beautifully complimented the illusion of glimmering

  stars in the background, it was obvious that it lacked some sort of

  focus to the eye.  It lacked the resolution of placement, either of

  an object or a person.

  

  Mr. Collins stood aside and left the agents to their work,

  searching for evidence to unlock this mystery.  Scully set about

  the tedious chore of analyzing the polished floor for anything

  that would substantiate her theory that the original painting was

  removed and a fraud left in it's place.  The reasoning behind

  such an elaborate scheme she had not determined as of yet, but

  certainly it had to be a practical joke.  Her search turned up

  empty discovering no footprints or particles of paint that would

  suggest a painting of that size being carried out, and certainly, it

  would have taken more than one person.  It was at least six feet

  tall and three feet wide, not including the ornately carved

  wooden frame surrounding it that added another five inches on

  each side.

  

  She returned to the side of a rather intense Mulder, his mind

  processing every possible scenario to come to some rational

  conclusion.  However, what was usually considered rational to

  Mulder was often quite irrational to anyone else, and this case

  was to be no exception.  He stood close to the painting, his eyes

  focused on some far off place, as he looked at the painting rather

  by touch, slowly running his fingers over the painted canvas.  

  

  Scully watched curiously as Mulder's fingers began to trace an

  invisible line around the canvas.  A pattern began to form and it

  seemed that he traced the apparent outline of a shapely woman.

  

  Mulder turned to her with that sparkle in his eyes and that

  excited schoolboy expression that usually meant he had found

  something to confirm his theory.  

  

  Scully took her "doubters" stance with arms folded tightly across

  her chest and her head tilted slightly to the side.  Her eyes

  revealed her questions before she could vocalize them and he

  interrupted her after "Mulder, you don't "

  

  "She was here Scully." came the reply and he began scanning the

  room looking for the answers to the new questions that were now

  forming in his mind.

  

  "Mulder," she began, but then decided to take a different

  approach in her questioning.  "If she was here Mulder, where did

  she go?  There were no footprints or traces of anything found on

  the floor and the security cameras show no evidence of any one,

  or any movement for that matter, on the surveillance tapes."

  

  Before Mulder could offer his theory on the subject, the silence

  was broken by the fluttering of wings descending from

  somewhere above them, and they watched as a bird glided over

  Mulder's shoulder and landed on one of the sculpted ledges

  surrounding the room.  

  

  Mr. Collins spoke up for the first time since their investigation

  began.  "If you'll excuse me, I need to notify the guards about

  this so they can take steps to get this bird out of the museum

  before it before the pieces are ruined." He quickly exited the

  exhibit and the two agents stood there alone, except for the

  cooing bird above them.

  

  "Scully, that's a dove."  He retained that childlike fascination

  that had started with the imaginary tracing, his eyes never

  leaving the white bird above him.

  

  "Yes, Mulder, it is.  Now, would you like to explain to me how a

  painted image simply walked off of its canvas and left the

  building, eluding the museum guards and the security cameras?"

  

  "Well, Scully," his voice was low and methodical as he analyzed

  every word before it was uttered, his eyes never leaving the

  ledge above.  "What if she never left the building?"  He stood on

  a nearby bench, his long body leaning as far as he could,

  attempting to get a better look at the dove.  "And what if she

  never walked?"  

  

  Scully took a moment to let the preposterous notion sink into her

  logical brain before she challenged such a suggestion.

  

  "Scully, hear me out."  He jumped off the bench and took her

  arms in each of his hands.  Her heart skipped a beat at his touch

  and she swallowed hard to maintain her composure as that

  irresistible sparkle shown in his eyes with the intensity of

  lightning.  "Throughout the course of history, the goddess

  Aphrodite has been illustrated as taking many forms in the

  presence of mortals, the most common being the form of a dove. 

  A white dove Scully, much like the one before you."

  

  They simultaneously raised their eyes to the ledge above them,

  and before another word could be said to confirm or deny the

  possibility of the embodiment of a painting come to life, the

  suspect in question left its roost and quickly flew down the

  corridor with Mulder in pursuit.  Scully followed, but was no

  match for her partner's long stride, and she entered the main

  rotunda in time to see the dove gracefully fly out the door as a

  surprised patron entered.  She heard Mulder make his apologies

  as he nearly knocked the man over and proceeded out the door to

  continue the chase.  She followed outside, finding him sitting on

  the steps, bewildered and catching his breath.

  

  "Mulder," she began, aware of the sarcasm that came from her

  lips, trying not to sound patronizing, "that dove probably got into

  the museum the same way that it just got out.  I'm sure it was

  just an odd coincidence."

  

  His half-hearted nod was for her benefit alone as he slipped

  again into his thoughts, one arm crossed in front of him

  providing stability for the other, as his thumb tapped

  contemplative beats just above his upper lip.

  

  Scully waited for these captured moments, when all his

  surroundings faded as he slipped into his private abyss.  These

  were the times that she allowed herself to look at him.  Focusing

  on each feature one by one, adding it to the collection of mental

  images she had accumulated over the years.  She was captured

  first by his brilliant mind, but to say that his fit and supple body

  and handsome face had not intensified the desire she had for him

  would be a gross understatement.

  

  For Fox Mulder was a desirable man.  She alone knew of the

  countless nights in the darkness wanting desperately to go to

  him, longing to feel his body pressed up against her, his breath

  sending shivers through her body as it slid like satin over her

  skin.  The thought of his kiss intrigued and excited her.  Would it

  be sweet and gentle as a whisper on her lips, or breathless and

  passionate stirring the fire inside her until it consumed them

  both?  Lost in the reverie of Mulder's kiss, she jumped at the

  startling reality of his hand covering hers.

  

  "Are you ok, Scully?" 

  

  "Huh?" she answered, unable to quickly compose anything else.

  

  "Are you feeling ok?  You're a little flushed."  Mulder placed a

  tender hand on her forehead and reported that she did not have a

  fever.

  

  "I'm fine, Mulder.  I think I 'm just hungry." she lied.  "It's a

  nice day, how about we have lunch at the park before we go back

  to the office.  We can discuss the case further there."

  

  Mulder smiled at the thought of a spring picnic with Scully. 

  "Does an iced tea go with that offer Miss. Scully?"

  

  "It's Agent, and you may have whatever you would like you're

  buying!" she flashed him a quick but sarcastic smile, and was on

  her way down the steps to the car.

  

  He sat for a brief moment pondering her retort, and then with the

  urgency of a schoolboy, bounded down the steps behind her two

  at a time.

  

  --Apartment 42 

  Friday 6:05 pm

  

  The fading sun blazed through the window in an almost eerie

  glow as Mulder came in, his arms heavy with case files and thick

  hardcover books from the Bureau.  After their short picnic of

  hotdogs and soft drinks he had never known Dana Scully to eat

  hot dogs, she must have been hungry she took the copies of the

  surveillance tapes to the visual experts at the crime lab.  Mulder

  had searched for every possible reference to the goddess

  Aphrodite in past case files, the extensive Bureau library, and

  had even managed to find some rather interesting sites on the

  Internet.

       

  He had found nothing conclusive to support his theory regarding

  the dove, but decided to go over the material again, alone with a

  pint of Lo Mein.  The pile of references hit the coffee table with

  a thud, and he threw his jacket over the back of the chair

  proceeding to the kitchen for a fork and hopefully a drink from

  his barren refrigerator.

       

  Scully had left the office before him on her way to meet a

  professor at The University of Maryland who specialized in

  ancient cultures, and reported on her way out what they had

  already known.  The visual enhancement gurus found no more

  on the tapes than could be seen at the initial viewing this

  morning.  The only lead they had was the dove, and even Mulder

  knew it was a stretch.

       

  It had been almost an hour now, and the deepening purple sky

  indicated that the sun was in the final stages of its departure. 

  With an aggravated sigh he sank back into the sofa to rest his

  tired back, his arms flaccid by his sides and his head leaning

  back enough to rest his neck in the soft support of the cushion.  

  His heavy eyelids closed for what was only to be a moment, and

  he sat unmoving in the silence of the sounds around him.  He

  focused on the low hum of the aquarium filter almost drowning

  out a light scrape as something brushed against his window.  His

  neighbor next door dropped what sounded like a bowling ball on

  apparently his foot by the flood of obscenities that followed. 

  Mulder couldn't help the slight smile that formed on his face at

  the thought of the man hopping around and swearing.  He didn't

  wish for the man to be seriously hurt, it was just that he didn't

  particularly care for the man.  He was condescending and

  uncouth, and apartment walls being what they were, horribly

  cruel to his wife on many occasions.  Served the bastard right for

  a change.  As far as he knew the man had never been physically

  abusive, but as Mulder knew from his own parents, sometimes

  the mental abuse and emotional stress that one partner causes for

  another can be even more damaging. 

       

  While Mulder analyzed the probability of eventual punishment

  of evil, it occurred to him that the odd scratching was still at his

  window.  He opened his eyes to see what could be making the

  odd sound, unprepared for what awaited him.  

       

  A small white dove was perched on the ledge outside in the

  fading shadows of dusk, lightly scratching at the frame.  Logic

  told him that it was foolish to believe that this small feathered

  creature could be the same one he had seen earlier today,

  however, Mulder being quite illogical by nature, knew that this

  may be the only chance he would ever get to substantiate his

  theory.  Afraid to startle the bird to flight, he slowly and

  carefully opened the window and was amazed to see the delicate

  wings flutter gracefully through the opening and land quietly on

  the sofa.  He turned to again lock the window, but upon feeling

  the cool spring breeze drift past him into the stagnant apartment

  decided against it in favor of opening another.

       

  That task accomplished, he set out to discover the secrets of this

  dove, only to marvel at the site before him as he turned to go

  back to his mountain of research.  On his sofa now was the most

  beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.  She just sat there

  reading through his files; quite intrigued, quite elegant, and quite

  naked if not for the flowing rose colored silk wrap that

  strategically seemed to cover her more private parts.  Her hair

  cascaded in blonde curls over her bronze skin to her hips, though

  it hardly hid the roundness of her bare breasts.

       

  Mulder fell back against his desk in awe, his hand managing to

  catch a stack of papers sending them flying as if blown by a

  tremendous wind.  The commotion drew the attention of the

  beautiful stranger who turned to look at him with a smile of

  amusement.

       

  "You seem surprised Fox William," she spoke.  "Surely you

  knew I would come to you."

       

  "I guess I've grown accustomed to the traditional knock on the

  door more so than beautiful women flying through my window

  masquerading as a dove."  He tried to keep his sharp wit, but

  standing here in front of this woman, this goddess, left him

  uncharacteristically speechless.  

       

  "I've been watching you for a very long time Fox."  Rising as

  gracefully as she had entered, she approached him with slow

  determined steps.  Her wrap was pulled around her, the flowing

  silk enhancing every curve, and her hair shone as if it were

  reflecting the sun.  There was a fire in her emerald eyes that

  burned with truth, mesmerizing him in her gaze.

       

  She touched his cheek with the palm of her hand and gently

  stroked his skin with her thumb.  "Poor Fox.  So much pain."

  was all she said.

       

  He felt his eyes growing heavy, unsure if it was just exhaustion

  from a long day or if it was the loving touch of the goddess. 

  Remembering his duty to this case, he deftly took her hand in his

  own and willed his eyes to open, seeing the unshed tears that

  filled her eyes.

       

  She twisted her hand in his grasp and laced her fingers with his,

  while taking his other hand and doing the same.  He stood

  unmoving but receptive to her observation and confession of his

  heart to which he had locked away long ago.

       

  "Fox, if we deny love that is given to us and refuse to give love

  because we fear pain or loss, our lives will be empty.  That is the

  greater loss."  

       

  Finding his voice, his response came as a broken whisper.  "Love

  is no stranger to me."  He breathed a sigh of despair as he

  released her hands and stared out the window looking into the

  darkness that had now settled again over his world.  "However, it

  has never quite been a friend."

       

  "No, it hasn't." she agreed.  "However, you must realize that

  love, as with life is a lesson to be learned from and cherished.  I

  only wish I could have spared you the heartache of Phoebe.  I

  tried to dissuade you, but you were quite determined back then. 

  Though her love was strong, it was not what was chosen for

  you."  

       

  Mulder's head snapped to full attention at the sound of that

  name, a name that had haunted him for a very long time. 

  "Phoebe was capable of many things, but I can assure you that

  love was not one of them."

       

  Her eyes soothed him with their compassion as she continued her

  tale.  "Quite the contrary Fox, Phoebe was quite consumed by

  you.  I believe to some extent she still is today.  It was I that

  interceded there."  She again gently took his hand and led him to

  the sofa to attempt the explanation that he so desperately

  searched for.  "Centuries ago, in the age of the poets, mortals like

  yourself discovered our existence and unable to understand our

  purpose, presumed us all powerful and in control of the universe. 

  And so, the gods and goddesses were born.  Though it is true that

  the world is guided and ultimately controlled by a Supreme

  Power, we are more like muses of nature and mankind.  We do

  not control things, only manipulate them a little to the greater

  good of all."

       

  It was now Mulder who was on the side of the skeptics; however,

  he could offer no logical explanation.  "And you manipulated

  Phoebe."

       

  "I'm afraid so," she confessed with her eyes revealing sadness

  that Mulder felt must have been caused by such an action on her

  part.  "She was not the one that was chosen for you, but I did not

  intend for it to be so devastating."

       

  The silence was deafening as she gave him some time alone in

  his thoughts to quietly reflect on the relationship that had scarred

  him so long ago.  Phoebe had left him hardened to the prospect

  of love and as a result, he kept a certain part of himself distanced

  and safe in every relationship.  However, that was before his

  little red headed spy came to him and he learned that love was

  indeed possible, though for now it only inhabited his dreams. 

       

  "There is much I have to tell you Fox," she said, "so much for

  you to learn.  I am here to tell you all you desire to know."

       

  The look in her eyes that accompanied her words was like

  electricity in his veins.  He did not have to question how she

  knew his desires, for there was no doubt that she saw through his

  carefully created facade into the truth in his heart.   Desperately

  seeking an escape he thought of the two remaining bottles of

  beer in the refrigerator and excused himself to retrieve a much

  needed drink, if only because the beckoning ale was degrees

  cooler than his body temperature.

       

  He remembered his manners as he stumbled clumsily toward the

  kitchen, unsure of what he could possible offer a goddess.  "Can

  I get you anything or  anything?" he asked.  Once again he

  received that beautiful smile and she lazily shook her head

  declining his offer.  He nodded his response and turned the

  corner and walked into the welcoming kitchen in to compose

  himself.

       

  Her intentions formulated long before her arrival, she carefully

  slid his cell phone from the pocket of his suit jacket laid

  haphazardly on the arm of the sofa.  Her long, thin fingers

  carefully pushed the well-worn buttons and she listened to the

  methodical ringing until the anticipated answer of "Scully "

       

             xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

       

  --Scully's Apartment-- 

  Friday 7:20 pm

       

  The last of the remaining water drained from the tub in a

  symphony of sloshes as she roughly shook the water from her

  auburn hair with the towel.  Pulling her robe tighter around her,

  she turned off the light and lazily drifted to her bedroom and

  dressed in her favorite pajamas that had been given to her by Bill

  and Tara last year for Christmas.  Dreamily lethargic, she sat on

  the bed with her legs folded in front of her pulling the brush

  through her slick, wet hair.

       

  Her cell phone was on the fourth ring before she finally resolved

  to answer the intrusion.  "Scully "

       

  Her greeting was answered with empty silence, though she could

  tell that someone was on the line.  "Hello?"

       

  She started to end the connection when she suddenly

  remembered a drugged and vulnerable Mulder once calling for

  help and her mistaking it for a prank call.  "Mulder?"

       

  Again there was silence.  "Mulder is that you?"

       

  A loud thud interrupted the uneasy silence, shortly followed by

  several clicks and the hum of a lonely dial tone.  She dialed the

  programmed number to his cell phone without hesitation only to

  hear that he must be outside the calling area or once again had

  not charged his battery.   She was almost certain that it had to be

  Mulder that called, but she was unsure where he was.  So, since

  logic suggested that he was most likely home, she again pushed

  familiar buttons and waited for the rings that did not come. 

  Instead she listened as the unfamiliar voice of a recording told

  her that the number had been temporarily disconnected.

  

  The uneasiness in her stomach grew until the steady beat of her

  pounding heart echoed in her ears and she had the terrible feeling

  that something was wrong.  So, she quickly traded her light blue

  pajamas for jeans and a white t-shirt, her small hands

  feeling slow and inept as she struggled with the laces of her

  running shoes.  After scooping up her keys from their usual spot

  on the entry table, gun holstered under her jacket, she cursed

  under her breath at her lack of dexterity as she fumbled now with

  the locks on the door.  The air was thick and thunder threatened

  in the distance as she jumped in her car with the pounding of her

  heart in her ears and silent prayers uttered to heaven that she

  wasn't too late.

  

  --Apartment 42--  

  Friday 7:45pm

  

  His cell phone hit the coffee table with a dull thud as he

  continued his walk on the invisible path through the small

  apartment.  "Dammit!  It's not like Scully to not answer her cell

  phone."  A moment later he added, "Me maybe, but not her."  He

  had attempted to call her house as well, but had only reached the

  answering machine.  Feeling a little more comfortable now with

  his guest, he was anxious to share the discovery with Scully.

  

  "Fox, don't worry.  I'm not going anywhere just yet, and I am

  looking forward to meeting her."  Mulder missed the devious

  flash in her captivating eyes, not yet aware of her intentions. 

  "She's probably decided to wash up before it storms and is in the

  shower as we speak."

  

  Silently he responded that Scully did not take showers most of

  the time, she enjoyed baths.  That was enough for the visions to

  invade his aroused mind.  He could see her leaning back, low in

  the deep tub, her auburn hair piled high on her head in rich

  contract to the fluffy white bubbles at the level of her shoulders. 

  Her eyes were closed as the sound of Mozart washed away the

  tension from her mind and he desired nothing more than to join

  her at the side and wash away the tension from the rest of her

  shapely body.  However, what he voiced as he pulled himself

  away again from his fantasy was, "They weren't calling for

  storms tonight."  

  

  "No they weren't.  Not until I got here that is."  She rose from

  the couch and tossed her hair in a triumphant flip behind her

  shoulder, exposing one round breast behind the sheer material of

  her wrap.  "Zeus is mistaken to believe that I can be impressed

  like a common mortal girl."

  

  His breath caught in his throat as she sauntered toward him as if

  approaching her prey, and he tried desperately to focus his eyes

  on hers and not on the smooth skin that taunted him.  His neck

  tingled as her breath drifted across his skin, only inches away,

  and he felt lost in the expanse of the room, as she slowly ran her

  hand down the length of his arm.  Upon reaching his hand, she

  took it in her own and slowly and methodically raised it until his

  palm met the warmth of her breast.  The sensation was dizzying

  as she slowly cupped his hand around the soft mound.  A small

  cry escaped him as he began to drown in the greatness of his

  need.  

  

  He fought to control the urge that coursed through his body and

  gently removed his hand and stepped back, his eyes remaining

  closed to block out the sight of the desirable woman before him.  

  

  "I'm sorry," he stammered, "But I can't."

  

  A pleased smile formed at the corners of her mouth, "Your heart

  belongs to another doesn't it Fox?"

  

  Not waiting for his answer she returned to the sofa.  "The storm

  will be here soon, why don't you go shower too." she almost

  purred.

  

  Still unable to find his voice, he nodded his agreement to her

  suggestion and retreated to the bathroom, convinced that tonight

  he would be unable to stop his usual fantasy, as it would again

  play out in the hot stream of his desires.

                 

                         xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  

  Her green eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she watched him

  practically run from her presence to seek sanctuary behind the

  closed door beyond.  So far everything was falling perfectly in

  place and he had reacted to her advances just the way she had

  hoped.  Her test had been unknowingly passed as he resisted the

  temptations of his flesh holding true to the unspoken love that

  she knew was in his heart.  She could hear the faint sound of the

  shower as it started down the hall and felt herself sinking into her

  transformation, her skin already fading into a soft shade of

  porcelain white.  She went to the front door and opened it

  slightly, just enough to be noticeably ajar, before following his

  path down the hallway.

  

                         xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  

  The shower wall felt almost icy against his feverish body as he

  leaned back and closed his eyes, willing his need to subside.  But

  the images of Scully would not leave him, and he was lost again

  in his desire for her so much that he didn't hear the latch of the

  door.

  

  Having left her wrap outside, she padded quietly toward the

  closed curtain stopping only for a moment to admire the auburn

  hair in the mist-covered mirror.  Pleased with the likeness, she

  carefully slid the curtain to the side, allowing a cloud of steam to

  escape with its absence.

  

  As he was still unaware of her presence, she took a moment to

  observe him, his body and spirit naked before her.  His pained

  expression and slumped stature revealed his inward despair, and

  she wasn't sure if the streams falling down his flushed cheeks

  were from his closed eyes or from the pelting flow above him. 

  

  Through the course of her time and her role in the universe, she

  had never before been so drawn to a man or wanted so much for

  his happiness.  His despair ignited her compassion and she set

  about to make things right with a newfound determination,

  secretly wishing she were able to foresee the outcome of her

  elaborate scheme.

  

                           xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  

  The touch of her hand against his chest was so soft that he

  disregarded it at first as a trick of his imagination, but the

  unmistakable feel of her lips pressing soft kisses to his dampened

  chest startled him out of his dream and into the reality of his

  fantasy.  With a startled jolt he grabbed the hands that rested at

  his shoulders and forced the intruder back slightly, expecting to

  look into the green eyes of his goddess, unprepared for the blue

  eyes of his Scully.

  

  Amazed at the incredible sight before him, and too exhilarated to

  question, he pulled her tightly against him, her name barely more

  than a breath escaping from his lips.  The feeling of their bodies

  entwined together was intoxicating, and his need for her quickly

  became an insatiable hunger.  His hands caressed her wet skin as

  her kisses moved slowly down his chest to his stomach, and he

  felt his body shake with anticipation.  

  

  The sensation overtook him in a wave of electricity, and his

  knees almost buckled under the intensity.  Unable to be silent

  any longer as he drowned in this passionate sea, he cried out

  "Scully!"

  

                          xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  

  Dana Scully pulled her car in front of the familiar apartment

  building and slammed the gear into park, not even waiting for

  the car to settle as she jumped out slamming the door behind her. 

  After entering the building, she ran up the stairs two at a time,

  not willing to risk a second by waiting for the elevator.

   

  Upon reaching his floor she cautiously ran down the corridor,

  gun drawn, and fear filled her heart as she looked at his

  apartment door resting slightly ajar.  

  

  Conditioned by her years in the F.B.I., she abruptly kicked the

  door the rest of the way open and jumped back to shield herself

  behind the adjoining wall.  When greeted only by silence from

  the shadows beyond, she carefully entered and closed the door

  tightly behind her.  She noticed that there appeared to be no signs

  of a struggle and his car had been parked outside, but he had not

  answered either phone on her continuous attempts to reach him

  during her drive here.

  

  After a few seconds she heard the distinctive sound of the

  shower down the hall.  Immediately irritated at his

  unresponsiveness to two ringing phones and her own foolish race

  for nothing, she shoved her weapon back into its holster and

  turned on her heel to leave hoping to save herself further

  embarrassment.  Her hand reached for the doorknob only to

  freeze as if icy fingers touched her back as she heard him cry for

  her from the distant room.  Without a moments hesitation she

  was running down the hall toward his cry of "Scully!"

  

  She again drew her gun in preparation for whatever threat may

  lie ahead and threw open the bathroom door.  "Mulder?" 

  

  Fox Mulder's eyes opened instantly at the recognition of Scully's

  voice outside the curtain and he looked down in disbelief at the

  woman he held in his arms and the soft green eyes that met his

  own.  Suddenly unable to breath in the hot, moist air that

  surrounded him, he pushed her away as his mind spun out of

  control, trying to quickly ascertain what had happened and with

  those answers form some logical explanation as to what was

  happening here. Unsure of what else to do, he peered through a

  small opening in the curtain just to be sure that she really was

  there.

   

  Her gun lowered slowly as her expression struggled somewhere

  between confusion and sadness, initially at his shocked face

  peering through at her and even more so at the revelation of the

  blonde haired woman who looked out behind him.  Her eyes fell

  to the tile floor beneath her, unable to meet his again.

  

  "I'm sorry," she whispered softly, the knot in her throat

  making it impossible for her to speak.  She left the small room

  closing the door closed behind her and moved down the hallway

  to escape her embarrassment and the heartbreak that crept around

  her.  Unable to feel her legs carry her or her arms as they felt

  along the wall to steady her, her vision started to close in to a

  tunnel of black and she detoured her retreat to sink into his sofa

  in an attempt to regain her composure.  She leaned forward

  slightly with her elbows resting on her knees trying to force air

  into her lungs, as her gun still rested in her numb hands.  She

  tried to focus on the pattern of his worn carpet but soon she

  could no longer see because of the tears that burned her eyes. 

  Feeling foolish for rushing to his rescue when he obviously was

  trying to avoid interruption, and even more foolish for her

  jealousy and tears, she wanted so badly to leave, but her shaking

  body would not comply. 

  

                              xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  

  "Damn!" he cursed out loud and hurried to rinse off the soap that

  moments before had been massaged on his skin with lingering

  and attentive hands, then turned off the water to end this fantasy

  turned nightmare.  

  Placing a caring hand on his arm in an effort to calm him as she

  watched her well thought out plan begin to unravel, she tried to

  explain.  "Fox," she began, but he quickly silenced her and

  pulled his arm away from her grasp.

  

  "What the hell were you doing?" he almost hissed at her, his

  eyes mixed with anger and pain,  "Where do you get off playing

  with people?"  He slid the curtain open and reached past her for

  the towel he had left on the edge of the sink.

  

  "You don't understand." she tried again to explain, knowing that

  his pain was so much greater than his anger.

  

  "I understand all I need to," remembering her confession about

  Phoebe as he quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, the

  water still running down his body from his wet hair, unwilling to

  risk Scully getting too far away before he could catch her.

  "Haven't you done enough to hurt me for one lifetime?" and he

  was out the door without giving her a chance to respond.  He

  didn't know what he could offer as an explanation for what had

  happened.  To lie made him the perverted scoundrel that

  everyone perceived him to be, and to tell the truth forced his

  admission to Scully of his feelings for her.

  

  He ran into the living room planning to call to her from the

  window, hoping she was still in sight, and was completely

  unprepared for the sight of her sitting on his couch, and crying. 

  Her tears were silent, though the site of her tears spoke to him

  louder than if she were yelling, and he knelt in front of her and

  removed the forgotten weapon from her hands.

  

  "Scully?" he spoke softly and lowered his head trying to look

  into her eyes, but her head remained down focused on the floor,

  unable or unwilling to look at him.  He took her hands in his own

  and he pleaded again.  "Scully, please look at me." he begged

  releasing only one hand and gently lifting her chin to force her to

  face him.  

  

  She pulled her other hand from his grasp and quickly wiped the

  tears away that streamed down her cheeks, reddened by crying

  and embarrassment, but he had already seen them.  "Mulder,"

  she started, unsure where to begin, "I'm sorry for just coming

  over, and I am terribly sorry that I you know back there." she

  finished unable to speak the words to recapture what had

  happened only minutes before.  "It's just that I tried to call you

  back after you called me, and you didn't answer your cell phone,

  and you didn't answer your phone here, and I just thought

  that well, in any case I was obviously wrong.  I'll be leaving

  now."  She forced her weakened legs to move and carry her

  towards the door, wishing only to end this humiliation afraid to

  yet consider how she would again face him on Monday.

  

  "Scully, I didn't call you." he stated, now even more confused at

  all that was happening this evening.

  

  "It's ok, Mulder," she answered not daring to look back, "you

  must have hit my number by accident when you turned your

  phone off, that would obviously explain why you didn't answer

  when I called you back.  Like I said, no problem.  I'll see you

  Monday." 

  

  Her hand was already opening the door as he ran over and pulled

  his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket still resting on the

  arm of the sofa.  "Scully, my cell phone is still on." he held it up

  for her to see even though her back was still to him.  "And, it

  doesn't say that I've missed any calls."

  Scully noisily expelled a deep breath, "Mulder, just drop it ok.

  I'll see you Monday." and with a nonchalant wave of her hand

  she added, " Carry on."

  

  "But, Scully, I didn't call you." he said the exasperation apparent

  in his voice.  Didn't she believe him?

  

  In the aftermath of all that had just happened, why did he think

  that she gave a damn about his government issued cell phone. 

  Typical Mulder, so concerned about the truth and the facts that

  he misses the obvious right in front of his face which in this case

  was her and how deeply she cared for him.  Was he really so

  naive to life and affairs of the heart that he thought her tears were

  only from embarrassment?  This time she turned to face him her

  irritation quickly building to anger.  "Look Mulder," she began,

  but the tall, beautiful blonde stepped from the hallway and

  interrupted her, wearing to Scully's surprise not much more than

  she had been in the shower. 

  

  "I called her." The goddess said, preparing the way to expose her

  plan.  "I knew that you would come if you thought Fox to be in

  trouble."

  

  Scully stood silent her hand still resting on the doorknob and her

  mind quickly processing this information, apparent by the

  intense look on her face.  "And who the hell are you?"  she

  quipped angrily, demanding to know this woman's objective.

  

  It was Mulder who offered the answer.  "Scully, meet Aphrodite,

  goddess of love, or at least muse of manipulation."

  

  His partner gave him a questioning look to which he only

  responded, "Scully," he lifted his hand to help better illustrate his

  tale, then lowered it again thinking before he blurted something

  out that he would regret later, "Don't even ask me right now, it's

  more complicated than I know where to start."

  

  The goddess slowly approached Scully.  "Complicated don't be

  ridiculous, it couldn't be more simple.  He wasn't with me,

  Dana, he was with you."

  

  At those words Mulder turned abruptly away from them, sighing

  a breath towards heaven and then pushing his fingers to his

  temples, his eyes closing as if lack of sight alone could block this

  scent out entirely.  This was the crossroad where his life fell

  apart, and everything decent in his life that had any worth would

  be gone, shattered by the dream of a goddess.  There was no

  saving this situation now, he cringed at the thought of her

  revelation.  No, Dana, he didn't know that it was me, it was you

  he wanted to slam up against the shower wall and screw like an

  uncontrollable animal.  Oh dear God, maybe he should just shoot

  himself now with the gun he so carefully took from her, it

  seemed a fitting end and it certainly could be no worse than

  facing Scully after his secret was known.

  

  He suddenly felt the need to be involved in this conversation, in

  fact, to take control of it.  If Scully was to find out the truth of

  what was happening earlier, than she had to know the whole

  truth that he was in love with her, and her coming to him had

  been a dream come true.  However, before he could say anymore

  his fate was sealed by his blonde intervention.

  

  "I can offer you clarity for your confusion, and give you the

  answers that your heart seeks."  she whispered in Scully's ear

  and leaned carefully down placing a gentle kiss on the smaller

  woman's brow.  

  

  The last thing she remembered was the feel of the stranger's soft

  kiss on her forehead before her mind was enveloped in a

  dizzying rush of images and thoughts.  She found herself in a

  shower leaning against the cold tile wall, sharp in contrast to the

  hot water that danced over her skin.  There was a slight rustle of

  the shower curtain to her left and she could somehow sense the

  presence of someone.  Her eyes remained closed to her

  surroundings until she felt the gentle touch of a hand as is trailed

  lightly down her stomach.  She reached out and forced the

  mysterious intruder into her view and gasped as she looked down

  at herself.  But how was that possible, how could she be face to

  face with wait she wasn't face to face, she was looking down at

  herself an arms length away; a very long arms length away with

  large, strong hands that held the other Scully's shoulders.  Oh my

  God, this wasn't possible, the vision unfolding before her wasn't

  hers, it was Mulder's!  

  

  She watched unable to stop the scene that flashed before her,

  able to feel every sensation as her own heart began to race.  She

  felt the kisses that lovingly traced a line down his chest, past his

  quivering stomach until she gasped from the liquid heat that

  raced through her veins through Mulder's veins.  

    

  He watched in amazement as his partner fell into some sort of

  euphoric trance, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for air. 

  Panic filled his heart watching her, unaware of what was taking

  place, seeing her pain as her body writhed and tensed with

  enough force to close the door that she still leaned on.  Then it

  occurred to him that it was not pain that coursed through her

  body but ecstasy, and he grew angry with himself for the arousal

  that started to grow within him at the sight of her.

  

  As quickly as it had begun it ended and Scully gasped back to

  consciousness, her eyes open wildly taking in her surroundings,

  her breathing still fast and unsteady.  Confused and disoriented

  she looked from the goddess to Mulder and then back to the

  goddess again, unsure of what to say, her mind searching for an

  explanation that she already knew.

  

  The strange woman took her into her arms to soothe her, "I told

  you Dana, he was with you."  She held Scully for a few moments

  more until her shaking stopped, ignoring the terrified and

  anticipating look on Mulder's face.  When she had given Scully

  enough time to compose herself, she took her hand and led her

  like a child to where her partner waited on the brink of fear and

  desire.

  

  "Scully, I " he began but stopped short unsure of what to say.

  

  "It's ok, Fox," Aphrodite smiled, "she already knows."

  

  She took Scully's small hand and placed it in Mulder's, holding

  them together with her own until she had completed her task. 

  "Fox, I told you there was much for you to learn, and much for

  me to tell you.  The answers you both seek can be found in one

  kiss." and with those final words she nudged him closer to his

  partner.

  

  He stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity, searching

  her face for an indication of what she was thinking in response to

  all she had just learned.  Slowly and carefully, he leaned down to

  her, his eyes never leaving hers, allowing her enough time and

  room for escape.  

  

  It started with a soft kiss, a mere brush of their lips together, each

  one touching and tasting the other.  She shivered at his touch and

  his passion climbed with each barely audible moan that escaped

  her warm, moist lips until he pulled her tightly into his arms

  tangling his fingers in her auburn hair.  She hungrily accepted his

  tongue as it explored her slightly open mouth and they were lost

  in the power of this kiss, the final act of the goddess' plan.

  

  An unexplainable surge of energy filled their bodies, forcing

  their mouths apart as they cried out from the intensity, and much

  like Scully's encounter a few minutes before, they found

  themselves lost in visions and memories that were not their own. 

  The scenes rapidly passed before them as they each heard the

  voice of the other echoing secret thoughts and desires of the last

  seven years. 

  

  Mulder could see his partner in his office the day they met.  "The

  answer is there, YOU just have to know where to look for it!"

  she had said with conviction.  But what he hadn't seen was the

  exhilarated smile of a schoolgirl as he turned away from her as

  she delighted in the banter, having held her ground with him,

  intrigued by his brilliance and quite taken with his good looks

  and witty charm. He remembered his words "Do you believe in

  the existence of extraterrestrials?" if he had only known then that

  he had caused her heart to skip a beat with his sultry cynicism.

  

  He saw her again as she came to his room in the dark of the

  storm, her fear far outweighing her modesty.  She had been too

  afraid in those moments to see the way he looked at her as she

  dropped the robe that covered her body, or consider the thoughts

  that were stirred in him at the site of her.  And she, unaware of

  his desire, had thrown herself into his un-expectant arms, too

  relieved to notice the pleasure of the moment reflected on his

  face.

  

  She remembered a restaurant in a small town where he had

  gently wiped something from her mouth, and now she saw

  herself in the same beauty that had captured his heart at that

  moment.

  

  For the first time she saw his desperate search for her after the

  abduction.  She knew that he had searched for her but was

  unaware that it was at the sacrifice of sleep and other

  assignments nor did she know that her cross had hung around his

  neck as a constant reminder of the love that grew in his heart. 

  She had never known that his pain had been so great or his

  determination so strong.

  

  The memories flooded their minds faster and faster as passing

  glances, innocent touches, and random thoughts and words

  flashed between them.  The relived near kisses and growing

  desire that had been a very real part of the last seven years, but

  more than that was the deep rooted love that had blossomed long

  ago.

  

  The most powerful scene came when Scully saw herself pale and

  near death, asleep from exhaustion in the hospital during the

  final stages of her cancer treatment.  The memories of that time

  in her life were painfully enough, and were now intensified by a

  broken Mulder kneeling at her bedside, pure agony escaping his

  body in sobs that shook his body.   

  

  The emotions from this last and most powerful memory came

  crashing down upon them with enough force to return them to

  the present and to the moment at hand. He looked down at the

  face that was as familiar to him as his own having studied every

  detail over the years.  The tears that slid down her cheeks were

  brushed away by his loving hand, even as his own tears joined in

  the release.

  

  It was he that spoke first.  "Scully Dana, I've loved you since

  the first moment I saw you, maybe even before."  His hands

  lightly cupped her face, needing to see her expression as he said

  the words he had silenced for so long.  "You gave my life

  meaning and rescued me from the darkness that surrounded me,

  and I love you more than any words can possibly express."

  

  "I already know the words," she smiled at him through the tears

  that still glistened in her eyes.  "Thanks to where did she go?"

  

  They scanned the room and saw the open window, the obvious

  origin of her departure.  Having finished the work she had set

  about to do, her exit was as mysterious as her entrance.  The only

  evidence that she had been there at all, besides their encounter,

  was a perfect white rosebud that lay on the outside windowsill as

  he went to close it.  He picked it up and turned it slowly in his

  fingers studying its flawless beauty, a smile slowly growing at

  the corners of his mouth.

  

  He returned to where she waited for him and offered her the

  souvenir, "Here, Scully, a little bird told me this was for you." 

  His words were sealed with a chivalrous kiss to her hand, to

  which she responded with a shy smile that melted his heart.

  

  "Scully, we should talk." he said, again turning serious.  "How

  about we go get something to eat. Are you hungry?"

  

  "How about coffee?" she replied.  "I'm still working on a hotdog

  from lunch."

  

  "Fair enough, coffee it is."

  

  "And, Mulder, you may want to change into something a little

  more appropriate for public viewing." she suggested jokingly, as

  they both looked down at the towel still wrapped around his

  waist. 

  

  He shook his head in agreement, a slight chuckle escaping him,

  and turned back down the hallway to dress.  "Not that I mind the

  view." she called after him.

  

  Stunned at the frankness of her words, he stopped and turned to

  face her, a devilish smile on his handsome face.  "Oh yeah?  You

  think this is good, just wait 'til later!"

  

  With that he turned quickly on his heel and headed again towards

  his room, her face quickly deepening more to the color of her

  hair.

  

                         xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  

   -- Office of A.D. Walter Skinner, F.B.I. Headquarters --

  Monday 11:40 am

  

  "So Agents, I am to understand by your reports that there was no

  case here, despite the eyewitness accounts that a painting was

  "altered" with apparent explanation?"

  

  "Not that we can find, Sir."  Mulder answered.  "The painting

  remains intact on the far wall of the West Wing and the museum

  officials have verified its authenticity.  We met with Mr. Collins

  yesterday afternoon after he called me and checked it out for

  ourselves."

  

  "Was it or was it not the same painting that you saw Friday,

  Agent Mulder?"  Skinner's eyes carefully scrutinized the two

  agents as he waited for a response.

  

  It was Scully who spoke this time.  "It was in fact slightly

  different than when we saw it initially the other day, however, it

  does perfectly match the photograph in Mr. Collins' file.  

  

  They sat in silence as their stern superior scanned the reports

  again.  "So it is your findings that this was an orchestrated

  scheme by someone in the curator's office?"

  

  "We don't know who orchestrated this, or how for that matter,"

  Mulder answered, "but, it was most certainly a hoax.  A practical

  joke possibly if you will."

  

  Skinner looked from partner to partner, watching closely as

  Scully's eyes darted from making contact with his on each pass. 

  "You concur with these findings, Agent Scully?"

  

  Her eyes shot up and locked with the Assistant Directors', aware

  of the same tell tale signs of lying that he was searching for. 

  "Yes, Sir. It's all been documented in my report."

  

  He sat in silence, his eyes still locked with hers, and she dared

  not even blink under his assessment of her and the situation, for

  fear that he would question the validity of her statements.  She

  had decided with Mulder that same night what must be told, both

  for the integrity of their mental stability as well as for their

  secrecy.

  

  "Very well." he concluded.  "That will be all."  Not waiting for

  any further discussion he picked up the receiver of his phone and

  began dialing, moving on to the next issue at hand as a very

  relieved Mulder and Scully left the office.  

  

  Skinner watched as Mulder's hand lingered slightly longer than

  usual at his partner's lower back, followed a second later by the

  closing of the door.  At the tone the time will be 11:57

  and echoed from the phone as he returned the receiver to its

  cradle he worked to piece together the truth.  Much to his delight

  and alarm, it was easily to determine the outcome.  In a world

  where the walls didn't have ears and evil didn't lurk around

  every turn, he knew that they were meant for each other.  But in

  this world their new found relationship could cost them their

  lives, and he knew that he would have to protect them now more

  than ever before.

  

                               xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  

  "So, do you think he knows?" Scully asked as they proceeded

  down the busy hallway.

  

  "How could he possibly know anything, now look who's being

  paranoid!" was his response, but secretly he harbored the same

  fear.

  

  "I'm hungry, Mulder, what do you want for lunch?"  The look he

  responded with was practically evil and purely of lust.  "Sorry I

  asked!" she said sheepishly as they reached the elevators.

  

  "I need to run pick something up at the lab, I'll catch up with you

  in a minute." he said as the doors open and she stepped inside. 

  She nodded but her eyes were on a far off place, a faint smile on

  her beautiful face.

  

  "Hey, Scully, a penny for your thoughts." and her eyes found his

  as her smile spread as it grew from her heart.  "Oh yeah, that's

  right.  I already have them." he smiled back, just before the doors

  closed.

  

  

       Fin