Okay, this is my first attempt at fanfic, even though it's not the first
thing I've posted. so please give me lots of feedback.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, they never will be mine, but I'm borrowing
them for a while. I really don't think they'll mind. But, CC, 10-13, Fox
etc: I'm a poor student. What can you do? Confiscate my overdraft?

Title: The Files
Archives: If you want to, feel free
Summary: Scully discovers something unexpected
Rating: PG: not much to beware of - a little swearing, a little innuendo
Type: MSR - relationshippers forever!

The Files

  "Damn," came the voice from across the office. Agent Scully smiled to
herself, careful not to let her amusement show on her face, and looked up at
her partner.
  "'Puter problems?" she asked. A rueful look was the only reply from the
man behind the other desk in the crowded basement room. Scully took a moment
to compare the two halves of the office, the lines of territory as obvious
as if chalk had been drawn on the floor. One half was neat, tidy, and seemed
as airy as any place could, being two levels below ground. The other....
  "Well," said the lanky, dark-haired man, "you could say that." Scully
found it very difficult to restrain her grin as she stood and picked her way
across the detritus that littered the floor. She paused behind the man in
the other chair, who didn't look up at her. His attention was fixed on the
screen and the message displayed there.
  "Access denied?" he asked, exasperated. "*denied?* I'll give you 'denied',
you overgrown pocket calculator..." Scully shook her head at his impatience,
glancing down at his tousled hair. Always tidy when he arrived at work,
always a complete mess within an hour, where he'd run his fingers through it
repeatedly. The urge to tidy it out, smooth it down, was so strong... but
no. That was *definitely* off limits.
  "Mulder, the only way this can be if you locked it off yourself. You're the
only one to use this computer, remember. I mean, everyone's afraid to come
down here anyway... let alone touch your keyboard." That's assuming they
could find it under all the junk on your desk, she mentally added to
herself. No, she continued - if they could find the *desk*.
  "The files were here yesterday, Scully." He sounded aggrieved that the
computer didn't keep track of it all for him. "And I'm supposed to be seeing
Skinner in a few minutes for my annual review. I think it's going to be one
of those days. No, actually, it already is."
  "You don't need the files for Skinner, do you?" Scully asked, worried. It
would be just like Mulder to leave them to the last minute. But he shook his
head with exaggerated relief. "Thankfully no. But I do need them before too
long or I'll have to retype the last week's worth of paperwork." He gave her
a look; what she privately called his 'whipped-puppy-dog expression'. And
the most annoting thing about it was that he never realised what effect it
had on her. Or any other female between 9 and 90, for that matter...
  "No... I can't..." she started to say, before he gave her a look of
injured innocence, mixed with pleading. "Please, Scully? I know I said I
wouldn't ask again, but any chance you could figure it out for me? I just
can't get the hang of computers... it doesn't like me." She almost laughed.
Almost. But the look on her face was enough for Mulder to know that he'd won.
  "Thanks, Scully. I really appreciate it." She sighed as he stood up and
shrugged himself into his jacket. Why do I let myself be conned into this
*every* time? she asked herself. He turned to face her as she slipped into
his still-warm chair.
  "Okay, I don't know how long I'm gonna be, so..." She raised an eyebrow.
"Mulder, I do know how to lock up, you know. No problem. But I do need to
know a couple of things..." He paused in his rush towards the door.
  "Yeah?"
  "What passwords might you have used? Even old ones?" Mulder gave her a
slightly sheepish grin before admitting that he really wasn't sure. Scully
raised her eyes to heaven - ignoring for the moment that she was
underground, not even including the several solid stories of the J. Edgar
Hoover Building above the surface - before fixing them on him. Even Mulder
quailed at the look in her eye.
  He scribbled on a scrap of paper before heading out again, pausing yet
again when she asked oh-so-sweetly, "Sure there's nothing unsuitable for my
innocence in here, Mulder? Nothing that'll ruin my sunny disposition?" He
grinned at her as she looked down at the paper - SAMANTHA, TRUSTNO1 and
MOM-JEAN. Why bother having them at all, if they were that obvious?
  "Don't worry, I hid the hard-core stuff on a back-up... not that I don't
trust you..." With a final smile, he vanished from sight, closing the door
carefully behind him. Scully smiled to herself, removing her glasses and
rubbing her eyes. The strange thing was, she knew he was joking. She really
couldn't think of anything, any detail, that he wouldn't share with her in
an instant if she asked. Or anything she wouldn't tell him.. (yeah, right,
Dana. get real. you'll never tell him that, will you?) (listen, we're
friends. that's all we are, all we ever will be. what's secret about that?)
(that's not secret, but you'll never tell him what you *want* to be) (shut
up! we're friends. that's *all*!) With a firm decision, Scully put her
thoughts aside and turned to the computer monitor before her. First things
first.
  Half an hour later Scully was seriously regretting looking up from her
work in the first place. A professional would have found it difficult to tie
this computer into the knots that Mulder had induced by mistake. Without
even realising it. Almost by accident, Scully found herself drifting away
from the problem at hand and into a reverie. About him. Who else, she asked
herself rhetorically. It seemed that more and more these days he occupied
her thoughts, distracted her, stole her attention when she wasn't
concentrating.
  "You really have to forget about it." Scully looked up at the sound in the
otherwise silent room, taking a moment to realise she had spoken her
thoughts aloud. SHe smiled to herself, and any watcher would have been
surprised at the look on her face, a mixture of self-deprecating humour and
bittersweet regret. A mixture she herself would have been surprised to see.
  "Okay... let's see if those tricks I learnt can really work..." Scully
stood up, stretched, then carefully stepped over the boxes on the floor in
Mulder's half of the office to get to her desk. Once there, she found the
notebook she had in mind almost immediately.
  It had only been a few months since she'd attended the week-long
conference on computer crime. Mulder had claimed, with reasonable evidence,
that as he had little idea how to use his computer at all, going to an
advanced course would have been little use. It was strange how people always
assumed that Mulder was adept with what he called "that pile of sand with
delusions of grandeur." Some of it was lack of trust, but mostly just lack
of patience. He didn't even play Solitaire on it, for God's sake...
  Seating herself back down, Scully flipped through the notebook. The broad
outline of the course was as she remembered, but she wasn't gifted with
Mulder's eidetic memory. He hadn't even taken notes at the conference he'd
attended, concerning the latest generation of sociopaths in the US and
Europe. But, looking at the intricate commands laid out in her precise
script, Scully was glad she'd taken the time to go. It was going to pay off
in a most unexpected way.
  Typing slowly, Scully took almost twenty minutes to complete the series of
commands and setup routines, checking with the notebook at every step.
Finally, she was ready to access the files themselves. Glancing at her
watch, Scully decided to break for a coffee. Or for the black liquid from
the machine down the corridor that *claimed* to be coffee. She smiled to
herself. That ought to be an X-File in itself.
  Back a few minutes later, Scully moved away a few papers to leave a clear
spot, bar the odd scattered sunflower seed. Replacing her glasses, she
tapped the final few keys and watched with justifiable pride as the
directory was listed on screen. Now if she could just train Mulder to *keep*
the hard drive tidy, she thought to herself. Some chance.
  As she scanned through the various sub-directories, tidying up, deleting
as necessary - why would a man put a list of football scores in 'essential'?
- she noticed a directory of files she couldn't explain. The directory was
letrs2s, and all the files were numbered. But Mulder already had three 
separate letters files, Scully thought to herself. Why have a fourth when the 
other three covered work, personal and received? That was strange even for
her partner...
  Scully looked up, away from the computer, then back down at the screen. He
had said that he trusted her, and that there was nothing there he couldn't
see. That was more or less what he'd said, anyway... ignoring the little
voice that was telling her she really shouldn't be doing this, Scully tapped
the enter key to bring up the first file.

  Mulder sat up in the hard chair, mind suddenly miles away from the
analysis Skinner was talking about. The files... he'd never deleted them.
All those letters were still there... oh, *crap*. His thoughts were
interrupted by Skinner clearing his throat. "Sorry, Agent Mulder, something
you wanted to say?" His voice implied that there had better not be. With a
sigh, Mulder returned his attention to the files on the desk before him.

  Dana,
   It's strange how natural it is to call you that, when I know you'll never
read this. But you're not here, and I've got to be able to clear my mind.
Maybe this would work... God knows, we studied it enough at Oxford. Writing
letters that will never be sent. But I need to write this. I have to
convince myself that we'll get you back, that the maniac who's somehow in
your lover's body won't hurt you. That you're safe, that Jack is still
there, stopping him from hurting the woman he once loved. I have to believe
that - I might not have known you long, but you're the best partner I've
ever had. Not more than that, not yet. But we're starting to be friends. Now
only if I can get you back, so we can be more.

  Scully sat back in shock. She didn't know what she had expected, but this
wasn't it. Her mind flashed back to that time she had been kidnapped, taken
away by a man she thought she knew, a man she had trusted with everything.
Only to find that, in a way, it hadn't been that man at all. Jack flashed
through her thoughts for a moment, the happy memories as well as the sad.
Then he put the past aside to think about the letter... and the others that
she had not yet read. Should she? Now she knew what they were, did she have
a right to read them all? She smiled, knowing that she really couldn't *not*
read them. She tapped the keys to bring up the next one.

  I must have deleted them, thought Mulder desperately. God I hope so. But
the nagging voice in his head assured him that no, he hadn't deleted them,
and that Scully was probably reading them right this moment...

  Dana,
   They've shut us down. I've spent the last two days trying to cope with
that, but I can't. You're going back to Quantico, and I'm going to be put on
some stupid case where I can't get into trouble. Much trouble, anyway. But
the worst thing is, somehow the X-Files aren't the thing that I'm thinking
about. They're not the thing which is bothering me the most. What I'm rally
thinking, what I'm really going to miss, is you. the way we worked together.
We've become friends as well as partenrs. The first time I saw you, I asked
if you were the one they'd sent to spy on me. But you didn't - the reports
you sent were fair, most of the time. I called you Scully, not Dana, because
I wanted to keep you away, put a wall between us. Instead it's become a sign
of how close we are; almost a pet name. God, if I was to tell you that... I
don't know whether you'd burst out laughing or pull a gun on me. Both,
maybe. All I know is that despite the way we argue, you're my closest
friend. You always listen to my theories, no matter how strange they are.
You wait until I'm finished to pick holes in them, instead of just cutting
me off mid-word. And now they're splitting us up because we got too close.
It's just not fair - I'm losing you and the X-Files at the same time. The
two things I care most about in the world. And the truth is, I'm not sure
which one is more important to me.

  Once again, Scully sat back in Mulder's chair, astonished. It had felt as
if he was talking to her, finally saying the things he had kept hidden... or
tried to at least, she thought, remembering a few things he *had* said,
phrases he'd started but not finished. Things that had made her think for a
moment, before she dismissed the ideas. Maybe she had been right after all.
She moved on to the next letter, doubts about the morality of this forgotten.

  Dana,
   I keep writing these letters now. Even when there isn't really any
reason, any need. Just because it somehow feels right to talk to you like
this, admit how I feel. How tempted I am sometimes, to try and make us more
than friends. More than partners. We share the odd suggestive comment, and
you never seem to mind. But that's just part of being friends, I guess. The
crazy thing is, I don't think you ever realise how much you mean to me, how
much it would hurt me if I lost you. How often I've wondered what you would
do if I moved my hand from your back, changing that light, guiding touch
into something more. Something more dangerous, more exciting. ut I never do,
and I guess I never will. I'll just write these letters and try to stay as a
friend. Because no matter what, we will always be friends.

end of Part 1


Ian Horsewell
University Of Warwick: i.j.horsewell@warwick.ac.uk
"I may succeed. I may fail. I will never give in."


From phuwv@csv.warwick.ac.uk Sat Feb 15 10:27:05 1997

Part 2, as promised - hope you all like it.

Disclaimer: They're not mine, they never will be, I'm just borrowing them
for a while. I really don't think they'll mind. But to CC, 10-13, Fox etc:
I'm a poor student. What can you do? Confiscate my overdraft? 

Archive: Sure, if you want
Summary: Scully finds something unexpected.
Rating: MulderAngst, MSR (relationshippers forever. 
Warning: PG; Not much, a little swearing, a little innuendo.

The Files - Part 2

  Mulder tried to focus on the files that AD Skinner was discussing. This
year, the annual review seemed to be going so slowly, especially when he
could think of little else than Scully, in his office. She could be looking
through those stupid letters right this minute... he went cold at the
thought. She was never meant to see them. Skinner took off his glasses and
gave him a harsh glance. "Agent Mulder, is there somewhere you need to be?
You keep checking your watch... Just let me know if you need to go..." The
sarcastic tone of his voice made Mulder realise that no matter what, he
couldn't leave here. He'd just have to hope that Scully hadn't found the
files and that he was safe. For now.

  Down in the basement, Scully was reading through the letter quickly, all
thoughts put aside, determined to finish them before Mulder returned. Now
that she knew, she had to read them.

  Dana,
   You're gone. That bastard Duane Barry has gone and so are you, and I
don't know if you'll ever come back. If only I'd told you how I felt, what I
wanted to do. If only I'd taken a chance, risked it. Maybe you wouldn't have
turned me down, maybe you would, but at least I'd know. And now maybe I'll
never get a chance to tell you how I feel. How much I really care for you.
   No, don't be a coward Mulder. Nt 'care'. You went beyond that long ago.
'Love' is the word here. You love her. How did it happen? When, where, how
did you come to mean so much to me? I don't know... but I wish with all my
soul that I'd told you. Made you reaise how much I wanted you. Wanted you to
be 'my' Dana. My lover Dana, not my partner Scully. Friends is not enough
anymore. I don't know how it ever was. But they've taken you away from me
and now all I can pray is that you'' come back. That you'll come back to me,
and that I'll be able to tell you. Please, Dana. Come back.

  Dana,
   I have to write this or I'll go insane. I have to tell you, and promise
you that it won't happen again. Your mother will never tell you how close I
came... I was just sitting here, in your apartment, holding your cross in
one hand and my gun in the other. I came so close to ending it all... I
kissed your cross, kissing you goodbye, and then I put my gun to my head and
I nearly pulled the trigger. But somehow I didn't. I called Margaret and she
came. She put me to bed and made me promise not even to consider it again.
Not to think about that. But I don't trust myself, so I'm promising you.
Because I could never break a promise I made to you, Dana. So, I promise you
that I won't. No matter how bad it is, I'll wait for you. I have to believe
that you'll come back to me. And until then, I'll just pray that you'll
return so I can tell you how I feel. I'm wearing your cross, Dana. I hope
you don't mind. It's the only link I have to you... and you, the hope that
you'll come back, is the only thing that's keeping me alive.

  Scully sat there, in shock. Mulder had... had come that close... oh, God.
She stood up abruptly, pacing around the room, avoiding the boxes on the
floor without thinking, mind miles away. He'd virtually attempted suicide...
and her mother had stopped him? How could Mom have never told her? How could
she have kept something so important secret from her daughter? And the
cross... Mulder had never hinted that he'd worn it. She'd never have
imagined that. Without conscious volition, her hand rose to touch the warm
gold at her throat.
  "How can you do this, Dana?" she asked herself. "These are his most
private words, his deepest secrets. If he wanted you to know, he'd have told
you long ago." But she knew, no matter what she said, that she could not
stop here. She had to know it all. No matter what the consequences for her
relationship with Mulder, she had to know the rest.

  Dana,
   I still don't know how much of this was real. Were Kristen and the others
really vampires? Or were they just 'normal' psychos who believed they were?
No matter what the answer is, I'll never know for sure. But it was all so
strange... and what I did... I can't believe it myself. It feels like a
betrayal, a brief time of insanity. I betrayed how I feel about you, the
love that I can't help believing in. And I tried to throw it away in a
moment, just because she was there, and available. Kristen was there, and
you weren't. She even held me when I cried, not asking what about, not
knowing that I was crying about the way I'd treated you. I never told you,
but it still felt like... adultery, I guess. Like I was cheating on you. But
afterwards, in the remains of that house, all I could think of was you.
Whether you would feel betrayed. If I ever manage the courage to tell you
how I feel.
    It's been so long since you went... were taken. The file is closed,
virtually. And it's hard, but I still pray for you to come back. Hoping that
you'll return, theat the love I feel for you will be enough to draw you
back, to bring you home. You are so sorely missed by us all, Dana. Me, your
mother, your family. Picking out your headstone was the hardest thing I have
ever done... not sure whether I was really letting you go. But I haven't...
I'm still wearing your cross, still praying for you. And, despite
everything, despite knowing that you never realised how much I cared, I
still love you with all my heart.

  Dana,
   Thank God. You've been returned to us... even if you don't know it yet,
you're here. You're safe. I'll never let you go. At the moment I'm here, in
my apartment; your mother made me go away. I'd been by your bedside, keeping
a vigil... not believing that my prayers had been answered. Now I'm going to
do anything I have to, to make sure you're never taken from me again. I love 
you, Dana, I can admit that now. And I'll tell you as soon as you wake. But
for now, I hve to keep you safe from harm. And I will, I swear it. What ever
it takes.

  Dana,
   You're awake. And I'm such an ass... I couldn't tell you. I was going
to give you your cross, and then tell you. Admit how I've felt for so long,
admit that I love you, and just say that I would be here waiting. And pray
that you didn't reject me. But I couldn't.
   I stopped in the shop, knowing that I was just putting it off. I bought
that stupid video, and gave it to you, with the cross. I just couldn't say
it. And now I can't tell you... I'm too afraid. I'll just thank a God I'm
not sure I believe in that you're back, and that you're safe. And I'll pray
that one day I'll be able to tell you how I feel.

  Scully looked up, away from the screen. Sinking back into the chair, she
caught a scent of... Mulder. Nothing specific, nothing she could pin down,
just the smell that she associated with her partner. A smell that told her
she was safe, and cared for, and that he would protect her. She smiled, an
expression that turned to one of suppressed anger... one time he hadn't
protected her.

  Mulder swallowed hard... if Skinner didn't finish soon, he wouldn't get
down to the basement before Scully left for home. Then maybe he'd never know
if she'd read the letters or not. Maybe she missed that directory, he
reasoned. But the voice sniggered. Scully, miss something? You have to be
kidding. Better start planning your cover story, bud... good luck. Skinner
glanced at the clock. "You don't mind being a little late today, do you
Agent Mulder?" He glanced up, piercing Mulder with a stare that should have
melted holes in his glasses. Mulder suffled in his seat; his answer of "O
course not, sir," was completely superfluous.

  Dana,
   God... why didn't I get it right? So much for my promises to keep you
safe, to protect you from anything that could hurt you. That you would never
let me wrap you in cotton wool anyway doesn't change the fact that I failed.
That I screwed up and nearly let him get you. I'm sorry, Dana. I always will
be sorry that I didn't keep you safe. That you had to protect yourself from
that maniac. But all I can say is that I'm sorry, and that I wish I could
have taken your place instead, do what you did. Anything to keep you safe
from harm. I don't know what i would do without you... you're the only one I
trust and the only one I love. And I can't even tell you that, let alone
protect you. But I will... I promise you that. I'll never let anyone like
Pfaster near you again.

  Scully blinked away the tears that the memories had brought to her eyes.
He'd blamed himself so much... and she'd hardly considered how he must be
feeling. How it must have hurt him that she wouldn't let him protect her,
and how much it had nearly cost him. She shut down the computer, not needing
to read the other letters now. She knew what she had to do.

  Mulder wasn't quite running down the halls. But he sprinted down the
stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. Please, let her still be
there... but as he stopped at the door to the office they shared, he
realised it was locked. Too late. Fumbling with his keys, he opened the door
and, checking that her coat was indeed gone, sat down at his desk. The note
on top of the stacked files caught his eye, the legent handwriting instantly
recognisable. His heart sank.

  Mulder,
   You weren't back by five, so I'm going home. Your computer's fine, all
the files unlocked. Hope your review went well. I think we should talk; I'll
be at home all evening. Please, Mulder. I don't think that we should put
this off any more.

  Mulder buried his face in his hands, a deep sigh loud in the silent room.
Now what? She'd read those letters, letters he ad promised he'd never give
her. She'd never shown any hint of wanting to be more than friends. So he'd
blocked off all his feelings, determined not to ruin a partnership that was
one of the best things he'd ever had. And now, things were different. After
this, no matter how she felt about it, things would never be the same.
Whether she asked to be reassigned or just asked him to keep things the ame,
their friendship would be changed. Maybe ended. God... what a complete and
utter screw-up.

  It was nearly two hours later that Scully heard the knock on the door. Her
heart was pounding, drowning out the sound from the radio. She slowly put
down the book - one she had been reading since she got home but still had no
idea what it was about - and went to the door. It was Mulder. In a corner of
her mind, Scully marvelled at the way she was reacting. She'd faced insane
killers, human mutants, enemy agents and hired assassins more calmly than
this. 
  "Scully, I..." he trailed off. She was dressed casually, a serious
expression on her face. And the merest hint of a smile. He sighed silently;
maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
  "Mulder, before you say anything..." she began, closing the door behind
him, "I think there's something I should tell you." His pulse quickened.
She's involved already an internal voice screamed at him. She's not
interested; she's embarassed; she wants a transfer. But what she said came
as a complete shock.
  "I think you should see something." She pointed to the couch and Mulder
sat down, not speaking, just waiting for her to explain. She handed him a
small box, a wooden design, made to look like a miniature treasure chest. He
opened it, to see a series of letters, folded to fit inside. He looked up at
her questioningly, not daring to hope that his thought was correct. She
smiled and moved towards the kitchen. "Coffee?" He just sat there, looking
at her, not opening the folded papers. "Sure, Scully." Yeah, that's right,
he thought. Keep it casual.
  A smile flashed across her face. "I wish you'd call me Dana." His eyes
widened as he realised what she meant, and thought his heart might burst.
Scared to think, he tried to swallow. With hands that almost trembled, he
took out the first piece of paper.

  Mulder,
   It's weird how I call you that. It seems more intimate somehow. As if
we're closer than on first-name terms... more than friends...

THE END FOR NOW: I MADE THIS! (in irritaing kids voice)

Please, comments! I need comments, good, bad, indifferent.

Ian Horsewell
University Of Warwick: i.j.horsewell@warwick.ac.uk
"I may succeed. I may fail. I will never give in."