Fletcher 2: Rollercoaster by Dana Starbuck

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//Chapter 15//

Friday, December 4th, 8:15 PM

Scully took off her heels and tossed them into the closet. /Last time I'm wearing _those_ shoes to work. My feet are _killing_ me./ She took off her stockings. /Just what I thought. Another pair ruined./ She threw the pantyhose into the wastebasket. /That's it. No more skirts and stockings for work. It just isn't pratical now. I'm in scrubs most of the day and if I ever get oustide of Quantico on a case, I'm sure I'll be crawling around some crime scene./

She knew she shouldn't complain. Overall, her first week in ISU Forensics had been a good one. She'd been a free agent for so long, she thought she'd chafe at being back in an organized department. She couldn't have been more wrong. Gabe Sinclair definitely ran a tight ship, but he was more kindly grandfather than whip-cracking disciplinarian. And her fellow additions, Elly Klingler and Josh Washington, were really great people. They'd even gone out to lunch together yesterday when things were at a lull. /I might actually get to like this job,/ she thought.

She hung up her blazer and headed for the bathroom. /Hmmm. Cold shower or hot bath? Fletcher won't be back until tomorrow night. Can I wait until then? I doubt it./ Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key unlocking her front door. /I know it's not Mulder. He'd knock. He knows I'm here. Could it be Fletcher?/ Her heart - and her clit - twitched in anticipation.

She quickly walked to the living room. She reached the door just as Fletcher opened it.

"Fletcher!"

"Hey, Red."

"You're home early. I didn't expect you until tomorrow night."

"I threw myself on the mercy of the ticket agent. When that didn't work, I flashed my badge. I just couldn't spend one more night without you."

Fletcher set down her suitcase and briefcase as Scully shut and locked the door behind her. She immediately turned to Scully and took her into her arms. She kissed Scully gently at first, then her kisses became more insistent, more passionate. She leaned into Scully, pressing her back against the door.

"I've missed you so much, Red," she said, kissing Scully's neck, her hands roaming up and down her sides.

"I've missed you, too. _Really_ missed you," Scully replied, her hips grinding against Fletcher.

Fletcher was overwhelmed by how great her desire for Scully was. /I've been feeling it since getting back to her tonight became a reality. Once that plane touched down at Dulles...I've been wet since then. It's been too fucking long since we've seen each other, touched each other./ She returned back to Scully's lips. /I can't kiss her enough...and the way she's moving her hips against me...oh, Goddess...I've got to touch her _right now_./

"I need...I need to touch you...touch you right now," Fletcher said, her voice hoarse. She slid her hands up Scully's thighs, bunching Scully's skirt up around her waist. "I'm so sorry, Red...I can't wait another minute...I really need to make love to you...here...now..." She almost sounded ashamed about her passion, her need.

Scully placed her hands on Fletcher's cheeks and looked at her, forcing Fletcher to look at her. "It's okay, honey..." she whispered, bringing her mouth closer to Fletcher's. "I need you to make love to me, too." The thought of making love to Fletcher where they were, by the door, standing up, seemed incredibly wanton, incredibly arousing to Scully.

Fletcher saw understanding, and the unmistakable want in Scully's eyes. /I love this woman so much,/ she thought, her heart almost overfilling with love. She felt Scully move her arms around her neck as she kissed her hard on the lips. Scully lifted one leg, wrapping it around Fletcher's thigh. Fletcher groaned and grasped Scully's buttocks in her hands, pulling her close. "Oh...Red...I love you so much..." Her voice caught in her throat as she pressed her lips to Scully's neck.

Scully suddenly gave a little hop and her thighs were squeezing tightly around Fletcher's waist, her back against the door. /Oh, god, Scully.../Fletcher could hardly think straight, her mind was so fogged with want and need.

"Touch me, Fletcher...I need you to..." Scully said, almost pleading, her hands on Fletcher's neck, then her cheeks.

Fletcher slid a hand between them and roughly pushed aside Scully's wet panties. She pressed, almost pinned, Scully back against the door with her own body, one hand cupped under Scully's ass in an effort to support her. "Oh, Red..." she murmured, stroking her fingers back and forth, "...you're so wet...so open..."

"Fletcher, go in me...now...please..." She felt two of Fletcher's long fingers slip inside. /Oh, god, I love it when she's in me like this./"Oh, yes..." she moaned. "Deeper...deeper..."

Fletcher did as requested, feeling Scully's hips thrust again and again. Scully kissed Fletcher harshly on the lips, drawing Fletcher's tongue in, then suddenly she pulled away, her head back, her hands seizing Fletcher's shoulders, her fingers grabbing at the leather coat. "Oh, god, Fletcher..."

The speed and strength of her climax startled them both. Fletcher thought she could feel Scully's orgasm all the way up her arm, thought she'd lose her breath from Scully's thighs contracting around her waist. "I love you...I love you..." Fletcher repeated over and over, her fingers slowly stilling as she felt Scully's body relax.

"Love...you...," Scully gasped as her legs slowly dropped from Fletcher's hips, first one, then the other. She felt too weak to stand and her chest heaved with every breath. She clung to Fletcher, her arms around Fletcher's neck, certain that she'd fall to the floor if she didn't. /Oh, god...how could I come so fast...it was so quick...so _good_.../

"Oh, Red...Scully...babe...where'd that one come from?" Fletcher asked, gulping for air, her forehead pressed against the door.

"I'm sorry, Fletcher...I couldn't last...I didn't think..." she said, breathless.

"It's okay, hon...it's okay...I wasn't much help in holding back either..." Fletcher smiled and kissed Scully gently on the forehead. "Talk about lack of restraint..."

Fletcher held Scully up for a few more minutes, loving the feeling of just having her in her arms. She could feel Scully's body relax further and her hands began to lightly stroke Fletcher's cheeks and neck. "Can you stand?" she asked Scully, kissing her gently on the lips.

"I think so. Why?"

"There's something I _really_ need to do," Fletcher said, her voice low and heavy.

Scully felt her thigh muscles tense at the sound of Fletcher's voice. /What does she want now...I know what _I_ want her to do.../ She felt Fletcher's hands slide inside the waistband of her panties. /Take them off...take them off.../ she silently pleaded. As Fletcher slowly dropped to her knees in front of her, she pulled them down with her. She stepped out of them, kicking them off as she did. /I can't stop my legs from shaking.../ She moaned softly as Fletcher moved her hands up the backs of her thighs, lifting her skirt as she did. When her hands reached Scully's buttocks, she drew her forward.

Scully felt a new flood of warmth between her legs when she looked down and saw Fletcher's head disappear under her skirt. Fletcher's breath was hot against her and her tongue was tantalizing close. /Oh, Fletcher...please...I need your tongue on me.../

Fletcher's hands moved across Scully's ass, down her thighs and back up again. She caressed the round bottom again and again, her mouth almost, but not quite touching Scully. /She smells so good...,/ Fletcher thought, breathing deeply. The first touch of her tongue on Scully's clit caused Scully to jerk hard and her hands fell to Fletcher's face and she held her tight against her.

"Lick me, Fletcher...do it...please..." she rasped, finally verbalizing her need.

/It's never been like this,/ Fletcher thought, her tongue seeking Scully out. /She's so wild tonight, so excited.../ She could feel Scully's legs beginning to sag, and Fletcher moved her hands to Scully's hips, holding her up. /Stay with me, Scully...let me make love to you this way...Oh, goddess she tastes so sweet.../

Scully's body continued to spasm with every stroke of Fletcher's tongue. She kept one hand on the back of Fletcher's head, pressing her face as close as she could. /So good...so good.../ she chanted in her mind. With her other hand, she lifted her skirt up further so she could see Fletcher. /Oh, god...this is so...so incredible.../ she thought, seeing Fletcher's mouth upon her.

Fletcher looked up, not stopping the motion of her tongue, and their eyes met. Around and around Scully's clit she swirled her tongue, like she was licking an ice cream cone. She watched Scully's mouth open, her eyes never leaving Fletcher's. Her chest was moving up and down with every breath and her hips were gently rocking back and forth. Fletcher suddenly drew Scully's clit into her mouth and sucked hard.

"Nhh...oh...god..." Scully gasped, her eyes closing, her fingers tightly clenching Fletcher's shoulders.

/Not long, Red...not long, now.../ Fletcher slowly eased three fingers into Scully, loving the feeling of touching her so deeply. A few slow thrusts of her fingers and she knew Scully wasn't far from another orgasm. She backed off and let Scully set the pace, timing her thrusts with the movements of Scully's hips.

"Oh, Fletcher...now...make me come...do it...do it..." she half-sobbed.

Her fingers filled Scully and her tongue flicked hard against Scully's clit, making Scully cry out as her orgasm slammed into her. Her hips were suddenly moving everywhere, dancing out of control and she grabbed at Fletcher's head.

"Fletcher..." she wailed.

The rest of Scully's responses were unintelligible. Her body still spasmed even though Fletcher's tongue and fingers had become motionless. "Oh, god, Fletcher, it feels so good..." she moaned, slowly sinking to her knees, her body slumping against Fletcher's.

Fletcher waited before she gradually withdrew her fingers. Her arms tightened around Scully's waist. /Let me hold you, Red./ "You feel so good," she whispered. "I love making you come..." Fletcher buried her face in the red hair and she cradled Scully close.

Once she'd caught her breath, Scully lifted her head off Fletcher's shoulder and kissed herself off of Fletcher's lips. Her tongue gently probed, touching every part of the warm interior of Fletcher's mouth. Her hands moved to Fletcher's shoulders, inside of her coat.

"You're a bit overdressed," she murmured against Fletcher's neck, slipping Fletcher's jacket off. She reached behind Fletcher and tossed the coat, and it partially landed on a chair. She then pulled off Fletcher's holster and repeated the motion. It landed on top of the coat.

"Pretty talented woman, you," Fletcher smiled, her fingers slowly unbuttoning Scully's blouse. /Her breasts are perfect...so soft,/ Fletcher thought as she unhooked Scully's bra.

"You're not so bad yourself," Scully said, untucking Fletcher's turtleneck. She slowly trailed her fingers up Fletcher's ribs, then brushed them across the already stiff nipples. Fletcher's stomach twitched and trembled. "Your nipples are so hard, Fletcher..." With one hand, she pushed aside Fletcher's bra and pinched Fletcher's nipple. She dropped her other hand and reached between Fletcher's legs. "Is your clit hard, too?" she asked, feeling Fletcher squirm at the first touch of her fingers.

Fletcher could only groan helplessly as Scully began to knead her clit through her jeans. Scully cupped her hand and squeezed Fletcher, feeling the dampness that had soaked through. "Are you close, lover?" she asked huskily. "...do you need me to touch you?"

/Oh, goddess, what's come over her? She doesn't usually do this, talk like this.../ Fletcher couldn't believe how quickly she was losing control of her own body, how astonished she was at the sudden turn the evening had taken. /I need her...I need her to touch me.../ Fletcher's hands dropped to her waist and she undid her belt. Scully knocked her hands away before Fletcher could unzip her jeans.

"Scully..." Fletcher was shocked at how needy her voice sounded.

"Slow down, 'Romeo'..." Scully replied, even though her fingers continued to massage the crotch of Fletcher's jeans.

"I can't, Red..."

Scully's lips lightly touched Fletcher's ear, the tip of her tongue tracking her earlobe. "It's your turn, Fletcher...tell me what you need...what you want..." Scully whispered.

"I need you to touch me...I need to come, Scully..." Fletcher pleaded, almost hating the sound of her own voice. /Oh, goddess, please.../ The pounding of her blood in her clit was nearly driving Fletcher mad.

"All you have to do is ask," Scully said, unbuttoning, then unzipping Fletcher's jeans. She slid her fingers down, tangling them in the short, damp hair. Her fingers edged down further. She gently squeezed Fletcher's clit between her thumb and forefinger. "Oh, my, Fletcher...you're so swollen..."

Fletcher, still on her knees, spread her legs further apart, her pelvis thrusting forward. She leaned into Scully, both of her hands flat on the door behind Scully.

"Do you like this, baby?" Scully asked, her fingers slipping lower into the wetness, then back up to Fletcher's clit. Over and over she rubbed her fingertips across Fletcher's clit until it felt impossibly hard. /She's so big...I've never felt her clit this hard...she must be going crazy.../Scully thought, her fingers relentless.

Fletcher grunted her response, unable to speak, her body seeming to move on its own. She looked down and seeing Scully's fingers inside her pants caused another gush between her legs. /Oh, Scully, you're driving me crazy...how can this be happening...like this.../ Every movement of Scully's fingers was like torture to her.

Scully somehow worked her hand inside of Fletcher's pants and she managed to shove two fingers up inside of Fletcher. /She likes that...she needs it...and she feels _soooh good_,/ Scully thought, pumping her fingers. "Yes?" she breathed into Fletcher' ear.

"Oh, god, Scully..."

"Yes?"

Somehow Fletcher nodded. "Y... y... yes."

"Come, Fletcher...come for me...just for me..." Scully urged, her fingers still driving into Fletcher.

Fletcher groaned loudly, wordlessly. Her body shook as she came, then she collapsed against Scully. Scully slipped her fingers out of Fletcher and eased them both to the floor. She showered Fletcher's face with kisses as she stretched out on top of her.

"I love you, Fletcher," Scully said, her face against Fletcher's chest.

"I love you, too," Fletcher said, sighing.

"Well, that's got to be a record for us," Scully joked a few minutes later, her hands moving up under Fletcher' shirt.

"What's that?"

"You never even made it more than three feet into my apartment."

"It's been a long ten days," Fletcher replied, a smile on her face. "Do you think that maybe we could at least move this little, uh, 'party' to the sofa?"

- - - - -

Fletcher lay Scully down on the sofa, then straddled Scully's hips. She leaned over and took off Scully's blouse, then her bra. /I could look at her for hours...she's so beautiful...I love to see her like this...like she's mine for the taking.../

Scully reached up and pulled Fletcher's shirt and bra off and tossed them over on to the coffee table. /She's looking at me so intensely...it feels like her eyes are touching me.../

"I think you'd better take your skirt off before I rip it off you," Fletcher suggested, her voice low.

"Then take off the rest of your clothes, too," Scully said, lifting her hips and sliding her skirt and panties off. Fletcher untied her boots, kicking them off, then she tugged her jeans and underwear off. They landed on the floor beside her boots.

"You're so beautiful, Red...every part of you..." Fletcher whispered as she lowered her body on top of Scully once again. /There's something special happening here tonight,/ Fletcher thought as she kissed Scully tenderly on the lips. /Scully's on fire, her body so hot...and me...I've never surrendered this much control during sex.../

Scully's arms went to Fletcher's waist, then her hips, then her ass. She spread her legs, pulling Fletcher between them. Once again, her legs were wrapped around Fletcher's hips. Fletcher raised herself up, almost as if she were doing a pushup. She brushed her nipples across Scully's while she slowly ground her clit into Scully's. Their eyes met and Fletcher knew then that Scully sensed it as well.

Scully's hands moved back to Fletcher's hips and she guided Fletcher, set the pace for them. "This feels really good, Fletcher...different..."

"I want to make you come again, Red...tell me what you need...what can I do to make you come..."

"Kiss me...suck my nipples hard...don't stop what you're doing...slide your fingers deep inside of me..." Her voice dropped. "Fuck me..."

"Scully..." Fletcher sucked in a deep breath, not quite believing what she had just heard.

"Take me, Fletcher...make me scream your name..."

"You're making me so fucking hot," Fletcher groaned.

"Good...good...because you make me hot too..."

Fletcher snaked her hand between them as she kissed Scully forcefully, almost ravenously. Scully opened her mouth wide, sucking on Fletcher's tongue so hard Fletcher thought she was going to bite it. Fletcher broke the kiss off as she abruptly shoved three fingers deep inside of Scully.

"Oh, yes...Fletcher..."

Fletcher returned her mouth to Scully's lips and their kisses became frantic, frenzied. Scully grabbed at Fletcher, her hips rocking with every thrust of Fletcher's fingers.

"Deeper, Fletcher...deeper...oh, god...fuck me..."

Fletcher's thumb slid across Scully's clit, over and over. Scully spread her legs as far she could, trying to get Fletcher's fingers in completely. Fletcher slid her other hand underneath Scully's ass and she began to stroke a finger against her asshole.

"Yes...yes...Fletcher...do it...fill me..."

Fletcher eased her finger inside Scully's other hole, letting the thrusts of Scully's hips draw her inside. Once she had filled Scully as much as she dared, she resumed the steady drive of her fingers of her other hand, her hips joining the motion.

/It's too much...it's not enough.../ Scully thought, her body feeling as though every nerve was overloaded with sensation. /Don't stop...don't stop...oh, Fletcher...here it comes...oh, God...it's so.../

"Fletcher..." she screamed.

"I've got you...I've got you..." Fletcher cried out.

Scully clung to Fletcher, her hands almost bruising Fletcher's back, then her shoulders. Her hips continued to jerk as another orgasm shook her body.

Fletcher leaned over and kissed her forehead, her neck, her cheeks, her lips. When she felt the shudders coursing through Scully's body subside, Fletcher slowly pulled her fingers out, one at a time, then she pulled Scully tight against her body.

/God, she's never orgasmed like that before,/ Fletcher thought, feeling Scully's tears on her shoulders. /I think the whole apartment building heard that one. Hell, they might've even heard her in Arlington./ She smiled and kissed Scully's forehead, then the few tears that slowly trickled down her cheeks.

"You okay, Red?" she asked gently, her voice voice full of love.

"I think so...just give me a minute to catch my breath..." She took several deep, long breaths. "That was..."

"Intense." Fletcher grinned, finishing her sentence.

"Incredible." Scully smiled back.

"Unbelievable," Fletcher continued, kissing the tops of Scully's breasts.

"Ground shaking."

"Mindblowing."

"Earth shattering." Scully's fingers danced up and down Fletcher's back.

"Uh, amazing." Fletcher looked up at Scully. "Your turn."

"Fantastic,"

"You win," Fletcher conceded a few moments later. "I've run out of adjectives. Guess I'm too distracted by these," she said, nudging Scully's nipples with her lips.

"Out of this world, wonderful, fabulous, terrific," Scully laughed, then she moaned ever so slightly, feeling Fletcher's tongue gently flick at her nipples. /Oh, that feels so good...what she does to me...I'm surprised I'm not comatose after that...but she's starting to get me all excited again./

Fletcher shifted her body so that her legs were spread and she was kneeling over Scully, straddling her hips once again. She reached down and began to softly caress Scully's breasts.

Scully moved her hands to Fletcher's legs and began to stroke Fletcher's thighs, her thumbs gently caressing the inside of the strong legs above her. "Are you as wet as I am..." Scully asked, her voice hoarse.

"I don't know. Why don't you find out for yourself and tell me?"

Scilly could feel Fletcher's wetness on her stomach. She inserted one finger, sliding it in the wetness, then pulling it out. Fletcher's eyes were open, but glazed. /She feels so good...,/ Scully thought. /So warm...so wet.../ Scully began to inch her body down so that Fletcher knelt was kneeling above her. Fletcher leaned forward, supporting herself with her strong arms. Scully looked up, her eyes and lips full of her own desire.

"Do you want me?" Fletcher asked, her voice loaded with passion.

"Yes...yes...I want to taste you..."

"Suck me, Scully..." Fletcher half-ordered as she lowered herself.

The moment Scully's lips closed around her swollen, distended clit, Fletcher bucked hard. Scully's firmly grabbed Fletcher's hips and she tried to hold her down. /So hard...so swollen.../ Scully thought, moaning against Fletcher as her lips continued to nibble Fletcher's clit.

"Oh, Scully...oh, yes...suck it hard..."

/Oh, goddess...my head's going to burst.../ Fletcher thought. /I'm going to have a stroke.../ she thought irrationally. Suddenly three of Scully's fingers were buried deep and Fletcher cried out. "Do it, Scully...now...Oh, goddess, I'm coming..."

Still sucking on her clit, Scully began to flick at it with her tongue, driving Fletcher closer and closer to her release. /She's going to come for me...and soon...I can feel it...just a little more.../ Scully's own desire rose up, surprising her. /Oh, god, I'm going to come, too.../ She released Fletcher's thigh and brought her hand between her own legs. /Oh, god, I'm still so swollen...so wet.../

"Scully...I'm so close...oh, goddess...Scully...make me come..." she pleaded.

She turned her hand slightly, slipped her ring finger out Fletcher's vagina, and eased it up into the tiny hole behind it.

"Scully..." Fletcher howled, her hips moving violently on their own, straining with every thrust of Scully's fingers.

/She's coming...and so am I.../ Scully thought, furiously rubbing her own clit. Her own hips rocked as her orgasm built.

"Scully..." Fletcher shouted one last time before falling forward, her face pressed down on the arm of the sofa.

"Fletcher..." Scully sobbed out loud, seconds later.

Saturday, 12:45 AM

Fletcher dozed beside Scully, her mouth open, her snoring faint. Scully reached down and brushed the hair back off her face. /I must've nodded off too. No wonder,/ she thought smiling. /I'm amazed we even made it off the couch. I thought for sure Fletcher was going to fall asleep there. She surprised me when she bounced back only a few minutes later./ Scully's hand slid down her stomach and rested between her legs. /When she lifted me up and carried me into the bedroom, my legs around her waist.../ She smiled at the memory, her face flushing. /We just fell to the bed and started up again.../ Scully began to touch herself, the very tips of her fingers stroking the very tip of her still sensitive clit. /I don't know what's gotten in to me...is it possible to feel sated _and_ insatiable at the same time?/

Fletcher slowly woke up, her body instantly sensing the motion beside her, knowing it for what it was. She slipped her hand over to Scully's thigh.

"Do you know how much that turns me on, Red?" she whispered against Scully's neck as she repeatedly squeezed Scully's thigh.

"What?"

"When you touch yourself..."

"Tell me..."

"I think about you touching yourself, when we're apart...when I'm talking on the phone to you...I think about how you'll be touching yourself when I hang up..."

"I touch myself when I talk to you, Fletcher...I don't _always_ wait until you hang up..."

Fletcher closed her eyes as she felt the sudden rush of warmth to her groin. She moved her fingers so that they were side by side, entwined with Scully's. She and Scully each pressed a finger on opposite sides of Scully's clit. "Are you as wet as you are hard, Red?...should we find out together?..." Fletcher lay a finger atop Scully's and together they slowly entered Scully. Scully gasped, as she watched Fletcher watch her. "How does it feel, Red?...can you feel how warm and soft and wet you are..."

"So good..." was all Scully could manage to say.

"Yes, so good...so very good..." Fletcher agreed, as she pushed their fingers in deeper. "Let me show you..." She curled their fingers and stroked the inner wall. "Here's the spot...here's where you like to be touched..."

"Oh, God, Fletcher..." Scully moaned, drawing a knee up, her hips rocking forward.

"Help me make me you come...let's make love to you, Red...together..."

Their fingers slid in and out in a steady rhythm, Scully's breaths increasing with every stroke. Fletcher added another finger, her thumb pulling back on the hood surrounding Scully's clit.

"Just a little more...just a little more..." she urged Scully. "Touch your clit...bring yourself off..."

Scully moved her other hand down and feversishly began to rub her clit. Her climax was building and building. /Oh, god...I'm coming...it's so.../

"Fletcher..."

"Now, Scully...let it go..."

With a shout, Scully's hips lifted up from the bed as her orgasm finally took over her body. For a moment her back arched stiffly, then she fell back to the bed. "Oh, Fletcher..."

"I love you, Red...I love you so much..." Fletcher said, kissing Scully over and over, her fingers still deep inside of Scully. Scully's finger slipped out and she threw her arms around Fletcher, pulling her on top of her.

"Don't stop, Fletcher...just like that...keep moving in me...I'm so close...make me come again..."

"Yes...yes...come, Scully..." Fletcher clung to Scully as she climaxed along with Scully. "Oh, Scully..." she cried, her words catching in her throat.

"I love you," Scully said, her face tucked under Fletcher's chin, her hands pressing aginst Fletcher's back and shoulders.

"I love you, too." Fletcher rolled over onto her back, taking Scully with her. Her hands cupped Scully's ass and she pulled her between her legs. "I love you so much, Red."

Scully lay her head on Fletcher's chest, a hand covering one of Fletcher's breasts. /I love her,/ Scully thought. /I love making love with her, to her. She makes me feel so good, so loved./

"Fletcher, is...do I...is it good for you, too?"

"Oh, Red, the best." Fletcher smiled and kissed the top of Scully's head. "I can't begin to tell you how good it is with you." She slipped a leg between Scully's. "Let me tell you something." She paused, her hand moving up Scully's back. "All those other women...it was _never_ like it is with you."

Scully lifted her head, her chin on Fletcher's sternum. She looked into Fletcher's eyes. /Those blue eyes...I always feel like they're looking right into me, right into my heart,/ Scully thought.

"I love you," Fletcher said, her voice quiet and intense. "I'm _in_ love with you."

Scully lay her head back down. "Sometimes, I get worried that..."

"What?"

"That I'm too inexperienced for you, that I can't please you..."

"Oh, Red," Fletcher sighed. "When I had sex with them, and yes, it was sex. It was never making love. It was always sex." Fletcher took a deep breath. "Making them come was never about them. It was always about my ego. I wanted them to come because my ego needed them to. And I very rarely let any of them touch me, make me come. I wouldn't allow it." She kissed Scully's hair. "Making love with you is what I've needed, wanted. I just never knew I could find it with anyone. You touch me like no one else ever has."

Scully kissed Fletcher's chest. She reached for one of Fletcher's hands and squeezed it, unable to speak.

"Scully, I don't just mean touch me physically or sexually. You touch my heart. Somehow, you found a way into my heart. Or maybe, you're just so special that I finally opened my heart."

/She could be talking about me,/ Scully thought, tears welling up in her eyes. /Fletcher's the first person I've ever let this close to me. How did I ever live without her? It was so lonely./

Fletcher felt Scully's tears on her chest, but said nothing. She caressed her hair, her back, kissing her forehead.

"I love you, Dana. I'm so glad you're in my life, so glad you let me into yours." She placed her hands on Scully's cheeks and lifted her face. She kissed her once on the lips, then she kissed the tears from her face.

"I love you, Fletcher," she said, kissing Fletcher.

Their kissed deepened, and they found themselves making love once more. This time it was quiet, tender and gentle. Bodies wrapped together, they drifted off to sleep as only two lovers could, their hearts beating as one.

Saturday, 10:10 AM

Scully became aware of a knocking sound. She looked at the clock. /Almost ten. What time did we go to back to sleep anyway? Five o'clock?/Fletcher still lay sound asleep, her arm around Scully's waist, her legs threaded around Scully's, her face buried in the pillow. Scully carefully untangled herself from Fletcher and got out of bed without waking her. She put on her robe, then pulled the covers up over Fletcher. She leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

Scully closed the bedroom door behind her and went into the livingroom. The knocking on her apartment door was soft. She looked out the peephole and saw her mother standing in the hallway. For the first time in years, Scully found herself wanting to believe in the power of prayer. /Oh, God, please stay asleep, Fletcher. Please stay in bed./

//End Chapter 15//

<<Chapter 16>>

Saturday, December 5th, 10:10 AM

"Hi, Mom," she said, forcing a cheerfulness she didn't feel as she opened the apartment door.

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted to go Christmas shopping," Maggie Scully explained, stepping in to Scully's apartment. "Macy's is having a sale that looks even better than the one you and Jill went to."

"Sounds great," Scully said, casting a quick eye at her bedroom door. Her confidence in prayers waning, Scully switched to a fervent desire to believe in ESP. <Keep dreaming, Fletcher. And for God's sake, please don't snore.>

Maggie Scully was surprised at her daughter's appearance. Scully was still sleepy-eyed and her hair was completely disheveled. <Ten o'clock in the morning and she's just getting up?> She also noticed that her daughter's legs were bare beneath her robe. <She's not dressed,> Maggie thought, a little shocked. She pursed her lips and held back her questions.

Maggie's eyes quickly glanced around the apartment. She'd never seen it look so cluttered and messy. There was an open briefcase on the dining room table with a stack of folders next to it. Another briefcase sat on the floor next to the front door, a suitcase beside it. A well-worn, brown leather jacket had been thrown on one chair, a holstered gun atop it. Clothing was scattered about the room. A pair of jeans was under the coffee table, a skirt beside it. A blouse was on the sofa with what looked to be underwear; another shirt was on the coffee table, but it looked in danger of slipping to the floor at any moment.

Scully quickly picked up the clothes that were on the floor and couch, hoping her mother didn't see that there were two bras in her hand. "Can I make you a cup of coffee?" Scully asked, hoping - praying - her mother would decline.

It was then that Maggie spotted the black military-style boots on the floor by the couch. They were obviously too big to be Dana's. Seeing that the bedroom door was closed, she put two and two together and realized that Dana was not alone.

"This is a bad time for you, isn't it?" she asked. <_Fox_ is here. That's why the bedroom door is closed! Dana, why haven't you told me?>

"Sort of," Scully replied, her cheeks reddening.

Maggie's face turned a fine shade of red. "I'm sorry. I should have called first. I'll do my shopping alone today. Call me." Scully nodded. "This afternoon." Scully knew that if she didn't, her mother would call again and again until she did. "We'll go shopping together tomorrow."

Again, Scully knew she couldn't say no. <At least she's not pursuing it now. Thank goodness. But I _will_ have to explain. She won't let it go without an explanation.>

"Okay. I'll call you around dinner time," Scully said, walking her mother to the door, the small pile of clothing still clutched in her arms. Maggie started to give her daughter a hug, then saw her arms were full and simply kissed her cheek.

Scully's mother had to collect herself for a few moments after the door closed behind her. She took a deep breath and started down the hallway, balancing the two emotions that were working on her consciousness. She was truly mortified at the scene she'd just seen. Mortified, and pleased as punch.

- - - - -

<Oh, God, that was too close for comfort,> Scully sighed, setting the clothes on the chair. <She knows I'm not alone, and she knows I was...having sex.> A small smile flickered across her face. <That must've shocked her. Surely she knows I'm no virgin. But to be confronted with it, to have it so obvious...> Scully looked around the room, then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. <Could she tell that it was only hours ago I was gasping my lover's name?> She brought her hands to her face and rubbed her cheeks, then her eyes. <Oh, Mom, if you only knew...>

Scully returned to the bedroom. Fletcher was on her back and she was still asleep, or at least appeared to be. Scully dropped her robe on the bed and climbed back under the covers.

"Who was that?" Fletcher asked, her eyes still shut.

"My mother."

<Oh, shit.> "Good thing I stayed in bed."

"Definitely."

Fletcher moved over to Scully and put her arms around her, her chest pressed up against Scully's back. "Everything okay, Red?"

Scully didn't answer. Fletcher held her and waited, knowing not to press. "You should've seen the look on my mother's face," Scully finally said, her voice oddly quiet. "It was such a strange combination of looks. At first, shock because it was obvious that I - her darling daughter - had been having sex - and in the living room, no less. I'm sure it never crossed her mind that I was capable of _that_." Scully smiled briefly, then her smile turned into a small frown. "She looked disappointed, too."

"Disappointed?"

"Disappointed that I hadn't told her I was seeing anyone, hadn't told her _who_ I'm seeing." Scully paused, and then said, "And she looked happy for me. Is it possible to see all of that in a mother's face in only a few minutes?"

Fletcher hugged Scully, kissing the top of her head. <She's worried,> she thought. <She's not comfortable with her mother knowing about us. Damn, I knew this was going to happen. I just thought we'd have more time. First time I've ever had to deal with a family situation before. I never dated anyone long enough to meet the family. Except Clarice. And she had no family for us to worry about.> Fletcher knew that what she said next, or how she acted, could effect her relationship with Scully profoundly. <I've got to tread lightly here. I don't want to discourage her, think I won't support her, but I don't want her to feel pressured to tell her family about me.>

"I'm going to have to tell her," Scully said, thinking aloud. "I can't hide us; I don't want to."

"Red, I don't have a whole lot experience with this," Fletcher said carefully.

"Did your father know?" Scully asked.

"Yes."

"Did you tell him?" Scully threaded her fingers through Fletcher's.

"Sort of. It wasn't long before he died. I hadn't been with the Bureau but a year or so and I was in Boston. My dad came up on family business and we had a long talk."

"How did it come up?" Scully asked, curious.

"It was kind of off-hand. He was staying with me. One night were up late, having a few drinks and he just said out-of-the-blue, 'I'm not going to have any grandchildren, am I?'"

"What did you say?"

"Once I choked down my drink, I very gently I told him he wouldn't have a son-in-law either." She chuckled softly. "Then he shocked the shit out of me by asking if he could at least have a daughter-in-law." Fletcher's smile widened at the memory. "He always knew. He just didn't know how to ask me, how to talk about it."

"But at least he had some idea."

"Yes, he did. I never dated any men and he knew it. At first he rationalized it as me working on my education, getting my doctorate. Then he thought it was because I was focused on my career."

"Was he okay with it?"

"Yes. I was lucky. It wasn't a total surprise to him. I only confirmed what he already knew."

Scully fell silent again for a few minutes. She squeezed Fletcher's hand and said, "I...I'm not ashamed of loving you, Fletcher."

"I never thought you were," Fletcher said gently, kissing her temple.

"And I don't want anyone to try and _make_ me feel ashamed of loving you."

"Aren't you jumping the gun a little, Red?"

"I'm just...I'm not sure how my mother, or my brothers will take hearing the news."

"What's the rush in having them know?"

"I want to spend...No, I'm _going_ to spend Christmas with you. If I can't bring you home with me, then I'll stay here with you."

"You don't have to tell them, Scully. I can be, uh, well-behaved. No one need ever know that we're lovers."

Scully shook her head firmly, her hair brushing Fletcher's nose. "I refuse to be dishonest. I'm not going to lie to anyone."

"You don't have to throw it in their faces either," Fletcher said quietly. When she felt Scully stiffen in her arms, she shifted gears like she was racing at Le Mans. "Red, whatever you decide is fine with me. If you want to tell them, that's okay with me. If you don't want to, well, that's okay with me, too."

She kissed Scully behind her ear. She could still feel the tension in Scully's body. She moved a hand from Scully's waist to her breast. She began to lay soft, tiny kisses along Scully's neck and collarbone.

"How do you know?" Scully said with a small sigh.

"Know what?" Fletcher continued with her kisses.

"How do you know where the sensitive spots on my neck are?" she asked. "You've seemed to know since the first night we were together."

"They're not your _only_ spots, you know." Fletcher ran her thumb down the curve of Scully's breast, then back up the side of it.

"Mmmmm..." Scully sighed. "Do you think I could convince you to show me all the other spots?"

"I don't know..." Fletcher's fingers trailed down Scully's rib, then across her belly, just above her pubic hair. "A woman's got to have some secrets..."

"You're..." Scully couldn't finish. <Her hands...her fingers...her lips...she knows my body so well...>

"I'm what?" Fletcher whispered into Scully's ear, her tongue barely touching her earlobe, her breath heavy and warm.

"Getting me very, um, very aroused," Scully replied, her body losing one kind of tension but acquiring a different, _better_ kind of tension.

"I'm thinking that I'd like to stay in bed with you all day," Fletcher said, her hand sliding down. She suddenly rolled over onto her back, taking Scully with her, one arm tight around Scully's waist. Scully's body nestled between Fletcher's legs, her back pressing against Fletcher's front. Fletcher slid her feet down Scully's legs, then she hooked her feet over Scully's calves, spreading their legs apart.

"And I'm thinking that sounds like a really good idea," Scully agreed, her legs opening further to accept the gentle strokes of Fletcher's fingers.

Saturday, 3:30 PM

"We're really going to have to get out of bed at some point," Scully said, her body stretched out across Fletcher's. She pressed her face against Fletcher's back, between her shoulder blades, and her hand caressed the firm, small buttocks.

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry. We need to eat something."

"We just did."

Scully playfully slapped Fletcher's ass. "You're so bad..."

"That's not what you said earlier. If I'm not mistaken, you said, 'oh, it's so good, Fletcher...you're so good...'," Fletcher mimicked.

This time Scully pinched Fletcher's ass.

"Ouch!"

"Behave yourself. You're embarrassing me."

Fletcher flipped over onto her back, a smug, knowing smile on her face. "Let me make it up to you," she said, reaching for Scully.

"Uh uh. Food first," Scully replied, catching Fletcher's hands.

"Then let's just eat light. I'd like to take you out to dinner later tonight."

"Where?"

"Feel up to a little dancing with dinner?"

"The club?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm. Do I want to go out for dinner and dancing with you or do I want to order take-out so we can stay in bed?"

"Wait, wait," Fletcher protested. "I didn't know that was an option."

"What'll it be? Dinner out or eat-in?" Scully's smile was wicked as she leaned over Fletcher.

"Who's being bad now?" Fletcher retorted, her arms pulling Scully down.

Saturday, 6:45 PM

"I've got to call my mother," Scully said, her head on Fletcher's shoulder. Her hand stroked Fletcher's chest, her breasts, then her hips.

"Tell you what, Red. I'll call an order in to Jimmy Chen's. I'll shower and go get it. That'll give you some time to talk to your mother."

"I'm not going to be telling her now. I'm just going to make plans for shopping with her tomorrow."

"I know. I just don't want to distract you. And if I stick around, well, I can't guarantee I'll keep my hands off of you." Fletcher's smile was warm, loving.

"You're insatiable."

"Uh huh," Fletcher agreed. "But I don't hear any complaints either."

"And you won't." Scully smiled and kissed Fletcher lightly on the lips. The kiss grew into more than a simple kiss and Scully found herself becoming aroused once more.

It was Fletcher who broke the kiss off, albeit reluctantly. "We're never going to get any dinner this way," she said, sitting up, letting go of Scully.

"I suppose you're right," Scully concurred. <She's right, even though I want her again. How can that be? Haven't we made love enough? We've been in bed - and on the couch and on the floor - > Scully smiled, looking at the clock. <for almost twenty-four hours.>

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Scully asked suddenly, reaching for her robe.

"Probably Christmas shopping. I was going to give Mulder a call."

"Why don't you two meet us for lunch?" She looked at Fletcher. "It would be a good way for you to meet my Mom. We'd have Mulder as a buffer, too."

"I'll call him when I get back. Hand me the phone, would you please? I'll order dinner now."

- - - - -

As soon as Fletcher had left to pick up the food, Scully called her mother. She took a deep breath while she listened to the phone ring. <This is one of those times I _really_ miss Melissa. It would've been nice to have told her first, had some support when it comes time to finally tell Mom.>

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom."

"Dana." Maggie glanced at the clock above her stove. <Forty-nine minutes.> In that time, it had taken all her will power not to pick up the phone, call her daughter, and find some point in the conversation to say, 'Don't you have something you want to tell me?' <Patience is a virtue,> she reminded herself.

"I was calling about tomorrow." <And please don't ask me about last night. Please,> Scully silently pleaded.

"Do you want me to pick you up or meet you at the mall?"

"How about we meet at the mall?"

"The usual spot - in front of Macy's?"

"Sure. What time?"

"Nine-thirty okay?"

"That's fine. Not a problem." Scully swallowed hard. "And Mom, Mulder and a friend of ours are going to meet us for lunch."

"Oh, good, it'll be nice to see Fox again." Scully couldn't see the broad smile that crossed her mother's face. "What time and where?"

"I'll confirm it tonight."

<I'm sure you will, dear,> Maggie thought. <Is Fox still there? I wonder. I hope you're going to be telling me soon.>

"When are Charlie and Jill and the kids coming?"

"The Sunday before Christmas. We're going out for the tree Monday afternoon and we'll be decorating it that night."

"I'm so glad they'll be home for Christmas this year."

"I'm getting spoiled," Maggie said, a different kind of smile on her face. "To have all of you home for Thanksgiving, and then almost a full house on Christmas, well, it's more than I ever expected."

"I'm happy for you, Mom," Scully said sincerely.

"Nine-thirty tomorrow?" Maggie repeated.

"On the dot."

"I'll see you then."

"'bye, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

Scully hung up the phone. <That wasn't too bad, but she sure acted oddly when I mentioned Mulder. I could hear her voice change just a little bit. Weird.> She looked at the clock. <Plenty of time for me to grab a quick shower before Fletcher gets back.>

-end-

<<Chapter 17>>

Sunday, December 6th, 6:00 AM

Scully quickly shut the alarm off. Fletcher hardly stirred. <She sleeps so soundly. I'm so glad she hasn't had any more of those - what does Mulder call them - 'walkabouts'?> She curled her body around Fletcher's. <Who'd have thought that waking up beside someone could feel so nice, so _right_?>

"Fletcher?" she said gently. "Fletcher, I'm getting up now."

"Now? So soon?" she groaned, turning over. "Can't you stay in bed a little longer?"

"Well, you _could_ try a little gentle persuasion," she suggested, kissing Fletcher's forehead, then her nose, then her lips. "I'm sure I'd be open to that."

"I like the sound of that," Fletcher said, grinning happily as she gently tugged Scully into her arms. She hugged Scully close, then kissed her. "Red, last night, yesterday, hell, the whole fucking weekend, has been so wonderful."

"It's been pretty spectacular for me, especially when we started it out with a bang," she smiled coyly, "so to speak."

"Think we can end the weekend with a 'bang'?"

"I don't think we'll have any trouble seeing fireworks tonight."

"How 'bout some this morning?" Fletcher rolled them both over, laying her body on top of Scully's, her hips beginning to thrust in the familiar rhythm that Scully had come to know and love. "I'm sure your mother would get a kick out of seeing her daughter with that well-fucked look on her face again."

"What? What do you mean, 'again'?"

"Red, yesterday morning, when you came back after answering the door...if anyone ever was sporting a well-fucked look, it was you."

"Oh, God," she groaned. "Do you think she could tell? Really?"

"Well, we could always try again this morning and see if she notices," Fletcher suggested with a smirk.

"I don't think so," Scully said, trying to wiggle her way out from underneath Fletcher, but her efforts were only half-hearted. She slid her hands down Fletcher's back, her hands on her hips, urging Fletcher.

"Are you sure we have time, Scully?"

"We'll make the time," she replied, kissing Fletcher hard on the lips.

Sunday, 12:50 PM

<This hasn't been too bad,> Scully thought as she walked beside her mother on the way to the restaurant. <She hasn't asked one prying question. That's a little unusual, but she doesn't act like she even wants to, either. She's been content just to talk about the family and Christmas presents. She hasn't asked me once about work. I don't know if I should be relieved or worried.>

Ruby Tuesday's sat on the lower level of the mall, right next to Macy's. It had the common failing new restaurants had of thinking Tiffany lamps, 70s music, and posters from long-forgotten movies added up to Atmosphere. But the food was both good and reasonably priced, and it had a great salad bar, always a plus in Scully's estimation. Scully and Maggie paused at the entrance. The hostess station was empty. "They're not here yet," Scully said, her eyes scanning the booths.

"We're a little early."

"Or Mulder's a little late, as usual."

"I'm sure you're used to that by now, Dana."

"I'm used to it, but it doesn't mean I like it."

Again, Scully noticed a peculiar, almost secretive smile on her mother's face. <What is going on? Why is she smiling like that? It's driving me crazy.>

"Can I help you?" The hostess had returned, interrupting Scully's thoughts.

"Yes, we'd like a table for four. We've got two friends meeting us, but they haven't shown up yet."

"No problem," said the hostess, who couldn't have been more than twenty. "I've got a table in sight of the door. Right this way, please."

She followed her mother to the booth. It was on the opposite side of the restaurant, but it had a clear shot at the door. She sat down beside her mother and accepted a menu.

"Do you have much more shopping to do, Dana?"

"I've got two more people to shop for."

"Is Fox one of them?"

<There's that smile again,> Scully thought. "Yes. He's so impossible to shop for. I never know if he's going to give me a serious present or a joke gift. I always end up guessing wrong and giving him something totally inappropriate."

"I'm sure whatever you give him, he'll like it just fine," Maggie commented, spreading her napkin on her lap.

"There they are," she said, spotting Fletcher and Mulder. Mulder was wearing his black leather coat, Fletcher was in her brown leather one. Both were wearing jeans and sweaters, and she could just make out the outline of Fletcher's gun hanging from her shoulder harness. Scully thought suddenly. <Easy. Don't stare too much at Fletcher,> she warned herself as she realized she was smiling broadly. <Don't make it obvious. As far as Mom is concerned, Fletcher's a friend, a co-worker.>

<Dana's got such a smile on her face,> Maggie thought, as she watched Scully watch her friends. <She looks so happy.> A warmth filled Maggie's heart. <Finally. Dana's finally got some happiness in her life. I'm just surprised it's taken her - them - this long.>

Mulder greeted Maggie Scully warmly, a quick hug and a quick peck on the cheek. Fletcher hung back, an almost shy look on her face.

"Mrs. Scully, this is a good friend of mine, a co-worker, Fletcher Buchanan. Fletcher, Mrs. Scully."

"How do you do?" Fletcher said, softly, politely, her hand extended for a handshake.

<What an unusual looking woman. Kind of masculine looking, even,> Maggie Scully thought, shaking her hand. <And her eyes. They're so blue and so intense. I'd swear she was wearing contacts if she wasn't already wearing glasses.> She looked again at Fletcher. Something about her looked familiar, but Maggie couldn't quite place it.

Mulder sat down next to Maggie, his manner almost taking on a little boy persona. Fletcher sat in the only seat available, next to Scully. She sat stiffly, her posture formal. <She's nervous,> Scully thought. <She's not comfortable with this at all.>

"How's the shopping been?" Scully asked. "Any luck?"

"Some," Fletcher allowed. "How about you two?"

"We've made some progress."

"How have you been, Fox? I haven't seen you in quite some time," Maggie said, turning her attention to Mulder.

"Fine, thank you. I've been very busy with work. Did Scully tell you we've been transferred again?"

"Yes. What a horrible drive it must be for both of you."

"It's not too bad," Mulder explained, taking a sip from his water glass. "I stay at Fletcher's. She only lives about twenty miles from Quantico."

<Now I'm confused. Is Fox dating Fletcher? She doesn't seem his type at all. She doesn't seem _any_ man's type.> She picked up her glass. <But if he is, then who was in Dana's room Friday night?>

"Do you work at Quantico as well?" she asked Fletcher.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm the Assistant Unit Chief of the Department."

Maggie hid her surprise very badly. "So you're their boss."

Fletcher gave an embarrassed shrug. "Technically speaking, yes."

"And how long have you known Fox?"

<Stop grilling her, Mom> Scully thought. She nonchalantly dropped her hand to her lap, then carefully placed it on Fletcher's thigh. Except for the sudden, slight twitch beneath her hand, Scully could detect no other signs on Fletcher's face.

"I've known Mulder for what - ten years now?" she said, looking at Mulder.

"Something like that. We worked in ISU together before I took over the X-Files," he explained.

<So they're just friends,> Maggie thought, her hopes for Fox and Dana returning.

"Hi, there, folks," the waitress interrupted. "I'm Trish, I'll be your server. What can I get you?"

- - - - -

Throughout the meal, Maggie had carefully watched her daughter and Mulder interact. She couldn't perceive any difference in their relationship. If anything, Dana had spent more time talking with Fletcher than with Mulder. She was almost saddened by the thought.

"Will you be joining us for Christmas this year, Fox?" Maggie asked, reaching for her coffee cup.

"I, um, I," he stammered, looking first at Scully, then Fletcher.

"It wouldn't be the same without you. Unless you have other plans."

"No, no, I don't have any plans yet."

"Then you must join us. I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Mulder knew he was trapped. He looked again at Scully for some help, but she only smiled at him. "I'd love to," he finally said.

"Good."

Maggie went to pat him on the hand but her arm slipped, and she knocked her spoon to the floor. She reached down under the table to pick it up. She lifted her head and realized she was looking directly at Fletcher's feet. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd seen Fletcher's boots before - in Dana's apartment. <The leather coat I saw at Dana's. Fletcher's wearing that, too. But how could?... Unless... Oh, no. No. No, it can't be. That's silly. That's...>

She sat up, her mouth tight, her face white. In an instant, all of her plans for her daughter and Mulder were gone. Maggie felt as if someone had torn a hole in her heart.

Scully put her hand on her mother's arm. "Are you okay, Mom?"

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You're so pale all of a sudden."

"I must have sat up too fast," she said tonelessly.

Fletcher looked carefully at Mrs. Scully. <She knows. I don't know how, but she knows. And it's not good. She looks like she's seen a ghost.> She looked at Mulder out of the corner of her eye. He noticed the change in Maggie, but hadn't a clue as to what had caused it.

"Can I get you anything, Mrs. Scully?" Fletcher asked.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said quickly, too quickly.

Fletcher felt a familiar vibration against her hip and looked down at her pager. She gracefully stood up. "Excuse me. I have to make a phone call. My pager just went off."

"Do you need me, Fletcher?" Mulder asked.

"Not right now. I'll know more when I come back."

She apologized again, then went out into the mall to use her cell phone. "This is Agent Buchanan. I was just paged...Yes, I'll hold...Roy, it's me."

"What's the phrase nowadays," Roy Tupper, her immediate superior, asked. "'You've got mail?'" The connection was crackly, the signal broken up by the mall's steel structure.

"Don't tell me you haven't got AOL, Roy," Fletcher joked. "All the _cool_ kids do."

"My secretary handles all my email," Tupper informed her. "I look at computers too damn much as it is. This is actual paper-driven, pen-written, post-office-delivered mail we're talking about." His voice had become serious.

"Fan mail from some flounder?" She wasn't as buoyant as she had been a moment ago. 

"Close." He paused. "Your boy's got himself a pen pal."

Fletcher went cold. "New Jersey?"

"He refers to himself as 'Algernon', like the lab rat in that short story. He sent a letter to a columnist on one of the New York tabs, and he included serious detail about the crime scenes, including everything we've held back. It's the real deal."

"Jesus Christ," she breathed. <What kind of serial killer calls himself 'Algernon',> the satiric part of her asked. <The same kind that called himself 'Son of Sam'. Hell, writing one of the tabs is right out of Sam's playbook.> "The paper holding onto it?"

"Not without a lecture on Freedom of the Press and The Public's Right To Know. I know _I_ was edified." When he was in the mood, Tupper could lay the sarcasm on with a trowel. "We negotiated them down to keeping it on ice for seventy-two hours. After that, it's open season."

"Peachy." <We've been working this case for _weeks_! Now I've only got three days? 'Hey, Rocky! Watch me pull a rabbit out of my ass...'>

"There's more." Tupper paused. "He mentions you in the letter."

If she was cold before, she was frozen now. "Me _personally_?"

"Not by name, but there's a passage in the note about 'the skinny alien with glasses who keeps stepping all over my art work.'"

"Fuck!" Her exclamation made several passersby give her a sidelong glance. "He's been watching us work the scenes!" <Shit, he hasn't just escalated. He's _mutated_!>

"The little bastard's getting cocky," Tupper agreed. "I've got a crash briefing set up for four o'clock. Crocker's flying down from New York with the letter. Can you rustle up Mulder? He's not in the office, and I still don't have his cell phone number."

"I'll find him," Fletcher assured him. "We'll be there." She snapped her phone off. <Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!>

Mulder and Scully were talking about something when Fletcher returned to the booth. Maggie Scully was silent, and still very pale. Fletcher leaned over and whispered into Mulder's ear. "We've got to leave. We need to be in Quantico for an emergency meeting."

"What's up?" he asked, rising out of his chair.

"I'll explain it to you later." Fletcher turned to Maggie and Scully. "Excuse us. We've got to leave right now. Duty calls."

"Of course," Maggie said, a slight fluting tone to her voice. "We understand."

"Do you need me?" Scully asked, switching to Professional Mode.

<Boy, do I.> "No, Gabe's been riding point on this one. If he needs help, he'll holler, don't worry. Besides, this isn't about forensics."

"Let me know how it goes." <She actually looks frazzled. I wonder what the call was about?>

Fletcher was frazzled, all right, and not just about the man she now knew as Algernon. Fletcher thought. She tossed some money on the table. <And I can't even say goodbye to Scully, can't even tell her that I'll call her when I have a chance.>

"We'll be in touch," Fletcher said, hoping Scully understood the meaning behind her words. "I don't think the meeting will go much past six or six-thirty."

Mulder quickly realized that Fletcher was trying to pass a message on to Scully without being too obvious. "We'll grab dinner at Fletcher's," he added.

Scully nodded as she watched them hurry out of the restaurant. She waited a moment before turning her attention back to her mother. Maggie Scully was still pale, and hadn't said much before or after Fletcher had left to make her phone call.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Scully asked.

Her tone lacked all color. "When were you planning on telling me, Dana?"

"Tell you what?"

"Or were you _ever_ going to tell me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You...You're...I can't..." Maggie Scully almost choked on her words, unable to form sentences, unable to meet her daughter's eyes. She leaned forward, her voice a whisper now. "Dana, _how_?" She swallowed. It didn't help the rasp in her voice. "_Why_?"

<Oh, God, she knows. How?> Scully closed her eyes and turned away.

-end-

<<Chapter 18>>

Sunday, December 6th, 2:15 PM

"Can I get you ladies anything else?" the waitress asked, coffee pot in one hand and a blue vinyl check carrier in the other.

<How about a double scotch?> Scully thought. Instead she said, "Just a quick refill, please. Mom?"

"Nothing for me, thank you," Maggie said politely.

They remained silent while Scully's cup was filled. When the waitress had gone, Maggie leaned forward, her voice low. "Is it true, Dana?" she asked.

"Is what true?" she responded, trying to buy herself a little more time.

"Are you...are you and Fletcher..."

<Time's up.> "Are we seeing each other?"

Maggie tried not to flinch. "Yes."

<I'm not going to be ashamed of you, Fletcher.> "Yes."

"I see," Maggie said coolly, noticing the almost defiant look on her daughter's face, her chin slightly raised, her mouth tight. "And how long has this been going on?"

"A few months," Scully admitted.

"And you never thought to tell me about it?"

"Mom, I don't think this is the time or place to talk about this..."

"Fine," she said brusquely. "Let's go back to the house then." She was out of her chair and standing before Scully even got her napkin out of her lap.

- - - - -

"You need to drop me off at Scully's so I can get my stuff," Fletcher said to Mulder.

"Sure." He stopped at a red light and looked over at Fletcher. Her chin was cupped in her hand and she was staring out the passenger window. "Fletcher, what happened back there?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "Scully's mother knows about us. I don't know how, but she does. I just _know_ she does." She reached under her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "The last thing I wanted to do was to leave Scully there by herself, without any reinforcements." She turned to her friend. "You know her mother. Is it as bad as I think it is?"

"Well...it's gotta come as a shock to her." <Yeah. Like Hiroshima was a shock to the Japanese.> He moved off when the light turned green. "She has to be feeling disappointed."

"Disappointed? Why?"

"I think Scully's mom always envisioned Scully and I getting married someday. You just put two daggers into that dream; not only is Scully _not_ going to be married to _me_, she's not going to be married at all."

<My poor Red. Having to face all that by herself.> Fletcher's cell phone rang and she quickly answered it. "Buchanan."

"It's me. Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, Mulder's just dropping me off so I can pick up my car and my briefcase. Where are you?"

"Fighting my way out of the mall parking lot. I'm on my way to my mother's." Scully paused. "She knows, Fletcher. Somehow she figured it out. I didn't tell her."

"I sensed that, right before my phone rang." She swallowed. "You okay?"

"I've been better," Scully allowed. "Are you staying at your house tonight?"

"I was planning to. Are you?"

"I think I'm going to really need to be with you tonight."

"No problem. If I'm late, just let yourself in." Fletcher cleared her throat. "I'm sorry I can't be there for you right now."

"Thanks, but I think it's better this way. I think I need to handle this alone, at least for now."

"Understood. If you need me, call. I don't care if I'm in a meeting. Okay?"

"Yes, thanks."

Sunday, 3:10 PM

Scully parked behind Maggie's maroon Taurus. Her mother was already in the house. Scully took a deep breath before opening the car door. <Come on, Dana. You can _do_ this.> She clenched her teeth as she went up the walk. The temperature had nothing to do with it. 

Taking another deep breath, she squared her shoulders and went into the house. Maggie was sitting on the living room sofa, her arms folded across her chest. Scully thought as she stepped into the room. <She doesn't look so much angry as she does -what? Disappointed? Disgusted?> She resisted the urge to sigh. <This is _not_ going to be easy.>

"I can't believe you're a...a lesbian, Dana," Maggie said abruptly, her face crumpling at saying the word 'lesbian'.

"Mom..." <She didn't waste any time, that's for sure. Just get right to the heart of the matter, Mom. No dancing around the issue with you.>

"How long have you known? How long have you kept this secret from the family?"

"It's not like that, Mom."

"Then explain it to me, Dana. I want to understand this."

Scully looked away, trying to gather her thoughts. She walked over to the fireplace and looked at the ship's clock on the mantelpiece. It was the only piece of furniture that had stayed in the family through every move, every transfer. "I've been on my own pretty much since I left for college. Through med school. Through the Academy. And there've been times when it was... difficult. But I got through it, because... because that was what I did." She drew a finger across the rim of the clock. Her mother always kept it polished, just the way her father liked it. Scully's voice softened. "But I never really knew how lonely I was...how _alone_ I was...until I met Fletcher."

"Dana, you have your family, your friends." Maggie paused a split second then added, "Fox."

"I know, I know." She sighed, her eyes closing for a moment. "But I was still alone. And it was my choice. I admit it. I never let anyone get close to me, never wanted to. Even you, Mom." She gave her mother a look of apology. Then she said, "I don't feel that way when I'm with Fletcher." Her mother just watched her, mute for the moment. Scully gave the clock one more glance and then walked away from the fireplace. She hugged herself as she paced. "I wish I could explain it to you better."

"I'm glad you've got someone you can share things with, honey, but...does it also have to be a...a physical relationship?"

"Yes," Scully said firmly. "It's part of who we are, what Fletcher and I share."

Scully paced the width of the room twice before Maggie could speak again. "I don't understand, Dana. I. Just. Don't. Understand." Maggie shook her head slowly from side to side. "I thought you liked men."

"I do, Mom...just not the way you'd like me to... I just happen to love one woman, happen to be _in_ love with one woman." Scully sat down beside her mother. "I didn't expect to fall in love with _anyone_, let alone a woman. It just happened." She took her mother's hand. "I'm happy, Mom," she said simply.

A sharp comment nearly came from her mother, but Maggie quelled it when she saw the look in her daughter's eyes. <She's thought about this. This is what she wants. This is real.> She looked down at her daughter's hand, their fingers interlaced. "You know, we were all trying to figure out what was different about you over Thanksgiving. I...I thought you might be sick again. Bill did, too."

"I know," Scully said quietly. "He said as much the other night."

"Jill was the one who recognized it for what it was." Maggie had a sad smile on her face. "She said you looked happy, that she'd never seen you look that happy ever. And I agreed with her then."

"And now? Do you still feel that way?"

Maggie examined the white pile carpeting at their feet. "Yes," she conceded. "I have never seen you look so happy, so much at peace."

"It's because of Fletcher, Mom. It's how Fletcher _makes_ me feel, how I feel about myself when I'm with her. If you and dad felt half of what Fletcher and I feel for each other..."

"I think I understand _how_ you feel," Maggie said. She wore a tight smile on her face as she looked up. "But I don't understand, and I can't pretend to understand the kind of 'relationship' that you _have_ to have with Fletcher." Scully let go of her hand and got up from the sofa. Maggie's gaze followed her. "Dana, you have to understand that this comes as quite a shock. I never expected this from you."

<And I suppose she expected me to be a family doctor, married with 2.5 kids and living in the suburbs.> "I didn't expect it of myself."

Maggie chose her words carefully before saying them. "Could this be some sort of reaction to...to what happened last Christmas?"

Scully couldn't follow her mother's logic. She opened her mouth, but quickly shut it. <She's trying, Dana. She's trying to understand, trying to find a reason. Go easy on her.> "Mom," she said gently, "it doesn't work that way." She gestured helplessly. "It just happened for Fletcher and I. Neither of us expected it."

"Then she's never..." <Maybe it is a phase, for both of them. It's their jobs. With the type of work that they do, of course they might end up reaching out to one another, and it just got carried away...>

"No, I'm not the first woman Fletcher's been involved with," she explained.

"And you?" Margaret Scully could not believe she was about to ask this question. "Have you been...have you...with other women?"

<If I'm blushing as much as I think I am, I'm surprised the room hasn't caught fire.> "No. But only because I never considered it an option."

"And it still doesn't _have_ to be an option," Maggie said, her tone as neutral as she could manage it.

<Calm, calm. A reasonable tone of voice. She loves you. She only wants the best for you.> "Mom, it's the _only_ option for me now. Fletcher is who I want to be with, who I _need_ to be with."

Her mother's face fell with her hopes. "And what about the Church?"

 "I don't think the Church, or anyone else for that matter, has the right to condemn what Fletcher and I feel for one another."

<Maybe it _shouldn't_,> Maggie wanted to say. She wanted to say more than that. <But Dana, what about your friends? Your co-workers? What about your family? Don't _we_ get a say in this?>

Instead she simply asked, "Does she love you?"

"Yes."

<In a way, that's worse.> "Do you _really_ love her?"

"With all my heart," Scully said, the resolve in her voice hard as diamond.

Margaret Scully had no answer for that.

-end-

<<Chapter 19>>

Sunday, December 6th, 6:00 PM

The letter, encased in a clear Ziploc bag, lay on the center of the table. The only fingerprints to be found belonged to the columnist Algernon had chosen as his 'public voice'.

"So, what do we do about it?" Roy asked the room at large.

"Any chance we can get them to _totally_ hold off?" Gabe Sinclair asked, sucking on his pipe. "Promise them an exclusive when we catch the bastard?"

"We're lucky they gave us the seventy-two hours we have." Bill Crocker felt like he looked. He looked like a man who hadn't slept for a week. "The editor had the same glint in his eye I've seen pit bulls get when you throw raw meat in the cage."

"Even if we _could_ get them to hold off, what's that do to our 'friend' Algernon?" Fletcher pointed out. "If we're successful and the letter doesn't run, will that set him off for more killing? If we let them print it and he gets the publicity, will that encourage him?"

"Damned if we do, damned if we don't," Mulder said quietly.

"Well, we've got three days to take _some_ kind of action," Tupper declared.

Mulder hesitated then spoke, "Maybe we can get the paper to run a story directed at Algernon - make him think they _want_ to believe the letter's genuine, but that they need some sort of tangible proof that he was the one."

Crocker picked up on his line of thought. "Maybe have the columnist ask Algernon to send him something from one of the first cases. It might work, and it might buy us some more time. The paper should go for it as well; more publicity for them in the long haul." He laughed darkly. "'An Open Letter To Algernon.' Hell, the editor'll wet his pants when we give him _that_ headline."

"Jimmy Breslin must be spinning in his grave," Mulder murmured to no one in particular.

"Let's keep that in mind," Fletcher said quickly, closing the subject. She didn't think much of the idea, but she wasn't going to close any doors. "In the meantime, I want thorough background checks on every victim. I want to know friends, family, school chums, work habits, everything. And I want it in my hands by the close of business tomorrow. I want to know if there's any possible link between the families. I don't think there is, but I'm not discounting anything."

"You don't think there's a link?" Sinclair asked, obviously surprised.

"Not with the vics." Fletcher shook her head quickly. "I think it was their shit luck that they were chosen. Maybe it was because their window was unlocked. Maybe it was because they live - lived - in white houses. But I've got a sense that Algernon would have chopped up Ron and Nancy Reagan if they'd been home when he came calling. The victims don't matter here. They're just his art materials."

Crocker looked unconvinced. "And the shoes - what's the significance of the left shoe being taken?"

"Only Algernon knows. It may mean nothing. But even if it means nothing, the fact that he took it means something. Everything the UNSUB does has a reason."

"I also think there's a reason as to the _when_," Mulder offered. "All the killings took place over holiday weekends - Labor Day, Columbus Day, Thanksgiving. I don't know if it's the holidays themselves, or maybe the holidays afford him the time to prepare the canvass."

Roy groaned. "If that's the case, regardless of the reason, that doesn't give us much time. We've got several holiday weekends coming up - Christmas, New Year's, Martin Luther King Day..."

"If we're lucky, no, if we're good, we'll have him before that," Fletcher said, her voice cold.

"And what do we do about him noticing you?" Crocker asked Fletcher.

"Nothing, for now." She turned to Mulder. "Tomorrow, you and I are going back to the last two crime scenes. They're in adjoining towns, so we can do both in a day. Maybe another look for me, and a fresh look by you will uncover something else, something new."

<And maybe it will draw the killer out, too,> Mulder thought, <if he's still watching the site.>

Fletcher could feel her stress levels building, but outwardly she appeared to be cool and calm. The room felt small, even claustrophobic. She resisted the urge to pull at her collar. She found her concentration wavering, moving from the case to Scully and back to the case. <C'mon, Buchanan, get a grip. Think. Just put aside Scully for a little longer. You've got to. Lives depend on you.>

"Excuse me," Fletcher said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

Ignoring the stares of her co-workers, Fletcher left the room and headed for the elevators. Mulder looked at Roy, and when he saw the small nod, took off after her. He caught up with her at the elevators, stepping inside just as the door closed.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. I just needed some air, needed some time to think."

"You're worried about Scully."

"Fuck yes."

"Fletcher, you're smart enough to know that you have to put her out of your mind right now," he said gently.

"I know that," she snapped, stepping out of the elevator.

He followed her outside to the front of the building. "Roy didn't say anything, but my guess is that if you don't get back to the meeting in ten minutes, he'll pull you off the case."

"Don't threaten me, Mulder."

"I'm not. Just stating an observation."

Fletcher stood on the front steps of the building, breathing deeply. "I haven't had to do this in a long time," she finally said.

"What?"

"Juggle my job and a relationship."

She stood in silence for a few more minutes. Mulder watched her carefully. He could see the control return to her. <She's shut it all off,> he thought as he followed her back into the building. <No feelings at all.>

- - - - -

She was relieved when the meeting finally broke up. Mulder walked down the hall with her to her office.

"Ain't we got fun?" she scowled. "Welcome back to ISU."

"You didn't have to do all this for me, Fletcher," Mulder joked. "A new coffee cup and my own parking space would have been enough."

She managed a smile, but it was brief. "This one, Mulder, this one...I need your help."

"I know."

She unlocked her office door. "I thought that with our early morning flight, you might want to stay at the house, save yourself some driving time," she said, changing the topic.

"Thanks. I'll go back to my place and get a few things." The office was just like her cubicle had been all those years ago - a study in organized chaos. He looked at the folders that Fletcher continued to pick through, occasionally pulling one out of the stack and putting it into her briefcase. "Do you have anything you want me to look at tonight?"

"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow," she replied, closing her briefcase.

"Aren't you spending tonight with Scully?"

"Yes. Your point?"

"Why are you taking work home?" he inquired, nodding at her briefcase.

"I thought I'd review a few files after she goes to sleep."

Mulder knew Fletcher's sleeping habits weren't much better than his when the work stress hit her. "Wake me up when you do. Maybe I can help."

"No, that won't be necessary. You can read them on the flight."

"Okay, boss."

Sunday, 7:30 PM

Fletcher saw Scully's car parked in the driveway and she pulled in beside it. She hurried to the house.

"Scully!" she called out as she closed the front door.

"In the kitchen."

Fletcher paused in the doorway. Scully leaning against the counter, a drink in her hand. She didn't look happy, but she didn't look unhappy either. She just looked tired.

"Can I get you a drink?" she offered Fletcher.

"Yes, thanks. Stoli, please." Scully nodded, pulling a glass out of the cupboard above the dishwasher. Fletcher set her briefcase down and draped her jacket over a kitchen chair. "What time did you get here?"

"About a half hour ago." She took the bottle out of the refrigerator. "A short one?" she asked.

"You tell me."

"I'll make it a double."

"That good, huh?" Fletcher commiserated, kissing Scully's cheek.

"Well, it could've been worse, I suppose."

Fletcher took the drinks from Scully and set them on the counter. She put her hands on Scully's shoulders. "So, tell me. How did it go?"

"She's _trying_ to understand," Scully said after a short silence.

"That's good. It's a start."

"She was shocked, to say the least."

"I imagine she was." Fletcher smiled briefly. "How did she know?"

"My mother should've been a detective," Scully smiled, picking her glass back up. "It was your boots."

"What about them?"

"When she stopped by yesterday morning, she noticed your boots under my coffee table. At lunch, when she knocked her spoon on the floor - " Fletcher nodded. "- she realized that your boots were the same ones she'd seen in my apartment."

"No shit." Fletcher whistled. "My boots, huh?"

"And your leather coat." She took a long swallow. "I'm sure it didn't help that I couldn't stop smiling at you at lunch."

"I'm sorry, Red," Fletcher apologized, hugging her.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Scully said sharply, pulling her head back from Fletcher's chest.

"If I hadn't been there..."

"Fletcher, I had to tell her sometime."

"But it should've been on your own terms, when you had a chance to prepare yourself."

"It was actually better this way, I think."

"How so?"

"I don't know. I think if I'd planned a time to tell her, I either wouldn't have gone through with it or I would've driven myself crazy with anxiety."

"Come sit down in the den and tell me all about it," Fletcher said, taking Scully's hand and leading her out of the kitchen.

- - - - -

Fletcher listened in silence, her hands clutching her glass, as Scully repeated her conversation with her mother. She didn't interrupt her once, not even when she had questions. She just sat beside her and let Scully talk.

"And Fletcher, she wants to see us again, get to know you a little better."

"When?" <Oh, goddess, it's not a good time for this.>

"Dinner at my place, next Saturday."

"I've got reserves."

"We'll wait for you."

"Okay. Whatever you want, Red." <Fuck. This red ball case and Scully's mother. What else could go wrong?>

Scully leaned back. "How was your meeting?"

"Fine," Fletcher said curtly, downing the rest of her drink.

<What isn't she telling me - and why?> Scully thought. <She looked stressed when she left us at lunch and I know she's stressed now. It's written in her body and in her face. She's holding her glass so tightly I'm afraid she's going to break it. And even though she acts calm, I can see her jaw constantly clenching, like she's grinding her teeth.>

"Are you hungry?" Fletcher asked, getting up from the sofa.

"I guess so."

"Mulder will be here soon. I promised him a dinner."

"Mulder's staying over?" Scully asked, following Fletcher back to the kitchen.

"We've got an early flight tomorrow morning. We're choppering out of Quantico at seven. We're going back to New Jersey."

"Something's happened with the case."

"Yes," Fletcher said flatly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" <Please don't shut me out, Fletcher.>

"Not yet. Maybe later." Fletcher opened her freezer to pour herself another drink. <Last one for the night, Buchanan. You need to keep your mind fresh.>

Sunday, 8:30 PM

They ate in silence - Mulder and Fletcher deep in thought with the case, Scully thinking about her mother. Fletcher still hadn't told Scully anything about the case, hadn't even mentioned it once to Mulder. She hardly ate anything, either. She just pushed her food around on her plate. Several times Scully caught her just staring off, her hand over her mouth, her eyes dark and brooding.

"I've got to work for a little bit," Fletcher said, getting up from the table. "Just leave everything. I'll take care of it later." She picked up her briefcase and headed up the stairs.

When Fletcher was out of earshot, Scully turned to Mulder. "Are _you_ going to tell me what happened, or have you taken a vow of silence, too?"

"It's become personal now," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"The UNSUB has started a correspondence with one of the newspapers." He paused. "He's been watching the investigation, mentioned Fletcher in the letter."

"By name?" The only reason Scully didn't shout was that Fletcher might hear her.

"No, but it's obvious who he was talking about."

Scully looked at the doorway Fletcher had just walked through. <She doesn't want me to worry. Too late now, Fletcher.> "How many people has he killed?"

"Two victims the first time, four the second, three last weekend."

She swallowed. "Was it bad?"

He thought about it. "Lecter was more creative, but he only worked with single subjects. This one likes to play to a crowd." Mulder pushed a clump of mashed potatoes into some beef juice, but did not raise the result to his mouth. "He's a Great White shark, Scully. He just swims into the middle of the biggest group of humans and starts feeding."

"Can you catch him?" Her voice sounded hollow. Mulder and Scully had been separated professionally before. The gap had never seemed as yawning as it did right then.

Mulder seemed to consider the question. "If anyone can do it, we can."

"Is it always like this for her?" Scully hadn't taken her eyes off the doorway.

"Sometimes. You'd better get used to it. When she gets so engrossed in a case, she just shuts everything else out. And I mean _everything_." He picked up his bottle of beer. "She doesn't have any choice. She has to do it that way."

"I'm worried about her."

"I can't tell you not to be," he said, a small smile on his face. "You'll just...you'll drive yourself crazy if you get worried every time she obsesses over a case." He picked up his plate and put it into the sink. "And Scully, be prepared for one of her walk-abouts."

"What should I do?" She remembered the time in her apartment, just after they had come together. The incident had unnerved her, to say the least. <That wasn't Fletcher, not the Fletcher I know.>

"Leave her be. Let her do what she needs to do."

"That won't be easy."

"You've got to."

She looked at Mulder. She wasn't sure he liked his tone. "Why? She's so wiped out when she does."

"It's a horrible thing to say, but she gets some great ideas, great insight to a case when she does." He took her hand. "She needs to for herself, Scully. It's her way of getting rid of the stress, working through the case."

She gnawed on her lip for a moment. "I understand," she said. <But that doesn't mean I have to like it.>

Monday, December 7th, 2:40 AM

For almost three hours Scully had lain awake. She'd pretended to be asleep when she heard Fletcher get out of bed around midnight, and had waited ever since for her to come back to bed. <This is ridiculous. I don't care what Mulder said. If she burns herself out she won't be doing anyone any good.> She got out of bed and out her robe on. She quietly left the bedroom and went across the hall to Fletcher's office. She stopped in the doorway. Fletcher was sitting on the couch, her eyes closed and her mouth shut. Her head was back and her hand gripped a sheath of papers. Her PC was booted up, the screen saver flashing patterns of light and color across the dimly lit room.

"Time for bed, Fletcher," she said, gently shaking Fletcher's shoulder.

"Whaaa?" Fletcher mumbled, her head snapping forward.

"Bed. Now," Scully ordered, helping Fletcher to her feet.

She took the papers from Fletcher's hand and set them on her desk. She steered Fletcher back across the hall and to the bed. Without a single word of protest, Fletcher climbed into bed. Scully got in beside her and took Fletcher in her arms. With her head upon Scully's chest, Fletcher fell immediately into a deep sleep.

-end-

<<Chapter 20>>

Monday, December 7th, 7:40 AM

Mulder looked up from the folder that sat balanced on his lap. A pad of legal paper was covered with his scribbling. Except for the few moments when he and Fletcher had boarded the chopper, he'd been reviewing the file. He looked over at Crocker, who sat in front next to Sandy Dillard, ISU's resident pilot. Crocker looked to be asleep, or possibly saying silent prayers. He'd never said he disliked flying, but Mulder saw how pale and white-knuckled he'd become once they were airborne. Dillard scanned the horizon, seemingly oblivious to the man's discomfort. Occasionally the block-like blonde would speak to some ground-control entity, but since her passengers were only plugged into the intercom channel, they never heard the reply.

Mulder glanced beside him at Fletcher. Her eyes were shut, one arm folded across her chest, her thumb under her chin, and two fingers across her mouth. He tapped Fletcher gently on the arm and was surprised when she jumped. <Awfully skittish,> he thought. <Not good. Not good at all.>

"What?" she asked, trying to hide her irritation at being disturbed.

"Where's your profile?" he asked.

"Have you written a cursory one yet?"

"Yes." He knew Fletcher had omitted hers from the file, wanting him to write his own profile without any influences. He handed his notes to her and she handed him another folder. They read in silence.

"Then we're in agreement," she finally said, placing his notes in the main folder.

"Yes." <Just like old times.> He handed the folder back to her.

"There's some significance to the name 'Algernon'," she said, closing her briefcase. "Are you familiar with the story?"

He nodded. "I had to read it for Lit class in high school, so it didn't make a big impression on me. Saw the movie version on Starz late one night. Don't remember much, except that Cliff Robertson played the lead."

"There'll be two copies waiting for us in New Jersey. Read it tonight."

The chopper started to descend. Mulder thought he heard Crocker moan. "Newark International coming up, Fletcher," Dillard called out over the intercom. "Three minutes."

"Good." Fletcher started putting away her papers. "McHugh waiting for us at the pad?"

"Yup, with two cars," she told her. "He said he wanted to save you the trip to the field office. He also says that confab you wanted with the local yokels is set for later today."

"Outstanding," Fletcher said, barely aware she was lapsing into military-speak. "Your partner's rock solid, Bill."

"I'll be sure to tell him," Crocker returned, eyes closed and teeth set.

"What kind of yokels?" Mulder asked.

"Homicide detectives from all three towns, plus two investigators from the Jersey state police. We're meeting with them at four o'clock."

"Will that give us enough time at both scenes?"

"It'll _have_ to be enough time."

Her tone was sharp. <This isn't going to get better any time soon,> Mulder decided.

Blenheim, New Jersey Monday, 9:00 AM

The yellow crime scene tape was shredded and flapping in the cold winter breeze as Fletcher pulled up to the scene of the Columbus Day massacre. A county public works truck was parked three or four houses down. The street was deserted except for the county worker, who was snaking a long steel pole down a sewer grate. <Lot of trees,> Mulder observed. <Bet they get a lot of backed-up drains in the fall.>

"Entry was in the back," Fletcher said, parking the car in the driveway. "The UNSUB came through the basement window."

"Weather that night?" he asked as they got out of the car.

"Cloudy, no moon."

"Neighbors didn't report anything?"

"No one home, at least not on either side. One family was visiting relatives in Albany, while the other treated themselves to a weekend in the Big Apple. Time of death was estimated to be sometime after midnight, but I'm having Gabe review the autopsies today. I don't think it's right. I think it was later."

She unlocked the front door using the keys that Bill Crocker had given her. Mulder could smell the stale blood the instant the door was opened.

"It gets worse," she said, flipping on the light.

- - - - -

The county worker watched the two agents go into the house. The moment the door closed, he pulled the snake out of the drain and picked up the orange cones and sawhorses that surrounded the adjacent manhole cover. He glanced at his watch, excitement boiling over like milk in a hot saucepan. He didn't have a lot of time, but what he had would be enough if he managed it right. It all came down to time management. Everything did, in the end.

- - - - -

"How do you want to do this?" Fletcher asked. "Do you want to recreate the UNSUB's steps or go right to where the bodies were found?"

"Let's start with point of entry," Mulder decided.

Fletcher nodded as she led Mulder down the hallway, past the living room and the staircase leading to the bedrooms. Mulder carefully looked around the kitchen before following Fletcher down the basement stairs. Every door frame, cabinet, counter top and appliance was covered in the black fingerprinting dust. <Almost two months and no one's been in the house to clean it up,> he thought. <Have the police kept it sealed?>

"Watch your step," Fletcher cautioned. "The third step down is uneven. Keep to the right when we get to the bottom. I want you to see the footprints."

"Okay."

He followed Fletcher as she stepped lightly down the stairs. <I've heard of athletes having soft _hands_, but Fletcher's soft _footed_,> he thought. 

"He came through that window," Fletcher said, gesturing to a small window that was covered with the same black powder found in the kitchen.

Mulder searched the floor, his eyes tracing the UNSUB's footsteps in the dust. <Standard work boots. Maybe Redwing brand.> Somehow the UNSUB had managed to get into the basement without knocking anything over. <Hell, I don't know how he did it without waking anyone up,> Mulder reflected. 

"Did the autopsies show any sign of drugs in the victims?" he asked.

"Only the five year old. Some allergy medicine - over the counter stuff." She looked at Mulder. "Wondering how he got in without making a noise?"

"Yes."

"I have a theory."

<One that you excluded from the file, no doubt,> he thought. "What?"

"Ever hear about an athlete being in 'the zone'? You know, a baseball player during a hitting streak that says the ball looks like it's moving in slow motion, looks as big as melon? Or a golfer that says he knows every putt he makes is going to drop?" Mulder nodded. "I think UNSUBs have a zone of their own. When they make the decision and begin to act on it, I think all of their senses are heightened, they feel super human." She turned away from him, ending the discussion of her theory. "We found something on the windowsill here and on the floor. The same substance was found in two rooms."

"Any idea what it was?"

"The yokels botched the lab work. A similar substance was found last week. Gabe took the samples back with him. He hasn't given me any results yet."

"Show me the rest of the house," Mulder said.

ISU Forensics Lab Monday, 9:15AM

"Doctor Scully, Agent Klingler, I need to speak with you, if you have a minute or two."

Scully looked up from her paperwork to see Gabe Sinclair walking purposefully towards them. Scully smiled reflexively. "Of course," she said, setting her pen down. She liked working for Gabe. His manner was both professional and warm, almost courtly at times. He was unhurried, but everything was completed quickly and thoroughly. He also insisted on calling the pathologists of his staff 'doctors' instead of 'agents'. <Reminds me that the diploma on Mom's wall wasn't a gag gift.>

"What's up," Elly asked, standing as Sinclair reached them.

"I need an assist from you both," he said, handing Scully a small stack of folders. "It's for New Jersey."

<Fletcher's case,> she thought. "No need to explain the importance."

"Good. Those files are the post results of victims at the second site. There are also some labs from the scene. The samples are in the fridge. Doctor Scully, if you'll work over the autopsies, Agent Klingler will handle the lab work. I'd like to discuss findings at, oh, say, three o'clock. I know that's not much time, but I'm only looking for preliminary stuff at the moment. Be prepared, though. Roy Tupper's got a sit-rep scheduled for tomorrow at eleven, and Fletcher will want us to have all our ducks in a row."

"No problem," Klingler said promptly.

"We'll be ready," Scully assured him.

"I'm counting on it," he said, pointing at them both. His trademark grin gave the comment the feel of a grandfather telling his grandsons that there'd be an extra quarter in it for them if they got the leaves out of the back yard in the next hour. In Sinclair's case, it usually meant days off with pay and some kind of free food for the staff on Friday.

Elly grinned at Scully as Sinclair left the room. "Hey, mom, we're finally playing the Palace!"

"Looks like Michael's Deli is off the to-do list," Scully returned, moving the paperwork she'd been paging through to a separate folder. <Looks like I'm working late, too. Somehow I don't think Fletcher will mind.>

"They deliver," Elly reminded her. "Good thing, too. I was looking forward to their tarragon chicken salad, so I didn't bring anything for lunch."

"Josh would have been ticked we went without him, anyway."

"Josh probably discovered some wonderful French Bistro in a strip mall near his motel," Elly laughed. "This way we'll have something to lord over _him_ when he gets back from Richmond."

Scully chuckled as she watched the short-haired pixie bop out of the room. Elly was only two years removed from the Academy, but she'd already garnered a reputation as one of the Bureau's best forensic analysts. Between her and Josh Washington -- a slick-scalped African-American who had just celebrated his 40th birthday, his second divorce, and his fifth transfer in twelve years -- they made a very odd-looking team. Elly had a youthful perspective that invariably made Scully shake her head, and there were times when Josh's cynical outlook made Mulder seem positively sunny.

Even so, they had dropped into an easy office routine and a good friendship. You couldn't help but smile at Elly, bobbing her head to the thrash-metal on her CD Walkman, as she toiled over the microscope for hours on end. In addition to his solid capabilities in the lab, Josh had an innate talent for finding great restaurants that even rivaled Fletcher's abilities. After three months of the zombies in AD Kersch's open-plan research gulag, Elly and Josh were a breath of fresh air. Although they'd never discussed it with her, her new coworkers felt the same way about Scully. Elly had heard plenty of Scully stories at the Academy (most, but not all, connected with Mulder), and thought it was incredibly cool to be working with a semi-legend. For Josh's part, Scully was the first pathologist since Gabe Sinclair who didn't try to get in a turf war with him, and didn't consider him to be a curiosity first and a scientist second. Scully and Josh knew they shared this experience, thought neither of them broached the subject.

The warmth of working with Fletcher, even indirectly, dimmed somewhat when she saw the first autopsy photo. <Not a shark,> she thought. <A piranha.>

Blenheim, New Jersey Monday, 9:20AM

"He killed the parents first," Fletcher explained almost matter-of-factly as they went up the staircase of the split level house.

Mulder looked down at the carpet. The gray deep pile carpet was stained with large blotches of dried blood. The outline of one body, done by the crime scene unit, was found in the doorway leading to the master bedroom.

"The mother or father?" he asked, walking into the room. There was so much blood on the walls; it was almost impossible to tell what pattern the wallpaper was originally.

"Mother. The father died in bed. The UNSUB slit his throat, then shot him point blank in the face through the pillow."

"Kill the strongest first," Mulder commented.

"The mother's throat was slit in the bed as well," Fletcher recited, pointing out the bloodstained mattress. The sheets and blankets had been removed as evidence. "She ran for the door, probably to protect her kids. The loss of blood most likely caused her to collapse, but he didn't take any chances. He stabbed her at least another dozen times."

Mulder looked through the photos of the crime scene. <Overkill.> "Any chance this is a crime of passion?"

"No," Fletcher said. "Those amateurish Y-incisions on everyone's chests blow that theory out of the water."

"And the kids?"

Fletcher walked into the first bedroom. New York Yankees and New York Giants posters adorned the walls. A giant Star Wars poster was on the ceiling. All of the posters were splattered with blood. The bed had been stripped as well, and the mattress was stained with blood.

"How old?" Mulder asked.

"Nine," she croaked. "I can only hope he never knew what hit him."

"Stabbed?"

"Six times and his throat was slit. And of course, that fucking pseudo-autopsy incision."

He looked around the room carefully before stepping out of it. He knew Fletcher felt the same way he did. The autopsies didn't bother them. The bodies in a morgue never seemed real. It was seeing the crime scene, seeing the victims in their own element that rattled them both. He knew Fletcher was talking as dispassionately as possible in order to remove herself, her feelings. He did the same thing. It was a self-taught trick, learned out of necessity.

They entered the daughter's room. It was decorated in shades of purple with a teddy bear motif. About a dozen bears lined the top of the dresser, and there were teddy bear posters on all four walls. The one above the bed was spattered with red.

"There doesn't seem to be as much blood in this room, even if she was smaller."

"I know. She was only stabbed once and had her throat slit. And no Y-incision either. I don't know if the UNSUB was running out of time or if he had second thoughts. The time thing doesn't seem right. Also, she was the only one found with the covers up over her. Almost gently," she added as an afterthought.

Mulder compared the photos to the room. "Think he's got a soft spot for little girls?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Fletcher muttered the words, but it could have been a scream. Her frustration was mounting, and it was making Mulder uneasy. She took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. She put her glasses back on then practically marched out of the room. "Do you want some time alone here?"

"No, I'm all set. We should move on to the next scene." He followed, giving her space.

"Good. After we look it over, there's a decent diner between here and the field office..."

"A diner in New Jersey?" Mulder grinned. "Be still my heart."

"It's gonna have to be take-out," Fletcher continued, either missing or ignoring the joke. "I want to hear your thoughts once you've had a chance to see both sites, and there's no reason we should ruin lunch for the rest of the dining room."

- - - - -

"We have company," Fletcher said, unlocking the car.

Mulder looked where Fletcher was staring. A blue Escort wagon was parked where the county truck had been, with two people sitting in the front seat. "West Caldwell Journal" was stenciled on one of the doors. Mulder sighed. <Could be worse. The National Tattler hasn't shown up yet. And there's no sign of the Stupendous Yappi.> "Are we going to lose them?"

"No. Get in the car. I'll be right back."

She walked over to the van and flashed her badge.

"You can't -" the driver, a young bearded man, began to protest.

"I'm not trying to prevent you from doing anything," she assured them, striving to sound pleasant. "I want to ask you a few questions."

"What?" the woman in the passenger seat asked. Her eyes were sharp and she smelled a story.

"Did your paper cover the scene the afternoon it was discovered?" They looked at one another, then nodded. "Do you still have all the pictures you took?"

"Sure," the man answered. "We keep the negs on file for a year."

"Could you have copies sent over to the local office? It would really help us out."

"And what do we get in return?" the woman asked.

"You get to follow us the rest of the day, and I won't run you in for hindering an investigation," Fletcher smiled.

"As if you could," the man said cockily.

"With one phone call," Fletcher assured him, still sounding pleasant. She held up her cell phone. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

Neither the reporter nor her photographer wanted to test the tall FBI agent with the cold eyes. They shook their heads.

"Okay." Fletcher put the phone away. "How soon can I see the pictures?"

"It'll take about an hour to print up copies for you," the man said. It would take less time than that, but it was as close as he wanted to get to rebellion. "I'll call the office and have them start as soon as possible." <There's no way I'm leaving this car. Not now.>

"We'll have a messenger bring them over as soon as they're done," the woman added.

"The Bureau thanks you in advance for your cooperation," Fletcher replied. She kept it cordial, but she couldn't help that a little sarcasm came through.

Mulder was mulling over the significance of the throat-slashings and Y-incisions when Fletcher got back in the car. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"These guys take tons of photos, but only a few are used for the actual story. Remember how Algernon said he saw me at the crime scene? He might be in one of the photos they didn't use." She backed out of the driveway.

"What about the ones they _did_ use?"

"Shots of 'the death house', the cop cars, and the coroner's crew lifting a body bag into their station wagon. Pretty standard stuff, and no civilians in the background." She drove away, making sure that the car was following them.

-end-

<<Chapter 21>>

Kennedy, New Jersey Monday, December 7th, 10:45 AM

Fletcher drove in silence. <I am so sick of driving these 'nondescript four-door sedans' while I'm on a case. It's not like they _really_ blend into the background. You can tell we're law enforcement from the next county! Just _once_ I'd like to drive something with a little muscle, a little style. Shit, even that big-ass Suburban Tommy Lee Jones had in 'U.S. Marshals' would be a step in the right direction!>

Mulder sat quietly in the passenger seat, flipping through the files once again.

"Why the attempt at the autopsy 'slice and dice'?" he asked. "Do you think he's got some background in a pathology lab or coroner's office?"

"No. I think he's just read or seen too many murder mysteries. Ask any of the pathologists we have. Those cuts weren't done by a pro. Besides, after he made the incision, he stopped. He didn't complete the procedure."

"Why slit the throat, stab them _and_ start an autopsy?"

She shrugged, not wanting Mulder to know that she was in trouble. <I can't get a read on Algernon. I can't get in his head. Nothing's making sense. It's like he's deliberately trying to get us off-balance, send us chasing after several different schools of thought. Algernon's a clever bastard. And he's _really_ starting to piss me off!>

"Maybe the story will shed some light," Mulder suggested.

"I don't know...from what I remember, I don't think there was any stabbing in it."

The house was situated on a road that cut across a hill. It was more than just a physical elevation. The house and neighborhood were both a 'step up' from the last house. The houses were further apart, the street wider. As they pulled into the driveway, they could see a very picturesque view out the back. The view from the front of the house was a tree-covered hill.

"I didn't know New Jersey even _had_ any hills," Mulder commented as they got out of the car. <If there was snow on the ground, this would really be beautiful.>

"Maybe we're on the only one. I didn't even know they still had _trees_," she said, looking at the tall pines. She squinted in the sun, certain that she'd seem some sort of flash of light, or reflection. <Probably nothing.> She noticed the blue Escort had parked on the other side of the street. <As long as they keep their distance, we'll be just fine.>

They walked down the flagstone path leading to the front steps, Mulder two steps behind and to the left. The lawn still had a well-manicured look about it, even though the grass was fading to brown and the trees were barren of leaves. As they approached the house, Fletcher stopped. Mulder was looking at the surrounding area, so he nearly ran into her. "What?" he asked.

"Check it out," she said, barely nodding her head at the front door.

Mulder looked. He could feel his heart rate crank up. The front door was separated from the elements by a glass storm door. Taped to the glass was a piece of paper. A message was written on it in red block letters.

"He obviously doesn't fly much," Mulder said quietly. "His balls would set off the metal detector."

Fletcher stood incredibly still. "Think you can go get an evidence bag without getting our journalist friends excited?"

"Method acting is my life." Mulder almost sauntered back to the car, hands in his pockets. He would have whistled, but he couldn't think of a tune.

Fletcher turned her attention back to the note. It was only one line, but it didn't need to be longer.

"WHY? BECAUSE I CAN. ALGERNON"

- - - - -

The photographer aimed his camera through the open window. He'd framed the note and Fletcher in his telephoto lens.

"What is it, Brian?" the woman asked. "Can you see anything?"

"Something's up. There's a note taped to the door, but I can't make out the words."

"Then it's him," she said excitedly. "He's been here."

"Maybe. That lady fed doesn't look too happy, that's for sure. Damn, I wish I could see what that note says." He steadied his hand. "Grab my bag, would you? There's a lens in there that'll read street signs on the moon."

- - - - -

High on the hill behind the Escort, another lens was trained on Fletcher. The lens was attached to a hunting rifle. The present owner of the rifle wore a green uniform with "County Public Works" stitched in gold above the chest pocket.

"That's it," he whispered to himself. "Just stay right there. Don't move." His finger relaxed on the trigger, caressing it. "Watch the birdie, you freakin' alien. Say 'cheeeeeeeeeese...'"

At the same moment he squeezed the trigger, Fletcher suddenly turned her head and looked toward Mulder.

The crack from the single shot echoed down the hill. The photographer snapped the picture, his finger reflexively pressing the button as he flinched. His partner dove under the dashboard, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Mulder ducked down in the car at the sound of the shot, drawing his gun as he did. He immediately looked for Fletcher and froze when he saw her topple over in the bushes, her hand reaching up for her head. "Shit!" he swore, tumbling out of the car. Using the car as a shield, he quickly, but cautiously made his way toward the house.

- - - - -

"Margo, that fed - the woman - got shot!" the photographer barked, still aiming his camera and snapping pictures.

"Can you see where she got it?" Margo asked, still crouching down in the front seat.

"No, no, not yet. Call the office."

She reached for the car phone. "Should we see if she's okay first?"

"Call it in, then we'll check her out. Her partner's almost to her." He opened his door, slowly stepping out.

"Brian, where are you going?"

"I think it's safe. He would've shot more by now if he was going to." <Almost thirty years since 'Nam, and I still think like a grunt.>

- - - - -

Mulder crept closer to Fletcher, his eyes darting up to the wooded hill, then back to Fletcher. She hadn't moved, hadn't made a sound. <Damndamndamndamndamn.> Still unable to see her face, he touched her leg and squeezed it hard. He was rewarded with a loud moan.

"Fletcher? Fletcher, it's Mulder."

He pushed his way through the bushes. Fletcher was wedged between the porch and a bush. He got down on all fours and crawled in further. He bit back his own moan when he saw Fletcher's glasses laying near her head, one lens shattered.

"Fletcher? Fletcher, you're gonna be okay," he said, struggling to keep his voice calm. He took her hand and squeezed it, suddenly realizing her hand was covered in blood. <God, let her only be hit in the hand.> He knew instinctively that it wasn't. There wasn't enough blood on it.

"Can I help you?" said a voice from the porch.

"Who's there?" Mulder asked, his hand back on his gun.

"Brian Hedges. I'm the photographer. With the newspaper."

"Call the police. Tell them an officer's down."

"My partner already did." <Right after she called the office.> "How is she?"

"I can't see anything. I think she's unconscious."

Mulder gently reached his hand in further and touched Fletcher's face. He could feel the warm, sticky blood drench his hand. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"I'll check."

Mulder heard him run off. <Bet he's got his camera with him,> he thought cynically. He crawled out onto the lawn where he had more room and took his coat off, then his shirt. He maneuvered his way back in and somehow managed to lay his coat over Fletcher and his shirt under her head. "Fucking bushes," he said angrily, snapping off as many branches as he could.

"I don't have a first aid kit," Brian said, falling to his knees by the bushes. "But I've got two blankets," he added, thrusting them through the branches.

"Thanks. We can at least prevent shock."

"Can you tell how bad it is?"

"No. Help me snap these branches, would you?" Hedges pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his vest and started cutting away at the shrubbery. In the distance, Mulder could hear a siren, then another siren. <It's about goddamn time.> He turned his attention back to Fletcher, his hand on her back. His only reassurance that she was still alive was the erratic breaths she was taking. "God damn it, Fletcher, don't you die on me!"

<Oh, God, what am I gonna tell Scully?>

ISU Forensics Labs Monday, 11:30 AM

<The Y-incisions were crude, but they're the only similarities besides the slashed throats. No incision on the little girl, but she also had the least amount of violence done to her, so maybe he couldn't bring himself to cut her open.> Scully took a sip of coffee. It was cold. She was used to it. <But there's no evidence of any kind of procedure _after_ he opened them up. Nothing's missing, nothing's been moved. If you open someone up, you're going to look around. So why didn't he...>

"Dana?"

"Yes?" Scully looked up from the autopsy photos, automatically rubbing her eyes. <Time for a break, anyway.>

Elly walked into their office, a folder in her right hand. "I found something interesting, but I want to know what you think first."

Scully took the folder and quickly read through the results. She was surprised with what she saw, so she re-read it.

"I don't get it. How did these chemicals get in the basement?"

"Wrong question," Elly said, secretly pleased she was ahead of her more experienced colleague. "Where would you _normally_ find them?"

Scully thought about it. "A septic tank, maybe?"

"Or a leach field, or drainage ditch."

"Or a sewer," Scully said, her eyes opening wide. "Where's Gabe?"

"In the main lab with Roy."

"We're supposed to meet at three, but I think we should tell Roy and Gabe about this now. They can pass it on to Mulder and Fletcher." Scully started for the door, with Elly hot on her heels.

"I thought they flew up to Jersey this morning."

"That's why cell phones are in the budget."

- - - - -

"The Fishbowl" was a glassed-in cubicle at the far end of the main lab. The lack of picture-hook-friendly wall space cut down on the decorating possibilities, but Gabe had never been big on that sort of thing. The closest he got was a framed photo on the corner of his old-style desk. It was a family portrait -- Gabe, his wife Beatrice, and their son Sam --taken at Sam's high school graduation. His wife had passed away five years before after a long battle with breast cancer, and Sam had lost his life in a boating accident two months after the picture was taken.

Gabe was seated at a desk at the far end of the lab, an unlit pipe dangling from his lip. Roy stood beside the desk, his arms crossed. They were in deep conversation when Scully and Elly burst in.

"No running in the lab," Gabe called out sternly. The floors were highly polished, and anyone could trip if they took a misstep. The two women automatically slowed down, forgetting their discovery for a moment.

Roy was not so safety-conscious. "Doctor Scully, Agent Klingler," he said, mindful of Gabe's title protocols. "Do you have something for us?"

Scully handed Gabe the lab results. "Elly found an anomaly in the labs. She thinks it's important, and I agree with her."

Gabe took the folder from her and scanned it, Roy looking over his shoulder.

"I don't want to send us down the wrong path..." Elly began.

"No, you're absolutely right, especially with no leach field or drainage ditch in the vicinity."

"What?" Roy asked.

Gabe was chewing on his pipe, wishing all "No Smoking" signs would vanish simultaneously. "Algernon has been spending time in the sewers, if I'm reading these two correctly."

"Sewers?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Gabe replied firmly.

Roy suddenly looked down at his waist. "Can I use your phone, Gabe? My pager went off."

"Sure," he said, starting to get up.

"No, no, it's okay. I don't need your chair." Roy checked the pager readout and dialed the number. After a moment he said, "This is Roy Tupper. I was paged to this..." He listened for a moment, his legs beginning to buckle. "What? When?... How bad?..." He reached for Gabe's chair. Gabe shot out of it and slid it over to him. Roy sank down into it. "What can you tell me?... What hospital?" He grabbed a pencil out of a coffee cup full of writing implements and started writing on Gabe's ever-present scratch pad.

Scully and Elly exchanged looks. Roy was clearly upset, agitated. Even Gabe looked concerned at Roy's response to the phone call.

"Got it. Could you connect me to my office? Thanks..." He paused, his stare feverish. Elly started to ask a question, but Gabe held up a hand for silence. Roy leaned forward as he started to speak again. "Janet, this is Roy. Put a call over to Daryl. I need a chopper ASAP, priority one...I'll be there in ten minutes and it had damned well be ready to go... Yes... Nothing for the press, not yet. We don't know enough... I'll call you when I've got more news..."

He hung up the phone, a hand over his mouth. Scully felt like she was intruding, but she was also curious. She looked to Gabe for guidance.

"Roy, what's wrong?" Gabe asked gently.

"One of the New York news radio stations just broadcast a report. One of _our_ agents was shot today, in New Jersey."

At the sound of 'New Jersey' Scully felt an icy chill down her spine. <Oh, God, please don't let it be Fletcher - or Mulder.> Her chest felt tight, like she couldn't breathe. It seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Using all of her self-control, Scully froze her face and locked her legs.

"Who?" Scully said, surprised that she could even speak.

"I don't know. The report didn't say."

"Algernon?" Gabe queried.

<Algernon? Who's Algernon?> Scully thought.

"Yes," he snapped. He tore the page off the pad and bolted out of the chair, talking over his shoulder as he left the room. "I've got to get on the chopper. I'll call as soon as I know anything."

Elly noticed that Scully's face had grown pale. <Mulder's in New Jersey. She must be worried sick, even if the rumors about the two of them _aren't_ true.>

"Dana, there's a television set in the cafeteria. Let's see if we can find out anything from it."

"Good idea," she said, her mouth tight.

- - - - -

The rest of the department, and those outside of it as well, were crowded in the cafeteria, watching CNN. Word had spread fast and they'd all had the same idea as Elly. The room was hushed, no voices above a whisper. It was one of their own down, and not knowing any more information was making everyone in the room a little bit edgy.

"C'mon, tell us something we _don't_ know," one agent complained.

"What have you heard?" Scully asked an agent standing next to her.

"Only one shot, one agent. Somebody from the press was there. CNN's in setting up an interview with them."

<Please, oh, please, oh, please, let Fletcher be okay.> Scully silently prayed.

Cambridge County Hospital Monday, 12:30 PM

Mulder paced outside the trauma room. He hated being kept out, but he knew he would only get in the way. The paramedics had been kind enough to let him ride in the ambulance, but only after he promised to not interfere. Over and over they tried to reassure him that it looked worse than it was. 

Dave McHugh left Bill Crocker huddled with the police officers and detectives. He handed Mulder a bag containing his bloodstained shirt and coat.

"Any word?" he asked gently.

"No."

"I found her glasses. I thought you might want them," he said, handing Mulder the glasses, which had been wrapped in a handkerchief.

"Thanks."

McHugh nodded towards the reporters. "Bill wants to know if you can talk to them soon."

"Not until I know how Fletcher is," Mulder said curtly. "Not 'til I know she's all right."

<And I've got to call Scully. She needs to hear it from me.>

The younger agent wanted to object, but knew it was not his place. "Take my coat, Mulder. I insist."

Dave took off his Navy blue FBI windbreaker and handed it to Mulder. Mulder nodded his thanks and put in on over his t-shirt. The door to the trauma room opened, and their heads snapped around. A doctor in scrubs wearing a plastic surgical gown speckled with blood stood in the doorway.

"Agent Mulder?"

Quantico Monday, 12:32PM

Elly Klingler was a lab rat, and proud of it. Ever since her first forensics class, she firmly believed you solved more cases with tweezers and test tubes than you did with guns and badges. She had minimal experience in the field, and had never lost a friend to a line-of-duty shooting, let alone lost a partner. The thought that Mulder or Buchanan might be hurt, or worse, ate at