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Title: Trinity III: Pilgrimage
Author: XF-Stew
Classification: SHA (Story, Humor, and a little Angst)
Rating: R (for language and adult subject matter)
Spoilers: None in this story, but takes place post-Gesthemane
Keywords: Features Megan Largo and a hint of MSR
Summary: When Mulder hears of a West Virginia man who claims to have run over an alien with his pick-up truck he drags his partners out to investigate. (Based on actual events)
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, nor anyone else who regularly appears on the X-Files. They belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. I am using them for non-commercial purposes, so please don't sue me. Also, I borrowed lyrics from Matchbox 20 (Push) and Sister Hazel (All For You), these are also used without permission. I do 'own' the character of Megan Largo, however, so if you'd like to borrow her, please ask at: xfstew@yahoo.com
***The events depicted in this story are based on actual facts. This is a twisted and partly fabricated take on a 30-second radio blurb I heard last week about a man who claimed to have run over an alien with his pick-up truck. The names and places have been changed to protect both the innocent...and the guilty. This is a lighter take on the new X-Files crew, a little more humor and a little less angst. I hope you like it.

---

TRINITY III: PILGRIMAGE
by XF-Stew
PART ONE
(xfstew@yahoo.com)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Basement Office
Friday, August 22, 1997
7:35 am

Mulder walked into the newly-expanded basement office. He whistled to himself as he propped the door open and dropped his briefcase on his desk.

Abruptly, his whistling ceased and the corners of his mouth turned down as he spotted Megan Largo, sitting in the chair at her desk in the far corner of the room. She wore a gray blazer over a white shirt, black dress pants, and an amused expression.

"Well, somebody's chipper this morning." She called across the now-large room. "What, did Scully let you hold her hand on the couch last night?"

"She let me do a lot more than that." He replied merrily, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

"Yeah, I'll bet." Largo said, her smooth voice dripping good-natured sarcasm. "Come clean, Mulder."

Mulder smirked. He wasn't completely enamored with Meg Largo. They'd only met a mere two weeks ago, and at that time he'd been certain she was a pawn of the Consortium. Now, he began to doubt that, for he'd seen her by-pass possible opportunities at sabotage on more than one occasion. Still, he didn't trust her completely, but she'd been instrumental in helping him realize what his true feelings for Dana Scully were. In return, he promised himself to be as open and honest about his relationship as she was about her own. She was a strange choice for a confidante, but they had developed a good rapport on this subject, both feeling it was relatively safe territory.

"Okay, okay, I'll come clean." He spread his hands. "She let me kiss her goodnight."

"On the cheek, or on the mouth?"

Mulder held a hand to his chest, an indignant look on his face. "A gentleman never tells."

"Ha! This is you we're talking about, Mulder. Besides, if you don't say, then I'll tell you what *I* did last night."

Mulder's eyes went wide. He threw his hands out in front of himself to ward off the threat. "No, no, that's not necessary...Okay, it was on the cheek, but it's progress, right?"

Largo decided to massage his ego instead of letting it crash by saying, "Sure it is, Mulder. You're doing great."

He beamed, and Largo shook her head at his near-giddiness. When she'd originally heard about 'Spooky' Mulder, everyone depicted him as a dark, brooding man with a sharp mind and an acid tongue. She'd seen flashes of all those qualities, especially the brilliance, but what she didn't expect was to see Fox Mulder when he was falling in love. He was serious when he had to be, which was most of the time, but these morning conversations were her favorites with him. Before the day began, before they put on their official FBI-Agent faces they could speak a little about their personal lives, and Mulder could allow himself a rare moment of happiness.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to attempt some paperwork on the case he and Scully had just completed.

When Skinner reorganized the Division, he sent down a memo outlining the new guidelines for investigative procedure on cases. Although there were three agents in the X-Files Division, only two would be assigned to the field if out-of-town travel was a necessity. The third would maintain office duties and provide support from Washington. When assigned a case by his office, Skinner would choose which two agents would leave and who would stay. However, if they requested an assignment, Mulder and Scully would divide duties themselves.

So far, he and Scully had been out on two short cases, the most recent one involving Satanic rituals; which locals claimed were responsible for the death of two teenagers out in the woods of Tennessee. It was later discovered that a jealous boyfriend had set fire to the couple while they were camping. Mulder had just shook his head over this strange and disturbing conclusion. Love sometimes took haunting turns, pushing people over the edge of sanity.

During both of their road trips, Largo had stayed in DC. From there she provided back-up in the form of data from old X-Files and background checks. In addition, she did research on strange subjects Mulder insisted might be connected to their investigation. During the last case, he asked her to find everything she could on Catholic exorcism. The next day she faxed him a 40 page brief she compiled on the subject, complete with footnotes and an annotated bibliography. She hoped that would shut him up for awhile, but the next day he called and asked her to find all reported incidents of poltergeists in the state of Maine within the last year. She almost...almost told him to go fuck himself, but instead, she calmly and sweetly told him she'd fax it out the next day. Largo knew he was testing her, intentionally sending her on wild goose chases, insisting she prove herself to him.

The problem lay in the fact that she believed *he* should be the one proving himself. Proving to Scully that things would be different, that he wouldn't be running off after lights in the sky anymore. Most of all, she wanted Mulder to prove that he wasn't the arrogant, self-absorbed asshole she'd originally believed him to be. So far, the jury was still out.

She did, however, wish him luck with Scully, mostly because she'd seen the new gleam in Scully's eyes when she looked at Mulder. Largo truly cared for and admired Dana Scully, and she knew Scully had feelings for her long-lost partner. He, however, definitely needed some work.

Of course he did, just look at the man's family! They were nearly as dysfunctional as the Bordens, and the ghosts of childhood still haunted Fox Mulder. That much she knew. True, her own childhood hadn't been idyllic, she'd split her life between two worlds, living a school year in the Twin Cities, then spending the summers on the Redwood Indian Reservation. She was an orphan by the age of 14...but she'd always been loved, and that was the essential ingredient missing in Fox Mulder. Half the time he looked like an old mutt that had been kicked one too many times. And even though she thought he was an asshole, it tore at her heart to see that tortured, hangdog look on the man's face.

That was also why she was so happy when she saw the way Scully washed that look right off his face. Largo wanted this thing to work out between them, but lived in fear of the consequences if it didn't.

The moment the clock hit 8:00 am, Dana Scully strolled calmly into the office. Her punctuality was uncanny, and Largo was occasionally tempted to create a dummy X-File folder with a mock report regarding Scully's eerie promptness and leave it sitting on her desk one morning. She was stayed only by the fact that two files in the cabinet already bore her name, and perhaps Scully, taking it the wrong way, would be upset.

"Morning Scully." She called over her shoulder, already turning back to the paperwork on her desk.

"Morning." Scully replied as she dropped her trench coat on a hook and her briefcase on the desk. Mulder and Scully's desks faced each other in the middle of the room, while Largo preferred the back wall.

Scully was immaculate as always in a black "power" suit and matching pumps, which elevated her to an impressive 5'5". She poured herself a cup of coffee and turned, eyeing both Largo and Mulder as she carefully sipped the hot brew.

"What's the matter, Scully?" Mulder asked.

Smiling as though at a private joke, Scully shook her head, "Nothing. It's just that every morning I walk in here and you two look like cats who just split a canary. Smug, but not happy about having to share."

Largo blinked at her. "Wow Scully, that's deep."

Mulder snorted a laugh, then stopped when no one joined him.

"What do you two talk about every morning before I get here?" Scully asked seriously.

Mulder looked so completely busted Scully wanted to laugh, but didn't. She kept her face neutral as she looked across the room. Largo, however, kept her face neutral. She was a smooth liar, a fact Scully knew all too well.

She looked at Scully blandly, her hand creating small circles in front of her as she calmly replied, "Oh, you know...the pennant race, Jim Rome's sports-radio show, our Washington football team with the derogatory nickname. Or mutants, midgets and geeks--you know, the usual suspects."

Mulder nodded rapidly, ready to agree with anything the young woman said.

Scully just shook her head and smiled enigmatically. "Well, Mulder, you should have stuck with 'a gentleman never tells'."

She watched his jaw drop in surprise and horror. Largo held up a hand to cover her laughter.

"Yes," Scully continued, "sometimes I get here early, and sometimes I get curious about you two. Can't blame a federal agent for eavesdropping. But you," she turned her steely-eyed stare to Largo, who abruptly stopped laughing, "you're worse than he is! Threatening him with you own sordid little details."

"That was low, wasn't it?" Largo said impishly.

"It sure was. You never offer to tell me those details!"

It was Largo's turn to drop her jaw. She gaped at the petite red head. It was perhaps the first time Scully had seen Meg Largo bereft of speech. She cheered inside.

"Gee...well...I...Scully, I never thought..."

"Got you Largo! I've finally shocked the Queen of Shock." She raised her small arms above her head, Rocky-style. "Who rocks now, Largo?"

Largo made a face, she twisted her lips and mumbled, "You rock, Scully."

"Yes I do. Old Mulder's an easy target, but getting both of you in one morning...oh-ho, this is going to be a good day."

She threw her head back and laughed. Mulder nearly went into cardiac arrest, and Largo's almond-shaped eyes got as round as full moons. Both agents were surprised, but pleasantly so, by the rare sound of unadulterated laughter coming from Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:05 pm

Mulder looked across his desk and over at Scully. They'd both been finishing paperwork all day, and he'd been waiting to ask her his question for three hours now. At lunch, he'd received a call from the Gunmen. They'd run across the story of a retiree from Wolftail, West Virginia who claimed to have run over an EBE with his pick-up truck last week. He recovered the head of the creature and had stuffed it, putting it on display in his home.

Mulder desperately wanted to check it out, and considered driving to Wolftail tonight. To hell with Skinner and his *guidelines*, what he did on his own time was his own. But what he really wanted was for Scully to come along with him. One of the major focuses in his life right now was proving to Dana Scully that extraterrestrial life did, indeed, exist, and that they were already here. He didn't understand it. How could she not believe? After everything they'd seen, all the evidence that hinted around the edges. What, did the woman need an EBE to come slap her upside the head with a wooden plank? Maybe that's what it would take, but until it happened, he would continue to try and convince her himself.

"Scully?" He asked quietly, looking at Largo's back out of the corner of his eye. She had a set of headphones on and was tapping her foot to an unheard beat as she typed rapidly at her PC.

"What?" She looked up at him from behind her reading glasses.

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"Well, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. My mother has a small family dinner party planned, and she's been hounding me to bring you to it."

"Scully, you know family things are hard for me. And your brother hates me."

"Bill doesn't hate you, Mulder. He just doesn't know you. Maybe if you'd give him a chance to--and tomorrow night is the perfect opportunity to give him that chance."

"Aw, Scully--" he whined.

"Mulder, will you please come? My mother's been driving me nuts about it, and she hasn't see you since dinner two weeks ago."

Mulder thought for a second, suddenly getting an idea. His face brightened.

"Okay, Scully, I'll make you a deal."

He received a famous Scully-look in return. Skeptically, she said, "A deal?"

"A deal. I'll go to your mother's dinner party on Saturday night, if you'll go to Wolftail, West Virginia with me on Sunday. It'll just be a daytrip."

Her tone was flat. "Why?"

"It's a beautiful drive. Wolftail is in the Monongahela National Forest, and it's only about three hours drive."

"What's in Wolftail, Mulder?"

He tried to look innocent. "Nothing. I just figured it would be a good turn-around point. I just want to take you for a Sunday drive."

"Mulder, that is by far the flimsiest justification you have ever, and I mean *ever* had for getting me involved in one of your little UFO-watching schemes."

"It's not a scheme." He replied, careful of how he phrased the words.

Scully looked up and sniffed the air. "What's that I smell, Mulder? Could it be this ration of crap you're trying to feed me?"

"Scully! Would I lie to you? Would I feed you crap?"

"You've done it on a daily basis for over four years now, Mulder." She sat back in her chair, toying with a pencil between petite fingers. Suddenly, she smiled.

<Uh, oh> Mulder thought.

"Okay Mulder, you have your deal. On one condition." She jerked her head in the direction of Largo's unsuspecting back. "Largo goes with us."

She smiled smugly.

Mulder frowned at her, then at his hands. He looked over at Meg Largo's back. Suddenly, as if she could feel the eyes on her, she turned and glanced over her shoulder. She saw the two elder agents staring at her and removed her headphones.

"What?" She asked, "Did someone stick another 'I love Cancer Man' note on my back?"

Mulder turned back to the smug red head. "But I thought it would just be the two of us, a nice late-summer drive..."

"Sure you did, Mulder."

"Okay," he said in defeat, knowing she had seen through him, "it's a deal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Megan Largo's Apartment
Sunday, August 24, 1997
7:15 am

She smelled coffee brewing, and a faint hint of her favorite perfume. On any other morning but Sunday, that would have been a good enough hint. She rolled over, reaching out an arm to throw across her companion, glad that she had finally moved in to this place for good. She patted the sheets with her fingers, searching for her bedmate.

Nothing.

The right side of the bed was empty. Jolyn Parker groaned and opened her eyes. She glanced over at the digital alarm clock. Way too early to be awake on a Sunday morning. What the hell was this all about? She intended to find out.

"MEG!!" She yelled, startling Lenny, the lithe little striped cat who sat perched on the end of the bed. Lenny jumped down and went to retrieve his owner.

A smooth, sweet voice got louder as it approached the bedroom. "Jo, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"Get out of my head! That's just what I was going to ask you." She said grumpily.

Largo approached and sat down next to Jolyn on the bed. She wore a white t-shirt and loose jeans. All Meg's jeans seemed too loose to Jo, who didn't think her friend had completely recovered from her injuries and illnesses of the past year. And she knew for certain Meg had frequent nightmares, from which she'd awaken sweaty and babbling in her native Dakota. Through it Jo could distinguish the commonly heard English names of "Ben", and "Scully", and the word "omakiza", which Jo knew meant 'help me'. All Jo could do was hold Meg after one of these disturbing dreams, she knew her friend was still healing from emotional scars as well as physical ones.

Now, Largo held out a caramel-colored hand, and Jo slipped hers inside of it. "I forgot to tell you," she said, "I have to go to West Virginia today."

"West Virginia? What's in West Virginia?"

"I have no idea, but Mulder has insisted on taking this daytrip to Wolftail, West Virginia, and Scully said she wouldn't go unless I did."

Jolyn frowned at the wall, "This is getting a little weird, Meg."

Largo shrugged, "I have no idea what kind of game they're playing, but it's only one day. Besides, if Mulder *really* wanted to take her on a romantic drive, he would have dropped the whole thing when she mentioned me joining the party. Don't you think?"

"Who knows? It's every guy's fantasy to have two women instead of one."

Largo clicked her tongue in mock-disgust. "That's nasty, Jo."

"Oh, like he doesn't make any 'threesome' comments down at the office?"

Largo smiled a little, "Yeah, sometimes he does, and I think he's the envy of every male agent in the building. He sits down in the 'privacy' of the basement all day with two women."

"Two beautiful women." Jo inserted.

Largo smiled down at her, a little self-depreciatingly. "I love you, Jo."

"I love you, too, but I still think this is crazy. I'm beginning to think those two are more dysfunctional than a couple on 'Melrose Place'."

Largo laughed, showing a brilliant mouthful of white teeth. "Enough about Mulder and Scully," she said, leaning down for a kiss.

Jolyn obliged, kissing her long and deep for several minutes. Finally, she broke off, out-of-breath. "If they're picking you up soon, you better get out of here. If not, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Doh! Mulder!" Largo cursed. She kissed Jo once more, briefly, then made herself leave the room, now regretting her off-hand promise to join her partners on this stupid Sunday morning field trip to Wolftail, West Virginia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7:45 am

Mulder's knock was answered by a stoic Meg Largo, who had thrown on a moss-colored fleece pullover in deference to the crisp morning air. The jacket matched her eyes perfectly.

She didn't invite him in, but answered the door with a backpack over one shoulder and a plastic 'Coffee People' mug in hand.

"Let's go." She said tersely, flying by him and down the hall. She got into the backseat behind Scully and mumbled a hello.

Mulder was a little stunned by Largo's attitude. Normally mercurial and full of good-natured humor, she now seemed almost pissed off...

Suddenly the lightbulb went off and he said, "What's wrong, Largo? Didn't you get your lovin' for the day? Did I interrupt something?"

"Shut up, Mulder." She called from the backseat, crossing her arms over her chest.

He continued to rib her, "Bingo! That's it! I hit it right on the head that time."

"If you're not careful, Mulder, you'll be taking a crack to the head, and I don't mean the one I can see."

"Yeah, that's if you can even remember where it is!" He shot back.

"Well at least I'm getting some, Mulder. Too bad you can't say the same!" Aside, she added, "No offense, Scully."

"Oh yeah, well I--"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!!!" Scully roared over the din. "Both of you! If you want, I can drop you both off in some locker room and you can talk like that to each other all day, but here...NO MORE! Okay?"

They were silent for a moment, then Largo said, "Yeah, I'm sorry. That was mean and I'm just tired, that's all."

"I'm sorry too." Mulder muttered, and started the engine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:40 am

They'd driven in silence for at least half an hour, when Scully suddenly knew exactly what to do. She turned on the radio. It was set at an AM all-sports station, but she quickly flipped it over to the FM dial.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Mulder protested, a little miffed that she'd play around with his radio. It was set on his favorite station, but Scully patently ignored him and turned the dial to a station she'd seen Largo's own radio tuned to on their car trips together.

Scully spun in her seat to look at the brooding Meg Largo. She still stared blankly out the window, but Scully knew Largo could see her out of the corner of her eye, and she smiled as she saw Largo's mouth begin to twitch up into a grudging grin.

"What the hell is this?" Mulder asked indignantly.

From the backseat, Largo replied, "Duh, it's the Sneaker Pimps. It's 'Six Underground'."

Mulder rolled his eyes. The Sneaker Pimps? Scully smiled at him, her own eyes asking for his indulgence. He nodded slightly and continued to drive in silence until he heard a soft, achingly beautiful voice from the backseat sing along with the music of a new song. The singer on the radio was male, but Largo's rich, smooth voice overtook his just slightly. She sang, as if to him:

     "...I don't know if I've ever been good enough
     I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in
     and I don't know if I've ever been really loved
     by a hand that's touched me..."

She seemed to know the entire song, but she sang some parts a little louder than others. He glanced over at Scully, who had her head tilted back, eyes closed, listening.

     "I wanna push you around, well I will, well I will
     I wanna push you down, well I will, well I will
     I wanna take you for granted..."

Was she trying to tell him something? Or was she merely singing? He had no idea Largo has such a beautiful singing voice, but was she trying to manipulate him with some stupid song lyrics? Women!!

     "She said I don't know why you ever would lie to me
     like I'm a little untrusting when I think that the truth is
     gonna hurt you..."

Largo stopped singing and simply hummed along with the rest of the song. She was already beginning to feel better. She knew what she really needed, though, and it was a fast-paced, guitar-driven, summertime kicker to pick her right up. She got her wish, too, because the next song was one of her summer favorites, one that reminded her of Jo. But, in a way, it reminded her of Mulder and Scully and their strange relationship too. Again, she couldn't help but sing along with the band:

     "Finally I figured out
     But it took a long, long time
     But now there's a turnabout
     Maybe 'cause I'm trying.

     There's been times, I'm so confused
     All my roads, they lead to you
     I just can't turn and walk away.

     It's hard to say what it is I see in you
     Wonder if I'll always be with you
     Words can't say, and I can't do
     Enough to prove
     It's all for you."

Mulder listened, surprised that he could actually tolerate this song. He glanced at Scully and saw something he'd never, ever seen: she was tapping her foot AND drumming her fingers against her leg. She even sang softly with the chorus.

So, there had been things the two women shared, things he as yet had no part of. One had been Meg Largo sucking Scully into what Mulder considered to be a cultural and intellectual quagmire: modern alternative music. For the most part, he hated it, and for the next half hour, except for when Largo accompanied the singer in her sweet, heart-breaking tones, it was like nails on a goddamned blackboard.

After each song he asked Largo who sang it, not really caring, just trying to irritate her. However, she foiled him by staying placid and easily ticking off the names of the bands. Mulder either grunted at the absurd names or simply shook his head. Alice In Chains? Smashmouth? Third Eye Blind? For Christssake, one was even called the Squirrel Nut Zippers! Then, to top it off, she told him the next song was by a new band called Love Lode.

< Great,> he thought, < just what the world needs, another angst-driven group of screaming freaks named after ejaculate.>

Largo spoke up from the backseat, "You can turn it off now Scully. I think we all need to talk."

"About?" Mulder asked innocently.

"About what the hell we're going to do in Pig's Eye, West Virginia."

"It's Wolftail."

"Whatever."

"Well," he began, shooting a tentative glance over at Scully, "I was talking to the Gunmen the other day-"

Largo interrupted, "Now, those are your undersexed hacker buddies, right?"

"Undersexed?"

"Yeah, we met 'em very briefly once. I thought the old guy was going to slip on the drool he spilled on the floor from leering at Scully. Geez, do the guy a favor and get him a Playboy or something."

"Okay, old Frohike's kind of a perv," Mulder conceded, "but what did you think of the other guys?"

"Well, that Byers is kind of cute. He looks all natty in that suit of his."

"Oh my God!" Mulder blurted, "Megan Largo has just declared an interest in the male species! Stop the presses!"

"Shut up, Mulder." The women said in unison.

"So, Largo, can I ask you a personal question?" He said, more seriously.

"If it's a legitimate question, go ahead."

"You say you're attracted to both men and women, right? So, how do you meet them? Do you sometimes see a guy or a woman on the street and, you know--"

"Check them out? Stare at their asses? Hit on them? Is that what you want to know?" Largo supplied, looking at Scully to make sure the conversation wasn't making her uncomfortable. It didn't appear so. In fact, she looked very interested.

Mulder nodded an affirmative.

"No, not usually. I've seen attractive people on the streets before, but I don't really stop to check them out. And I would never dream of *hitting on* anyone I saw in the streets. Maybe it's par for the course for other people like me, but that's nothing I would ever do. I've had five relationships over the course of my life. Two with men, and three with women. In each case, I've known the person quite well before we've become involved. By that, I mean that we were friends or associates first. I'll tell you a few things about myself: I don't meet people in places like bars, and I don't go to gay clubs. I do love music but don't really like to dance AND (and this is a very important one) I don't sleep with people I don't have *very* strong feelings for. I don't believe in sex without love, but I do believe that a person's gender isn't what matters. In addition to physical attraction, it's what's inside that person that draws me to them, not whether the person is male or female."

"Wow. That's quite a speech." He replied, surprised by her candor.

"Yes, and now I think I might throw up. I've never said all that out loud before. It's a little scary."

"So you're 'in the closet'?"

"It's not that simple for people like me. Well, maybe I shouldn't say that, because I'm hoping my dating days are over forever. I'm in love with Jo, and, although this might sound overly-optimistic, I hope we stay together forever. She's living with me now, by the way. But back to the subject, most of the general population doesn't accept bisexuality as an actual sexual identity."

Mulder glanced over at Scully. They shared a knowing glance, which Largo caught. "And I can see there's at least one here in this car." Largo lightly touched Scully's shoulder. She turned.

"So, Scully," she continued, "what's your opinion on the subject? Your honest opinion."

"I don't feel comfortable talking about it."

"That's fine, but I would like to know. I'd like to know how you really see someone like me."

"Okay, Largo," she said, deciding to let it all out. "I see you as a person who is becoming very important to me. I see you as a friend as well as a co-worker. I look at you and I see your intelligence and I see your drive and I see a person who picks herself up after every fall and jumps right back into the fray. I look at you and I see a person struggling to stay in harmony with two diametrically opposed cultural backgrounds. And I see a woman trapped between two other worlds as well. I see a person who has to hide her love behind the walls of her home. A person who will never engage in anything even remotely resembling a public display of affection. Who may never marry, may never have children, and may never be comfortable or happy within the confines of mainstream American society. But most of all, I see a person who remains strong, positive, and endearingly optimistic despite all of this.

"I haven't answered your question about bisexuality because, no, I have never believed in the concept of it. I believe either you are attracted to men, or to women, but I've never understood how someone could attest to an attraction to both. Despite this, however, I do believe in you, Largo. Because of you, I'm beginning to change some of my attitudes. You've shown me a strength of character I've rarely seen, and I admire you for your persistence along the difficult path you have chosen. You are true to yourself, which is something many people are afraid to be. Whatever your choices are, I will accept them without question or hesitation, because I believe in you."

Scully stopped speaking and looked out her window. There was silence in the car. Finally, Largo said, "Thank you, Scully."

"You're welcome."

"No one's ever said anything like that to me before."

"Well, they should. You're an incredible person, Largo."

Megan Largo sat back in stunned silence. She had no idea what to say. It was the second time Scully had seen her speechless, but this time, she felt less victorious and more empathic. She knew what her own response would be to such a statement, so she let Largo alone to take it in.

Mulder reached over and took her hand. She squeezed it briefly, then covered his with her smaller one and fitted her petite fingers between each of his.

They drove like that for the next twenty minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

9:43 am

"So Mulder," Largo said quietly from the backseat, "why *are* we going to Pig's Eye?"

"The Gunmen told me about a man named Frank Jennings, a retired bartender who claimed to have run over an extraterrestrial biological entity on a dark and stormy night with his '82 Ford pick-up truck. Of course, Mr. Jennings didn't call it an EBE, he said he ran over a 'mother-fucking alien'. Now, no incestuous relationship can be proven, but--"

Scully rolled her eyes, "But what, Mulder? He recovered the body and has it on display at his home in Wolftail?"

"How did you know?"

"Call it an *unlucky* guess."

"Actually, it's not the whole body, just the head. Ol' Frank stuffed it and mounted it in his house."

Largo spoke from the back seat. "Let me play the guessing game this time, Scully. Mulder, is the head actually in a 'house', or, by chance, does Mr. Jennings have a trailer?"

"Um...I believe it is a trailer."

"And, is Mr. Jennings, by chance, *charging* his friends and neighbors, oh, maybe $10 apiece to look at this genuine, authentic alien head?"

"Well, this is America, you know."

"And, just one more question; if, perchance, one of Mr. Jennings neighbors, say...JoeBob from up at the feed store, say old JoeBob doesn't have his $10, will Jennings willingly barter two chickens and a fresh baked sweet potato pie in exchange for a glimpse at the E.T.?"

"That I can't say for sure, but aren't you using a bit of a stereotype, Largo?"

"Why yes, Mulder, I am, because I believe it's quite possible that most the people of Wolftail, West Virginia are a bunch of rednecks who might just believe a smelly dead possum hanging on someone's wall is an alien from another world!"

"Largo, calm down." Scully suggested.

"No, I can't calm down. Not right now. I think both of you know the guidelines on UFO-related investigations. I really don't want to lose my job because you, Mulder, wanted to go look at an 'alien' some 'neck in West Virginny stuffed and mounted on the wall of his fucking trailer!"

"You won't lose your job." Mulder assured her. "Look how many times I've screwed up, and I'm still here, aren't I?"

She shook her head in disbelief, "I think you know our situations are a little different. I really don't want to go back to undercover vice work, thank you very much. Yes, I would rather compile a 40 page report for you on vampire bats of Southern Louisiana than sit in a two-tone Deadhead Volkswagon Bus pretending to smoke reefer with unwashed loser-freaks named Ray-Ray and The Sandman. Believe it or not, I like my current position much better."

"And you won't lose it, just trust me."

"Trust you? Trust you!? Mulder, I'll trust you the day you begin to trust me. How about that?"

Scully turned on them again. "OKAY! ENOUGH! Am I going to have to play referee all day with you two? It's already getting old. Mulder, I'm upset as well. You know how I feel about getting dragged up to Nowheresville to look at another 'alien corpse.'"

"I just can't win, can I, Scully? I get in trouble for 'ditching' you, and I get in trouble for dragging you along on my little excursions. You tell me what I can do, and I'll do it, okay?"

Scully chewed her lip, thinking about that one for a moment. "You're right, Mulder. I'd rather be with you than have you disappear for three days."

"I'd kind of like the break." Largo mumbled sullenly from the backseat.

He ignored her. Turning to Scully, his *real* partner, he said, "This won't take that long."

"I hope not, and if it is an actual alien, then we both will owe you an apology."

"Yeah you will."" He agreed self-confidently, inwardly praying this wasn't yet another false claim.

There was silence for a few minutes before Mulder spoke again, "So, Largo, what's your theory on extraterrestrial life?"

Before she could reply Scully answered for her, "We call it the 'Phone Home Theory" Mulder. I'll give you the details later. Suffice it to say Largo thinks aliens are nice, not ruthless bounty-hunters trying to stick oversized pins into the base of each other's necks."

"And I don't think," Largo added, "that they traveled across the far reaches of space to go cow-tipping in West Virginia. It's my opinion that aliens capable of that kind of sophisticated technology are probably smart enough not to play in traffic."

Scully stifled a laugh, turning it into a yawn and covering it with the back of her hand as she caught Mulder's sidelong glance. She had decided to humor him for the day, but couldn't be held responsible for anything Largo came up with on her own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ed's Country Cafe
Wolftail, West Virginia
11:36 am

Mulder, Scully, and Largo took stools at the counter in Ed's Country Cafe. A woman in her late 50's offered them each a menu. Her nametag read 'FLO'.

Largo rolled her eyes. <Christ!> She thought, <Are there any small town waitresses *not* named Gladys or Flo?>

"What's the special?" Mulder politely asked Flo.

"Chicken fried steak and spuds. You want?"

"Yeah," he replied, smiling at the woman.

"And for you gals?"

<Gals?...Gals?> Largo's brows lifted, <Did she actually call us gals?>

She scanned the menu. It resembled the American Heart Association's worst nightmare. She decided to risk a question.

"You got any sandwiches, Flo?"

"We got meat loaf, we go the patty melt, and we got the turkey melt."

"Could I possible get the turkey, unmelted?"

The waitress looked her up and down. "Listen to me, skinnygirl, you look like you could use a little meat on them bones. Pretty young thing like you won't ever catch herself a man if he can't see you."

She caught Mulder and Scully's snorts of laughter out of the corner of her eye.

"Unmelted, please," she repeated, unamused, "and a Dr. Pepper."

She set the menu back down with finality, hoping Flo would leave her in peace.

She did, moving along to take Scully's order. She asked for waffles and got them on a late Sunday morning. Much to Largo's chagrin, Scully didn't have to take any crap off of Flo either.

As they finished their meals, Mulder called Flo over once more. The hearty waitress waddled over.

"Hey Flo, you know anything about a guy who's got the head of an alien on his wall?"

"Course I do, hon. That's Frank Jennings. Ran over it last week in his Ford. Big news round here. It's not every day you get visited by aliens, you know."

"And not every day one gets the death penalty for jaywalking." Largo mumbled in Scully's direction. The redhead only raised her eyebrows enigmatically.

"So you believe Jennings's story?" Mulder asked the waitress.

She shrugged, "Looks like an alien to me."

Largo spoke, "So you've seen others to use as a comparison?"

Flo frowned at her, a little confused, then her face relaxed as she understood the question. "Naw, but it looks like a lot of 'em you see on the TV."

"You mean like ALF? Or more like Marvin the Martian?"

Flo clicked her tongue at the young woman as she refilled Scully's coffee cup. "Naw, not like ALF. You know, those ones with the big eyes, little noses, little mouth. But Frank's is kinda furry too."

Mulder frowned, "Furry?"

"Yeah. It's got short hair, almost like fur."

Scully rejoined the conversation. "What color is the fur?"

Flo backed away from the counter. "If you folks are so interested, why don't you go take a look for yourselfs. I can give you directions to Frank's place. Only twelve bucks a head."

The women both gave Mulder a sarcastic look. He ducked their stares and took Flo's directions. He paid for their lunch and the trio left Ed's Country Cafe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolftail Trailer Court
12:21 pm

They really didn't need directions to the Jennings's homestead. They passed, by Scully's count, 11 signs announcing the presence of the dead alien, all pointing the direction in which to turn. Outside Jennings's trailer was a huge billboard reading:

          REAL LIVE DEAD ALIEN HEAD
          DISCOVERED ON ROUTE 67
          MONDAY, AUGUST 18, 1997
          COME ONE, COME ALL
          COME SEE THE ALIEN HEAD
          
          ADMISSION $12

To Largo's surprise (remember, she'd never been taken to see a 'real live dead alien head' before) there was a line of about eight people, all waiting, money in hand, for a glimpse of the head.

Scully, on the other hand, had seen such lines before, and patiently waited for their turn. When it came, she elbowed Mulder in the ribs, a hint that he was paying their admission. He gladly shoved two twenties at the plump woman who sat behind a card table with an old Folgers coffee can. She dug in the can for a moment and emerged with four singles, which she handed back to him. She then stamped each of their hands with a round orange smiley face.

As they entered the dimly-lit trailer, Largo muttered, "Hope we aren't interrupting today's episode of 'Hee-Haw'."

Scully stifled a snicker. Mulder just shot her a dirty look.

The agents stepped into the trailer, only to be greeted by Frank Jennings, the legend himself. Jennings gathered the group of ten or so into a small circle and told them his story.

"It was a dark night, but the moon was full," said the white-haired retiree, clad in overalls and a checkered cotton shirt. "I was driving home in the old Ford you see out front."

<Probably from the local tavern> Largo added mentally.

"When what should jump out in front of me but a small, white creature. I slammed on the brakes, but luck warn''t with me. I hit the poor fella straight on. When I got outta the pick-up, all I could find was the head."

Mulder was dying to ask questions, but waited patiently for Jennings to complete his narrative.

"Now, I took that head to the county hospital, but they gave me no time. Said they didn't want it, so I took it home here and preserved it myself, as proof of extraterrestrial life here on Earth. That's what I did, I tell ya."

"Mr. Jennings," Mulder asked, "did you see any other aliens, or just this one?"

"I saw two or three others running right along with this little fella."

"And instead of turning the head over to medical officials, you removed the contents of the head and filled it with stuffing?"

"Now, young man, I told you they didn't have no time for an old man like me."

Scully and Largo took the opportunity to examine the alien more closely. It was small, roughly the size of a child's head. The eyes were large and glassy, the nose very small. The face tapered down, and had a curious cleft toward the tiny mouth, which was little more than a slit.

Largo gave it a cursory once-over, not really having much experience with such things. However, when she reached out to touch it, she felt a very familiar furriness beneath her fingertips. Scully was examining the curious bone structure, which seemed almost lumpy. Was it simply a bad taxidermy job, or was it a fake? Scully couldn't tell on a ten second examination.

Then, Scully heard a "P-s-s-t" and walked around to Largo's side.

"Feel this, Scully." She said, placing Scully's hand on the alien's 'neck', then on the top of its head. "What does this feel like to you?"

"I'm not sure. It's kind of familiar. A little like suede, maybe?"

"Close, but I think it's rough deerskin. It's what a lot of our people make medicine bundles out of. But then, I'm not positive. I haven't had a medicine bundle since I was much younger, and I've never taken animal biology, so I can't be sure it's a deerskin."

Scully caught Mulder's eye and motioned him over. She examined the pelt of the creature a moment longer before she sighed and said, "I have taken animal biology, and, upon closer examination, such as small scar, evidence of a past buck shot injury, I'd have to say that this is most probably an Odocoileus Virginianus."

"A what?" Mulder asked, eyes still on the 'alien'.

"A white-tailed deer. The hindquarters, in particular."

Largo quickly covered her mouth to stop the gales of laughter which tried desperately to spring forth. When she found self-control, she leaned over, tears of laughter streaming down her face, and whispered,

"It's a deer's ass, Mulder!"

"It is not!"

"Mulder," Scully said with resignation, "it's a deer's ass. These eyes have been fashioned, and this nose was set up with wires or something from the inside to make it protrude. See the cleft near the 'mouth'? That's...well, I think you get the picture."

"It's a deer's ass?" He was incredulous.

She nodded, putting a consoling hand on his arm.

Largo leaned in closer and jerked an elbow in the direction of their 'host', "So what do we do with Wilford Brimley over there?"

They walked back over to Frank Jennings and showed him their badges. Scully called the local police to report Jennings's fraudulent claims and the fact he'd reaped huge profits by convincing unwitting local yokels his mediocre taxidermy job was the skull of an extraterrestrial biological entity.

Maybe Jennings he could fool the people of Wolftail, West Virginia, but he couldn't fool the trained professionals of the FBI's X-Files Division, one of whom was still having trouble controlling herself, and could be found at odd moments bursting into snorts of laughter as she mumbled, "a deer's ass." The whipcord-thin deputy, a man named Fife (of all unfortunate deputy names), forgave her, though. She was rather young-looking and had alarmingly-bright green eyes. Of course, it probably helped that she wore a very large Sig Sauer in a belt clip at the small of her back. In fact, both the women looked like they could kick his ass, even the hard-nosed little red head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4:10 pm

The police had finally let them be on their merry way after giving official statements attesting to what they'd seen at the Jennings' place. The agents had little idea what would happen to Frank Jennings and his wife, Myrtle (the rotund hand-stamper), but figured it would be little more than a slap on the wrist. After all, pretending to have a 'real live dead alien head' was not on the same scale as counterfeiting a pillowcase full of Ben Franklins in the eyes of local law officials. They usually figured anyone dumb enough to pay to see something as ridiculous as that deserved to have their money taken.

Fox Mulder, however, was not a happy camper on the way home. Once again, he'd failed to convince Scully of the existence of extraterrestrials. Plus, he'd made a fool of himself in front of Largo.

<A deer's ass, for Christsakes! She'll never let me live that one down.>

As if knowing his thoughts, Largo spoke up. "I think you owe me something for this one, Mulder."

"Oh really." He replied drolly.

"Yes, really. I think you owe me a trip out of the office."

"What?"

"Next assignment, *I* get to go and *you* have to stay in the office and fax me reports about anything I want. If I say I want all information available on Silly Putty, you have to spend four hours looking it up for me. If I say I want the skinny on voodoo priestesses who bite heads off live chickens, you'll be waiting in the wings with a grin and a 'yes ma'am'."

"And you think I'll agree to that?"

"Actually, yes, I do."

Mulder was silent. Scully only sat, listening to the exchange, an enigmatic smile on her face.

Finally, Mulder said, "It's a deal. On one condition."

"What's that?" Largo asked.

"You never say the words *deer's ass* ever again."

The car was filled with the sound of female laughter, and, after a few moments, Mulder began to chuckle as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END

Well, I see you have reached the end (for now). Thank you for reading along, and I hoped you liked these little stories. If you're still interested, look for "Trinity 4: Visions," it's slated for release before the end of 1997, and will be posted here as soon as it's finished.

Thanks again, and feel free to drop me a line and let me know how you liked the "Trinity" series.

xfstew@yahoo.com

 

---

 

Trinity IV: "VISIONS"
by XF Stew
<xfstew@yahoo.com>
Classification: XAR
Rating: R (with an NC-17 section clearly marked in Chapter 18, and an R version for those who prefer it)
Spoilers: Fourth Season
Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance, Features Megan Largo
Summary: Mysterious deaths at a small-town lake lead Mulder and Scully to investigate while Largo interrogates a mobster suspected of killing a dozen people in an arson fire. Meanwhile, the Consortium is up to some new tricks, playing dangerous games with the members of the X-Files Division that lead to distrust and paranoia, which culminates in a dangerous showdown between two partners.
**Disclaimer: The cast and characters you see on the television series "The X-Files" do not belong to me. I am borrowing them and am making absolutely no money from their use here, so go ahead and sue me, you can have all my profits. The character of Megan Largo, however, is original and belongs to me.
**Also borrowed for this story (without permission) were lyrics from the following:

Sabotage - The Beastie Boys
Possession - Sarah McLachlan
Me And Bobby McGee - Janis Joplin
Undone...The Sweater Song - Weezer
Believe - Lenny Kravitz

Special thanks go once again to Mary Colleen, a wonderful beta reader and a wonderful person. Thanks for all of your help, your suggestions, your feedback, and your enthusiasm. It is greatly appreciated :-)

SUMMARY OF THE TRINITY SERIES:

In order to update readers, and encourage new ones to take a chance on this story, the author has decided to give a brief update on the events of the "Trinity" series. It all started with Fox Mulder's 'death' at the end of Gesthemane, and this is where our story breaks from the X-Files timeline.

In this world, Dana Scully believes her partner dead. She is told that the X-Files Division is going to be kept open, but will be 'reorganized' in a way that will not include the investigation of UFO-related phenomena. Scully is assigned a new partner to assist her in the division, and this is where we are introduced to Special Agent Megan Largo.

Largo and Scully are called to investigate a series of murders in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, wherein each murder is accompanied by a mysterious and frantic 911 call pleading for police intervention. Largo and Scully work well together, and soon form something of a bond.

After the Milwaukee investigation, Largo and Scully continue to work together and have an incredible solve rate. Scully continues to undergo treatment for her cancer, until one day when her doctor shows her a strange cranial X-ray of her skull that indicates her cancer is gone. He tells her that she was misdiagnosed and that she does not have cancer. Scully puts the pieces together and realizes she had been the victim of a huge conspiracy between the medical community and covert government forces. She had been given the physical symptoms of cancer in order to make her believe, and her blood work and X-rays had been tampered with.

Feeling like a pawn in a cruel chess game, Scully realizes she was used by the Consortium to drive a wedge between she and her former partner and to push Mulder over the edge. She feel, now more than ever, responsible for the death of Fox Mulder.

On a late night drive, Scully receives a phone call from Skinner telling her that police in Bend, Oregon have reported finding two bodies with extracted livers and could determine no point of entry for either attack. She drives to her partner's house to deliver the news and makes a startling discovery. Her partner, Megan Largo, has a significant other. A woman named Jolyn Parker.

The pair come to tentative terms with Largo's relationship and head out to Oregon to investigate. Out in the great Northwest, Scully is reunited with Fox Mulder, who has been living in a mountain cabin under the name 'Nick Charles.' Initially, she is angry with his deception, and he has to re-earn her trust.

Upon their return from Oregon, Mulder and Scully find themselves with new feelings for each other. They slowly explore the possibilities of this budding relationship throughout the next few months and into this story.

Mulder rejoins the X-Files Division upon his return to Washington, even though things have changed. He and Scully are both considered lead agents in the division with Megan Largo as a junior partner. Mulder finds it difficult to accept Largo's presence in the basement, clinging to his age-old adage of 'Trust No One,' but grudgingly accepts her partnership as a necessary evil, all the while looking for clues that she could be another turncoat, another Alex Krycek.

This should bring the reader up to speed on the events of the "Trinity" series, and should serve as adequate background for new readers as well. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy Trinity 4: "Visions"

=====
Angst warning: This story is rated AAA (that's triple-A) for angst, angst, angst. Of course, there are liberal doses of humor and the growth of the Mulder/Scully relationship continues, but the road to romance is rocky for our heroes. Don't say you weren't warned!
=====

ANOTHER CRUCIAL WARNING: This story contains a same-sex relationship between two characters. If that bothers you, you may want to bail out now. If not, hold on for the ride, and enjoy the adventure.

**All feedback is welcomed and appreciated at: xfstew@yahoo.com

---

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TRINITY IV - VISIONS
by xf-stew
xfstew@yahoo.com
PROLOGUE: "Evil Ways"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday, Oct. 18, 1997
Unknown Location

There was a knock on the door, and the man with the odd, dry voice told the visitor to enter. A tall, thin man with deep, heavy lines in his face came into the room, a Morley cigarette burning between nicotine-stained fingers.

"You wanted to see me?" asked the smoker.

"Yes, please sit."

The Cancer Man did as told, noticing now that they were alone. This was highly unusual, but he knew the purpose of this meeting, and understood why it was to be private.

The Leader tented his fingers from behind the desk at which he sat. In his dusty monotone he said, "I am not pleased. We believed things were taken care of, but I can see that they are not."

"Am I to assume you believe me responsible for the fact that Fox Mulder is alive?"

"That is no longer the issue. He is alive, and we have accepted that. We are, however, displeased with things pertaining to him and to the X-Files Division. Your assurances as to the benign presence of Agent Largo are now being questioned. When you add her particular brilliance to that of Mulder and Scully, even you can see that we are headed in a negative direction."

"With all due respect, I still hold the same opinion of Agent Largo. She is unstable because of her temperament and her medical history. It is only a matter of time until she unravels...perhaps taking the X-Files Division with her."

"We don't have that kind of time," The Leader replied. "I need you to remedy the situation now, before Agent Mulder begins once more to use Bureau resources to investigate in our direction."

The Cigarette Smoking Man took a deep drag. "I can understand your concerns, but--"

"No," The Leader interrupted, "I don't think you understand. I want this taken care of now. Something must be done, something that will divert their attention. Perhaps even shut them down.

"I understand," Cancer Man replied, extinguishing his cigarette and standing. "I believe I have a viable plan which should gain us our desired end."

"Anything you'd care to share?"

"It's still in the works, so to speak, but I believe this is a good place to test one of our new toys."

"New toy?"

The smoker gave a thin smile, "An original take on biological warfare. We need a place to test it, and this will give us a perfect opportunity."

"What will it do to them?"

"I believe it will create a sufficient...diversion. And I believe it will test the boundaries of their newly-formed alliance. Perhaps it may even push one of them over the edge." With that, the Cancer Man turned and exited the room, leaving a trail of foul-smelling air in his wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
END OF PROLOGUE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER ONE: "Sabotage"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DAY ONE
Monday, Oct. 20, 1997
Megan Largo's Apartment
5:42 am

Something tickled Meg Largo's cheek. She twitched slightly, sleepily bringing a hand up to bat lightly at it. Suddenly, it tickled her ear, and she heard a sucking, slurping sound that brought her out of a peaceful sleep. Small teeth clicked and furry jaws chomped just behind her left ear.

Her eyes flew open to see a small gray and black striped tail swinging lazily in the air. Attached to the short-haired tail was the hindquarters of a lithe little tabby cat.

"Lenny!" she whispered with obvious irritation. "Stop that, damn it!"

The cat showed no intention of compliance. Largo exhaled softly, reaching a caramel-colored hand out to push the cat off her chest. Cat owners knew what they were in for, co-habitating with the planet's most self-absorbed creatures. Every morning Lenny came into the room just before the alarm went off to indulge in one of his favorite little pleasures: chewing on Meg's hair. When he was a kitten she allowed it, feeling it was some type of human/animal bonding. By now, however, it was no longer endearing and had become quite annoying. When Jolyn moved in, a little over a month ago, Largo vowed to break her cat of this morning ritual. She pulled him back so that they were face to face, stroking the tips of his ears until he purred softly. He'd be running in fear any moment now, she knew.

--CLICK--

Abruptly the silence of the room was shattered by the violent whine of electric guitars. Lenny sprang up and bolted off the bed as a loud, nasalized voice began to sing:

"Oh I can't stand it--I know you planned it
But I'm gonna set it straight, this Watergate
I can't stand rockin' when I'm in here
Because your crystal ball ain't so crystal clear
So while you sit back and wonder why
I got this f***ing thorn in my side
Oh my God, it's a mirage
I'm tellin y'all it's sabotage."

Largo let the music play, waiting for a stirring beside her. The only reaction was a blonde head lifting, grabbing the pillow beneath its head, and throwing it violently over the top. Largo couldn't help but chuckle as she wrapped an arm around her pajama-clad companion, pulling her close.

From beneath the pillow Jolyn Parker mumbled, "I don't know what you're so happy about. One thing I *don't* need to first thing in the morning is to be serenaded by the Beastie Boys."

Largo reached a hand over and slapped the clock radio. The room became eerily silent. She removed the pillow from atop Jolyn's head, "Good morning, sunshine."

Jo's eyes remained closed as she tried to snake her whole body under the soft comforter.

"Oh no, you don't," Largo said, her arm becoming firm, holding Jolyn in place. "Aren't you going for a swim this morning? You said last night not to let you sleep."

Jo sighed, then pleaded, "Two more minutes?"

Largo placed her chin on Jo's shoulder and looked down at her, "Nope."

"But Meg, I can't open my eyes yet. It's not even daylight."

Largo knew all about Jolyn's reluctance to wake before the sun was up. She was far from a morning person, and never scheduled a class before 10:30 am. Even back in their college days, Jo dreaded the early morning swim team workouts she was constantly subjected to.

Meg, on the other hand, only needed about 5 hours of sleep a night to awaken refreshed and ready to tackle anything placed in her path. However, she was sympathetic to Jo's reluctance. She spooned her body on the outside of Jo's and pulled the soft blonde hair off her neck to lay soft kisses on it.

"Maybe I can give you some incentive for staying awake."

Jo's voice was low as she replied, "With that kind of incentive, I'll never make it to the pool."

"You could go later, after classes. Or skip it for today. I think you're in great shape as is."

Eyes still shut, Jo smiled and reached back to touch Largo's leg, warm and bare beneath the men's boxer shorts she had worn to bed. "Don't forget why I can't go tonight. The lecture, remember? The one *you're* speaking at."

Largo smiled against her neck, laid one more kiss on it, then sat up, "I guess you're right. Off to the pool with you!" With that, she bounced heavily on the bed, rousing Jo completely from her slumber.

Jolyn finally opened her eyes and rolled over, facing Largo, "You can be really annoying when you want to, you know that Meg?"

Largo grinned, "Course I do. It's part of my natural charm."

Jo couldn't help but return the smile. "Well, do I get one last kiss before I leave the comfort of my bed?"

The grin spread even wider. She said, "Who am I to deny you a last request?" and bent down to kiss her partner long and deep, their tongues meeting, dancing with familiarity to a rhythm they both knew well. Meg broke the kiss and laid her head on Jo's chest. Jolyn squeezed her tightly, never wanting Meg to leave the safety of her arms. Every day, unbeknownst to Jo's conscious mind, she worried. When she came home at night her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of the flashing red light the signaled a phone message, not realizing she secretly feared it would be from Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, or (God forbid) Walter Skinner, giving her terrible news.

She'd been in love with Megan Largo for at least the last five years, probably much longer. Subconsciously, Jolyn lived in fear that her long-awaited union with Meg would be ripped from her grasp, torn away by an unknown menace who lurked inside one of those mysterious cases her friend called the X-Files.

Meg stirred in her arms and sat up, clasping Jo's hand to pull her out of the bed. "Come on lazybones, we're wasting daylight."

Jo rolled her eyes, "Wasting daylight? What is that, some kind of backwoods expression?" Jo, a Twin Cities native, never let by a chance to tease Meg on her rural background.

"It sure is." In a more sarcastic tone, she added, "We used to say that before we got up to milk the cows. Come on, you can shower with me. I gotta hurry to the office anyway."

Largo hoisted her friend and lover out of bed and stuck her in the shower. They left the apartment at 7:05, Largo singing happily along with the radio as Jolyn dozed in the passenger seat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Basement Office
9:30 am

The day started as an ordinary one for the agents of the X-Files Division, which is to say that they sat at their desks completing paperwork. Mulder had grudgingly agreed to finish the work for the last case since Scully had an autopsy to perform at 10:45. He'd been a little miffed because it wasn't an X-Files case-related autopsy, but one she'd been asked to perform as a favor. Mulder was still annoyed by the fact that they were often given work from other departments when they already had plenty of their own to finish. However, that was the bargain they'd made with Skinner in the reorganization of their department.

It was partly his fault and partly Scully's. He'd chosen the wrong path when he'd given up the fight within the Bureau and faked his own death. Scully had sealed the deal when she make her statement to the committee refuting the evidence of extraterrestrial life on earth, claiming it was all an elaborate confabulation concocted by covert non-entities within their own system.

He still believed in the existence of alien life on earth. He'd seen too much not to believe. Now, his mission was to prove it. But it was going to be much harder now. All investigations dealing with UFO-related incidents would have to be hidden behind 'official stories'. In other words, he'd have to fabricate a justification for investigating such cases, and that justification had to be plausible not only to the higher-ups, but to his partners as well.

Yes, that's partners in the plural form. To Mulder's dismay, in his absence the powers-that-be had assigned another agent to the X-Files Division. Megan Largo appeared, on the surface, to be an excellent young agent. Underneath, however, he wasn't so sure. He'd read her personnel file and was still a little puzzled by it. Her past was dotted with bizarre events (as if his own wasn't), the most revealing of which happened early this year, about eight months ago. Largo was hospitalized with LSD poisoning following a car accident in which her partner, Ben Campbell, was killed. Campbell had also ingested a large amount of LSD, and died of heart failure on the way to the hospital.

After that event, Largo retreated from society for awhile, and it was beginning to look as if she would be forced into permanent leave, the aftereffects of the incident leaving her psychologically damaged. However, she managed to pick herself up and return to work. On her first day back she struck a fellow agent with a large piece of obsidian she used as a paperweight, and was sent on another leave. So much for her stability. Ironically, it was Largo's spotted past that got her assigned as Scully's partner after his 'death'.

Meg Largo was stubborn and headstrong. She was outspoken and sometimes brash. They had formed a curious relationship, and he used her as something of a confidante regarding matters in his personal life. This was strange, because professionally he did not know what to make of her as yet, and in the back of his mind he still wondered if she might possibly be a spy. Another Alex Krycek. He had nothing upon which to base this claim, but he held it, and although she was much more open to the existence of extreme possibilities than Scully, Largo still made him a little nervous.

Mulder knew that Largo was bisexual, and lived with a tall, blonde college professor named Jolyn Parker. This fact didn't repel him, however, but intrigued him even more, and he took every opening he could find to question her about this aspect of her life. Her honesty and candor took him by surprise, but upon reflection he concluded that a person living with such a secret must be somewhat relieved to be able to share the events of their personal life with another, even if it was someone like him.

Largo now stood and stretched. She was wearing a white silk blouse and a gray skirt with black flats. He realized this was the first time he'd seen her wear a skirt instead of pants to work. She grabbed her coffee cup and headed for the pot.

"Anyone else?" she asked.

"No thanks," Scully replied, "I've got to run. Be back in a few hours."

She grabbed her briefcase, smiled at Mulder as she passed, briefly touching his shoulder on her way by, and left the office.

"Mulder?" Largo asked, raising her eyebrows as she held up the pot of coffee.

"Yeah, sure, I'll have a refill."

She brought the pot over and filled his cup. As she was returning he asked, "So, Largo, what are you doing this morning?"

She exaggerated a laugh. "Oh, no you don't. You're not pawning your paperwork off on me again."

He held a palm to his chest and gave her a hangdog look. "I'm wounded you think I would do such a thing."

"Oh? You had honest intentions? Then please pardon me. I'm doing paperwork this morning, then I have to finish preparing a lecture."

"Lecture?"

"Yes. Believe it or not, I've been asked to be a guest lecturer in a series over at George Washington U. Actually," she said in explanation, "Jo recommended me to the man organizing it."

"What's the topic?"

"The Native American Worldview versus Mainstream American Culture."

Mulder raised his eyebrows. He could see why Largo was the natural candidate for such a presentation. He also realized that if these people coming to the lecture expected some philosophical Indian mystic, they were going to be sorely disappointed. Meg Largo was mystical in her own way, but not in a way these people would expect.

"When's the lecture?"

"Today at 5:00, so I'll be leaving a little early."

"If I'm a good boy and do all my paperwork, can I come?"

Largo smirked back at him, "You'll have to take that up with Scully."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day was mainly unremarkable. They spent at least one or two like it every week. The phone rang a few times. VCS asking Mulder to assist on a profile later in the week, Scully being asked her opinion by a local ME.

Largo finished putting her lecture slides together in the mid-afternoon. She complained of a minor headache and downed a couple of ibuprofen before heading off to her presentation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jefferson Hall Auditorium
George Washington Univ. Campus
5:15 p.m.

Mulder and Scully had to stand along the back wall of the small auditorium. The 150-plus seats had been filled with professors, grad students, and the occasional undergrad. All were raptly listening to the curious lilting tones of Dr. Megan Largo's strange pattern of speech. Even though she'd lived much of her life in the white world, she still retained the odd rhythm many bilingual Native Americans spoke their English with.

She began by stating many facts her partners knew already. She discussed her ethnic heritage, her family's history, and that her grandfather, Joseph Little Bear, was an elder in their tribe and a 'pejutawicasta' or medicine man. Scully noticed the way Largo glossed over the fact that both her parents were deceased, and figured that she'd probably try to deflect questions about them during Q&A at the end, just as she did in their office at work.

Largo slowly paced the stage, her hands behind her back as she spoke with the confident elegance both Mulder and Scully had now grown accustomed to. She explained the general Native American philosophy of the circular nature of life, and contrasted it with Hegel's theory of dialectics and Marx's later theory of dialectical materialism. She explained that although the end result of 'communal living' was the same, the philosophies behind them were at opposite poles. She went on to discuss the dynamics of American culture and the rapid advancements that have taken place, not just since the Industrial Revolution, but in the more-recent 'Age of Information'. She voiced her theory that Westerners feel if they are not progressing, they are stagnating and dying. They feel that life was designed for the gathering of information, and that the supreme accomplishment was in putting that information to use in new ways in order to change society.

The Native Americans, in general, believed their world was designed in a certain way, and they were to live their lives within that world. They did not desire to change it, but instead lived in harmony with it.

Largo went on to tell the Dakota story of how the Wakantanka, or Great Spirit, took pity on the people during a tremendous drought. He saw that too many of the people were dying, and that if nothing was done to aid them they would die and become a forgotten people. So he sent them a gift, the Sunkawakan (Shoon-KA-wa-KAN), or what is now known as the Sunktanka (Shoonk-TAN-ka). The Sunktanka was the 'sacred dog', or the horse, and it saved the people from devastation. It changed the way they hunted, it changed their settlement patterns, and it changed the fabric of their lives. Dakotas tell the story of the Sunkawakan with the same reverence and respect with which Christians tell the story of Christ in the manger.

After two hours of speaking, Largo tried to wrap it up. "So we see, in both cultures, that the stories, the myths, and the legends handed down both in print and by oral tradition have a huge impact on the identity of a people. Just as the 'identity story' in the Old Testament of the passage from Egypt to the Promised Land gives the Jewish people a sense of who they are, the various Native American myths and legends of the ancestors give each group a knowledge of where they came from.

"Over the course of American History, many have viewed the two groups as simply incompatible. The choice, at one time, was between assimilation into the dominant culture, or virtual extinction. We all have our own personal opinions on actions such as these, and I don't want to make this a forum to debate them, but I think I need to mention, as an Indian person, that I see those days as being in the past. We, as Americans, have to move to new ground.

"Native American people live in a difficult state of flux these days. There are pressures from both mainstream society, and from their own tribal leaders. Each of us choose our own path, living within the boundaries of American culture while remembering our roots, our philosophies, and the history of our various peoples.

"Young people like myself sometimes have trouble living between those worlds, and you may find it interesting that no traditional Dakota would have told you the story of the Sunkawakan, the horse. Not because it is sacred or secret, but because it is September, and generally a bad time of year to tell such a story. You see, it is an old Dakota superstition that stories about animals are not to be told unless there is snow on the ground. If a person disobeys this guideline, the spirit of the animal from the story may rise up out of the uncovered earth and posses the storyteller. Only when the snow is present to hold the spirits down can one safely tell stories of animals.

"Do I believe this old superstition, you might ask? No, I do not. However, many of my friends and colleagues, even here in Washington, believe I must have told about fifty mule stories in mid-July because they can personally attest to my possession by an animal with extreme stubbornness."

Mulder and Scully exchanged a smile and chuckled with the rest of the crowd.

Up on the stage, looking calm and composed in her blouse, skirt, and wire-rimmed glasses, she opened the room up to questions. With a dry throat but a warm smile on her fresh young face, Dr. Megan Largo patiently answered questions on various fringe topics, many having to do with her personal experiences and philosophies on current Native American issues.

Finally, after forty-five minutes of Q&A, Largo called the meeting to a close. She unhooked the microphone from her blouse and began to gather her materials. A few of the spectators left, some milled about, searching for friends, colleagues, or others. Many, however, made a bee-line for the small stage where Dr. Largo stood gathering her notes.

Mulder and Scully waited patiently as Largo shook hands and answered even more questions from the remaining guests. It was clear she wasn't going to break free any time soon.

Scully, who felt even shorter among large crowds, was about to grab Mulder and suggest they wait outside, when suddenly she looked up to find Jolyn Parker standing at her side.

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. Glad you could make it," the woman said in her low, butterscotch voice.

"Dr. Parker, it's nice to see you again," she said in greeting.

Parker rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. "Dr. Parker? Only my students call me that. Please, call me Jolyn or Jo."

"Okay Jolyn, but only if you stop calling me Agent Scully. My name is Dana."

Jo smiled at her and shook her blonde head. "I'm sorry, but because of Meg, you'll always be Scully to me. How's that?"

Scully nodded, "Acceptable." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "And call him Mulder."

Parker smiled at him, "Not 'Spooky'?"

Pretending to be gruff, Mulder replied, "Definitely not 'Spooky'."

Jo turned back to see how Meg Largo was progressing. "So, did you enjoy the lecture?"

Scully looked over at her, "It was amazing. She's a natural for this kind of thing. And I could swear half the audience was hypnotized just by listening to her voice."

Jo looked away and smiled a secret smile, "Tell me about it." Then, "This is by far the largest turnout for the lecture series. Meg would have made a great professor. She still gets offers, you know?"

Mulder raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

"Yes, just last week a letter came offering her a full-time position at Wisconsin. She doesn't even open them anymore, but I do."

Scully detected a hopeful note in his voice as he asked, "Does she ever think about it? Going into academia, I mean."

Jo seemed a little sad as she replied, "No. She loves the Bureau. She loves the work you guys do. Heck, sometimes I'm jealous."

"Don't be." Scully said, "You'd be sick of HIM at the end of one week."

Mulder looked wounded, and stuck his pouty lower lip out a little.

Jo perked up a bit, "Here she comes."

Largo approached the small group, attach‚ case in one hand, a box of slides under the other arm. She looked a little tired, but was still smiling.

"Hi, all. Let's blow this joint. I'm starving."

Mulder, Scully, and Jo Parker all looked at each other, then began to laugh. Hearing this off-hand, flippant statement from a woman who'd just stood in front of nearly 200 people and lectured to academics for close to three hours on such esoteric subject matter as dialectical materialism seemed so strange, even ironic. However, they knew it was par for the course with Meg Largo.

Walking to their cars, Scully said, "Largo, I have a question for you."

"Well, I'm almost questioned out for the night, but for you..." she smiled, "Shoot."

"Okay," she held out a small hand and began a list on her fingers. "You graduated high school at 16, and were a big-time college athlete. You got your Ph.D. at twenty-two and now you're an FBI agent with an incredible knack for tearing suspects apart during interrogation. You play the piano like a pro and have one of the best voices I've ever heard. In addition to all this, you're an incredibly charismatic public speaker. Tell me, Dr. Largo, is there anything you *can't* do?"

"She's not very domestic," Jo readily supplied with a small laugh. "Can't work an iron, can't sew a button."

"I'm a horrible artist, don't even draw a decent stick figure," Largo added.

"Her penmanship reminds me of a third-grader," Jo said airily.

"I can't dance...I'm a crappy swimmer...takes me hours to balance my checkbook..."

Throwing her hands into the air, Scully pleaded, "Okay, okay, I get the picture."

"AND," Jo said with finality, "she can't cook."

Scully smiled, "Oh yeah, I forgot. I ate at your house once."

Jo groaned, giving her friend a hard time, "What did you feed her, Meg."

Largo shrugged, "Opened a couple of cans, put it in some bowls."

Scully gave her a look and supplied the answer. "She made soup and sandwiches."

"Actually," Largo admitted, "Your mom made those. If I'd have made them, you probably would have started throwing up again."

Mulder interrupted their little Estrogen-fest, "When did you throw up at Largo's house?"

Scully's look turned more serious. "It was when I still thought I had cancer. I had a very strong reaction after one treatment. Upon reflection, I think they'd just given me something to help break up the tissue growth in my sinus cavity. It was some kind of anti-dote or something to straighten my system out. However, it got a little worse before it got better."

"That seems like such a long time ago, Scully," Largo said, looking her seriously in the eye. "I'm so glad it's over. I'm so happy that you're well."

"Me too, Largo," she said, giving Largo's arm a brief squeeze, "me too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The foursome enjoyed a comfortable dinner in a local pub, then said their good-byes for the evening. Mulder drove Scully home and, always the gentleman, walked her to the door.

She opened the door and stood on the threshold, looking up at him. They'd grown closer in the weeks following their reunion. Both were seeing each other in a new light these days. They'd taken it slow, however. Painfully slow for Mulder. He wanted to taste his partner's sweet red lips so bad it hurt. But he understood her caution. His actions in May had wounded her badly, and she needed to feel safe with him again before handing him something she guarded as closely as her heart.

Tonight, however, he stood on her doorstep and felt the change in her demeanor.

She took the initiative, reaching up and hooking an arm around his neck. She pulled his face down to hers. She brushed his lips with her own. Once. Twice. She gently kissed his upper lip, then, finally, his full, pouty lower one. The one that drove her crazy every time she looked at it. It was everything she'd hoped. His lips were soft, just as she'd imagined. The feeling of them against her own sent a warm current down her spine.

He let her control the kiss. At first she was tentative, almost chaste, but as she grew bolder he parted his lips to meet hers as they once again came close. She licked his bottom lip with her tongue, and nothing had felt so sensuous, so right, in all her life.

He pushed out with his tongue and met hers. They explored each other with both their mouths and hands. Mulder wrapped his arms around her back as she brought hers up to roam his chest over the button-down shirt he wore beneath his suit jacket.

Mulder discovered every inch of her sensuous mouth and traced the line of her teeth with his tongue, while hers matched his own stroke for stroke with a passion he never knew she possessed.

Reluctantly, she tore her mouth from his, her breath heavy. "Mulder, we're making out on my front step."

His eyes were closed as he rested his chin on the top of her head and held her close. "What's your point, Scully?"

"I think you should go home now."

He hid his disappointment and simply said, "Okay Scully." He released her, but lifted her chin and gave her another brief kiss. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Mulder."

"Goodnight Scully."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
END OF CHAPTER ONE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER TWO: "This Is How We Go"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DAY TWO
Tuesday, Oct. 21, 1997
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Basement Office

Mulder, Scully and Largo were in and out of the office all day, rarely seeing each other. Scully performed a morning autopsy, Mulder spent nearly all afternoon up in the VCS Section of the building, and Largo was called into a review meeting with AD Skinner. Since she was new to the department, and coming off of a period of indefinite leave, she was required to meet with her AD periodically for evaluation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Baltimore Medical Examiner's Office
10:15 am

Dana Scully, clad in green medical scrubs, a lab coat, and an ugly white hair net, she the clear plastic eye shield atop her small nose and took a tray of scalpels to the stand near the autopsy table.

She'd been requested to assist Dr. Elvin Jarmer with this autopsy of a 'floater' who had surfaced in Chesapeake Bay yesterday. The victim, Elaine Pierce, had been missing for several days.

Pierce had been scheduled to testify on Monday in front of a grand jury against Michael Bolliani, the son of Agustus 'Papa' Bolliani, a prominent produce magnate who had distribution centers all over the East Coast. The Bollianis were known to everyone in law enforcement as a major organized crime family. However, they were extremely hard to pin down. Papa's oldest son Carlos had recently been put away for at least 10 to 20, but the rest of the family still operated, and were still untouchable.

Pierce was set to testify that she'd overheard Michael Bolliani on the phone instructing one of his underlings to buy "ten keys of China White," then take the courier out. Her case fell under Baltimore's jurisdiction since she'd washed up along the city's riverbanks. Pierce lived in Richmond, however, where she was to testify. This made the case interstate and stressed its importance to the Baltimore ME's office. Dr. Jarmer, the young ME assigned to the autopsy, wanted her assistance to make sure nothing was missed. Dr. Scully was widely considered one of the best and most thorough forensic pathologists around.

Scully approached the body. She looked down at the dead, bloated remains of Elaine Pierce, a single woman who had the courage to stand up to a high-profile crime family like the Bollianis. Elaine Pierce hadn't backed down, hadn't cowered in fear, hadn't hid away like a frightened lamb. Scully held a great deal of respect for Elaine Pierce, and as she gazed down at the woman's misshapen remains, she felt a heaviness in her nose and a tickle in her eyes. Stunned to realize she was near tears, Scully quickly tried to cover by beginning the autopsy.

She and Jarmer went through the preliminaries, noting height, weight, and documenting the physical condition of the body on tape as well as through a set of photographs. They broke out the Stryker saw and opened the cranium, weighed the brain, then made the Y-incision in the victim's chest cavity.

Inspecting the internal organs, Jarmer said, "I see little of the physical trauma that would be consistent with a heavy beating, Dr. Scully. It appears to be a simple drowning case, nothing we can prove to be anything but an accidental death."

Scully nodded distractedly as she took a small blunt probe and gently pushed at the right lung. It was full of fluid, consistent with a drowning death. If she'd been dumped post-mortem, the lung would only be partially full. The stomach was also full of water, and they opened it to find little except HCl (stomach acid) mixed with water.

The smell of a 'floater' was very strong, the time spent in water putrefying the wet flesh at a slower rate. Unfortunately, the internal organs were not so lucky. All pathologists hated 'floaters' because of this intensely disturbing odor; it was enough to make police investigators usually opt to by-pass their privilege of viewing the autopsy. However, Scully's sharp nose detected an incongruous, yet familiar smell when they opened the stomach.

"Dr. Jarmer, do you smell anything...odd?"

Jarmer's face gave away his distaste for the job in front of them, "I smell the unmistakable scent of a floater, if that's what you're referring to, Dr. Scully."

Scully frowned thoughtfully, "No, something else. Wait a second."

She took a scalpel and punctured the right lung. She inserted a shunt and drained the fluid into a specimen jar. Scully looked over at Jarmer, who was staring incredulously, yet with admiration for her courage in what he realized she was about to do.

Scully stepped back from the autopsy table and lifted the jar, holding it just under her nose. She inhaled hesitantly, then took a deeper whiff.

"Rose water." She stated, motioning for Jarmer to come closer.

She held the jar out to him and he took a small sniff. "You're right."

"They putting scented bath oil in Chesapeake Bay these days, Dr. Jarmer?"

He laughed, "Still smells like shit every time I take my kids to the waterfront."

"Then I'd say our victim didn't die in the Bay. I'd speculate that she died in a bathtub, one that smelled like this." She held up the jar.

They tested the saline level of the water. It was not nearly the equivalent of the Bay's saline level, and was far cleaner than the water in the Chesapeake. Scully and Jarmer finished their inventory of the internal organs, then turned back once more to the mottled skin. It was difficulty to determine which injuries the victim had suffered pre-mortem compared to post, and five days in Chesapeake Bay didn't help them any, but the pair were fairly certain the dark bruised along the victim's spine and on her heels and lower legs were consistent with the struggle and thrashing that would occur if one were held underwater within the confines of a bathtub. Of course, the bruises weren't conclusive evidence, but the water from the lungs was.

Elaine Pierce was murdered, then dumped into Chesapeake Bay, far away from her home in Richmond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter Skinner's office
10:45 am

"Good morning Agent Largo, please come in."

She shut the door behind her and approached his desk. Skinner stood and they shook hands cordially before she moved to the front of the desk to take a seat.

"I must commend you, Agent Largo. Your reviews are improving all the time."

She chanced a small smile, "You mean my reviews completed by Agent Mulder."

He nodded, "Agent Scully's review remains quite favorable, as always. As you realize, however, this has not always been the case with Agent Mulder's."

It was true and she knew it. Scully gave her stellar reviews, all very specific and all very positive. Knowing that Dana Scully was probably the most brutally honest and inherently objective person she knew, Largo took the favorable reviews as a great compliment. Mulder, on the other hand, had resented her from day one, and his reviews reflected this.

Of course, the coin had two sides, and she wasn't completely enamored with him either. As a professional, though, Largo knew Mulder was top-notch. He was an excellent agent and investigator, and together Mulder and Scully were a formidable team. She was happy to be working with them, despite Mulder's grudging attitude toward her.

"In this last review," Skinner said, holding up a white form, "Mulder said your assistance from the office was quite invaluable. Your quick yet thorough research is impressive, and he enjoys you in this role."

<Of course he does> Largo thought, remembering their 'deal' after the fiasco in Wolftail, West Virginia <He doesn't want to keep up his end, so he's telling Skinner how wonderful I am and how much he needs me in the dungeon. God, Mulder, be more obvious!>

"I do my best, sir."

He picked up another form, this time a blue sheet, "And your latest psychiatric evaluation shows that you're doing well. If the EAP thinks you're stable, that's good enough for me."

Skinner was referring to the acute paranoia she'd developed after the LSD incident in February. Largo had been extremely hesitant to eat anything she hadn't prepared herself from pre-packaged containers made of metal, sometimes not even eating from those. She'd nearly starved herself after her release from the hospital, and had only begun to eat when threatened with re-hospitalization and intravenous feeding.

"Yes sir. I still have a few quirks, but they're under control. I believe my mental health is within the range of normalcy. I'm enjoying my work and feel my relationship with my new partners is growing ever stronger."

"Yes, the three of you have been quite effective."

"Thank you, sir."

Skinner sat back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. It was a signal that the necessities of the meeting were over and that they could now speak on a personal level. Skinner was always careful about this, separating professional from personal matters, but Largo knew he secretly enjoyed these periodic meetings. They gave him a break from his busy administrative routine and a chance to talk with her, his 'step-daughter.'

"So Meg, how are the nightmares?"

Walter Skinner knew, from the first night Meg Largo spent in his house as a teenager, that she was prone to violent nightmares. She also talked in her sleep, so he often knew the gist of her dreams. Feeling betrayed by her subconscious, the dreams embarrassed her, they made her feel weak, but Skinner needed to know how badly they were bothering her.

She shrugged, getting his standard question over with. Her answer never varied much, no matter how bad the dreams actually were, "Not too bad. I have them once a week or so, sometimes more, sometimes less."

"And how are you getting along down there?"

She smiled, "You know I love it. Scully's great, as usual, and I think Mulder's warming up a little. He came to the lecture last night."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there." Skinner said apologetically, "There was an emergency in VCS and they needed to borrow some agents."

"You don't need to explain, Walt. You've heard all that stuff before anyway. Some of it was rote and verse from Patrick."

Skinner smiled nostalgically. Largo was one of the only people he allowed himself to smile in front of, and the memory of her father, his best friend of long ago, brought back pleasant memories of the red-haired man spouting away in his Irish brogue about the West and all its notorious progressivism.

"Are you still playing?"

He was now referring to the piano, and she nodded, "I came up with two new songs last month. Come over and I'll play them for you sometime. You can stay for dinner and Monday Night Football."

"We'll have to do that one of these nights."

*One of these nights* meant he probably wouldn't be over, and Largo's heart fell a little. Maybe this was a little cruel, but she had to say it.

"Are you going to ask me about Jolyn?"

Skinner's face was stoic. "Do you want me to?"

She nodded.

"How is Jolyn?"

"She's great. She loves her new classes and got her tenure this fall. She also wants you to come to dinner. So do I."

"Meg--" he left the sentence unfinished.

She knew of his reluctance, and the cause of it. Skinner liked Jolyn Parker, this she knew. He'd known her almost as long as she had. Back when they were undergrads and nothing more than good friends, Jo was a frequent visitor at the Skinner house. Meg would come home on weekends and occasionally invite Jo along. She got on well with Largo's step-parents, especially with Walt. They were both big Vikings fans and analyzed the Sunday morning game together.

However, everything changed when Jolyn was no longer just 'Megan's lesbian friend' and became her lover. Although Meg told him about he own bisexuality when she was in graduate school, six years ago, he still didn't like to admit that she had female relationships. He still believed Megan would one day settle down with a man and get married. Jolyn Parker stood in the way of that dream.

"Walt, I don't want to be a drag, but you're going to have to accept that I'm in love with Jolyn. We are extremely committed to each other."

She looked down at her hands, and particularly at the shiny silver band she wore on her right thumb, a gift from Jolyn. Jo had a similar one Meg had selected for her, and she wore it on her left hand. When Largo took Jo's fair hand in her own the rings tinkled just a bit, a constant reminder that made her heart swell with love and happiness.

"I accept it," Skinner said, "I'm just having a hard time liking it. I guess I just thought you and OT..."

Inwardly, Largo's eyes were rolling. She took a deep breath. Owen Tyler Wallace, or OT, was a big, African-American tailback who played at the University of Minnesota. He and Meg dated for two and a half years, nearly her entire stay at the U. Walt loved him (even though he was wary of the fact that OT was three years Meg's senior), and she had loved him too. Her decision to go to grad school at Northwestern instead of marrying him and following him through his various pro tryouts broke the big guy's heart. It had been a tough decision to make, one of the hardest in her life, but at 19, Meg Largo wasn't ready to become a wife, and OT was certainly not about to forego his chance at pro football glory to become Mr. Megan Largo, future FBI agent. He never made it in the world of pro football, but was putting his criminology degree to use as a sheriff in Austin, MN now. Largo still had a special place in her heart for OT, but Jolyn lit the intense flame of burning love in it.

"Walt, that was years ago," she suddenly grinned at him and rose, "surrender the fantasy."

He smiled sheepishly, "I know. I'll try to stop picturing you two walking down the aisle, but you know it is my favorite dream."

Largo stepped behind his chair, bent down, and wrapped her arms around his upper chest. She set her chin on his right shoulder, her cheek touching his.

"I love you, Uncle Walt, and I really, really want you to share a bigger part of my life. You mean so much to me...but so does Jo."

He reached up to set his hand over hers. "I love you too, Meg. I'll try harder, I promise."

"Then promise me you'll come to dinner."

"When?"

"The next time the Vikings play on Monday night."

With her strong arms wrapped tight around him, her sweet scent in his nostrils, and her warm, loving cheek against his, there was no way Walter Skinner could refuse her anything. He loved Meg Largo more than anyone, and couldn't stand to make her anything but happy.

"I promise."

"Yea!" she cheered softly, and kissed him on the cheek.

Then she stood and crossed to the door. Reaching the handle, she turned back to him, "Oh, am I excused?"

Skinner chuckled under his breath and waved her out the door. "Yes, yes, yes. Get going."

She grinned and winked at him, then twisted the knob and disappeared. Skinner swiveled his chair and looked out the window onto the traffic below. He smiled and shook his head. Sure, his favorite agent got special treatment, but then, none of his other agents ever made him feel like quite like Megan did. Even though Largo had left the room, she left a trail of warmth and optimism in her wake. It made Skinner feel awake and alive, and brought a strong jolt of happiness racing through his veins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1:25 p.m.

Mulder used the stairway to deliver his profile to Violent Crimes. It was eight floors up, but he didn't mind the walk. It delayed the inevitable, and anything that would postpone the sight of that smug bastard Tom Colton (whom he saw *every* time he made the trip to the VCS) was okay in his book, even taking the stairs.

He took a deep breath as he opened the door. The hustle and bustle of the VCS never changed. It was the same fast-paced, dog-eat-dog, must-have-that-report-15-minutes-ago place it was six years ago, when Mulder had his own desk in this section.

And lo and behold, who should be walking briskly down the crowded corridor, on a direct line to intercept him, but Tom Colton, the smug bastard himself. Even with his nose buried deep in a report, the prick exuded the same air of cocksure self-importance he'd had four years ago, even though things had changed greatly.

Mulder honestly tried to avoid Colton, but the big dumb idiot ran smack into him anyway, dropping the thick file he'd been reading in the process.

"What the hell?" Colton snapped, looking up to see who the offending body was. "Well, if it isn't the Spookster. How's life in the Pit Of Dispair, Mulder?"

"Fine," Mulder replied tersely as he bent to help straighten the papers lying all over the floor.

"Seen any hot Reticulans lately? Oh--sorry, I forgot. They pulled the plug on Reticulan cases. I heard Dana went before the Board and told them how full of shit you are. I guess she finally came to her senses."

"She must have, she stopped going to lunch with you, didn't she?"

Colton's eyes grew hard. They stared each other down as they squatted, not even bothering with the papers anymore.

"I've got one question for you, Mulder. Why did you even come back? Why didn't you just stay out in the boonies with your half-crocked MUFON buddies? Why subject yourself to the ridicule of an entire building full of federal employees? Are you a masochist, or are you just fucking stupid?"

Mulder willed himself to remain calm, and didn't bother telling Colton that he'd just asked four questions, not one.

"Oh," Colton added, the smug sneer back on his thin lips, "I almost forgot about the kid they saddled you with. Is she 21 yet, or does she ask you to buy beer for her?" Colton threw back his head and laughed at his own lame joke.

Mulder felt his body tense. He locked his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache. A wave of pure hate ran through his veins, charging him with testosterone and adrenaline.

"And I heard she was an Indian too! Tough luck Mulder, not only are you still in the basement, they're sticking you with the quota fillers now too."

Mulder was only mildly surprised to discover that he wanted to beat the living, breathing shit out of Tom Colton. He looked away from the brown-nosing little cocksucker and focused on the water cooler down the hall. He tried to picture Scully, the bastion of normalcy and reason. The thought of her calmed him somewhat.

He unlocked his jaw and calmly, placidly said, "So, how's that promotion coming along, Colton?"

He watched Colton's face sag, then twist in a flash of anger.

<Bingo. Direct hit.>

After Colton's actions on the Tooms case, especially the fact that he'd called off their stakeout, indirectly leading to the attack on Scully in her apartment, he'd become a bit of a whipping boy in the Violent Crimes Section. Other agents found it wasn't hard to pin small mistakes or oversights on old Tom Colton. He now had a reputation as an 'adequate' agent instead of an up and coming one. The underlying assumption was that his mere 'adequacy' probably didn't qualify him for his much-desired bump up the ladder. Colton was in the same position he'd been in four years ago.

Sensing that he'd just pushed exactly the right button, Mulder said, "What's the matter, Colton, did I sink your battleship?"

Mulder stood and let the papers he'd picked up slide from his fingers and once again spread out on the carpeted floor. He strode down the busy hallway, profile in hand, and disappeared into the masses and out of Colton's sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2:52 p.m.

In the afternoon, Scully typed autopsy notes at her desk while Largo reviewed old X-Files looking for all evidence of bizarre animal bites. A Colorado park ranger had called earlier in the week claiming a doe was bitten my a strange, unidentified animal near a National Park. They'd made a plaster impression of the bite, and Largo searched the files to find evidence of anything similar.

"Scully, you got any ibuprofen on you? I'm getting a nasty headache," Largo said, looking up from the stacks of files covering her desk.

"Yes, of course," Scully replied, going to her medical bag near the front door. "Didn't you get a headache yesterday, too? Before you left for the campus?"

Largo nodded, now remembering. "That's right. I had forgotten. I must be reading too much lately."

Scully handed her the bottle, and she downed three of the pills. Scully took two herself before returning the bottle to her case. She was developing a small headache as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
END OF CHAPTER TWO
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER THREE: "Somebody's Knocking"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Basement Office
5:15 p.m.

Mulder locked the office door and walked Scully to her car.

Still wearing her office-face, she said, "So Mulder, what are you doing tonight?"

Mulder took the innocent approach. "Oh, I don't know," he exaggerated a sigh, giving her an obvious sign that he would be awfully lonely all by himself, "maybe watch some TV or do some crossword puzzles."

"Uh-huh. Well, don't let me keep you," she replied with a smirk as she unlocked the door to her car.

A little panic set into Mulder's chest. Maybe his hint wasn't good enough--or was she playing with him?

Scully paused before getting into her blue Ford Taurus, gauging his reaction. She almost laughed out loud at his hang-dog look.

"Or, Mulder, if you think your crossword puzzles can wait for another night, we could get some take-out, maybe a little wine..."

His grin was so wide she thought his face might crack, "Now you're talking! I'll follow you in my car."

He sped off to retrieve his car, then followed Scully out of the parking garage. Mulder turned the radio to his favorite sports-talk station and listened to the hosts debate whether the Bullets could trade Chris Webber and a draft pick to the Lakers for Shaquille O'Neal.

He followed the blue Taurus onto the Beltway, thinking about a night alone with Scully. If there was one person who could drive this bitch of a headache away, it was her. With her soft, fine red hair, her smooth, porcelain skin, and her petite little fingers that fit so perfectly between each of his...Mulder knew he was falling hard. Funny that after four years--

Suddenly his eyes snapped wide as he watched the blue Taurus pull sharply to the right. It righted itself momentarily, then swerved once again as she slowed the car and rode it over into the shoulder.

Mulder pulled off behind her. They got out simultaneously to inspect the damage. A full-scale blowout on the front passenger side.

Scully groaned.

Mulder held out his hand for her keys and popped the trunk. He lugged out the spare and the jack. Scully began to protest, saying he didn't have to change her tire for her, but he lifted his palm, effectively cutting her off. This was his chance to exert his masculinity for 'his woman.'

<Of course, if she knew you thought of her as 'your woman' she'd probably shoot you again>

He stared for a moment from the spare tire to the jack, then picked up the jack and turned it over in his hands.

Scully was mildly amused by his befuddlement, "Mulder, have you ever changed a flat before?"

"Uh, sure, sure...once...in England."

"So it was in a limey car."

"Uh, yeah. The jack didn't look like this though."

"Wait a minute, Mulder, I'll get the manual," she said, opening the passenger side door.

Mulder stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. "No. I can figure it out."

"Mulder," she said, giving him a pointed look, "just because you don't want other men driving by to see you looking at directions on how to change a tire doesn't mean we should sit here for an hour waiting for you to figure it out."

His eyes flashed at her, angry for a moment. Then it was gone. "I can figure it out, Scully. I don't need the manual."

He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, then went back to the jack. It took a few minutes, but he figured out how it would work. He got the car up, then stood back, looking satisfied.

Scully pursed her lips, "Aren't we missing something?"

"What?"

"A lugwrench?"

"Oh, yeah." He retrieved it from the trunk, cursing loudly as he hit his head on the roof of it as he stood.

"Shit! Fuck! Damn!"

"You okay, Mulder?"

"Fucking beautiful," he muttered.

He pried at the hubcap for five minutes before it finally popped off. By this time his shirt was damp from perspiration and the pressure of Scully's observation.

The lugnuts took another ten minutes. He scraped his knuckles twice as a nut finally loosened, his momentum breaking his hold on the tight nuts. He swore again as his skin drug painfully across the asphalt.

"I could call Triple-A," Scully suggested, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to look up at her from where he squatted on the pavement. "You don't need to call Triple-A!" he snapped, "I'm doing fine!"

"Sorry," she replied, raising her eyebrows, "It just looked like they were stuck pretty good."

"That was the hard part anyway. We're almost done," he said in a more even tone.

"Can I help somehow?"

"It's kind of a one-person job. You could keep track of these lugnuts though. With my luck at this, I'd probably swallow one."

She held the greasy lugnuts, wanting to help him through this obvious trial. Apparently, he wanted to be her gallant knight, but it pained her to see his struggle. He'd been a little uptight all afternoon.

He managed to yank off the old tire and replace it with the new one. She handed him lugnuts one by one and, grunting and sweating, he tightened each of them. Slapping the hubcap back on, he stepped back to admire his work.

"Mulder, watch out!"

Too late. He stepped back and knocked the old, flat tire with his heel, sending him off-balance, pinwheeling backwards until he fell hard on his butt.

Mulder screamed over the roar of the passing traffic, "Goddamnit! Goddamnit! Goddamnit!"

He stood quickly and gave the tire a swift kick with his size 11 wingtip. He kicked it again, and again, shouting every obscenity he had ever run across in his 36 years.

Scully watched his tirade, her eyes wide. She had rarely seen Mulder so angry. She could understand being upset, but this was uncontrolled rage. She saw his fists ball up tight until every muscle and vein in his hands stood out. She said nothing, but instead calmly waited it out.

Expelling a heavy breath, Mulder unlocked his fists and turned away, walking up the road. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair as he walked. Scully waited patiently for his control to return. This was his way of gathering himself.

When he finally turned and came back, he walked up to her. "Scully, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please, you know me, you know I'm not like that."

She paused for a second. Should she call him on it, point out the fact that he had just thrown a tantrum to be envied by a selfish three-year-old? Or should she let it slide and chalk it up to simple frustration?

She opted for the latter. "It's okay, Mulder. That was more difficult than I thought it would be. Let's just go."

He stepped up and hugged her to his chest. He was damp and a little smelly, but she held him tight, letting him draw her strength. They picked up the tire, jack, and wrench and returned them to the trunk, then got in their cars and took off, headed for the haven of the Dana Scully domicile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dana Scully's Apartment
6:25 p.m.

Upon arrival, she sent Mulder immediately to the shower. She dug through her drawers and found a large pair of boxer shorts, some men's sweatpants, and a gray t-shirt with 'US NAVY' emblazoned across the chest. Her brother Charlie had stayed with her for a week in July and forgot almost as much as he'd come with.

She laid the clothes out on her bed for Mulder, then went to the phone to call in their Chinese order. She ordered all of Mulder's favorites in an effort to cheer him up.

He returned, smelling of soap and her Herbal Essence shampoo. He ran a hand over his clean clothes and said, "So Scully, do you always keep a change of clothes for dirty men who drop by your apartment?"

"Well, you may have noticed the steady stream of them coming and going before. The construction workers are my favorites." She clicked her tongue, "They're souvenirs from when Charlie came to visit a few months ago."

"Yeah, right! We both know Charlie doesn't really exist."

"If he doesn't exist, then there's a ship in our fleet somewhere who's engine is about to explode because they have an imaginary chief engineer."

"An engineer, ha! He probably topped out at bosun."

She came up and poked him playfully in the ribs. "Mulder, you smell like a woman."

His face turned serious, "I smell like you, Scully."

"Is this what I smell like?" she asked, rising up on her tiptoes to sniff at his neck.

"No, Scully. You smell even better," he replied, dipping his head to capture her red lips. He'd been longing for them all day, and could barely look at them this morning, the temptation being far too great. He swore though, if Largo hadn't been there, he would have snuck just one kiss. Just one little taste.

He was getting more than one taste of those lips now. She opened her perfect mouth to accept his tongue and his desire. She tasted so incredibly good he forgot all about his previous bad mood. All he wanted right now was more of Dana Katherine Scully. She slowly walked backwards as they kissed, leading him to the couch. He scooped her up into his arms, then sat on the couch with her across his upper legs.

Pulling her mouth reluctantly from his, Scully touched her forehead to Mulder's. "One thing I can say for you, Mulder. You know how to sweep someone off her feet."

He ran his fingers through her hair, burying them in the deep red softness. She reveled in his touch, it was making her body grow warm...too warm.

Planting another kiss on her lips, Mulder said, "It's easy when you're so irresistible, Scully."

She closed her eyes as he continued to explore her thick hair. She smiled, "I just realized something."

He began to kiss his way toward her ear, "What's that?"

"We're so bizarre."

Mulder stopped, curious at her words. "What do you mean?"

She let out a merry little laugh, so unlike her office demeanor he just had to smile.

"We don't even call each other by our first names."

He snorted a laugh, realizing she was right. It had never even entered his mind. "I'm sorry Dana," he said, finding his place along her jawline once more, "but you'll always be Scully to me."

She tilted her head to give him better access. "I love that you call me Scully." Her voice dropped an octave as her body continued to warm. "And whenever I hear the name 'Fox', I look around, wondering where your mother is. For me, though, you'll never be anything but Mulder."

He nibbled at her earlobe, removing her earring with his teeth. "Promise me one thing, Scully. Promise me that if children make their way somehow into our future, we'll never give them animal names."

"Actually, Mulder, I've always been partial to 'Wildebeest' for a girl and 'Sperm Whale' for a boy. What do you think?"

His breath was hot in her ear, "I think I'd go along with just about anything right now."

She pulled away slightly, "You better hold that thought, Mulder. The delivery man will be here any second, and besides, I don't think we're quite at the *picking out names for the kiddies* stage in our relationship."

"I'd like to be there."

She smirked, but kindly, "I know you would, and hopefully, someday, we will be. But not yet."

Leaning to reach her, he whispered, "I can survive with just this for now, Scully." With that, he plunged his hands once again into her hair and brought her face to his. His mouth covered hers, his tongue exploring it as his hands ran through her hair, sending sparks through her scalp and straight to her brain. She met his tongue, and they danced gently, still growing accustomed to each other.

Tentatively, unsure of her response, Mulder brought a hand up and lightly set it on the swell of her breast. She didn't protest. He felt her chest move up and down as she breathed. He moved a thumb to caress the nipple, already taut from her desire. She sighed into his mouth, and Mulder felt a stirring in his groin.

There was a knock at the door. He groaned miserable. Scully pulled her face from his, a little ashamed of her heat and desire just moments after telling him it wasn't going to happen tonight. It made her feel like a tease.

"Saved by the bell," she said, "it's the delivery person."

"I don't care if it's Gandhi's ghost," he muttered, but loosened his hold on her.

She climbed to her feet and answered the door.

It wasn't the delivery man, but Megan Largo. She wore sunglasses and navy blue nylon warm-ups. As Scully looked her over, it became apparent Largo was doing the same to her.

With two fingers, the young woman removed her sunglasses. "Gee Scully, I'm sorry."

Shaking her head in confusion, Scully asked, "What for?"

"Well, uh, you have company," she said quietly, not wanting Mulder to know it was her at the door.

<The last thing I need,> Largo thought, <is to give Mulder one more reason to hate me. I can see his little checklist now: "Item #54, she knocked on the door right before I was gonna slip it to Scully.">

Scully's eyes narrowed, still confused, "How do you know I have company?"

Largo grinned and bent close to her ear. "In college, we used to call it JBF hair, but maybe in this case it's ABF."

"Largo," Scully said a little testily, "will you stop with the obscure acronyms. What are you saying?"

Largo jerked her head toward Scully's mussed red hair, then leaned over again to whisper, "We used to call it JBF--just been fucked. In this case, though, I'm thinking it's ABF--almost been fucked. Sorry to interrupt, but you said something about borrowing these yesterday, and I'm on my way to a soccer game in the area. Say 'hi' to Mulder for me, I'm sure he'll be ecstatic."

She held out a handful of compact discs to Scully, who took them with a befuddled look on her face.

"Oh, and by the way," Largo said with an open expression, "I added this one to the stack." She laid a finger on the top disc and winked at Scully. "R. Kelly--I recommend #2 for just this situation. It's a little tune called 'Bump And Grind'. Perhaps appropriate for the moment." She winked knowingly at her small partner.

Scully was still a little lost. "How did you know about me and Mulder?"

The grin was back on the young woman's face. "I'm a detective, Scully. I detect things. All the hair does is confirm my hypothesis."

Largo reached out and gave Scully a quick, friendly hug. "I'm glad, Scully. I really am. You deserve happiness."

"Uh, thank you Largo. So...you're not going to tell Skinner?"

Largo's face wrinkled, "Why would I do that? It would mess up all my careful planning."

With that, Largo replaced her sunglasses, "See ya, Scully."

"Wait Largo," Scully said, grabbing the sleeve of her warm-up jacket, "You're going to *play* soccer tonight, not watch other people play?"

Her dark brown face wrinkled once again, "What's the fun in that?"

She waved a goodbye over her shoulder and bounded down the stairwell. On her way, she passed the delivery man, who came bearing boxes of chow mien, fried rice, sweet and sour pork, and lots of eggrolls. Scully paid him and shut the door with her heel.

Mulder was in the kitchen. "What took so long? I thought maybe you were thinking of running off with the delivery guy, choosing him for 'Sperm Whale's' father over me."

"The first knock was Largo, she brought me some CD's I had asked to borrow."

"Oh, so you were going to run off with Largo, huh?"

"Hah!" she laughed, "In Frohike's wet dreams!"

Uncomfortably, Mulder said, "That reminds me of something...how does Largo know the Gunmen?"

"I introduced them."

"What!?" Mulder asked with a touch of spite.

He was nonplused by the idea that Scully had brought a possible spy into the Gunmen's safe haven. <But then,> he thought, <the fact that they haven't been bugged or shut down entirely goes on her 'not a spy' list.>

He'd been keeping two lists in his head, and every single one of Meg Largo's actions was put on the 'spy' or the 'not a spy' list. So far, the 'not a spy' list was about 40 times longer than the other. When it grew to about 1,000 times longer, then he'd probably figure Largo was okay.

"I needed help on a DNA test for a case, and the Bureau Lab was stonewalling me; I went to the Gunmen so I'd have the results before Christmas."

"And you brought Largo with you?" His voice was incredulous, and rising in volume just a bit.

"Of course I did. I wasn't going into Frohike's lair all by myself. I was afraid Byers and Langley wouldn't be there and the little troll would ooze all over me. So I brought Largo--for insulation, a little diversion, a second front, you know."

"Scully, did you ever think for a second that maybe she might be a threat to their entire existence?"

She noticed the angry tone creeping into his voice and turned to face him completely. "No Mulder, I didn't. Maybe we should just get this out in the open, right here and right now. I trust Meg Largo. I think she's a great agent, a good friend, and an exceptional person. I don't think she's working with Them because I don't think it's in her to do something like that. If there is one thing Largo is, it's true to herself. But I know that you don't trust her. You still think she might be a plant, a person sent to destroy the X-Files. I'm telling you straight out I think you're wrong. I think you just need to give her a chance."

Mulder took a deep breath and ran a hand through his short dark hair. "I try Scully. I try to give her a chance, but every time she passes my little test I just construct another. I don't know why, but she's, she'd so...so strange, Scully. She's so strange. It's not that she's ethnically different than us, but--"

"Is it her being, you know, with Jolyn?"

"I don't know...maybe? I guess it's that her entire nature is dual. She's a twin with two cultural backgrounds, two philosophies at war inside, two different types of sex...to me it all adds up to two faces. What scares me is who the other face belongs to."

Scully stepped up to him, burying her face in his chest. His arms went automatically around her.

"It doesn't belong to anyone, Mulder, because she is only one. She is who she is. She's with us in the basement every day, alive and young and full of energy. She's like a deep breath of fresh air in our lives Mulder. Look at us, in our four years together as partners, have we ever been this happy?"

He shook his head.

"And who brought me to you, Mulder? Who saw your picture in my wallet and drove me out to see you on a wild hunch? Largo did, and would anyone working for Them have voluntarily reunited the two of us? I doubt it. Krycek tried to rip up apart, but Largo brought us back together. I like her with us, Mulder. I don't care if she sleeps with men or women or farm animals, I like her, and I think she helps our department."

He smiled down at her, "Gee Scully, what can I say to that?"

"You can't say anything, so you'd better get some plates for us before the food gets cold."

He kissed her forehead before turning to the cupboards. Then he swiveled back to her, "Farm animals, Scully?"

Scully smiled wryly, "Well, maybe not farm animals."

Mulder gave her a quick kiss and retrieved the plates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Megan Largo's Apartment
9:15 p.m.

Tired and very dirty, Largo unlocked her apartment door. The game had been grueling. Her team had only one substitute, and apparently everyone there thought FBI agents were in such marvelous shape they could sprint up and down the field for 90 minutes without breaking a sweat.

She tried to keep herself in good shape, but on nights like this one, Largo felt the long-term effects of her past injuries. She knew she was lucky to still be alive, let alone playing demanding team sports at 26, a different age for a woman's body than it is for a man's.

She found Jolyn at the computer, typing an outline for tomorrow's class. Largo came quietly up from behind to kiss her on the cheek.

"Meg, you smell like crap," Jolyn said, still concentrating on her keyboard.

"Do I smell bad, or do I smell like crap?"

"Probably a little of both, but crap is by far the dominating odor."

Largo chuckled close to her ear. "I think they just put new fertilizer on that field. It smelled like a cow pasture. A scent which apparently rubbed off."

"Did you win?"

"Of course, two zip."

"How's your headache?" Jo asked, remembering Meg's mention of a nagging headache before she left a couple of hours ago.

"I must have run it off. I'm much better now, but tired."

Jolyn stood, took off her glasses, and walked up to Largo, who was behind her in a silky red and white diamond-print jersey and baggy nylon soccer shorts. For some reason, the uniform was some ki