Title: After the Tavern (WIP) (3/?)
Author: Adrienne < davephile@yahoo.com > 
Date: July 10, 2008
Rating: R
Spoilers: Let's say through S8
Classification: SRA, AU
Keywords: Mulder/Scully, Scully/Reyes
Archive: Anywhere, in its entirety
Summary: Apparently, three is in fact a crowd.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just play with their 
Barbies when I'm not writing them into sexual situations.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to Marigold for the sweet beta 
lovin'. I don't think she knew what she was getting into 
when she said she'd help me out with my "tough story."
Please check out parts 1 and 2 before this one. Keep an 
open mind!
I know I said that hot sex would abound, but the hot sex is 
taking its time. Be patient and your patience shall be 
rewarded tenfold. Also keep in mind that this story goes to 
uncomfortable places. Angst and anger. Hurt and confusion. 
Sex and consequences. Bring it on.
There will definitely be a fourth and fifth part. They'll 
come soon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder had gone to Scully's apartment to try and convince 
her that the night before had been one of the biggest 
mistakes of his life. He had spent the afternoon working 
through the embarrassment, anger and defensiveness that 
came along with the entire scenario. 

He knew what she'd said was right; he and Scully had waited 
a terribly long time to act on anything. Their relationship 
consisted of carefully calculated faux platonic 
interactions until very recently. Their turn as lovers was 
new, exciting and damn hot.

And then last night happened. His vehement denial of 
responsibility was to hide his true feelings from her, his 
embarrassment at the trite and reckless stunt he pulled by 
having sex with someone, right in front of her, no less.

Monica was by all standards sexy, smart and funny. A girl 
that he'd have banged a hundred times over ten years 
earlier. With Scully in the picture, his desire had 
changed, had focused like a pinpoint on the one person he 
knew he could spend the rest of his life with. Not some 
harebrained one-night stand after a few too many beers.

He was ashamed of what he did. But when he'd walked in on 
Monica and Scully on her couch tonight, he was ashamed at 
what a fool he'd become. It should have been obvious to him 
what path Scully was going to take after he saw how much 
she was enjoying Monica in his own bed. He should have 
known to prepare, to numb himself against the hurtful 
rejection that had stunned him as he stood in her doorway.

It was too late. He'd angrily returned her key, a move he 
knew propelled them ten thousand paces backward on their 
relationship's evolutionary scale. But he was so angry at 
how she'd played the victim and then shoved it right back 
in his face.

Mulder entered his apartment and couldn't remember how he'd 
gotten there. It felt emptier than ever. He glanced into 
the bedroom and chose his couch instead. Dependable and 
sturdy. His goddamn couch was the only constant in his 
life. How very fucking sad, he thought as he lay down. He 
tried not to remember his first time making love to her on 
those very cushions, how she clutched at him and pulled at 
him and moaned his name, branding his soul. It would always 
carry her impression.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night the dream began, sickly vivid, the biting scent 
of pine assaulting her senses. His screams for help pierced 
the eternal quiet of the forest. He was calling her name, 
again and again. She was searching, lost in an Oregon 
wilderness. What she found was not who she knew. His face 
pale and mottled and mutilated. She held it in her hands. 
She was lost.

Scully woke up in her own bed. Her face was wet with tears 
or sweat, she wasn't sure which. She willed herself to calm 
down, a hiccup of a sob escaping. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Mulder's not gone. Mulder's not dead. Mulder's alive. 
Alive, alive.

She wished that the most horrible details of the dream had 
been fantasy. No one she knew had held the dead body of 
their best friend in their arms, then been able to hold him 
again, warm again, a struggling ray of sunshine amidst lost 
hopes and dreams.

After Mulder returned, she had realized she was suffering 
from mild post-traumatic stress disorder. Most of the time, 
touching him and talking to him warded off those demons. It 
was like it never happened as she placed the entire 
unbelievable idea of Mulder's rebirth in the dark corner of 
her mind.

She knew he still felt pain sometimes, but kept it inside. 
It wandered behind his hazel eyes, a lion pacing in its 
cage. She had kept hers inside too, with every other 
cataclysmic event that punctuated their lives.

She wasn't sure if there was any more room in that dark 
chamber. Something had to give.

As Scully drifted in and out of hazy slumber, she wondered 
if she should go to the guest bedroom and crawl into the 
bed just for the comforting feeling of a warm body next to 
hers. It wouldn't be Mulder; she didn't want him right now. 
He had hurt her too badly. It would be Monica, who she'd 
told to stay the night. But she was afraid of where her own 
need for intimacy might take them.

She decided against it. It wasn't the time for foolish 
acts. She had enough tough decisions to make in the 
morning.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The morning began normally. Almost. Monica had left early 
to get ready for work at her apartment, but left Scully a 
note on her kitchen table.

"Hope you slept well. Give me a call later. M."

M. Now there were two, this one with feminine handwriting.

Scully felt the drag of two days' worth of emotional 
wreckage as she got ready for work, perfecting her hair and 
makeup as always, pulling on her firmly pressed suit, 
slipping into the heels that had become essential tools in 
making up the vertical and psychological distance between 
herself and her partner.

She was intimidated by the day as it spread its early 
morning wings.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SKINNER'S OFFICE
9:05 A.M.

Scully exited the Assistant Director's office, closing his 
door with a gentle pull. She flashed a quick, nondescript 
smile to his secretary and escaped into the garish 
fluorescent lights of the hallway.

Done. It was done. She left the building and sat on a bench 
outside, letting the sounds of the city salvage what was 
left of her heart. Noisy and overbearing, life kept moving.

She flipped open her phone and called Monica.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SKINNER'S OFFICE
10:15 A.M.

"Agent Scully has requested and been granted a two-week 
leave of absence. She has also requested an 
interdepartmental transfer, effective immediately."

Mulder glared at the phone on Skinner's desk, his jaw 
tightly set. He felt the anger that had been slowly 
simmering for days well up inside of him. He closed his 
eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again to 
Skinner's intolerant stare.

"What?" Mulder asked pointedly.

"What?" Skinner asked. "You're asking me what? Agent 
Mulder, I'm asking you what. What the hell's going on 
here?"

"It's not a Bureau matter," Mulder said.

"The hell it isn't," Skinner spat. "It's my deal now. One 
of my best agents has requested leave and an immediate 
transfer. Now, I'm assuming it's because of you. She was 
all torn up in here Agent Mulder, and there's only one 
person who can do that to her."

"I really don't feel comfortable discussing my personal 
life or that of Agent Scully in a professional environment, 
as it's not appropriate. I don't know why she requested 
leave and transfer," he said, his heartbeat quickening.

"The fuck you don't," Skinner said, slamming his palm 
against his desk. The sound echoed through his office. "I'm 
putting you on immediate leave without pay until we can 
investigate the matter further to make sure protocol hasn't 
been breached, including," he added, "the explicit rules 
barring fraternization between Bureau employees."

Mulder's infuriated glare was interrupted by a flinch of 
fear, from which he quickly recovered. "Fine."

"I will be taking independent statements from you and Agent 
Scully tomorrow. I need you here to answer my questions at 
10 a.m. Do not be late," he threatened.

Mulder closed his eyes, felt them stick dryly to his 
eyelids. He pulled them open. "Fine."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Mulder left Skinner's office he went straight to his 
basement retreat to call Scully. He needed to call her, 
talk some sense into her, try to convince her that this 
time, like all the other times she'd tried to leave him, 
wasn't a good idea.

The few minutes it took him to ride the elevator seemed 
painfully long. In the privacy of his office he went 
straight for his phone and dialed her cell number.

His stomach sunk, deep and sick, at the disconnection 
notice that made its announcement in his ear. Things were 
worse than he'd imagined. He stood, receiver in hand, as 
the message repeated. His mind traveled wildly along paths 
of desperation; what to do next, what not to do. Scully 
apparently wanted to be left alone. Whether he could obey 
her wishes was another story.

In the parking garage he sat in his car, keys in the 
ignition, engine idling, going nowhere. This had never 
happened. Of all the things they'd been through, been 
exposed to, been wounded by, they'd never severed the line 
of communication between them. It was umbilical, connecting 
him to her vitality to keep him going every day. He knew 
she felt the same way. Had felt the same way.

He didn't understand why he'd had sex with Monica. The 
biological drive to do it, of course, explained a lot, but 
he'd never wanted her that way. That night he'd been so 
captivated by watching the two of them together, almost a 
nurturing act, that he'd felt a twinge of jealousy that he 
couldn't brush off. Scully was his nurturer, always had 
been, and the way she was kissing Monica was the way she 
kissed him, too.

He'd wanted to be a part of it, but for some reason, he 
chose the wrong side of the equation. It didn't sum up, it 
never would, and even though Monica had felt hot and 
gorgeous and incredible in her own ways, it had left him 
empty. There was no value to it.

He had to make Scully understand it, no matter how much it 
hurt her to listen. He knew what she was doing?she was 
closing back up, like a flower to the setting sun. It was 
how she dealt with anything disturbing she faced. Deep 
inside of her there was a dark place where her pain was 
secretly stored away from the world.

Maybe if she understood that it meant nothing she would 
realize what they might lose if they didn't try to save it.

He drove to Georgetown.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SCULLY'S APARTMENT
10:30 P.M.

Scully sat awake with an unopened book in her lap. The 
house had been eerily quiet all evening; she wasn't 
accustomed to spending the time alone anymore. She knew 
Mulder was probably brooding somewhere, making a plan to 
assault her with all of the reasons she was wrong, that she 
was making a mistake, being irrational, if only she would 
listen, she might understand this time.

She was so tired of Mulder trying to explain everything 
away in an attempt to keep her on his short leash. She was 
surprised he hadn't come to the apartment as soon as he 
found out she'd disconnected her cell phone. She guessed he 
knew she wouldn't answer the door. That would only 
aggravate him more, and the last thing they needed was a 
scene.

Skinner had called her a few hours ago at her new cell 
number to tell her she needed to appear at a hearing in the 
morning regarding her request for transfer. She didn't want 
the morning to come. She was dreading questions she may not 
want to answer. She might not even have the answers he 
demanded.

Scully had holed up in her apartment tonight with the 
explicit purpose of avoiding him as long as possible. The 
only place she needed to be was that hearing tomorrow 
morning, as ready as she possibly could be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

SCULLY'S APARTMENT COMPLEX
7:30 A.M.

Scully quickly walked to her car. The early morning had 
left a humid mist in the air that clung to her skin.

She caught a glimpse of movement to her right and 
instinctually knew who it was. Mulder was waiting for her 
to emerge. He'd seen her leave and now he was going to 
confront her in front of the world. She always knew he was 
a man of passion, but he was also despicably tenacious at 
times. Her stomach turned as she walked faster. He was 
catching up to her quickly, her pace no match for his long 
strides.

"Hey," he called, breaking into a jog. Her car was within 
view. If she ran, she might make it. He also might jam a 
body part into the door, jump on the hood of her car, or 
cause some other sort of erratic scene she desperately 
wanted to avoid.

Scully stopped, waiting for him with her back turned. He 
came up beside her, panting a bit.

"Why did you disconnect your phone?" Mulder got right to 
the point.

"Because things changed last night," she said. She watched 
him flinch, the sting of her bluntness most likely hitting 
him a little harder than he'd expected.

"Scully, I know you're mad. Obviously...extremely mad. I 
know I completely screwed up. Not just by hurting you, but 
by being afraid to acknowledge the damage that I did to 
us," he said. She closed her eyes, tapping her toes 
anxiously against the cement sidewalk.

"I'm not buying it, Mulder," she said with a shrug.

"What exactly do you think I'm selling here?" Anger tinged 
his words.

"I know you're hurt. Because I know you, Mulder, and I know 
how you make a mistake and then berate yourself for it a 
thousand times over. But there are some things..." She 
paused, studying a discarded coffee cup in the wilted 
grass. Focusing kept her tears inside. "There are some 
things that happen that are beyond the realm of penance and 
forgiveness."

Mulder's mouth screwed up into a tense frown, his 
contemplative stare taking her in. She could feel him 
trying to peel off the layers she'd built overnight to 
protect herself from his words. "So what about you and 
Monica, then? Apparently, I'm to forgive and forget how you 
were all over her. How she had her fingers in you, Scully, 
remember that? And you kissing her like you were supposed 
to be kissing me."

"Mulder, don't get obscene," she whispered, her mind 
wrapping around his words. "It's not the same."

"How is it not the same?" 

"I can't explain myself to you any better than you've 
explained yourself to me." Irritation flooded her voice. 
"The whole thing was one big sorry mistake, but I can't get 
it out of my head. If you ever were with me again, 
Mulder..." She swallowed, her throat straining as she 
denied her tears once again. "I would always think of you 
with her. I can't do that to myself. I can't live like 
that."

He breathed out heavily. She watched the anger flash 
through his eyes and knew he was trying to control himself. 
And then that anger burst. "You think you're so high on 
your pedestal. You make the judgments; you bring down the 
verdict and carry out the punishment, Scully. I don't need 
you pushing your guilt and confusion down on me. You know 
what happened. You know I'm sorry."

"You've never once said you were sorry," she snapped. "You 
never do. And that's because you never are."

He shook his head. "Jesus Christ..."

"I've got a hearing to get to," she said. "And if you're 
ever going to pray, then yes. This is the time to start."

Mulder stood still, the wind pushing at his back as he 
watched her leave.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

HOOVER BUILDING
9:30 A.M.

"Agent Scully, thank you for your understanding in joining 
us today. Assistant Director Johnson is here to witness the 
hearing to assure that our questioning proceeds in 
accordance with appropriate rules of conduct, as we respect 
your privacy in the matter as much as possible."

Scully's mouth was dry as she gave the other party a slight 
nod, averting her eyes to her icy cold fingers, fiddling 
with a loose button in her lap. It took a solemn breath to 
establish firm eye contact with Skinner. She wanted to 
remain strong. She had to. She wasn't sure where she would 
pull her strength from, but it had to happen.

"Normally in matters related to LOAs and transfers, if 
there is no reason for suspicion of a breach of protocol, 
we don't conduct a hearing," Skinner continued. She 
examined his eyes, a hardness where she normally found a 
soft spot. She wondered why he'd decided to pursue the 
matter; he'd always been an ally to the two of them in the 
past.

"What exactly is the breach of protocol that you're 
investigating?" she asked.

There it was. Skinner's eyes flashed empathy for a brief 
moment. It wasn't him instigating this intrusion. He was 
just a pawn to someone's crusade to pin them on the one 
thing she never expected to encounter.

"We just need to be briefed on the reasons behind your 
request for transfer," Johnson replied, jumping in ahead of 
Skinner. 

Scully focused on Johnson, her eyes calm. "I have personal 
reasons for requesting a transfer of duties."

"Which are?" Johnson asked.

"Assistant Director, I've been working with Agent Mulder on 
the X-Files for eight years. Though I'm grateful for the 
professional experience I've gained through my work, I felt 
it was time to move into an area more suited for my medical 
background and life's ambitions."

It came out exactly as she'd practiced it in front of her 
mirror dozens of times the night before. The first several 
times she'd broken down into tears, unable to continue. 
With more work, she was able to push aside the ache in her 
chest. When the words flowed out, this time they were 
assured and conclusive.

"So your request for transfer had nothing to do with a 
personal conflict between you and Agent Mulder?" Johnson 
had completely taken over and wasn't letting her go easily. 
Skinner shifted in his seat. She ignored it, too busy 
trying to steady a lower lip that threatened to tremble and 
with it, take down the tower.

"No," she said, immediately knowing the pause had been too 
long. She'd practiced. She was angered that her body was 
betraying all the work she'd done to build herself up for 
this moment.

"Then why did you request an immediate LOA?" Johnson 
expectantly looked at her.

Her pulse raced as she returned the stare. "I haven't had a 
lot of time off lately."

"Honestly, Agent Scully, this is all a bit too sudden to 
use the excuse of needing a little R&R," Johnson said. He 
flexed his fingers together. "I'm going to put some 
formalities aside here and let you know that we take these 
matters very seriously. The Bureau places great priority on 
the safety of our agents and our primary concern is for 
your welfare."

Her stomach twisted into a knot. She gulped down her tears 
with all of her effort. "What exactly are you implying?"

Skinner took his turn. "If Agent Mulder conducted himself 
inappropriately toward you, it needs to be addressed. 
Confidentially, professionally?"

"What are you saying?" Scully interrupted, the shock 
rolling over her in a wave of nausea. Her breath left her 
body like the room sucked it away. She blinked repeatedly, 
a tear escaping the corner of her eye. "Are you implying 
that Agent Mulder?abused me in some way?"

"There are no implications," Skinner said as she quickly 
brushed the tear off her cheek. "We just need to know why 
you needed to leave his department immediately. Often, in 
these cases, it's in response to a trauma and our primary 
concern is for your safety and well-being."

She regained what feeble composure she had left. "Agent 
Mulder and I are?friends. He wouldn't ever, never. It's an 
appalling accusation and it sickens me."

"Agent Scully, we never made any accusations. You need to 
be clear on that," Johnson said. "You were the one who used 
the word 'abuse.'"

"He didn't?he wouldn't?" Her abdomen twitched as repulsion 
reared its ugly head. "No. He has never harmed me. Ever. I 
want that on the record. Never," she said. "In fact, if my 
LOA and transfer are going to create a situation with 
people tossing unfounded and incredible accusations around, 
I might as well tender my resignation today." Her voice 
wavered and she bit her tongue.

"There's no need for that," Skinner responded, taking a 
deep breath. "We just need a verbal and written statement 
indicating that there was no inappropriate contact toward 
you instigated by Agent Mulder, or any other Bureau 
employee for that matter."

"Here's your verbal statement," Scully said. "No."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully exited Skinner's office and found Mulder sitting on 
the waiting area couch. He was wearing the same clothes as 
the morning and looked like hell.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, wiping away the few 
tears that had fallen as she'd walked out the door.

"I'm here for my hearing," he answered, drumming his 
fingers against the arm of the couch. Her eyes widened, 
mouth agape.

"Mulder, don't say anyth--"

"Agent Mulder," Skinner said from his doorway. Scully spun 
around and glared at him.

"Why are you interrogating him?" she growled.

"It's protocol," Skinner responded, his eyes concerned. 
"Agent Scully, you're no longer needed today."

"Fuck protocol," she said, her voice rising. "I told you 
everything you needed to know. Don't put him through this. 
He doesn't know anything."

"Agent Scully, you are excused." Skinner's voice echoed in 
the small room. A deadening silence followed.

Mulder got up and walked toward Skinner's office, brushing 
against Scully as he passed. She stood, frozen, as the door 
clicked shut behind her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Agent Mulder, thank you for your understanding in joining 
us today. Assistant Director Johnson is here to witness the 
hearing to assure that our questioning proceeds in 
accordance with appropriate rules of conduct, as we respect 
your privacy in the matter as much as possible."

Mulder stretched his legs out, sitting slightly askew in 
the uncomfortable chair. "Nice line, sir." He shot a glance 
at Johnson, who he'd never seen in his life. He was less 
than thrilled at meeting him given the occasion.

"As you know, we're looking into the possible reasons 
behind Agent Scully's LOA and request for transfer. We 
brought you in because, as her partner, we were hoping you 
could offer some insight into her decision," Johnson said.

"Actually, I'm probably in the dark as much as you two on 
this one," Mulder said.

"Did Agent Scully discuss her desire to request an LOA or 
transfer with you prior to taking action?" Johnson jotted 
something down on the paper in front of him. Mulder 
pictured the colorful verbiage most likely being used to 
describe his appearance and demeanor. Arrogant and 
underdressed came to mind.

"No," Mulder said.

"Not at all?" 

Mulder paused, tilting his head. "Hold on. Let me think for 
a second?no. Still no."

"Do you have any idea why your partner of eight years would 
suddenly make these decisions, especially without 
discussing them with you?" Johnson continued his diatribe, 
his face set in stone. Apparently Skinner brought him in as 
the muscle of this operation.

"No," Mulder repeated.

"Don't you think that's a little odd?" Johnson's eyes 
flicked to meet Mulder's casual glare.

"Yes. But I'm not Agent Scully's keeper. I've made many 
decisions about my life without running them by her first. 
I assume it's the same for her," he said, his eyes 
challenging. Take that, pencil jockey.

There was a momentary pause. Mulder attributed it to the 
build-up to the earth-shattering question he expected next 
and had prepared himself for already.

"Agent Mulder, at any point in your partnership with Agent 
Scully, did you ever cause physical or emotional harm to 
her?"

And there it was, as casually presented as an entree at a 
run-down diner in some lonely old town he and Scully had 
visited a thousand times before. Done it all for the 
Bureau, which was currently asking him to bend over and 
grab his ankles.

"Never," he said. He looked at Skinner, who was examining 
every twitch of Mulder's face for any sign of deceit.

"Did you ever forcibly coerce Agent Scully into having 
inappropriate contact with you?" Johnson's expression 
remained unchanged.

"What the?are you kidding me?" Mulder shifted his seat, 
straining to hold himself back from reaching across the 
desk and throttling this motherfucker in front of him. He 
looked at Skinner, his eyes pleading. "You can't be 
serious."

"Agent Mulder, we just need an answer to the question," 
Skinner said.

"This is a typical line of questioning for these types of 
scenarios," Johnson said, watching Mulder squirm. Probably 
enjoying the hell out of it.

"This makes me sick," Mulder said, his throat constricted 
at the thought of anyone doing that to her, of anyone 
asking her if he'd done that. "Never. For fuck's sake." He 
closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. "I would 
never harm a hair on her head. She's everything to me."

"What do you mean by that?" Johnson immediately asked. He 
scribbled more notes.

Mulder sat frozen for a moment. He couldn't believe 
himself, that he'd let that one fly. Maybe they'd assume he 
was some crazy stalker that she felt she couldn't escape. 
Fuck, maybe he was. Maybe they would figure out what it 
really meant, that he loved her, so deep it was ingrained 
in him. The pain over the past few days scratched as 
deeply.

"I care about her like you'd care about anyone you'd spent 
the better part of eight years with," he said. 

Love, Mulder. The word is love. Dig the hole, jump in, send 
in the bulldozer.

"Did this ever make Agent Scully feel uncomfortable or 
intimidated?" Johnson asked.

"I never told her," Mulder said, biting the chafed skin 
inside his cheek. He drew blood and tasted metallic defeat. 
He shifted in his seat and Skinner leaned back.

"I think we're done here," he said. "Thank you, Agent 
Mulder, for coming up."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully was waiting for him in the basement office, sitting 
in his chair, when Mulder walked in after his hearing.

"What did they ask you?" she said, her arms folded across 
her lap. He sat on the chair in front of his desk, her 
chair. It was uncomfortable. He decided to get a new one as 
soon as possible.

"They were fairly intrusive," he answered, his elbows on 
his knees. She stared at him, expecting an elaboration, 
which he didn't offer.

"And?"

"And what, Scully? You need a play-by-play? They probably 
asked us the same stupid questions." He shuffled his feet 
against the grimy tile floor.

"What did you say to them?"

Mulder let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm tired of being 
interrogated."

"Mulder." She got up and walked over to stand in front of 
him, her hands on her hips. He didn't meet her eyes. Her 
demanding tone angered him; he'd just saved their asses and 
expected a little more respect for it. "Mulder. Look at 
me."

"Oh, please," he said, his eyes meeting her intent gaze. "I 
told them what they needed to know."

Her look turned incredulous. "What does that mean?"

"Whatever you think it means."

Her hands dropped from her hips as she groaned, her 
frustration escaping at last. "Mulder, don't you think it's 
important for us to compare what was said? In case this 
comes up again, as it most likely will?"

"It shouldn't," he answered. "I cleared things up for 
them."

Scully silently scrutinized him. He knew she was wondering 
if he was calling her bluff. His eyes were calm as pushed 
up from the chair, standing in front of her.

"You staying? I'm leaving," he said.

"Mulder, don't fuck with me."

He leaned down so his face was inches from hers. "Yeah, 
Scully, I think that's what got us into this in the first 
place," he whispered.

Mulder watched her barely keep her composure, like she'd 
just swallowed a bitter shot of anger and sadness. She 
gulped, hard, and gave him a barely noticeable nod as she 
digested his words.

He broke their icy stare to grab his coat and leave.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx end part 3