Starve.Org White Noise Usenet Archive: "[all-xf] NEW: Unquiet Grave 2 of 2 by mimic117"

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Title: NEW: Unquiet Grave 2 of 2

Author: mimic117

Email: mimic117@yahoo.com

Rating: R - NC-17, depending. Hey, it's me! Whaddya expect?

Category: X, MSR

Spoilers: This takes place in season 6, sometime after Triangle.
Unless you're one of the three people who still hasn't watched
that season, you're safe.

Summary: "Death in itself is nothing; but we fear to be we know
not what, we know not where." John Dryden

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

Wednesday
9:37 AM

Mulder vowed never to take indoor plumbing for granted again.
When they got home, he was going to clean his bathroom until it
was sanitary enough to eat from every surface, and then he would
keep it that way. In spite of the occasional clutter in his
apartment, he'd never yet had to shovel his way to the toilet. And
he was getting damned tired of having to do it now.

Since the snow hadn't stopped, the path he'd made earlier
continued to fill in. Every time he moved the accumulated snow
out, the sides of the path got higher, which meant it was more
difficult to shovel next time. He didn't mind peeing off the
side of the porch -- guys were built for it -- but it wasn't
fair to expect Scully to risk losing her balance and falling
into the snow at a vulnerable moment.

So he shoveled, and each time it took a little longer. He'd already
been at it for an hour and a half. He was almost done, but even
with the exertion of scooping mounds of snow to one side, his
hands and feet were completely numb again. Just like the last
time, his back and chest were sweaty beneath Elver's thick barn
coat, so whenever a puff of frigid air made contact with his damp
clothing inside a sleeve or up under the hem, it sent a chill
into the pit of his stomach. Right now, his insides were
attempting to generate heat by quivering like Jell-O in an
earthquake.

Scully's good humor had taken a nosedive when they woke up to
still-falling snow. He couldn't really blame her -- he was
starting to go a little cabin crazy, too, but probably for an
entirely different reason. His physical awareness of his partner
had heightened to the point of pain. Ever since she'd emerged
from her bath last night, his senses had been assaulted on all
sides by her scent, the sight of her creamy skin, the silken tone
of her voice. The itching powder on his skin had morphed into
brambles, leaving tiny wounds behind every time he allowed his
consciousness of her to have full reign. As much as he hated
shoveling, at least it gave him a short break from the constant
assault on his sanity and the inevitable swelling of a certain
portion of his anatomy. The extreme cold helped, too.

Following one more heave of the shovel, Mulder leaned his back
against the woodshed door and surveyed his handiwork.
Finished. Again. Little clouds of steam puffed between his parted
lips as he tried to catch his breath. It was still as cold as it
had been when they'd arrived, but to his New England-trained eye,
it looked like the snow was slowing down. Granted, he might be a
bit rusty at weather prediction after so many years away from the
northern reaches, and it might be no more than wishful thinking,
but it seemed as though the flakes were smaller and spaced
farther apart. He certainly hoped so. The sooner they got out of
this place, the sooner they could get the appropriate authorities in
to investigate and return to their own homes. Scully had been
pretty testy at breakfast, snapping his head off at every remark he
made. He suspected *he* was the itching powder on her skin
right now, and not being able to get away from each other was
only making things worse.

Pushing away from the shed door, he trudged back up the cleared
path toward the house. He was chilled to the bone, but at least
he'd used up enough excess energy that he'd be able to spend
the next several hours in Scully's company without throwing her
on the mattress and ripping her clothes off. If they didn't get
out of this place soon, he was going to be spending all of his
time shoveling snow, trying to keep his lust cooled down.

Mulder shivered as he stomped up the porch steps. At the
moment, his libido seemed to be the one thing that *wasn't* cold.

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

3:32 PM

"Mulder, you sank my battleship! Again!"

"What can I say? When you're good, you're good."

"And when you're a poor sport, you're obnoxious. I swear you're
peeking somehow."

He let out a perturbed huff as he reset his ships inside the game
case. "That's the second time you've accused me of cheating,
Scully. I'm hurt that you would think such a thing of me. Besides,
you busted my ass yesterday. I'll be drummed out of the
Testosterone Corps if I can't beat you at *something*. Wanna try
for four out of seven?"

She plopped her game case on the couch cushions and stood.
"No, I think losing three games of Battleship is quite enough for
today, thanks." Walking to the kitchen door, she pulled back the
window curtain. "I'm tired of being cooped up. I want to get out
of here. The snow stopped an hour ago. Why can't we leave?"

She probably didn't realize how whiny she sounded. Mulder
would usually find such an uncharacteristic display of childishness
endearing. Today, it grated on his nerves. He glowered at her
without trying to hide his exasperation.

"We already talked about this, Scully. It will be getting dark
soon. Standing out by the car all night would be a stupid move.
We'll leave in the morning if it doesn't snow again. I know
you're finding it hard to keep your hands off me, but --"

She whirled to face him. Mulder wasn't sure if he heard her snarl,
but her upper lip was definitely curled in annoyance.

"If you can't say anything constructive, then just shut up,
Mulder!" She spun to face the window, yanking the curtain aside
to glare at the snow-covered yard again.

He slumped on the loveseat and closed his game case. Okay,
teasing was out, at least for today. Board games were wearing
thin, even if he was winning this time. He pushed himself up and
walked to the china cabinet. Opening the double doors at the
bottom, he lifted out the small stack of books he'd seen on their
first day there. Setting them on the table, he perused the titles
and acknowledged that, while there weren't many to choose from,
they were all classic stories.

Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

He'd read it.

First Men In the Moon.

Read that, too.

Robinson Crusoe.

Read it five times.

War Of the Worlds.

Read it until his copy fell apart.

Gone With the Wind.

Probably one of Marie's books.

There were about a dozen in all, an eclectic mix of old titles but
none that could be considered modern. Mulder hoped there was
something here that would soothe his partner's nerves, at least for
a little while. He quietly cleared his throat.

"Um, I found some books when I was hunting around, Scully.
Maybe you'd like to read instead of playing games."

She let the curtain fall and turned back to him, without the sneer
this time. Her eyes widened when she saw the books he'd set on
the table, and she moved over for a closer look. Her fingers
caressed the covers as she sorted through his peace offering. He
could tell which ones she'd probably read by the way her touch
lingered and her smile widened. She picked up War Of the
Worlds and turned it over in her hands. When she looked at him,
there was a self-deprecating grin on her lips that reached to her
eyes.

"Thanks, Mulder. I don't think I've ever read this one, although
I've heard the Orson Wells radio version a few times. Maybe I'll
get some useful tips on how to stop a world invasion. Might come
in handy some day."

He smiled his acceptance of her unspoken apology. She went
back to the couch and sat down as he moved through the house,
lighting lamps. It wasn't quite dark yet, but it would be soon.

Once they had enough light for reading, he picked up the copy of
A Child's Garden of Verses and returned to the loveseat. Scully
glanced up, giving his choice the once-over.

"Children's poems, Mulder?"

He shrugged. "I loved Robert Louis Stevenson when I was a kid.
I read everything he ever wrote, including the poems. Hell, I read
everything by *all* the classic authors -- H. G. Wells, Jules Verne,
Daniel Dafoe, Kipling, Mark Twain. Especially the adventure
stories. Always wished I could be stranded on a desert island, like
Robinson Crusoe. I guess, in a way, I finally got my wish. You're
a lot prettier than Friday, though."

Instead of chewing him a new orifice as she might have done
earlier in the day, she treated him to a full smile, with teeth.
Scully bent her head over her book as he opened his and did the
same. They soon became so engrossed in reading that they didn't
even notice when it began to snow again.

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

9:40 PM

They ate supper late. The luxury of reading without interruption
was novel enough to keep them both interested until nature called
loudly for food and relief.

Scully was the first to put her book aside for a trip to the
outhouse. The little moan of despair she let out upon opening
the door had Mulder rushing to her side, book abandoned on the
floor in his haste.

The path to the sheds was half filled again. Fat flakes were
descending at a steady, though no longer furious, rate. Stepping
up behind her at the open door, he gripped her drooping
shoulders and squeezed in sympathy.

"It has to stop sometime," he murmured into her hair. Placing a
soft kiss on the crown of her head, he was gratified to feel her
lean into his embrace. "We're in Ohio, not Alaska. We'll get out
of here soon, I promise."

Straightening her back, she moved out of his hands, much to his
disappointment. She stepped through the doorway, but gave him
a wavering smile over her shoulder.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm... I'll be right back."

He stood there for a minute or so, staring at the closed door as
though it held some secret he could discover by looking at it,
before moving into the kitchen. Pulling a can of potato soup and a
box of Pasta-Roni out of a cupboard, he scowled at them. God,
he'd agree to do a months' worth of expense reports in exchange
for a nice, juicy hamburger right now. Leaving the packages on
the counter, he tossed a couple of logs into the stove.

In the heat of the fire, Mulder caught a whiff of himself and
realized that he was probably due for a bath. He'd taken to
wearing dirty clothes whenever he went out to shovel the pathway,
figuring that he'd be reduced to raiding Elver's wardrobe in no time
if he didn't conserve what he'd brought with him. But in spite of
washing up and putting on relatively cleaner clothes afterward, his
current bouquet left a lot to be desired.

Gathering up some logs and kindling from the pile in the kitchen
woodbox, he walked into the bathroom and built a new fire in the
mini fireplace there. Scully returned from her trip outdoors to
find him pumping water into a large kettle. Seeing her look of
inquiry, he explained, "I thought I'd better soak off some of the
funk before you make me sleep with Elver tonight."

"You mean he isn't the one I've been smelling all day?"

He clapped a hand over his heart. "That's harsh, Scully, really
harsh. Wait and see if I ever run a bath for you again."

The atmosphere at supper was decidedly more cheerful and
friendly than it had been all day. Reading instead of playing board
games had provided a much needed break from involuntary
togetherness. By the time they were done eating, Mulder's bath
water was ready. He let Scully wash up for bed first, since it was
already late, while he headed to the outhouse. When he got back,
she was dressed for sleep in his sweatsuit once again. He liked
seeing her in his clothes, and wondered if he could convince her
to keep wearing them after they returned home.

She borrowed a large saucepan of his hot water, volunteering to
wash their few dishes while he made himself more presentable.
He rather enjoyed his warm soak in front of the little fireplace.
If he ever had a chance to own a house, he was going to make sure
it had a fireplace in the bathroom. If it didn't, he'd add one.
He knew Scully would appreciate the decadence of the idea.

That thought brought him up short. When had he started thinking
in terms of what Scully would want in *his* future home? Right
from the beginning of their partnership, he'd respected her
professional opinion when they were working on a case, even if he
often ended up convincing her to do things his way. Giving her
the same courtesy in his personal life happened gradually, until
her potential wishes were spilling over into his daydreams, too. If
he was honest with himself, it had been a long time since he'd
made any decision at all that didn't include her input. He could no
longer remember a time when her happiness was just an
afterthought. Given the chance, he would fulfill every dream of
her heart for the rest of his life. But she'd made it pretty clear
that the interest was one-sided. Considering the fact that he'd
soon be sleeping next to her, this didn't seem like the best time
for wishful thinking.

Finished with his bath, Mulder let the water drain from the tub. He
doused the fire with what remained in the kettle. Dressed in clean
boxers, he reluctantly left the warmth of the little room for the
relative coolness of the rest of the house. Scully was already
under the blankets and seemingly asleep. He moved through the
rooms, first making sure the kitchen fire was banked, then adding
logs to the one in the fireplace. The domesticity of his chores
brought a lump to his throat. All through history, men have been
considered the family protector. When people lived in caves, that
might have meant keeping the fire away from sleeping family
members, snuffing smoky torches, and barricading the entrance
from marauding animals. As humans grew more inventive over
time, the nightly tasks became easier and less time consuming.
These days, those duties would consist of nothing more than
turning a lock, closing a window, and flicking a few wall switches,
but the symbolism was the same. What wouldn't he give for a
chance to perform these types of chores every night, knowing that
Scully would be waiting for him when he was done? Maybe
wearing something a little less concealing...

As he crouched by the fire and fantasized, the increasing shadows
caught his attention. Standing, he turned around to find the lamps
and chandeliers slowly dimming on their own. He watched as the
glow of each one faded until it was completely gone, with only the
fireplace lending light to the room.

"You can't forget several decades of habit, can you, Elver?"

When there was no answer, he climbed under the blankets. He
scooted closer to Scully's warmth, but refrained from touching her,
even through the sweatsuit. Thankfully, the day had ended better
than it started. But that also meant that he didn't have her shield
of aggravation to hold between himself and his inappropriate
yearnings. All he possessed was years of restraint that the past
few days had worn thin around the edges.

On that unhappy thought, he drifted off into a restless sleep, with
the sound of footsteps and creaking doors echoing in his dreams.

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

Thursday
2:48 PM

Although it had been snowing when they awoke that morning, the
mood hadn't been as strained as the previous day. The flakes
drifted down lazily instead of lashing against the house, and the
lack of gray in the sky boded well for the possibility of Mother
Nature's eventual cease-fire. With any luck at all, they'd be
able to leave tomorrow.

When Mulder ventured outdoors after breakfast to shovel the
small accumulation of snow from the pathways, he'd been pleased
to find that it took him scarcely half an hour. In fact, the
lack of exertion left him feeling so chipper, he offered a very
rude suggestion on how Scully could help to warm him up. Instead
of rapping him upside the head with a saucepan, she had simply
stated that, in honor of their current antique living conditions,
she was going to make use of the woodshed for it's historic
secondary purpose if he didn't lay off the lewd jokes. He didn't
know whether to laugh or find a paddle for her to use, so he
clamped his lips together and tried to hide his grin.

After a pleasant breakfast, a companionable lunch, and the
equitable division of chores, he had high hopes of being able to
last out their forced confinement without doing something that
might jeopardize their current relationship.

Until Scully decided to play a round of Scruples.

"Have you ever played that game?" Mulder asked.

"No," she admitted, "but I've heard about it from my mom, and the
rules make it sound like Truth or Dare. I've played that. How
much different can it be?"

"It's more like Truth or Consequences, Scully. I'm not sure it
would be such a good idea right now."

"You're chicken."

"What?"

"I said you're chicken. You're afraid I'll beat your ass again."

"No I'm not!"

She made soft clucking noises.

"Right." He said squared his shoulders. "Let's see how tough you
are then."

He crouched in front of the end table and pulled out the box. It
was still sealed with plastic.

"Huh," he said. "It looks like Elver and Marie never got a chance
to play this."

"Or someone else gave it to them, but they weren't interested.
Maybe we should leave it intact."

Mulder sliced through the plastic with his thumbnail and peeled it
off.

"If someone in their family gave this to them, it would be kinder to
give it back looking as though it had been used, don't you think? I
know I'd be hurt if I found out someone didn't like my gift enough
to open it."

"Okay." She pulled out a chair at the dining room table and sat
down. "But I get to go first."

"You're feeling sadistic today, aren't you? Be my guest, my dear
Scully. After you."

She opened the box and pulled out the sheet of rules. He put
more wood on the fire, giving her time to read through them before
he joined her at the table. He'd played this game before and
hadn't liked it much. He would find himself profiling the other
players, which made it seem like work and took the fun out of it.
As did the necessity of revealing pieces of himself that he'd rather
keep hidden under their respective rocks. Mulder was getting a
very bad feeling about this whole idea, but he couldn't let his own
partner call him a chicken.

Apparently satisfied with the instructions, she pulled a pack of
yellow cards from the box. She shuffled the cards, and dealt them
each five, but left the red pack of cards where they were.

"You've sold your house," she read off her first card. "Before you
move out, the roof starts to leak. Do you have it fixed?"

She stared at him expectantly. He blinked back in surprise.

"Scully, you just read the directions. You're supposed to give us
each one red card, too. Then we have to guess what the other
person is going to say."

"How many years have we been working together, Mulder?" It
must have been a rhetorical question, because she waved a hand
in dismissal and continued. "I *know* what you're going to
answer. Besides, those rules are for a group of people. It says
that you have to decide who would be most likely to give the same
answer as the one on the red card. Not much of a challenge
when there's only two of us. Instead, we'll give an answer and
then try to guess if the other person is being honest. Now, would
you fix the leaking roof or not?"

He was feeling worse about this idea all the time. There was a
knot in the pit of his stomach that felt like barbed wire. His
answer came out a bit more belligerent than he'd intended.

"Hell no! If someone has already bought the house, it's not my
problem unless my head is getting wet. They're the ones who
have to worry about it, not me."

"I can't believe you said that. You have a moral obligation to make
sure that the house is in working order for the new owners. A
leaking roof doesn't qualify."

"Not if the paperwork is already signed and they're just waiting for
me to move out."

"There's nothing here about paperwork, Mulder. It just says you
haven't moved out yet."

"Then you don't have enough evidence for me to be able to
provide a proper answer and it's my turn."

He picked up his first card and read it. "You hit it off with
someone at a party. Your lover seems jealous. Do you cut your
conversation short?"

An amused snort issued from Scully's throat. "Not likely."

"Why not?"

"That's not on the card, is it?"

"No, it isn't." Mulder flipped the card so she could see it.
"I was merely curious as to why you wouldn't cut short a
conversation with some stranger if your lover didn't like you
talking to him."

"In the first place, I wouldn't necessarily be talking to a man."

"You would unless you're gay. I don't think a male lover would be
jealous of you talking to another woman."

She glared at him but didn't dispute his assumption. "Okay, so I'd
be talking to a man. If the man I'm with doesn't like me conversing
with another man -- who I will most likely never see again -- that's
his problem, not mine. Why should I stop talking to someone
simply because I have an insecure lover?"

"Because you love him? Isn't that enough?"

"Why should it have to be? We're both grown-ups. I should be
able to talk to anyone I like without having to cater to someone
with the emotional maturity of an adolescent."

Mulder squirmed. He had a strange feeling that she wasn't
speaking in the hypothetical sense. True, he'd displayed a touch
of territoriality on occasion, but that didn't mean he was
jealous... much. Things were starting to hit a little too close
to home, just as he feared they might. He pointed to her stack
of cards.

"Your turn."

She appeared surprised by his attempt to avoid the issue but
refrained from commenting. Choosing another card, she read, "If
your lover had a nightmare and couldn't sleep, would you want her
to wake you up for comfort?"

He didn't even have to think about that one.

"Sure. I'd want you to comfort me if I had a bad dream and you
were laying right next to me. Why shouldn't I do the same for
you?"

Oops. Should have kept that one impersonal. Time for another
question. He snatched up his next card.

"A genie offers you a remote control device that will make your
lover do anything you want. Do you accept the gadget?"

She chewed on her lip for a moment. "No."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I wouldn't want that kind of power over someone."

"But you could make them do whatever you wanted. You could
change their annoying habits, or make them more romantic, or
anything at all. Don't most women want to change a man once
they have him?"

Scully looked him right in the eye. "If I really loved someone, it
would be *because* of who they are, not in spite of it. I don't see
the need to fix something that isn't broken."

They sat in silence for a few seconds, absorbing the implications
of such power over another person. Mulder knew he'd never even
be tempted. There wasn't one thing about Scully that he would
change. Except for her constant skepticism, and even that was a
good thing, because she made him work for his proof. He had to
see every problem from all angles so he could find enough
evidence to refute her inevitable nay-saying. No matter how
frustrated he got sometimes, he would never want her to behave
in any other way.

His drifting thoughts were pulled up short by her next question.

"You find a wallet with a large amount of cash inside. The driver's
license is from another state, but there's an address listed. Do
you mail the wallet back with the cash still in it?"

She smirked and said, "Not much of a question for a couple of law
enforcement officers, is it? Let's try another one."

Mulder put his hand over hers as she reached for a new card.
Scully obviously didn't realize what she'd just said to him. She'd
implied that she knew him well enough to believe he was an
honest man, yet she apparently didn't know him well enough to
believe that he loved her -- even when he told her so. The irony
was too much for him.

"Wait a minute. I'd take the money and throw the wallet away with
my fingerprints all over it. You mean you wouldn't?"

"There's no need for sarcasm, Mulder." Shaking off his hand, she
took another card and read, "The ship has sunk; you and your
lover are treading water. You have only one life jacket. Do you
give it to your lover?"

He knew what he was going to say -- there was only one possible
answer. When he remained silent, she shot him a quick glance,
and he knew that she knew as well. He'd already told her how
things are for him, so his answer shouldn't have come as any
surprise to her.

"Yes. I would."

"So you'd prefer to make her watch you drown while saving her
own life?"

"Would it be better for me to watch *her* drown, knowing I could
save her and that I wouldn't want to live without her anyway?
Then the life jacket doesn't do anyone any good."

It seemed that fate was determined to make them uncomfortable.
The good mood of the morning was long gone. They weren't
sniping at each other, but neither was he as at ease as he had
been. By the way Scully kept picking at the sleeve of her sweater,
he suspected he wasn't the only one feeling uneasy.

He didn't wait for any comment she might have, but picked up
another card.

"As a detective, you want to put away a vicious rapist, but a
crucial piece of evidence is lacking. You can plant it. Do you?"

The silence that followed stretched on for several long seconds.
Finally, she snapped, "Do you even have to ask? That one is as
obvious as the question about the wallet. I would have thought
you knew me better than that after all this time. Pick another
card."

Yes, Mulder admitted, he knew his partner. He knew what kind of
dressing she used on her salad. He knew when her rent was due
-- he'd paid it for her a couple times when she wasn't in town. He
knew her computer password. He knew she secretly loved
cheesecake, even though it was too fattening, and openly hated
pantyhose, even though she wore them every day. He even knew
when her damned period was each month, for Christ's sake. So
yeah, he knew how she'd answer the question, but he still didn't
know the one thing that was most important to him.

Suddenly, it was too much to bear. Something inside of him
snapped. Maybe it was his last shred of good sense. Maybe it
was an overload caused by four days of being in too-close
proximity to the woman he loved. He only knew that he was tired
of never being sure where he stood with her. Whatever the
cause, he made a sudden decision and acted on it before he
could back out. The game was about to take a sharp right turn.
They'd see which one of them was chicken.

He picked up a new card and pretended to read it.

"Someone you consider a friend blurts out 'I love you' while under
the influence of drugs. Do you believe him and respond in kind, or
blow it off and never mention it again?"

Scully's face paled, then flushed bright red.

"That's not on the card, Mulder," she stated. "It's not answerable
with a 'yes' or 'no'."

"Answer the question, Scully. Do you say the words back?"

For the first time he couldn't catch her eye.

"No."

Mulder slammed his palm down on the table, making her jump.

"Goddammit, Scully! Why can't you accept it?"

"Accept what?"

"That I have feelings for you."

"I know you have feelings for me, Mulder, just like I have them for
you. But we both know you didn't mean what you said."

"Of course I meant it."

"No you didn't. You were drugged. People say lots of things they
don't mean when they're under the influence."

"Drugged or not, I didn't proclaim 'I love you' to everyone who
stopped by to visit. I sure didn't say it to Frohike when I saw him
hanging over my bed."

Scully was picking at the edge of a card instead of looking at him.

"I'm not your type, Mulder. As much as I didn't want to admit it,
the evidence is clear."

"What evidence?"

"Bambi, Phoebe, Diana -- long legs, tall, busty. That's the kind of
women you've always been attracted to. Who knows how many
others there've been that I didn't know about?"

He felt like grabbing her by the arms and shaking her until her
teeth rattled. Instead, he threw down the card in his hand, ran his
fingers into his hair and tugged -- hard. The pain seemed to settle
his raging emotions.

"Did you ever stop to think that my tastes might have changed
over the years, Scully? Did you consider how those busty bimbos
with the long legs treated me? Isn't it possible they came on to
me, not the other way around? What makes you think I put the
moves on them, or that I wanted to? There are other things that I
find attractive now."

She chewed on her lip but didn't say anything.

"Things like loyalty, intelligence, trust, respect, mutual
affection. Short legs aren't anything to be ashamed of, you know.
When I hold you in my arms, you fit perfectly over my heart. None
of those leggy bimbos ever filled that place the way you do. I
can't believe you don't know that."

He reached out to still her nervous fingers, but as he brushed her
skin, she pulled her hand away. Mulder frowned. There was
something he was missing. He took in her downcast eyes,
hunched shoulders, and tightly pursed lips, swollen from the rasp
of her teeth. Remembering her peevish complaints about his off-
color remarks the previous day, an unlikely idea occurred to him.

He stretched across the table to touch her arm -- and she
shrugged him off.

All his doubts evaporated. "You're in love with me," he whispered
in awe.

Her expression radiated panic.

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are." A grin spread across his face, which only seemed
to make her more stubborn.

"Mulder, what makes you think that every woman who comes in
contact with you has to fall for your manifest charms? Simply
because Doctor Bambi and Detective White threw themselves at
you, that doesn't mean I have to. Get over yourself."

He didn't buy the confidence she tried to inject into her words.
She was lying. It all fit together. In fact, he was willing to
take another leap.

"You're using Diana, Phoebe and the rest as an excuse. You
know how I feel about you. The idea that you're not my type is
just a pretense to deny your own feelings. You can lie to yourself
all you want, but you can't lie to me."

"Just drop it, Mulder. You don't understand."

"What don't I understand? That you find it hard to express your
deepest emotions? I know that. Maybe you're afraid that I'll be
possessive and jealous, demanding all of your time for myself.
You're probably right, but how is that different from the way I've
always treated you? I love you, Scully. And I know now that you
love me, too. Why can't you admit it?"

She closed her eyes and dropped her head to her chest. He knew
he was pushing her; he couldn't help himself. Not knowing would
be worse than finding out that he was wrong. But he wasn't
wrong. He was sure of it. well, pretty sure. There was a little
doubt at the back of his brain that tried to niggle its way forward,
but he smothered its voice under as much hope as he could
muster.

When she finally spoke, Mulder was holding his breath.

"Because I've spent years trying to counteract the perceptions of a
male-dominated institution," Scully said.

He gave thanks that he could breathe again. She hadn't flat-out
stated that she didn't love him. He concentrated on clearing the
dizziness in his head as she continued.

"The good old boy's network seems to think the one way a woman
can advance herself is by lying on her back. When I slept with
Jack, I was perpetuating that misconception, in spite of the fact
that he had nothing to do with my actual career in the Bureau. I
was too young at the time to realize the harm it was causing, but
I'm not that naive now. How would it look if word got out that
I was screwing my partner?"

Her eyes begged for his understanding and acceptance, but
Mulder hardened his heart against her pleading gaze. He wasn't
about to let her off that easy, not now, not when he knew the
truth.

"Were you planning to get the words 'I'm fucking my partner'
tattooed on your forehead afterward, Scully?"

"Of course not!"

"Well neither am I. So how is anyone going to know? We're
adults. We can love whoever we damned well please without
being answerable to our coworkers or society in general. We only
have to answer to each other, no one else. Right?"

Scully fidgeted in her seat. "I suppose so."

"Then admit it!"

"Fine! Yes, dammit, Mulder! I love you!"

Annoyance and irritation couldn't hold out against the three words
he'd been longing to hear. He reached toward her hand again,
and when she didn't pull away this time, he laced their fingers
together on the table. "Well. That wasn't any harder than
explaining my last three health insurance claims. Kinda feels
good to say the words, doesn't it? I've wanted to say them again
every day since the first time."

There was regret in her eyes as well as her voice as she
whispered, "I'm sorry, Mulder. I should have told you that day in
the hospital, instead of treating your declaration like a joke."

He shook his head. "You don't need to apologize. I understand.
Really, I do. You've always needed solid proof before you can
begin to consider an extreme possibility. So don't believe in
vampires. Blow off all evidence of werewolves. Doubt the
possibility of alien life on Earth. But please, even without
scientific confirmation... please, don't ever doubt that I
love you."

He stood and pulled on her hand until she was standing, too.
Wrapping their arms around each other, they clung together as
their bodies slowly swayed to a melody they alone could hear.

After several minutes of silence, she said, "There are no such
things as vampires or werewolves, Mulder, and you still haven't
convinced me that aliens exist, either."

He chuckled and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Give me time, Scully. I'll find your proof." He tightened his
embrace and mumbled into her hair, "These last few days have
been sheer torture."

"I know."

Leaning back, he looked into her eyes and saw a rueful smile
lurking there.

"What?" she asked. "You thought you were the only one going
crazy? Being within touching distance and keeping my hands to
myself has been one of the hardest things I've ever done. Why do
you suppose I started to complain about your innuendoes?"

"Huh." He pulled her back into a fierce hug. "And here I was
thinking you were just fed up with me. I figured you were itching
to get back home so you wouldn't have to look at my annoying
face for a while."

"I don't normally visit the bathroom as often as I have been the
last couple of days, you know. It was either take regular breaks
or make a fool of myself coming on to my partner."

He leaned back again and made sure she was looking right at
him.

"If you wanted to touch, Scully, all you had to do was ask."

She shot him a glance filled with such desire it took his breath
away.

"Mulder, may I touch you?"

It took a moment to get his voice under control. "You're doing a
pretty good job so far, but please feel free to indulge yourself."

He was expecting the slow drag of fingers over his chest or trailing
through his hair, not the sudden plunge of all ten digits down the
back of his jeans. She'd managed to get right underneath his
boxer shorts, too. The feel of her warm hands kneading his ass
set off a firestorm of adrenaline that lit every fuse in his body.
The resulting explosion of lust welded their lips together and
carried their twined bodies as far as the mattress.

They flopped down in a tangle, jabbing each other with elbows
and bumping knees. When Agent Scully finally made up her mind
that she wanted something, apparently she didn't mess around.
Mulder found himself stripped and flat on his back in less than two
minutes.

He experienced a moment of panic when she scooted off the
mattress and stood up. It scarcely lasted as long as it took her to
pop the first button on her sweater. He wondered if his eyes had
just bugged out like a cartoon character. As her fingers flew from
button to button, revealing her milky breasts, he felt the urge to
hoot and whistle and clap his hands like the worst kind of
animated lothario. But he didn't because this was Scully, not
some bottle-blonde pole dancer in a sleazy bar. He should be
worshipping her on his knees instead of watching her with his
tongue hanging out.

Her sweater went flying. She pushed her jeans and panties off in
one movement while his eyes darted from her busy hands to her
bobbing breasts. Once she pulled off her socks, she dropped to
the mattress and crawled toward him on all fours.

He gathered her into his arms, skin on skin, and breathed in her
scent. The smell of her desire was strong, or maybe it was his, or
maybe it was both of them combined. He didn't know where to
touch her first, there were so many possibilities. This was a
moment to be savored, something he'd waited years to achieve.
Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, not even in his
best wet dreams about her. He opened his mouth to suggest that
they set a more leisurely pace, but the words were vaporized as
she clamped her lips over his and shoved her tongue in his mouth.

Their first kiss didn't last nearly long enough as far as he was
concerned. She nipped and sucked at his tongue and lips while
her hands set off sparks on his nerve endings every place she
touched. They tumbled back and forth on the mattress, groping
every square inch of skin they could reach, until she pulled him on
top of her and wrapped her legs around his waist. The chorus of
moans and groans they produced would have done credit to any
haunted castle. He wondered briefly if Elver would be rude
enough to watch. The feel of her soft hand on his hard cock
stopped that thought in its tracks, and his wet slide into her heat
derailed it altogether.

Balancing on his hands, he looked down at her flushed face
beneath him -- a sight he'd never dreamed he would get to see. It
was exhilaratingly painful; wondrous torture; the most pleasant
agony he'd ever experienced. He could feel all the aching holes in
his heart closing up, leaving nothing but Scully to fill the hollow
places.

He never wanted it to end, but the noises she was making weren't
helping his self-control. Neither was the way she jerked her hips
off the bed to meet him on each thrust. In fact, any control he
might have had was useless against the flood of sensations
assaulting his body. His orgasm hit so hard and fast, all he could
do was squeeze his eyes shut and gasp as he emptied all the love
he possessed into her accepting embrace.

His shaking arms couldn't hold out, and he collapsed to one side.
It took a few seconds for the ringing in his ears to stop enough
that he could hear Scully's panting breaths beneath him. He tried
to move, but she tightened her grip. He was beginning to get his
breathing under control when a horrible thought struck him.

"You didn't come, did you?" His voice was muffled by a pillow, but
he knew she'd heard him.

"Couldn't you tell?"

"Well, I was in the middle of a major religious experience, so I may
have been a bit distracted. I'm sorry I was selfish, but it was
rather out of my control."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Mulder."

He picked his head up and stared at her, wide-eyed.

"You mean you came and I missed it? How did I miss it?"

Scully smiled. "Just because I didn't scream 'Oh my god, Mulder,
you're such a stud' that doesn't mean nothing happened. I think
watching you set me off."

"If I wasn't so tired right now, I'd be incredibly turned on."

She chuckled softly, snuggling her nose against his breastbone.
He moved to lie next to her and gathered her back into his arms.

They laid under the blankets for a long time, hands moving lazily
over sex-warmed flesh. He couldn't remember ever feeling so
relaxed and at peace. To be here with her, touching her naked
skin, murmuring endearments into her ear, making her chuckle,
was a gift beyond words. He would gladly give up concrete proof
of extraterrestrials, let someone else put Bigfoot in a cage, and
watch the world go to hell in a colonization handbasket if he could
just stay in this very spot and never move.

Little puffs of warm breath on his chest told Mulder that he wasn't
the only one feeling worn out. He smoothed a strand of hair away
from Scully's cheek and pressed a kiss onto her forehead. The
rest of the day stretched before them, just like the other days
they'd been stranded in this house. When they woke up they
would need to keep the fires burning, make supper, trek to the
outhouse, talk about the possibility of leaving tomorrow, maybe
play a board game, and finally get ready for sleep again. And yet,
everything was different now, new in ways he couldn't even begin
to contemplate. Was it only yesterday morning they were irritated
and angry with each other? It seemed like a lifetime ago. His
mind boggled at the realization of the leap they'd just taken.
Scully shifted in her sleep, cuddling closer. He clutched her
fiercely, a familiar protective feeling swelling in his chest
until he didn't know if his flesh was strong enough to contain
it. This was a leap worth making, no matter the distance or risk
involved. He was going to do everything in his power from now on
to make sure she never regretted making that leap with him.

As he felt himself dozing off, his last thought was that maybe
Scruples wasn't such a bad game after all.

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

Friday
8:23AM

Mulder awoke to the sound of dripping water. Lots of dripping
water. So much dripping water, in fact, that his bladder urged him
to get out of bed immediately if he didn't want to embarrass
himself in a way he hadn't done since he'd passed out after
drinking six bottles of home-brewed ale at Jimmy McGinty's flat in
Oxford. No one ever admitted to sticking his hand in that bowl of
warm water, but he'd always had his suspicions.

Scrambling from the mattress, he didn't even bother reaching for
his clothes. They were all alone, the house was isolated, and he
really needed to pee *right now*. Expecting to be body-slammed
by a wall of frigid air when the door opened, he was surprised to
find that the temperature had actually risen overnight. There was
still a deep layer of snow covering everything in sight, but the
snow banks were noticeably shrunken and the path to the
outhouse had tiny thin patches of dead grass starting to show
through. However, making it to the outhouse wasn't even an
option, what with the warm air at his bare back and the colder air
at his naked front. Man, he was going to miss pissing off the
porch once they made it home.

When he shivered his way back into the house, he found Scully
standing just inside the door, swathed in his discarded shirt and
the pilfered sweatpants. She was pulling on a pair of boots as he
walked into the kitchen.

"Mulder, you haven't got a modest bone anywhere in your body."
He glanced down and she snickered. "Obviously not there, that's
for sure."

He reached for her, but she side-stepped to the door.

"Bathroom," she stated. "Be right back."

She tugged on a coat, opened the door and stopped short.

"Thank goodness for sudden warm snaps," he observed. "I think
things are looking up."

Scully threw him a grin and walked out the door. He closed it and
watched her through the window as she scurried down the path to
the privy. Moving back into the chilly house, he took time to
restoke both fires, being careful to keep certain tender parts
of his anatomy out of the reach of sparks.

He was still naked when she returned. Her eyes sparkled as she
raked him with her gaze. He grabbed her around the waist as she
walked past and went straight for a lip lock, but she twisted out of
his arms.

"Ugh," she grunted. "Morning breath."

"Yours or mine?" he asked.

"Mine."

"I hadn't noticed." He lunged for her again, but she scampered
backward, out of his embrace.

"I'm going to get dressed," Scully stated, "then I think we should
take care of breakfast. We can discuss what we're going to do
about the change in the weather while we eat. You might want to
put some clothes on before you damage something I'm fond of
while you're cooking."

She tossed a smile over her shoulder before entering the
bathroom. Mulder couldn't stop a happy sigh that seemed to
originate in his toes. He pulled on his jeans, then headed for the
kitchen to see what delights he could concoct to keep up their
energy.

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

1:45 PM

He wasn't entirely clear on how they'd ended up with him laying on
top of her, making out on the couch, but he wasn't about to
complain.

Following breakfast, they'd agreed to wait one more day and leave
Saturday morning if the warmer weather held. By then, the snow
should have melted enough to make hiking out easier and their
chances of finding help more likely. They'd spent some time
bringing in more wood, tidying up the breakfast dishes, and then it
was time for lunch. Which left the rest of the day open for
whatever they wanted to do to occupy their time.

Apparently, Scully wanted to neck.

Neither of them was in any hurry. The slide of lips on skin and the
warmth of roving hands was enough to keep them occupied for
the moment. They had the whole day in front of them and nothing
else to do besides take turns driving each other crazy.

Right now, it was Mulder's turn.

He nipped at a pulsing vein in her throat. It was jumping very
rapidly at the moment. He kneaded her breast with one hand
while his lips moved up to her earlobe. He sucked it into his
mouth and gently nibbled. She went still beneath him and
gasped.

"Oh my god..." Her voice was filled with awe and wonder.

He chuckled into her neck. "I haven't even started. If you think
*that* was good --"

She poked him in the ribs several times, making him squirm.
"Stop, Mulder."

His head popped up, a frown crinkling his brow. When he got a
good look at her face, the crinkles reversed direction as his eyes
widened. "What's wrong?"

Peering over his own shoulder, his jaw dropped when he saw
what his partner was seeing.

The ghost of an elderly man was standing in the middle of the
dining room. Mulder assumed it was a ghost since he could see
the kitchen cupboards right through the middle of him. He also felt
it was safe to assume that their visitor was Elver Smallwood. He
couldn't think of any other ghosts who might have an interest in
breaking up his first make-out session in years.

As they watched, the transparent figure looked pointedly at each
of them in turn, then walked to the front door. Gazing back at
them once again, he passed through the closed door and
vanished.

Mulder scrambled off the sofa and ran after the ghost. Pulling
back the curtain over the window in the door, he expected to find
Elver standing outside, perhaps waiting to be followed. Instead,
he saw an empty, snow-covered porch, and two snowmobiles
roaring up the driveway toward the house. He turned to tell
Scully, to see her standing right beside his elbow.

"Look, Mulder. Now we can get out of here and find help." She
reached for the doorknob. He grabbed her hand just before she
pulled the door open. Scully raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"I don't think Elver was showing us that the cavalry's arrived." He
dropped the curtain into place, then unlocked the door and
stepped back. "I think he was warning us about danger
approaching. I hope they didn't see us."

The sound of engines grew louder as her eyes traveled from her
partner to the door and then back again. He knew when the
pieces clicked into place because her hand shot to the small of
her back, hunting for her weapon.

"The killers?" Her hand came up empty.

He nodded. "Which means they didn't find what they were looking
for the first time. We have to hide. Now."

"We need our weapons," she said, dropping into a crouch behind
the sofa.

Mulder joined her and whispered, "Crawl to the bedroom and get
our guns. Don't let them see you through the windows."

She set off down the hallway, as fast as she could go on all fours.
He was close behind her, commando crawling with his nose scant
inches from bumping her ass.

"There are two of us and two of them, and we've got the
advantage of surprise," she said. "Why did you unlock the door?
We could have kept them outside and crept around the house
unaware."

"Because the house was unlocked when we got here... that's how
they left it."

She eased the guest bedroom door open and Mulder followed her
into the room. He stood once they were all the way inside and
kept watch on the front door as she hurried to the closet. She
retrieved their ammo clips, then tiptoed to the dresser and
rummaged through their carry-on bags. He continued, "If they
were to find the door locked, they'd know someone was here and
there goes your element of surprise."

"What about the mattress on the floor and the fire in the
fireplace?"

Thinking of the now-warm house and the evidence of occupation,
he shook his head. "There's no time to clean up. We'll just
have to hope they're focused enough on their mission not to
notice until we can get the drop on them."

Her whispered "Shit!" made him turn his head toward the closet.
Scully was looking hesitantly at the ammo in her hands. She
held out the clips for him to see.

"We can't use these, Mulder."

"What?" The snowmobile engines had stopped. He checked the
door again. "We have to, Scully. I'd really like something
besides an empty gun between me and a couple of killers."

"It could be unstable," she hissed. "We've already had one
misfire. What if --"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. He knew exactly what
had caused the gun to discharge, and it wasn't faulty ammo.
Taking his eyes off the front door for a moment, he tossed a
grin over his shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with the ammo," he assured her. "Go
ahead and reload."

"But --"

Another shake of his head. "Trust me. I'll explain later."

Wearing a doubtful expression, she tiptoed to the dresser with
their clips and rummaged through their carry-on bags. He went
back to his surveillance just as heavy boots pounded up the
porch steps, making the floor vibrate. Mulder closed the
bedroom door almost all the way and watched through the crack
as the front door flew open.

"Are you sure you checked the basement, shit-for-brains?"

"I said I did, Rusty. You got no need to be calling me names. I
looked and it weren't there."

The second speaker sounded young. The voice was high and
whiny, very nasal, as though his sinuses were stuffy.

Steps rang on the floor, straight toward Mulder and Scully's hiding
place. Moving out of sight, they flattened themselves against the
wall inside the bedroom. They both slumped in relief when the
basement door opened and the footsteps descended the stairs.
The killer's voices were clearly audible as they continued to bicker
in the cellar.

"Well, it's gotta be here somewhere. Check that little room over
there. Make sure you move stuff this time, just in case he hid it
under something. We coulda come back sooner if you hadn't took
sick, you stupid jackass."

This was the person in command. The voice wasn't much deeper
than his cohort's, but he sounded older, harder. He also sounded
pissed.

"Can I help it if my little brother was sneezin' on me? I got all
wet the first time we came out here and caught his cold. It
weren't my fault or anything."

"Aw shut up. Shit! It ain't here." The sound of boxes and bottles
hitting the floor echoed up the stairwell. "It's gotta be upstairs
somewhere. We'll have to look again."

"I ain't goin' in the room with him, Rusty. I'll do the whole rest
of the house by myself, but I ain't goin' anywhere near a corpse."

"You're such a pussy, Lloyd." Boots clomped back up the stairs
and into the hallway, headed toward the other end of the house.
"Fine. I'll look in that room, and you take the kitchen. That far
enough away from the stiff for you?"

"You know, you never shoulda shot him in the first place, Rusty.
We coulda knocked him out and tied him --"

Mulder and Scully held their breath as the voices grew silent.
They strained to hear any clue that would help them locate the
intruders.

"There's someone in the house." Rusty's voice barely reached
them, almost a whisper.

"How do you figure --" Lloyd hadn't caught on right away; his
words carried just fine, cut off by the sound of skin smacking skin.

"Look around you, dickhead! This ain't how we left the place."

Mulder figured they weren't going to get a better chance, now that
the element of surprise was gone. He caught Scully's eye and
held up three fingers. She inclined her head once, twice, three
times. They burst out of the bedroom and into the hall together,
Mulder high, Scully low, guns clenched in a double-fisted grip.

"FBI! Don't move!" they shouted in unison.

The two intruders stood in the middle of the dining area. Despite
the larger man's angry scowl, they both raised their arms into the
air.

"Hands on top of your head," Mulder yelled. "Stay right there."

He walked out from behind Scully, being careful not to block her
line of fire. Crossing in front of the fireplace, he circled
around the loveseat to get behind the men while she crept down the
passageway behind the sofa. Mulder was almost into the dining
area when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Risking
a glimpse into the kitchen, his eyes widened as the cupboard
doors burst open.

"Scully, get down!"

She dropped to the floor as a food can shot past her head and
dented the wall next to her. Mulder crouched behind the loveseat
and watched cans, boxes, bottles, dishes and glasses fly out of
the cupboards one after another. They weren't falling -- they were
being thrown. A few of the missiles bounced off the furniture or
shattered on the fireplace, but most of them were aimed right at
the two intruders who were now cowering on the floor, arms over
their heads. Mulder winced as a can of creamed corn thwacked
the head of one man, then jumped off the floor and pummeled the
back of the other.

"That's gonna leave a mark," he muttered. He peeked around the
edge of the loveseat toward his partner's position, but was forced
to duck for cover again as a six-pack of pudding cups thudded off
the cushions. The cardboard carrier ripped open and two of the
plastic cups leapt over the back of the loveseat, bopping him on
the head.

Mulder's mouth dropped open as he saw the coil of rope fly off its
peg by the back door, unwinding as it hissed through the air like
an anorexic snake. Even as it twined around the cringing figures
on the floor, the ends were whipping up and down, striking welts
onto their hands and faces.

The dining room chandelier swayed back and forth in an
unnaturally wide arc, creaking and squealing as the suspension
chain protested the unaccustomed movement. He would have
preferred to let the forces at work have their way, but when the
knife drawer in the kitchen flew open, Mulder knew it was time to
intervene. No one would ever believe that he and Scully hadn't
beaten and stabbed two unarmed men to death. The true story
would be a little easier to swallow if they had living witnesses.

"Elver," Mulder shouted, "stop! I know you're angry, but you have
to let us take it from here. We'll make sure they pay for what they
did to you. Please, don't let them turn you into a murderer, too."

For a few seconds, it seemed like he'd wasted his breath. Kitchen
utensils and canned goods continued to whistle overhead. Mulder
was getting ready to renew his plea, when suddenly, everything
stopped moving and simply hung there. Then, without warning, all
the suspended objects dropped like lead weights. Anything
hanging over the two whimpering intruders got one last shot at
their hapless bodies. The rest landed on the floor and rolled to a
stop.

Mulder was up and moving before the last echo had died away.
Scully crept in from the opposite side of the room, gun drawn as
she covered him. He pulled the cuffs from his back pocket and
grabbed the unresisting arm of one man. The beaten-down killer
let out a quiet moan and didn't move.

"Rusty and Lloyd, you are under arrest for the murder of Elver
Smallwood. Anything you say can and will be used against you in
a court of law. If you're lucky, Mr. Smallwood won't show up to
testify for the prosecution at your trial." Mulder finished the
standard Miranda warning, covering Scully out of habit while she
cuffed the second man.

Bruises and bumps were popping out on every exposed inch of
the intruders' skin. Neither seemed inclined to resist arrest or
make a break for it. Mulder figured there wasn't even much sense
in moving them right away; they didn't look capable of going
anywhere under their own power.

Leaving the groaning men on the floor, he walked over to the
fireplace and gestured for Scully to join him. She glanced at their
prisoners, then followed.

"There are two snowmobiles out there," Mulder said. "I think it's
time we got some help."

She tilted her head toward the men on the floor. "What should we
do about them?"

"I don't think they're going anywhere right now. Elver will see to
that. I'll take a snowmobile and follow their trail. Maybe it will
lead back to town, or at least to another house with a phone."

She placed a hand against Mulder's chest to stop him as he made
a move to walk away.

"Hold it. What do you mean *you'll* go for help? Why shouldn't I
go instead?"

"Weeeelll...." He gave it some serious thought, but he was
damned if he could come up with a reasonable argument for why
he should go and she should stay. Scully was perfectly capable of
shooting the prisoners if the need arose, but he didn't relish the
idea of leaving her alone with them, no matter what their current
condition. Nor was he happy about sending her out into the cold
to track down assistance, which could take a while under the
current weather conditions. And they couldn't both go -- even
Mulder wouldn't break the rules so far as to leave suspected
murderers unguarded. His shoulders sagged in resignation.

"Okay, Scully, it's your choice. You want to play guard, or ride
off into the sunset on a cloud of fuel exhaust?"

The smile on her face told him that he'd made the right decision.
Now he merely had to accept hers, whatever it was.

"I think I should go for help while you stay here," she stated in a
determined tone of voice. "Like you said, I can follow their trail
to start out. Besides, I'm lighter than you, so I'll travel
faster. If I get lost or can't find anyone in a reasonable amount
of time, I'll come back here and you can try. Sound like a plan,
partner?"

He couldn't help grinning. "Sounds like a *good* plan. Let's do
it."

While Scully bundled into extra clothes and borrowed boots,
Mulder helped the injured men through the broken crockery and
scattered packages into the living room. He put one on the
loveseat and the other on the sofa, then drew a dining room chair
to where he could watch both of them. He was going to be the
least comfortable of the three, but Mulder figured they'd suffered
enough for the moment. Neither man could move without
groaning and it looked like one of them might have a broken hand.
He decided not to mention it to Scully; it would only delay getting
someone to help them and there probably wasn't much she could
do under the circumstances anyway. He'd scoop snow into Ziploc
bags to use as ice packs after she left.

He looked up to see her standing at the front door, belting an
oversized parka around her waist. Keeping his gun in hand, he
walked over to say goodbye. Suddenly, he remembered
something important.

"Hang on. I have to see which of them has the keys."

Scully grabbed his hand.

"If the keys aren't in the ignition, I'll let you win the next
game of Scrabble."

He gave her hand a little shake. "You'll *let* me, huh?"

"Yep." She grinned at him. "But I won't have to because these
types of bozos never bother to take out the key. They'll be there."

"Well we'll see about that, won't we? I'll leave the door unlocked
in case you have to come back and search their pockets."

They stood for several seconds, gazing into each other's eyes
before Mulder twined his fingers through hers and pulled her
close.

"You be careful," he murmured for her ears alone. "Don't take
risks. Once you're clear of the driveway, if you lose the trail,
try to stick to the road, in case there are air pockets under the
snow. I'm going to worry until you get back, so don't dawdle
unless you want me to turn into a wizened, gray-haired gnome."

"Any more instructions, Dad?" Scully's eyes twinkled at him, a
little smile pushing up the corners of her mouth. He felt a sudden
urge to kiss that smile.

"Yeah," he replied around the lump in his throat. "Dump that
geeky guy you're seeing and find someone more deserving of
you."

"Nope." Her fingers tightened around his. "Not gonna happen. It
took me long enough to tell him how I really feel about him and
now I intend to reap the benefits. Besides, he's not geeky, he's
gorgeous. Get used to the idea."

Reaching up on tiptoe, she pressed a quick kiss to Mulder's lips.
He shot a brief glimpse over his shoulder to make sure their
prisoners hadn't seen. They were both lying with eyes closed,
apparently oblivious. So he put his hand behind Scully's head and
pulled her in for a deeper, more satisfying kiss. Both were
breathing faster when they finally parted. Smiling, she drew on a
pair of thick gloves, then opened the door.

"Be back as soon as I can," she said. "Try not to worry. I like
the color of your hair."

He closed the door behind her and returned to his post in the
living room. A couple of minutes passed, and then the whining
roar of a snowmobile engine filled the room. He huffed a laugh.
Scully was right. The idiots *had* left the keys in the ignition.
Moving over to the fireplace, he threw more wood on the blaze,
causing the other two men to jump in surprise. They watched as
he walked back to his chair and sat down, balancing his gun on
one thigh.

"So," Mulder said, "who's in the mood for a nice ghost story?"

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

5:15 PM

Mulder wasn't worried. Not really. Well, maybe a little bit.
Almost forgetting to eat supper might count as being worried.
He'd had to recuff both the prisoners with their hands in front
of them so they could eat. Didn't want any charges of cruel and
unusual punishment on top of the ones for assault with a deadly
entity. But he wasn't worried much. Except that it had taken him
a while to figure out how to handle bathroom duties. His *and*
theirs. He could usually think of things like that with no
problem. Maybe being worried had something to do with it. The
prisoners were starting to sound pretty desperate by the time he
got around to letting them piss off the porch. Worrying made it
hard to think straight. He couldn't very well make the trip to
the outhouse and leave them inside without a guard, and he damned
well wasn't taking both of them in there with him, either. So
he'd done his own business with the back door open so he could
keep an eye on them, then he'd taken them outside one at a time
and watched through the window until they were done. It worked
fine. But now he was really getting worried.

He used his foot to shove the worst of the wreckage out of the
way while his prisoners laid on the furniture and moaned every
once in a while. When the gloom of evening settled on the house,
he lit the lamps and sat down to wait. He entertained himself by
reading Gone With The Wind out loud, complete with different
voices and Southern accents. The dirty looks on Rusty and
Lloyd's faces helped to keep his mind off his absent partner.
Mostly. It would have helped more if he'd actually enjoyed the
story.

The sound of a very loud engine made all three heads swivel
toward the door. Mulder was out of his chair in a matter of
seconds. He flung the door open to the sight of very bright
headlights moving up the driveway. A green and brown Humvee
trundled through the softening snow and pulled to a stop near the
porch steps. The sigh of relief that swelled Mulder's chest felt
like his first full breath in hours.

Waiting for his partner to climb out of the bulky vehicle took what
little patience he had left. Still, he smiled as she trudged up the
drive. Three men followed at a discreet distance, one in
camouflage and the other two in State Trooper uniforms.

Scully gestured behind her with a wave of her hand and called
out, "Here's the cavalry. Sorry it took so long."

"I wasn't worried." The expression on her face told him she wasn't
buying his lie. He cleared his throat and continued, "How long did
it take you to find them?"

"Would you believe that we're about five miles from the nearest
town?" She led the rescue party toward the house as she
continued, "The snowmobile trail ran up another driveway about
four miles down the road, but by then I'd seen signs for the town,
so I kept going until I found it. In fact, we would have seen a
sign if we'd gone around the bend instead of sliding into the
ditch. Didn't take more than half an hour, but the roads are
still bad. They had to call in the National Guard and State
Troopers to help rescue people still in their cars. They were
going to send someone right out here, but I told them that you
had things under control and the body wasn't going anywhere, so
we were triaged to non-critical status. Our number finally came
up, and here we are."

"Like I said, I wasn't worried. Much."

Mulder held the door open as Scully's escorts followed her inside.
The National Guardsman took up a stand by the door while she
led one of the Troopers down the hall to the crime scene. As the
door shut behind them, Mulder pulled another dining room chair
next to his and gestured for the second Trooper to sit. He was
already running over how much to tell and how much to leave out
of the narrative of events. He didn't need to worry. By the time
he'd worked his way up to that morning, the prisoners were ready
to contribute their own version of what happened. He was rather
glad they weren't smart enough to use the information to their best
advantage.

"So where was Agent Mulder again?" Officer Ledert had already
gone over this line of questioning -- twice. The answers he was
getting didn't appear to sit well with him. Rusty pointed behind
the loveseat currently holding his partner-in-crime.

"He was back there, tryin' to protect his pretty-boy face." Rusty's
face wasn't nearly as attractive as when he'd first entered the
house, so a little bitterness and envy was understandable. Mulder
couldn't help mentally cringing at the size and coloring of Rusty's
right eyelid.

"And where was Agent Scully?"

"Like I told you before, she was right over here, hidin' behind
this-here couch."

"And they didn't throw anything at either of you?"

"I swear to God, them cans and shit came flyin' outta the cupboard
like they had wings. Me and Lloyd didn't stand a chance. We was
beat to the ground in no time."

Officer Ledert looked a question at Mulder, who simply spread his
hands in a "what can I say?" gesture. They both looked up at the
sound of a door closing off the bedroom containing the mortal
remains of Elver Smallwood. The other Trooper followed Scully
down the hall to the living room, both of them stripping off latex
gloves as they walked.

"We won't be able to take the body with us, I'm afraid, Agent
Scully," he told her. "I'd be happy to remain behind, but with two
prisoners to guard, I'm afraid that's not possible. I'm sorry.
I hope you don't mind having to stay here with it another day."

She gave him a small smile. "It's okay, Officer Carney. We'll be
fine. We've spent most of the week with Mr. Smallwood already,
so one more day won't hurt."

"Why aren't we leaving today, Officer?" Mulder rose and moved to
stand close to his partner, although he did make an attempt not to
hover over her. "I seem to have missed part of the decision-
making process." He glanced pointedly between the Trooper and
Scully, waiting for an answer. He should have guessed it would
come from her.

"It's a matter of security due to limited space in the Humvee,
Mulder. They're going to take the suspects with them now, but
Officer Carney assures me someone will be back for the rest of us
at some point tomorrow."

"He does, huh?" Mulder narrowed his eyes in mock jealousy just
to see what Scully would do.

She pressed her lips together in a thin line, obviously holding in a
snicker, and answered "'M hm."

"Well then," he stated, "let's not keep these busy officers any
longer. Gentlemen, they are all yours."

The exit of law enforcement and prisoners was swift and efficient,
and punctuated by the closing of the front door as Mulder leaned
his weight against it. Before he could move, warm arms were
snaking around his waist from behind. In his new role as the lover
of Dana Scully, he couldn't resist a chance to tease.

"You and Officer Carney sounded like you were getting awfully
close."

She pinched his stomach. "Not as close as I am to you."

Mulder turned within the circle of her arms. He drew her in tight,
leaning back so he could see her eyes shining at him.

"So you weren't turned on by Carney's concern for the poor
defenseless little woman? After all, you're alone here, with only
another FBI agent to protect you."

"There's just one law officer I'm hot for, and it isn't Officer
Carney."

He threw up his hands. "I knew it! Officer Ledert's paunch got to
you, didn't it? I've always suspected that portly men were a secret
passion with you."

"That's why I hang out with you, Mulder. Those little love handles
are sooo sexy."

"I do not have love handles!"

Scully cupped a hand on either side of his waist and pulled him
flush against her body. "Sure you do. See?"

That little maneuver called for a kiss. A long, deep, soulful kiss
that left them both moaning and gasping. Pushing away from the
door, he led her to the sofa and stretched out down its length. He
pulled her on top of him and waited while she got settled.

"So what should we do for the next twenty-four hours or so?" he
asked. Scully was lying with her hands folded on his chest, chin
propped on top of them. Her nose was so close he couldn't resist
the urge to lean up and kiss it. She gave him a blinding, toothy
smile.

"We could always play another game," she replied. "I'm sure you
must know lots of interesting games."

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's your
pleasure? Risk? Monopoly? A nice rousing game of Yahtzee?"

She squirmed in his arms, rubbing against portions of his anatomy
that hadn't seen this kind of action in years... until recently.
Mulder's eyes grew wide in understanding.

"I was thinking of rousing something else," she purred. Her breath
tickled his lips and he smiled. "Do you think you're *up* to it?"

"Bring it on, partner. I'm *up* for whatever you've got in mind."
He leaned in to kiss her again and caught a movement out of the
corner of his eye. The curtain over the back door was gently
swinging, as though someone had just taken a peek outside.

"Hey, Elver!" Mulder shouted. "We really appreciated your
warning, but do you think we could have a little privacy for a
while?"

The sound of footsteps crossed the dining room and moved
behind the sofa toward the hallway. As they passed the front
door, the faint outline of a man's body could be seen. They
proceeded to the very end of the hall, where a bedroom door
creaked open, and then closed.

Mulder had a wise-crack ready on his lips, but before he could
speak, he heard a new set of footfalls on the hardwood floor.
These were lighter than the first, with a shorter stride and a
higher-pitched sound. They followed the same path as the other
footsteps, and when they passed the front door, the shape of a
woman's body became visible against the dark wood for a second.
It disappeared, but the steps continued down the hall. The door at
the end creaked open and then closed again. The fire hissed and
popped in the following silence.

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, Mulder couldn't help
grinning at the shocked look on Scully's face.

"Now," he whispered into her mouth, "where were we before we
were so rudely interrupted?"

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

THE END

Author's end notes, cause she likes to babble afterward the way
some people like to smoke: I have no idea where this story came
from. There have been some of interesting discussions on
message boards recently about where authors find their ideas.
Lots of people are inspired by a particular piece of music, or
something else that they read. I have no earthly clue. It was just
there, so I wrote it down.

This story would never have been finished without the amazing
help of Dan and Cindy, who assisted in hashing out the early
details and doing pre-beta beta. For some reason, this one gave
me no end of fits. I even had trouble with where M&S were going
to be stuck in the snow. It didn't seem to matter in the grand
scheme of things, but it irked me. So I finally plunked them down
in my own general bailiwick. Anyone who watches the national
weather knows what a good old lake-effect snow off Lake Erie can
do to the northeastern portion of my state. As much as I dread
winter in my declining years, sometimes I wish I'd moved to that
area a long time ago. I figure if it's gonna snow, let's get enough
to shut everything down for a few days. I'm getting lazy in my old
age, too.

Special disclaimer: I don't own Scrabble, Scruples, Battleship,
Stadium Checkers, or any of the other board games mentioned,
except for personal copies of the games themselves. No
disrespect was intended by mentioning them here, and who
knows? It might even increase sales a little. You'll have to try
the online auctions for Stadium Checkers, though. Production was
stopped years ago, and that's where I found mine during a sudden
bout of nostalgia.

Feedback: Is printed out, fawned over, and stroked to tatters at
mimic117@yahoo.com

Visit all of my stories at the little house that XochiLuvr built.
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