From the Ashes

By: Jamie Greco
JGreco217@aol.com


Date: Tue, 5 Oct 1999

Rating: PG

Classification: Serial

Spoilers: None

Summary: When Mulder is jailed on a charge of sexual assault, Scully attempts
to clear him by following in his footsteps the night he was accused.  She
finds there is more than a few things she didn't know about her partner as
she works to prove what she does know about him.

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't my characters, everything else belongs
to me.

Archive?  Sure, just let me know.

Feedback: If you please, I'd love to hear what you think.





 Dear Mr. Mulder,

 I hope you don't mind my looking up your e-mail address.
I wanted to thank you again for stepping in with my customer today.  I don't
know why he was so angry, but you charged up like Lancelot and took care of
me.  Thank you so  much.  Hope to see you soon.

                           Amber  (the girl at the parking garage.)


Scully stood outside lock up, holding two large cups of steaming coffee,
tapping her foot impatiently.  Her brain felt fuzzy, unfocused, and she
sipped at her cup trying to whip her exhaustion into shape.  It was some time
after three in the morning; she couldn't be sure since her watch was useless
with the two coffees occupying her hands.  

Her mind kept picking at the conversation she had had with the warden when
she had arrived.  He had been adamant that Scully not be admitted until
visitor's hours, his nasty attitude worn on his crooked, puffy face as he
spat out the rules.  Scully pulled out the big guns, threatening vaguely and
then more specifically, until he physically took a step back.  When she saw
him approaching without Mulder, she barely suppressed a snarl.

"Where is he?"

"He won't see you, miss."

Scully ignored the obviously calculated use of address.  "What are you trying
to say?"

"I'm saying that Agent Mulder refuses to see you.  He's all tucked in for the
night and doesn't want to get up to see you."

"And since when are you his booking agent?"

"Look, lady-"

"No, you look.  I am a federal agent, and I can go over your head if I have
to.  I want to see Agent Mulder."

"If I let you visit your partner whenever you want, how will I stop the other
prisoners from asking for the same privileges?"

"Are you telling me you have an FBI agent in general lock up?"

"Is he too good for that?"

"Look, I'm not going to debate this-"

"Because, in case there's any confusion, your FBI agent sexually assaulted a
nineteen-year-old girl."

"He allegedly assaulted."

"Fine...allegedly," he replied, his lips curling around the word as if it had
decayed in his mouth.

"I'm not discussing this any further.  If you are unwilling to do the
appropriate thing and move Agent Mulder into a secure area, I will simply
have to go over your head."  She paused, organizing her thoughts.  Her
objective now was to see him, to know that he was surviving, to assure him
that she would secure his release.  "Look...Warden," she began evenly.  "I
don't know how I can make this any clearer.  I am a federal agent and I am
requesting that you get the prisoner...Agent Mulder...and bring him here to
interrogation.  If you don't comply, I will have to assume you have something
to hide and will be forced to recommend a full investigation of you and your
operation."

He looked into her face with full blown, murderous contempt but didn't
articulate his feelings.  His silence spoke volumes with which Scully wasn't
interested in investing her time.  "Warden, go and get Agent Mulder," she
reiterated, her heart pounding with concealed fear that her surface bravado
was crumbling.

"I'll do that," he finally replied.  "But I'd be prepared for a less than
delighted reception.  He seems to be in a snit."  He disappeared through the
heavy doors once again, and Scully could hear the succession of security
doors slamming progressively behind him.




Scully approached interrogation with much less confidence than she displayed
with the warden.  She braced herself for an onslaught of hostility and
outrage from Mulder if in fact he had refused to see her,  and she felt
prepared to accept it.  What she wasn't prepared for was the downcast,
defeated  way he held his body as he sat on the other side of the one-way
mirror.  She wondered if she would be able to hold her own if his face held
the same expression, now his countenance was covered by his handcuffed hands.
 She took a deep breath and opened the door.

He glanced up and replaced his head behind his hands once again.  "Perhaps
you haven't heard.  I'm not inviting company in today."

"Mulder, why didn't you call me?"

"I'd offer you something to drink but-"

"Mulder-"

"I guess I'm all tied up."

"Mulder, dammit!"

"I know, I know, I swore I wouldn't use the all tied up analogy.  It's just
so easy.  But I'm not myself lately, and I just wasn't prepared for company."

"Are you finished?"

"Are you?" he snapped off, finally dropping his hands away from his face,
revealing the bruising around his mouth and eyes; his anger bobbing briefly
to the surface before going under with an icy wave of feigned indifference .

Scully made no mention of his wounds.  Coolly she replied, "What's that
supposed to mean?"

"It means that if I'd wanted you to come and witness this-" He attempted to
sweep his arms around, but was thwarted by the handcuffs, which jangled
loudly as if to mock him.  "-I would have sent out the invitation."

He stood up and strode away from the table, knocking backhanded against the
door.  "Guard!"

"Mulder, why are you doing this?"

"Guard!" he called out again, more adamantly.

"Mulder!" she said, irritated at the desperation that had risen in her voice.
 "Let me help you."  She grasped his shoulder and pushed him away from the
door.  It was surprising how easily his body was moved.  

He looked down at her for a moment, his face set in a still, defensive
posture.  She looked for the terror she felt would be hidden in his eyes, but
saw only the grim acceptance of a man about to take a ten mile walk in the
driving rain with the only option to keep moving forward.  Finally he turned
his back to her, walking the few steps he had available to him.  "Look,
Scully, I'll be bailed out by this afternoon.  There's no physical evidence.  
I've called my lawyer."

"Mulder," she said gently.  "Can't you let me do this for you?  Let me talk
to witnesses, to the woman, to find out what would make her accuse you of
attempted sexual assault.  I can get enough information to convince her to
drop the case before it ends up on your record."

He seemed to stall suddenly. Looking carefully into Scully's eyes, he
approached her.  "You..." He dropped his eyes.  "You don't believe I did
this?"

"Mulder," she said gently, placing her hand on his arm.  He withdrew quickly
but without anger.

"I mean...you don't think there's any chance I might have...done what she
said I did?"

She dropped her head, suddenly saddened to the point of tears, but she
swallowed hard.  

"Aren't you even going to ask me if I did it?" he continued.

"No, Mulder," she answered, her voice tight and small.

"Aren't you wondering where I got these bruises if she wasn't fighting me
off?"  he asked, touching his face tentatively, as if he wasn't sure what
he'd find there.

 "No, I'm not.  I'm...I'm a little surprised that you would think I could
doubt your innocence.  I'm hurt that you would think that of me."

"That I would think that of you?" he repeated incredulously as he began a
slow pace.  "Scully, I think there has to be a limit...doesn't there?  How
many times will you just drop everything and rescue me, just on your personal
sense of loyalty to me?"

"How many times will you doubt that I'm willing to put myself out there for
you?  How long do I have to prove myself?"

"Is that what's this about to you?  Proving to me that I can trust you?  I
trust you, okay?  Now, go home."

"Mulder, if I were to find myself accused of something I didn't do, I would
call you, first and foremost.  It wouldn't take any thought at all."

"But, Scully, you wouldn't be accused of this kind of thing!  It's totally
moot.  Don't you see?  Can't you...It's me; I'm the one who digs theses holes
and then has to look to you because I've burned every bridge.  There's
nothing around me but ashes, Scully!"

"And me," she offered quietly.

Mulder stopped, his mouth open, prepared to continue his argument; but his
brain seized with the fiercest love he had ever experienced.  He dropped his
head, and seemed transfixed by his handcuffs,  Scully came to him slowly, as
if he might bolt, touched his shoulder first, and when he didn't draw back,
she wrapped her arms around him, slipping her hands under his arms and around
his back.  He stood silently and accepted her unspoken emotion, finally
laying his head on her hair and resting there.  He wished fervently that he
could remain where he was until the day he died, and time slowed down as his
breathing became easier.

Scully patted his back and  pulled away a little.  "Let's talk about how to
get you out of here," she told him, and he nodded in return.



"You want some coffee?" Scully asked, reaching for the coffee she had left on
the table.  Mulder's face was drawn. He was obviously exhausted; and with his
anger stripped from him, he looked frighteningly vulnerable.

"Yeah," he murmured as he rubbed the stubble on his face.  

"Let's get the handcuffs off too."

"They won't take them off.  It's a rule with all of us violent criminals when
we meet with the proper citizens.  You never know what we'll do next."

"Yeah, well...I'll take my chances," Scully countered as she fished a key
from her briefcase.  "Ta-da!" she sang out as she gestured for him to hold
out his hands as she unlocked him.

He sighed.  "Thanks, Scully."

She handed him the coffee, and he breathed it in.  "No cake with a file?" he
asked.

"Maybe next time."

"Hey, I can't leave now, anyway.  The coolest guy in the cellblock wants me
to be his bitch."

She was not amused.  Her fear for his safety gnawed at her as she wondered if
she could find some leverage to have him moved.  For now, she pulled out a
notepad.  "Mulder, I want to talk to everyone who saw you last night, from
the time you left me until..." She pulled papers from his file and scanned
them.  "Until 9:20."

He nodded, still wincing from the bitter coffee.

"Do you know this woman who has accused you, Mulder?"

"Yeah.  She works at the parking garage where I keep my car sometimes.  I run
into her at the deli every once in a while."

"Have you had any contact with her aside from that?"

He didn't answer right away.

"Mulder?"

"Scully...she's been...she's been trying to..."

"Just say it, Mulder."

"She has a crush on me.  She e-mails me, sends me things in the mail. That
kind of thing."

"And you've never given her any reason to believe-"

"She's a child, Scully.  Nineteen years old, for god's sake!  I simply...I've
tried to let her down easily.  I know what it's like to want someone who
doesn't think of you that way.  But she's gotten bitter lately.  As if I've
dumped her...her last few e-mails-"

"Do you still have them?"

"No, I deleted them."

"I'll let the Gunmen at your computer.  If they were there at one time, the
guys will get them out.  Do you have anything else?"

"No."

"Mulder, can you tell me what happened?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.  "I went out for a drink on the way home."

"Alone?"

He nodded.  

"Where?"

He placed his hand over his eyes.  "The Copper Penny."

Scully let her surprise show vividly on her face.  "The Copper Penny?" she
echoed.

"I know.  It's not what it seems.  I just go there..."

"Mulder, it's a gay bar."

"I know.  Look, I don't feel like..." he sighed.  "Just...you know I'm not
gay."

"All right." She found herself temporarily at a loss for words.  She tapped
her pencil and gathered her thoughts.  "Did you talk to anyone there?"

"I talked to the bartenders for a while.  They know me."

"Okaaay," Scully replied.  "Then what happened?"

"She showed up there.  We talked.  I told her she should leave.  That she was
underage.  She said we should leave together.  She...offered to...she offered
sex.  I turned her down.  She was insistent.  I think she was drunk...or
high, Scully.  He eyes were glassy."

"Did the bartender hear any of this?"

"I don't see how they could have missed it.  She kind of fell on me, and I
pushed her off.  I was maybe...too rough..." He trailed off.

"What happened next?"

"I walked home.  I drank too much and I thought I'd walk it off, come back
for my car tomorrow."

"But you changed your mind."

"No," he answered, confused.

"Your car is parked out in front of your apartment.  In fact, this woman..."
She glanced down at her file. "Amber  Whitley said she drove you home in it."

"She didn't."

"How did it get there then?"

"I left it at the bar, Scully," he answered more defensively.

"Okay...all right.  Did you see anybody on the way home?"

"Yeah.  Homeless guy named Noah."

"Okay."

"Then what?"

"I came home, fell asleep on the couch.  Next thing I know, someone's on top
of me, kissing me."

"Amber?  How did she get in?"

"I don't know."

"So...you woke up..."

"I was being kissed...pawed...I might have participated at first."

Scully raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  

"I was asleep, Scully.  I thought it might--" He broke off.  "I must have
been dreaming.  I kissed her back for...I guess it was briefly before I came
to realize it was her...it was Amber."

"So there could be DNA on her?"

He shrugged. "Saliva...I guess there could be DNA."

"Then what?"

"I pushed her off of me, but she was wrapped around me and she was tearing my
shirt off.  I pushed harder, and...she hauled off and punched me.  It dazed
me...and she did it again."  He rubbed at his eyes.  "It's getting pretty sad
when I start being knocked around by girls."

"Mulder..."

"I mean, what's next?  Kids?"

"Mulder, you were being sexually assaulted."

He nodded slowly and looked away.  "Don't let that get around.  Might make
the guys think less of me." He forced an uncomfortable grin.

"I'm serious, Mulder."

"I know.  It's just...you know I'm not that concerned with my reputation as a
hard guy.  But..."

"I know, Mulder.  But if we can prove that you were the victim, it would
clear you."

He sighed.  "Is it really all that important that I'm cleared, Scully? I
mean, I'm starting to get used to jail.  I'm making friends.  I've learned
how to get cigarettes."

"You don't smoke."

"Smoking isn't the primary objective of cigarettes in prison, Scully."

"I don't like the idea of you in general lock up, Mulder.  I think I'm going
to see if we can get you into solitary."

"I could start a food fight," he offered.

"Seriously, Mulder, if it gets around that you're a federal officer, you
could be in danger."

"So what are you going to tell the warden--that you don't want me playing
with the other boys?  I don't think it'll fly.  I'm arraigned later today; I
think I can make it until then."

She watched him uncertainly.  He seemed so far out of his element.  From the
prison issue jeans and t-shirt he wore, to the fact he had obviously been
asleep when he was pulled in, giving him a grizzled, rumpled look.   "Still,
let me see what I can do.  Maybe Skinner can help."

"Don't tell Skinner, Scully."

"Mulder, he told me."

"Shit..." He sat silently for a moment.  

"Is there anything else to tell me?  Can you think of anyone else who saw you
alone that night?"

"I think my neighbor...Yeah, Mrs. Yates saw me in the elevator."

"Great."

"But she hates me, thinks I've ruined the building."

"Haven't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I've always had very good reasons."

"You haven't told me what happened after she punched you."

"I finally shoved her off of me and she went flying into my coffee table,
shattered it.  So she looks pretty banged up."

"So do you," Scully observed.

He shrugged.  "But, I'm the big, macho guy."

"Yeah, that's how I'd sum you up," Scully countered facetiously.  "Anything
else?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay," she replied.  "I'm going to talk to the bartender, maybe people she
works with, Noah, the Gunmen, your neighbor."

"Sounds like a pretty full day."

"Yeah, and you're leaving me all the grunt work again."  She observed wryly
as she started to pack up.

"Sorry, Scully," he replied.

"You're going to have to put the cuffs back on," she told him.

He gazed at them where he had abandoned them earlier, sickened by the sight
of them but unwilling to show his feelings to Scully.  Instead he snapped
them on with no flourish or comment.  Slowly he stood and tried to prepare
himself for her leaving.  It was impossible; he felt abandoned before she
even closed her briefcase.

"Are you going to be okay?"  She asked.

He didn't answer quickly, chewing on his lip, he gazed at the door.  "I-I
just really don't want to go back in there, Scully."

"It won't be for long."

"No...no, you're right."

"If you're not out soon, I'll bake you that cake with a file in it," she
offered with a small grin she didn't feel.

"I knew I could count on you," he returned as he quickly touched her hand and
let it go again.


End part one.

From the Ashes  (2 of ?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com
                           

Dear Mr. Mulder,
It was so nice to see you again today.  It's been awhile.  Do you  work out
of town a lot?  I hope I didn't embarrass you when I told  you I think your
eyes are beautiful. What color are they?

                            Amber



Scully sat in her car and felt the weight of the night pressing in around
her.  Lowering her head to the steering wheel, she became aware of her
breathing: choppy and quick.  She rubbed her forehead roughly with the tips
of her fingers, willing herself to concentrate on the tasks at hand.  But her
mind refused to stray from Mulder's face.  

She knew that people thought of Mulder as reserved and muted; his facial
expressions, his level speech patterns all contributed to the misinformed
judgment that Mulder was not an expressive man.  Scully tried to remember
when she had thought the same, but it was like trying to picture the
barrenness of winter while surrounded by roses; the memory was dim at best.  
Her change of heart concerning her perception of Mulder had come in spurts
and dribbles, and she hadn't realized how wrong she had been until time had
completely rearranged her previous misconception.  Now she knew--she felt she
knew--him almost completely, and her knowledge had come as a reward for her
partner's trust.  There was no blandness of emotion when it came to Mulder as
far as Scully was concerned. She had seen the entire cornucopia: from sorrow
to joy, from mischievousness to uncontained fury, all displayed like
fireworks across the night sky.  She had realized at some long forgotten
point that he guarded his emotions from the untrustworthy, the unknown; it
was his defense and not always a very successful one.  Mulder's emotions
betrayed him with more frequency than any human being or belief system.  She
was amazed that the world didn't read him as the well-thumbed, underlined
book he was to her; which was why the act of replaying the memory of his face
disturbed her to the point of breathlessness.  He had closed the cover,
locked the pages as the most private of journals: a journal he had snatched
from her.

She shook her head; she was taking his defensiveness personally, as if she
was the intended victim of his pulling in, circling his wagons.  In fact, she
knew in her logical mind that he was deeply threatened, so threatened that he
felt alone, separate and desperate.  But in her heart she could introduce no
such logical thought.  His stoicism felt like a slap, his somnolent gaze, a
fierce shove.  If he had not relaxed against her...
 
Scully looked back at the imposing building that held her partner--her
friend-and in her heart, far more than that.  She shuddered hard and started
the engine, flicking on the lights and heading toward the Copper Penny, which
she hoped was a late-night establishment since everyone else on her list
would most likely be safe in their bed.  

She let herself long briefly for the sweet heavy slumber she had indulged in
when her doorbell rang over and over again earlier tonight.  Mulder, she had
thought.  Why is Mulder here?  Her mind had clutched at the remnants of
sleep, hoping the doorbell had simply been the last shadows of a dream; but
it had continued insistently accompanied by knocking.  She had wrapped
herself against the cold and looked through her peephole as an afterthought;
she had been so certain of Mulder's presence.

Skinner's face frightened her.  The tight, wary expression sent a shudder of
fear through her; and she wished she could crawl back into her previous
unencumbered state.  But she had opened the door and stood back,
waiting...waiting...almost unwilling to hear.



"Sir?"

"Agent Scully, I have some news."  He looked around her apartment as if he
was trying to find something, perhaps another way out.

"Where is he?"  Scully demanded, unable to bear the unshed anxiety.

"What?"

"Mulder...which hospital?"  

"He's...he's not in a hospital."   Finally, he focused on her, looking into
her eyes.

"He's not..."  She couldn't make her mouth form the words that whispered
icily, silently within her.

"No!  No, Scully, he's not dead.  I'm sorry.  I should have said right
away--" He touched her shoulders lightly.

"Please, sir. Just...just tell me."

"He was arrested...attempted sexual assault."




 Dear Fox,
                   
 What a surprise to see you at the deli today.  You looked so nice,
 but you always do.  Was that your girlfriend you were with?  She   
 seemed pretty.

                           Amber


Scully pulled up in front of the seemingly deserted Copper Penny, but as she
drove through the parking lot she saw two cars parked behind the dumpsters in
back.  Pulling in close to the door, she got out and tried the latch, which
was locked.

"We're closed!" a voice called out from inside.

"FBI," she called back simply.  

After a moment, the door opened just a slice and she held up her ID.

"Oh my god!  It's Agent Scully!"  The door was flung open.  "Come on in!"

Scully walked in, slightly chagrined by the enthusiastic reception.  She had
expected sullen compliance at best, but she was received with overwhelming
familiarity. It made her pull back slightly, emotionally, even physically.  
Cocking an eyebrow, she shook the offered hand of the bartender.  "My name is
Alex, that's...George!  Come over here and meet Agent Scully!"

"Agent Scully?"  the other man repeated curiously.

"Agent Scully," Alex confirmed jovially.  "What a nice surprise!"  Alex
declared, bending down slightly and looking into her eyes.

George advanced from behind the bar, his face expressing surprised delight.  
"It's so nice to meet you," he told her sincerely, a little shyly.

"I feel as though I'm at a disadvantage here.  You...you know me?"  She asked
the Alex, the more effusive of the two men.

"Of course," Alex exclaimed, waving her to the bar but not elaborating.  "I
hope you don't mind sitting here; we're closing up..."  Suddenly his
expression changed to wariness.   "Where's Fox?"

She looked down at her lap, suppressing the slight envy she always felt when
someone referred to her partner as Fox, as well as her regret at imparting
hard news.  "I'm sorry to say he's been arrested."

"No," George murmured quietly.

"Is it because of that Lolita on speed?"

"Alex," George said quietly.
 
"Yeah," Alex continued.  "Little trampsicle came in here last night, was all
over him like t-shirts on Ricky Martin."

"Is she the one?" George asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say," Scully answered, although the look on her face
told them what they wanted to know.

"What did she accuse him of?"

"Attempted sexual assault," Scully replied.

Both men laughed mirthlessly.  "*She* accused him?"

Scully nodded.  "Can you tell me what you remember from last night?"

"Sure," George replied, pulling a stool up beside Scully while Alex leaned
over the bar.  "You want a drink?"

"Mineral water?" Scully replied.  The men looked at each other knowingly,
grinning slightly, but Scully made no mention of it.

"He came in around...I think it was around 5:30, wasn't it, Alex?"

"Yeah, the crowds hadn't built up yet."

"He looked...blue I guess is what best describes it."



"Hey, guys."

"Fox!" George called out from farther up the long bar.

"Fox, baby, how you be?"  Alex asked in greeting.

"Ahh, I've been better," he answered, wincing a little as he rolled his neck.

"Hard to believe. What can I do for you, Fox?"  Alex asked, waggling his
well-shaped eyebrows.

"I'm sure plenty.  But I still haven't been able to overcome my unexplained
attraction to the yin to my yang."

"I can't say I'm not disappointed.  But you'll let me know when you have a
sexual epiphany about me, right?"

"Deal."

"How can I set you up?" Alex asked more seriously.

"Uhhh, scotch rocks."

"Scotch rocks?  Hard day?"

"Yeah...yeah...thanks.  What's the score?" Mulder asked, obviously changing
the subject.

     

"You see, he doesn't drink much.  He comes in and has a beer, shoots the
shit, watches the game," George explained.

"Yeah, but last night...he wasn't himself.  It was like a thundercloud
followed him in."

"And then she came in behind that."

"You noticed her right away?" Scully asked.

"Agent Scully, this a gay bar.  She walked in like she planned to pop out of
a birthday cake.  Yeah, I noticed her."  Alex confirmed contemptuously.

"Did Mulder?"

"Not right away.  He was kind of hunched over his drink."

"When did he first notice her?"

"Ohh," began George.  "I'd say when she wrapped herself around him like a
burrito."

"Around spicy beef,' Alex elaborated coquettishly.

"Shut up, Alex.  He has a thing for your Agent Mulder," George explained
confidentially, his face coloring slightly.

Scully paused for a moment, smiled a little.  "And what was Mulder's
reaction?"

"To my thing?" Alex teased.

"No, I was more interested in his reaction to Miss Whitley."

"He shook her off," Alex replied.

"He was more than a little pissed," George added.

"His face got all flushed and his eyes flashed and his mouth--" Alex
continued.

"Okay," Scully interrupted.  "How did she react to that?"

"She pouted.  You could tell she expected every man to fall at her feet."

"Boy, was she in the wrong place,"  Alex observed.

"What happened next?" Scully asked



Mulder turned himself to face the woman who had just been detached.  "Look, I
don't know what your problem is, but I have told you I'm not interested.  
What part of that don't you understand?"

"Your lips say no, but your eyes say--"

"Hell, no!

"Ohhh, Fox.  You know you don't mean that."  

"Look, I've tried to be nice.  I've tried.  But I just can't get through to
you.  I'm tired of trying.  You are too young for me.  I am not attracted to
you.  I'm tired of...I'm just tired.  You shouldn't even be here in this bar."

"Then maybe you should take me in, Agent Mulder."  She slunk toward him,
attempting to be provocative, sliding herself across the stool next to him
and then slithering up against him.  

"What the hell...Alex!" he called out to the bartender who was observing from
what he hoped was a safe distance.  "This girl is under age and--Goddamn it!  
Get off of me!"  

He flung himself out of the chair, shoving her hands off him in a quick,
angry movement and pushing her back so that toppled off of the stool,
fighting for her balance.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mulder
demanded from a few paces away.

She waved her hands as if she were drying her fingernails, her face contorted
in a prelude to ugly tears.  "I just wanted--"

"You don't get to just want!  Didn't anyone ever tell you that?  You can't
just have what you want because you goddam want it!  Life doesn't work that
way.  You can't...you can't..." He chuffed out what was supposed to be an
ironic laugh but sounded like a half-concealed sob.  Struggling to regain his
composure by forcing an unnatural smile, he looked over at the bartenders who
watched him sadly and smiled back just a little.  "You can't always get what
you want. Right, guys?"  

They smiled back and nodded.  "If Mick says it, it must be true," Alex
observed.

Mulder let his eyes rest on the friendly face.  It was as if they'd forgotten
the girl who stood a few feet away in a too small dress and what looked like
her mother's high heels.  "It's got nothing to do with that," she said
between great intakes of breath.

Mulder sat back down and knocked back his drink, his mind lost in his own
dramas.

"You...you don't want to love me.  You won't love me because you love her
even though she doesn't care about you...not even a little."

Mulder nodded slightly as if to accept what she was saying as he dismissed
her.  "Then that's why," he told her evenly.

She began to weep more openly and turned to run, twisting her ankle in the
process.  She ripped off the offending shoes and limped quickly through the
door.

Mulder lowered his head. "I'm sorry, guys.  I didn't mean to bring this in
here."

"It's okay, Fox," Alex cajoled as he filled his glass once more.  "We don't
blame you."

He looked into Alex's eyes as if he pitied his naiveté.  "You should," he
told him as he swallowed the drink and got up to leave.



"That's the last we saw of him--"

"Wait," Alex interrupted.  "He ducked back in to say he was leaving his car.  
That he'd pick him it up in the morning."

"But," George added thoughtfully, "it's not there, is it?"

"No," Scully answered as she prepared to leave.  "It's parked in front of his
apartment."

"Well, that's odd," George said.

Scully considered what she had heard.  "There's something I don't
understand," she finally said, almost to herself.

"Just one thing?" Alex teased and she favored him with a small smile.

"It's not like Mulder to...what made him so angry that he shoved Amber?"

Alex and George exchanged a look and George nodded, giving Alex the task.  
"She-grabbed his...equipment,' Alex explained.  "At least that's how it
looked from where I stood."

     Scully breathed in deeply and nodded, "Okay," she said quietly and then
held out her hand.  "I want to
     thank you for talking to me. You must be tired...ready to go home."

"So must you, Agent Scully," George observed sympathetically.  "Can I ask you
something?" he added a little hesitantly.  

"Certainly," Scully answered.

"He talks to you.  Why was he so depressed last night?"

Her mind skittered around, her pride wanting to say she knew.  "I-I don't
know," she answered after a minute.  "He didn't want to talk about it, and I
didn't want to push.  Maybe I should have.  I wish I'd--"

"Oh, don't even go there, Agent Scully," Alex said.  "It would have just
happened at another time, maybe another place."

"You think she might have planned it?" Scully asked.

George and Alex glanced at each other.  "She struck up a brawl in a gay bar
with a straight man.  I'm thinking she wanted to be noticed," George
hypothesized.

Scully nodded.       

"Are we going to be able to get him out of there?  Out of jail?" Alex asked
plaintively.

"I think so.  I just think sooner would be better than later," Scully
observed as she hopped off of the stool.

"When is he being arraigned?" George asked.

"Later today."

"Tell him, if he needs money...or anything, we'll get it for him," George
offered, his youthful features set grimly.

"Yeah, " Alex added.  "We only have a few loans out on the bar.  The more the
merrier, I always say."

She smiled slightly, feeling genuine affection for these two men, and headed
for the door, her mind swimming with what she had heard.  She paused with her
hand on the doorknob and turned back abruptly.  "All right.  I told myself I
wouldn't ask.  But I have to know.  Why does Mulder come here to drink?"

They laughed together.  "I wondered how you were going to walk out of here
without asking that," George chuckled.

"He once told me that it was easier here.  No decisions.  No negotiations,"
Alex recalled.  "Just 'No, thank you.'"

"I would think it would be...I don't know...more complicated," Scully replied.

"We have a very regular clientele, Agent Scully.  Most everyone knows he's
straight.  The occasional newcomer doesn't bother him.  He just declines,"
George said.

"Kindly," Alex added wistfully.

"But I think the real reason he comes here is because he...he's loyal to me."

"Loyal?"

"I stuck with him after...we became close after my sister divorced him."     


From the Ashes (3 of ?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com


 Fox,

I'm reading a book.  There was something in it that made me think of you.  It
goes like this.
"She loved his voice.  It sounded as if someone had made a pot of
butterscotch and gave him the first lick."
I hope it's ok to say that.

Amber.



 Scully drove her car a few blocks from the Copper Penny and pulled to the
side of the road, unwilling to allow the bartenders, Mulder's friends, see
her sitting shell-shocked at the wheel.

"My sister divorced him," he had said.  George's sister had been married to
Mulder, she repeated to herself, her mind swimming with the sledgehammered
news.

Upon hearing the words, Scully had forced her face into the most neutral
expression she could manage.  To confess that she had no idea Mulder had been
married would be tantamount to announcing that she had never known him at
all.  Something she wouldn't admit, couldn't accept.



"He was pretty busted up when she left him," George had continued.  "Cut
himself off from everyone who had been mutual friends, let alone family.  But
I was a kid who had worshipped him.  I wasn't about to let him go without a
fight.  Plus, he was the only one in the family I had come out to.  And he
didn't hate me for it.  He accepted me, still hugged me, took me out to play
basketball." He shook his head.  "God, when she announced she had left him, I
nearly leapt for her throat.  I hated her with everything in me.  Fox said I
shouldn't though.  That he was too hard to live with, let alone love.  After
a while, he let me back into his life.  I felt like...he appreciated that I
wasn't easy to shake off.  That he meant enough to me that I wouldn't let him
push me away. "

"Once when he got messed up by some neighborhood assholes, Fox picked him up
at the hospital and kept him at his place until he could get around again.  
You know, feel safe," Alex added.  "It is such a waste for a man like that to
be straight.  Women just don't appreciate him."  

George looked at Scully meaningfully.  "I don't know about that.  I think a
certain kind of woman would appreciate him, don't you?"

Scully ducked her head.  She was having trouble assimilating the information
that followed the announcement that Mulder had been married.  It had bounced
against her skull and echoed throughout her body and soul, as if she had
found out he was currently married while he was sleeping with her.  "I really
have to go," she told George, not unkindly.  "I have so much to do."

"I know you do," George replied.  He reached behind the bar and retrieved his
card.  "Fox has my number.  But I'd like you to have it too.  If there's
anything at all--" He lowered his eyes.  "I guess I've expressed how much he
means to me.  I won't get carried away."

Scully placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'll tell him what you said."

"It'll probably just embarrass him.  Just take care of him, okay?"

She hoped that her nod conveyed assurance and confidence because she found
she couldn't voice those sentiments.



Now she had to motivate herself to move forward.  A thought invaded her mind,
and she pulled out the card George had given her.  She felt somewhat relieved
to read his last name was Harris.  If it had been Fowley, she might have been
tempted to go home and pull her covers over her head.  She didn't let herself
consider the possibility that Diana might have changed her name.

"Okay.  Okay, Dana, what's next?" she said aloud, hoping to snap herself out
of the melancholy reverie in which she dwelled.  "Mrs. Yates or Noah?"  She
looked over the city streets that had begun to shine with a fresh pinkness
that only graced the world at dawn.  She glanced at her watch--too early
still for Mulder's neighbor.  She decided to see if there was a shelter
somewhere in his neighborhood.



Fox,
You should get your e-mail more often.  I wish we could write every day.  But
I know you're busy.  I found something in your car while we were keeping it
at the garage.  Can I bring it to your apartment?

Amber




Scully pulled up in front of what seemed to be an old storefront.  A few
people leaned against the windows, which had been painted over, and shared
cigarettes.  Others were straggling through the doors of the shelter that
seemed misplaced in Mulder's neighborhood.  Scully shouldered through the
group, most of whom ignored her, although one or two spared her a curious
glance.  She found a manager after a few guesses and misses, she came upon
the director and held up her badge.  

"Now what?" the man asked as he threw blankets into large containers.

"Sir, I'm looking for a man named--"

"Why is it every time someone commits a crime in a twenty mile radius, the
first place you all come is here?"

"Sir, I'm not--"

"Just because these men are down on their luck, that don't make them immoral."

"I realize that, sir.  I'm just looking for a man named Noah.  I want to ask
him a question about my partner, who I believe he saw last night."

"And your partner is?"

"Fox Mulder."

His demeanor changed drastically.  Dropping the blankets he carried, he
approached Scully and touched her elbow.  "What's wrong?  Is he all right?"

"He's been arrested."

"Arrested.  Oh, for god's sake!  For what?"

"He's been accused of sexual assault."

"No, he hasn't," he declared, slapping his hands across his eyes.  
"No...no...no...Tell me you're joking."

"I'm sorry to say I'm not, sir."

"Dammit.  What has Noah got to do with it?"

"Mulder says he saw him last night.  I need to confirm he was alone."

"Hold on!" the man said urgently, running from the building.  

Scully stood fingering her badge, still slightly distracted.  Soon, the
manager came through the door, one hand grasping a smaller, tattered man in a
slightly frayed, very expensive overcoat.  He was bent toward the shorter
man, their faces mirroring each other's distress.

"This is---I didn't introduce myself.  I'm Gary Beckett and this is Noah."  
He held his hand out to Scully as if to present them.  Noah held out his hand
without looking Scully in the face, as if she were royalty.  "I'm Noah," he
repeated.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Noah," Scully countered.  He raised his eyes shyly
and stepped back.  "Noah, did you see--"

"Is Mulder okay?"

"Yes, he's fine.  I just need to know if you saw him last night."

"I was..." He looked at Gary, who nodded.

"I was heading toward the shelter last night, and I saw Fox walking up the
street.  I was surprised to see him because usually I see him by his
apartment...or when he stops by the shelter."

"Was he alone, Noah?"

"Oh yeah.  Totally alone."

"And you're sure he was walking?"

"Agent Scully, is it?" Gary interrupted.  "Noah is mentally challenged, but
he knows when a man is walking."

"I didn't mean to imply--"

"That's okay, Agent Scully.  I know you didn't mean any harm.  He was
definitely walking.  He said he had things to think about, and walking helps
him think," Noah offered gently.

"Thanks, Noah," Scully replied.

"Will this help him?" Noah asked.

"Yes, I think it will," Scully replied, holding out her hand which he took in
both of his.

"He's my friend," he said simply, and Scully nodded and watched as he
retreated.  

She cocked her head and smiled a slightly puzzled smile.  "I could swear I've
seen that overcoat before and...I have to admit, theses are some of the best
dressed homeless people I've ever come across"

Gary laughed despite himself.  "It's kind of like a retirement home for high
fashion male models, isn't it?"

Scully raised her eyebrows and nodded.  

"Your partner is a bit of a clotheshorse, isn't he?  He comes in here every
few months with a boxload.  The first time he came in here, I'll never forget
it.  We talked about it for weeks.  He came in with a box so tall, I couldn't
see his face."





"Can I help you sir?" Gary asked.

Mulder threw the box to the floor and took a deep breath, running a hand
through his close-cropped hair.  "Do you take donations here?" he asked as if
he feared he'd be rebuffed or, worse yet, offend.

"And if we don't?"

"Well, I guess I load up and--"

"I'm kidding.  Of course we do.  What you got?"

"Just some clothes I've...ruined.  I'm trying to see if I have a bed."

Gary leaned over and opened the box.

"You don't have to open it," Mulder protested mildly.

Gary pulled out a long overcoat with an obviously patched sleeve.  "Mr.--?"

"Mulder.  Fox Mulder."

"Gary Beckett...This is Armani," he observed, holding up a charcoal black
overcoat.

"Is that all right?"

"Of course, it's all right."  He kept digging, pulling out one luxurious
brand name after another, all obviously ruined and professionally sewn back
together.  "Mr. Mulder, what do you do?  Lion taming?"

"I'm an FBI agent."

"Since when do federal employees rate Armani suits?"

"Since I gave up smoking, I have extra money."

"You must have had quite a habit."

He shrugged.  "I had them all cleaned and repaired," he pointed out.

"Don't you think you'd be better off shopping at Sears for your work
wardrobe?"

He winced at the thought.  "Polyester makes me itch," he grinned.  

"Well, the girls must find you irresistible."

"Maybe if I *was* Armani."

"This is very generous of you, Mr...Mulder, is it?"

"You want more?"

"You have more?"

"I have a never-ending supply."



Fox,
I left something by your door.  It's just something that made me think of
you.  You weren't home though.

Amber



Scully sat in front of Mulder's building still feeling confused and
bewildered, but some of the initial shock had worn off.  She looked up at his
window, to which the residue of the taped cross still clung.  Her stomach
turned around itself as she stepped out of her car and up to the stoop.  
Running a manicured nail over the names, she paused at Mulder's and then
moved on to Yates and pressed the button.

"What?" barked a crackled voice.

Scully jumped a little.  It was like the woman had been waiting for her by
the buzzer.  "FBI," Scully responded.

"What?" her voice snapped back.

"FBI," she said more succinctly.

"Oh, for the love of Mike," she muttered over the sound of the buzzer.

Scully entered the building cautiously and took the elevator to Mrs. Yates'
apartment.  The brittle, hostile woman hovered in the doorway.  "Come on,
come on, I don't have all day," she demanded in a voice that sounded like ten
miles of gravel parkway.

Scully quickened her step slightly.

"I know you," Mrs. Yates said accusingly.  "You're his little chickadee."

"I beg your pardon," Scully replied.

"You know, that flaming ball of nutcase who lives upstairs.  You're his
wench."

"His wench?" Scully repeated.

"Is there an echo in here?"

"Mrs. Yates, may I come in for a moment?"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like you to stay right where you are."

"Okaaay," Scully drawled.  "I have a few questions for you concerning Agent
Mulder."

"I'll bet you do."

"Excuse me?"

"It's a little late for excuses, isn't it, girlie?"

"All right, I've had about enough of this."

"You've had enough?  You have?  Do you have water flooding your bedroom from
the waterbed that the looney tune upstairs doesn't realize he has?  Do you?"

"It wasn't that he didn't know he had it.  It was just that he didn't know
where it came from."

"And that doesn't seem odd to you?" she asked squinting.

"Ma'am-"

"Do you get thrown out of your apartment because the sorry excuse for a
government employee is harboring a plague-carrying schizo?"

"Ma'am, we can do this here, or we can go to police headquarters."

"My plaster is cracked from him constantly being thrown to the floor by who
knows what," she continued belligerently

"All right, that's it," Scully took hold of the old woman's arm and began to
guide the woman down the hall.  

To Scully's chagrin, the old woman began to screech as she fruitlessly
attempted to retrieve her arm.  "Stop!  Stop!  Police brutality!  I'm just a
little old lady!"

"Ma'am!  I simply want to ask you a few simple questions.  Will you please
settle down?"

"About you partner?" she asked, abruptly stopping her tirade.

"Y-yes," Scully answered, taken aback.

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Did you see Agent Mulder last night?"

"Yes.  Now, let me go."

Scully allowed the woman to step away from her.  "Tell me what you saw."

The old woman looked Scully up and down.  "And then you'll leave me be?"

Scully nodded firmly.  "I'll leave you be."

"Achh, you work for the government.  Who can believe you?"

"Mrs. Yates," Scully warned.

"Fine, fine.  Your partner, last night...let's see.  When I first saw him, I
didn't recognize him.  He was standing next to the elevator door, all folded
up," she leaned in toward Scully.  "I think he'd been drinking."




"Mr. Mulder," she said as greeting.

He glanced up at her and dropped his head in exasperation.  "Mrs. Yates."

"What?  Did your mother drop you on your head?  You have to push the elevator
button!"

He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry," he murmured.

She sniffed the air dramatically.  "You've been drinking."

"Not nearly enough," he countered.

"Mr. Mulder, you have enough problems.  The last thing you need is to become
a stinking drunk."

He turned to face her with a snap.  "Mrs. Yates--"

"What?" she replied eagerly, as if she was itching for a fight and pulling
herself to her full height, still not quite reaching Mulder's shoulder.

He sighed.  "The elevator is here."

She eyed him suspiciously.  "I'm not sure I should get in there alone with
you."

"I assure you, you're perfectly safe with me."

"That's what those nuts always say in those slasher pictures."

He walked into the elevator and slapped his floor. "Coming?" he asked.

"I think I'll wait for the next one."

"Fine," he countered and let go of the door.




"Was he alone?"

"He's always alone.  If you don't count you."

"Is that all you know about last night?"

"Well, I heard the usual. He screamed out...something.  Who knows what."

"He screams?"

"I told you, he's one oar short of a row boat."

"Anything else?"

"Well, it sounded like someone came in and threw him around.  Does everybody
hate that man?"

"Is that all?"

"That's all.  Can I go now?"

"Please do," Scully answered as she turned to leave.  Her phone rang, and she
pulled it out to answer it.

"Yuppie scum," the woman called out as she slammed her door.

Scully rolled her eyes.  "Scully," she said into the phone.

"Scully, it's Skinner.  Mulder's going to be arraigned in a little over an
hour."

"I'll be there.  Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome."

She refolded the phone.  There'd be just enough time to see Amber Whitley.

End part 3.

From the Ashes  (Part 4 of ?)

Author *Jamie Greco*

jgreco217@aol.com


Fox,
I waited on your steps today.  I wanted to make sure you were okay, since I
haven't seen you in a long time.  You never came home.  Where were you?

Amber



Scully drove through a donut chain on the way to interview Amber Whitley.  
She justified the overload of calories and fat by telling herself she could
use the smallest amount of comfort, however dysfunctional the thinking and
ruinous to her diet. She ordered a chocolate donut with chocolate icing. If
she could have found a way to have it served in chocolate soup, she would
have done so.  Somethings in life are only made better with cocoa.  

Her phone rang as her coffee was being handed out the window, and she quickly
transferred the cup to the holder in her car and answered the call.  "Scully."

"Scully, it's us," answered Frohike, technically a singular person, but she
didn't feel like arguing semantics.  "We got the e-mails off Mulder's
computer."

"Good," she answered around her donut.  "Will they help?"

"Hell, yeah.  She was really kinky."

"Really kinky," chimed in Langly from somewhere in the background.

"How so?" Scully asked.

"Well, she starts out all cute and fuzzy and she ends up all...well, I just
don't feel comfortable describing this type of degenerate behavior to you,
Agent  Scully."

"There's pictures!" Langly called out more happily than was appropriate.

"Pictures?"

"Yeah!" Frohike replied enthusiastically.

"Give me the phone," Byers said in an indignant tone of voice.  "Agent
Scully?"

"Will you three pick someone as your representative?" Scully asked.

"I just feel you should know that Mulder deleted everything immediately.  
There was nothing saved from her at all."

"You can tell how quickly he deleted something?" Scully replied skeptically.

"We can tell what mood he was in when he deleted," Frohike boasted from
somewhere in the background.

"I hate when you put me on speaker phone," Scully murmured.

"Agent Scully?" Byers said tentatively.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to put this in the simplest of terms...not that I think you're not
intelligent enough to understand it.  No--"

"Byers, just spit it out."

"There's a device attached to Mulder's computer that immediately diverts a
copy of his e-mail as soon as it's received."

"Diverts to whom?"  She shook her head in disgust.   "Never mind. I'm sure I
can guess."  The donut turned to dust in her mouth, and she tossed the
remainder back into the bag and took a large drink of her coffee.   "This
device...how does it work?"

"It acts like a splitter, you know, like for cable when you want to send one
signal to two TVs.  It's like that."

"That means...someone has been monitoring his e-mail for...who knows how
long."

"Do you think it has anything to do with this case?"

"Who knows?  It could have been monitoring any aspect of his life.  But
someone who might want to find a way to get at Mulder could certainly have
used Amber Whitley to get him out of the way."

A small headache just behind her eyes began to demand Scully's attention and
she rubbed at it, frowning.

"Also, while we were at Mulder's apartment, we took the liberty of sweeping
for bugs."

"And?"

"Three.  We found three."

Scully sighed.  "Okay, guys. Thanks."

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Did you know Mulder's going to be arraigned in a little over an hour?"

"Who told you that?"

"I don't really want to say on the open airways, if you know what I mean."

She sighed.  "Okay. Yes, I know."

"We'll be there," Frohike offered, suddenly replacing Byers.  "Just in case
Mulder needs money."

"All right," she replied.  "Thanks again."  She jabbed at the off button on
her phone and sat mulling over the new information as she gazed out at the
deceptively cheerful morning.  "All right," she said to herself as she
glanced in her rear view mirror and pulled into traffic.  "Let's get this
over with."  



Fox,

I'm sorry if I said something to make you mad.  Please don't be mad.  I
dreamed about you last night, and you said you were sorry about ignoring me.

Amber


 


Scully pulled up in front of the squat gray house that was surrounded by a
chain link fence and looked more like a garage than a home.  She checked the
address and pulled her files together, pushing them into her briefcase, and
swung out of the car.  Taking a very deep breath, she headed toward the door.
 She was more than a little taken aback when the door swung open with a crash.

"Why are you here?" a voice snapped from behind a screen that was so
dilapidated it was impossible to see the speaker's face.

Scully pulled her ID from her jacket and held it up as she still advanced.  
"I'm with the FBI and I have--"

"I know who you are," the voice came back derisively.  "And I don't want to
talk to you."

"Are you Amber Whitley?"

"I don't have to tell you."

Scully suddenly felt completely exhausted.  "Look, Miss Whitley--"

"I don't want you to call me that.  I'm not like you.  Amber is good enough
for me."

"Okay...Amber.  I've talked to people whose testimony will refute what you
claim about Agent Mulder.  I think you should talk to me and tell me your
story...for the record, because frankly I think you are in danger of being--"

"You want to hear my story?  I'll tell you my goddamn story.  But I don't
want you in my house."

"Fine," Scully replied and reached for a notebook while waiting for the
screen to open.  It took what seemed like minutes; but the door snapped open
and Amber walked out, limping slightly, her arms crossed tightly across her
chest and her pale face tightened into an adolescent pout.  She was tall,
much taller than Scully, and her hair was long and slightly wavy and
obviously died a pale red, which bordered on pink.  Her hip jutted out to one
side, and her entire posture suggested she expected to be grounded for a
month.

"I know you're his partner and that you won't believe me..." Her posture
relaxed slightly, and her face took on a slightly pleading look. "...but you
should believe me.  He's dangerous, and he might hurt you."

"Amber--"

"Look at me." She held out her arms, and Scully saw very little to attest to
the fact that she was even minimally injured.  "My wrists," she pointed out,
pushing up her sleeves and displaying angry bruises more than likely
inflicted by Mulder as he fought her off.  "And my ankle is sprained, and I
have scratches all over."

"Amber, I just want your story."

She sighed and shifted her weight, reverting to her previous pout.  "Okay.  
Fine.  What do you want to know?"

"What happened the night you allege that Agent Mulder attacked you?"

"Allege?  That means you don't believe what I'm saying?"

"It means that people are innocent until proven guilty."

"And you believe he's innocent."

"What I believe isn't relevant."

"Relevant?"

"It doesn't matter."

She sighed again and began to twirl her hair with a slightly smudged finger.  
"Okay, well, maybe you'll believe me when I tell you what happened."

"Maybe," Scully lied.

This seemed to buoy her.  "Okay. You probably don't know this, but me and Fox
have been seeing each other for months.  Ever since we met at the parking
garage.  He liked me right away.  We started seeing each other.  He even gave
me keys to his house and car.  And...you know...we would kiss and stuff--"

Scully felt the hair on her neck stand up in irritation.  "Amber, can we just
get to what happened last night?"

"Well...okay...so, he was kind of pouty yesterday; you know how he can be?  
You just have to wait him out.  But yesterday I went to the bar to meet him
'cause he told me to.  But when I got there, I don't know what was wrong, but
he was really mean to me...really mean.  Those gay-boy bartenders saw it.  He
even pushed me.  I was afraid, Agent Scully, I truly was.  But I love him.  
Okay...so, I waited outside and when he came out, I went to him and he
apologized...called me baby and darling," she grinned dreamily for a moment.  
"And so I took him home in his car; and when I got there, I was just going to
drop him off...but he begged me to come up with him.  Okay, I was still a
little scared from when he pushed me and talked mean.  But I went up anyway."
 She paused dramatically.  "Now I wish I never had!"  She peered at Scully,
trying to determine her response, but Scully worked hard to remain
inscrutable.  

Amber paused, unsure.  "Should I go on?"

"Is your story done?"

"No."

"Then go on."

"So we got to his apartment, and he asked me to sit down next to him on his
couch.  And so...so I did, and he started kissing me.  But next thing I know
he was trying to get his hands in my clothes...rough like. He was tearing my
bra off and sticking his hands in my pants, kissing me.  He kept telling me I
wanted it, but I didn't."

"Why not?"  Scully injected.

"What?"

"Why didn't you want it?  You said you and Agent Mulder were seeing each
other, that you loved him, he loved you.  Why didn't you want to make love to
him?"

"I'm a virgin, Agent Scully."  She attempted a shy, reluctant expression but
was only successful in looking slightly pathetic and exceedingly irritating.

"A virgin," Scully restated flatly.

"What are you trying to say?" Amber came back, full of hostility.

"Are you finished?"

"I want to know what you're trying to say," Amber insisted, taking a step
forward.

Scully looked up at her calmly as humanly possible.  "If you're finished,"  
Scully began to fold up her notebook.  She suddenly realized the
pointlessness of continuing the interview since Amber was becoming defensive,
coupled with the more important fact that she was obviously relating her
fantasy life.  She began to turn away, but Amber grabbed her arm.  "Don't you
walk away from me," Amber growled.

Scully pulled her arm forcibly from Amber's grip and turned to face her.  
"Ms. Whitley, I am not drunk or asleep; don't attempt to strong arm me.  
Because you should know I am far less concerned about hurting your feelings
than Agent Mulder was and even less concerned about providing the bruises you
might need to prove your feeble little story."

"You bitch," Amber whispered.

"I'm a little less than concerned about your opinion of me, given what I know
about you."  She turned and began to walk determinedly down the cracked
sidewalk.

"What do you know about me?" Amber called after her, her voice echoing off
the closely spaced houses.  "You don't know anything!  You don't know me, and
you don't know your partner.  You think you do, but goddamn you, you don't
know!"

Scully took out her keys and told herself to keep moving before she hurt
Mulder's case, if she hadn't already.  Amber advanced on her car, her face
red and twisted.  "We used to talk about you!  He said you thought he loved
you, but he thinks you're stupid and stuck up and ugly!  That's what he said,
and we would laugh."

Scully looked into Amber's face and shook her head slowly, deliberately.  
"You're a liar, Amber.  If you knew how easily I see that, you'd have the
good sense to go down and drop the charges against my partner.  Because if
you don't, you will find yourself where Mulder is today, in prison, for
filing a false report."

"You better watch yourself, Agent Scully!"  she screamed as Scully turned the
car over.  "He'll turn on you next!   You better get far away from him!"

Scully glanced back in her rear view mirror as she left Amber behind,
standing in the street, shaking both her fists and stomping on her sprained
ankle.   




Fox,

I'm glad I ran I into you at the deli today.  I'm so glad you're not mad.  I
knew you weren't that way.

Amber





As Scully walked up the steps to the courthouse, she wished she could scrape
the memory of Amber off herself like so much dog excrement; and yet she felt
almost buoyant.  The certainty that Amber's story was so easily discernible
as transparent made her feel that Mulder would be exiting the courthouse
temporarily free today but permanently very soon.  She was eager to see him,
to tell him all she'd learned; and as she came through the heavy wooden
doors, she scanned the hallways for him.  Realizing he was probably inside
the courtroom, she strode inside; but he wasn't there either.  Taking a
breath, she took a seat behind where she expected Mulder would sit.

Within a minute, Skinner leaned over her.  "Agent Scully?"

She was slightly taken aback.  "Sir?" she replied, removing her jacket and
briefcase from the seat next to her, which he slid into.

"You look exhausted," he observed.

"Thanks," she replied.

"No offense, Agent.  Have you had any luck with your investigation?"

"Absolutely.  Even if Amber Whitley has the balls..." She lowered her eyes.  
She would never use improper language with her superior if she hadn't been
almost delirious with exhaustion.  "I'm sorry, sir."

"For what?"

"For...never mind.  I just wanted to say, even if she goes forward with the
charges, I don't think the prosecution will be willing to do so.  Not with
what I found today."

"Good work, Agent," Skinner replied without asking the details.

"Sir?  May I ask why you're here?"

He shrugged slightly. "I felt I should be here...so he knows..." He looked
around, squirming.  "I brought my checkbook, just in case."

"I see," Scully replied, smiling slightly.

"I wonder where he is?"

Scully looked around the courtroom and caught sight of the Gunmen, who
huddled together in the farthest corner of the courtroom, looking as if they
expected to be recognized and be hauled off.

"I don't know," Scully said as she continued to scan.

The judge entered, and the courtroom protocol began with Mulder's case being
called first.

A small woman in a muted suit and blonde hair set in large ringlets entered
the small gates and sat at the table in front of Scully and Skinner; she also
seemed confused by Mulder's absence.  Turning around, she noticed Skinner.  
"A.D. Skinner?  Any ideas?"

"No," he answered, beginning to appear agitated.

The judge sat silently for a moment.  "Is council for Mr. Mulder in place?"

"Yes, sir," the woman replied.

"Any ideas on his whereabouts?"

"None, sir.  I was led to believe he would be delivered here."

A bailiff approached the bench. The judge held up a finger and then turned
back to Mulder's lawyer.  "Approach the bench, council."

Looking back at Skinner, she did as she was told.  The judge leaned over his
desk and whispered something to the attorney, who placed her fingers over her
mouth, nodding.

As she returned to the desk, her face was knitted in concern.

"Next!" the judge called out.

The attorney leaned over the fence, her eyes pinned on Skinner.  "Can I speak
to you privately?" she whispered.

"This is Agent Mulder's partner," Skinner pointed out.

"Oh, Agent Scully," she guessed.  "I wish this were better circumstances.  
Let's go out in the hall."

Scully wanted to tackle her and force the news out of her, but she gathered
her things and headed out behind Skinner and the attorney.  She met the
Gunmen's questioning eyes and held up her palm, signaling them to wait.

Once they closed the courtroom doors, the attorney turned to them and held
out her hand to Scully.  "I'm Lee Swanson."

Scully took her hand.  "What is it?"

"Mulder is in the infirmary, unconscious.  They don't know what happened."

Scully turned on her heel and headed to prison.


From the Ashes (part 5 0f ?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com


Fox,
I'm a little upset with you.  I never heard if you liked my pictures.  I hope
you did.  Yes or no?  I took them by myself in the mirror.  I wouldn't want
anyone else to see me naked but you.

Amber



If Scully could have simply disappeared from the courthouse and
re-materialized in the jail infirmary, no matter what the consequence to her
health or future, she would have done just that.  But reality stood between
her and her injured partner, and the only option she had was to cover the
ground between them as quickly as possible.  As a result, she didn't respond
as Mulder's attorney called after her. And when she came across George as he
came running up the same courtroom stairs that she descended, she simply held
up a palm to his inquiries and ran quickly to her car.

The traffic brought frustrated tears to the surface, and she countered that
by picturing herself causing the slow, painful death of the warden who put
Mulder in harm's way.  As she considered that though, she realized she could
call and check on Mulder's status. While stalled again, she called
information and found her way through the prison phone system to the
infirmary.   

"Infirmary."

"Hello, my name is Dana Scully and -"

"Oh... hold on a minute."

She frowned in puzzlement as she waited briefly, silently thanking God that
there was no accompanying music as she held.

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes."

"We thought we might hear from you.  My name is Jeanette Andrews; I'm the
head nurse here.  You're calling to check on the status of Agent Mulder?"

"Yes...how did you know?"

"The warden called and said I should release any information you requested."

Scully's mouth formed a tight, angry line at the mention of his name.  

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes. What can you tell me about his condition?"

"Well, he's still unconscious.  He has a blow to the back of his head,
although I can't see why he would still be out as a result of that."

"Why not?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's a nasty blow. But he's been here for an hour, and
he was unconscious when they found him...he should be waking up.  We took
some blood, and we're about to send it to the lab we use."

"No, I would prefer you send it to the FBI labs."

"No problem."

"I'll pay for a courier if you need me to.  I'd like it sent immediately."

"No, the warden said to co-operate fully with you."

"Tell me, has the warden had some kind of religious experience?" Scully asked
facetiously.

"I don't understand."

"I don't understand his total turnaround in attitude."

"Agent Scully, all I know is what I hear from upstairs; and that was to do
whatever I can do to help you out."

"Okay...I'm almost there.  Is there anything else I should know?"

There was a long static-filled silence.  

"Hello?" Scully said loudly, thinking she had lost the connection.

"Hello," the voice came back reticently.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Agent Mulder has an injury to his neck resulting in swelling of the trachea
," the voice came back, flat and clinical.  

"Okay, "Scully replied, confused by the change of attitude.  "What does this
mean?"

"It means his breathing passages were probably affected at the time of the
blow, also his ability to talk."

"I understand that.  Is it bad enough that he would be expected to be
permanently affected?"

"No, he should recover when the swelling goes down, around twenty-four to
forty-eight hours."

"Is there some underlying significance to this injury that I should
understand?" she continued, sensing that something was not being said.

"I've been instructed not to discuss the implications with you.  The warden
has asked that you meet with him as soon as possible to discuss the
situation."

"I don't understand--"

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully.  I just can't discuss it with you.  I'm leaving a
pass for you at the front desk."

The connection was broken as Scully pulled into the parking lot.  She didn't
have the time to consider what the woman had said; her entire focus was on
the fact that she had finally arrived and would soon see Mulder.



Scully blasted through the doors and corridors that led to the infirmary and
quickly found her way to Mulder's bed.  As a matter of habit, she took his
wrist in her hand and checked his pulse; it was steady and reassuring.  
Looking into his face, she called his name.  "Mulder...Mulder, it's me; wake
up."  She shook his shoulder lightly.  "Come on, Mulder."  But he didn't stir
or react in any way.  She simply watched his face for a very long time,
taking in the stubble, the bruises, the disconcerting silence.  She let her
eyes fall on the heavy bruising at his neck and then back to his face,
seemingly peaceful and completely unaware.  Her entire being ached.

 Looking around, she found a chair and pulled it next to his bed, sat down
and took his hand in hers, keeping her eyes firmly trained on his fingers
resting gently against her palm.  "Mulder," she said quietly, as if she was
going to share a secret with him.  "Mulder, I need you to wake up now."  She
felt tears form, hot and unshed in the corners of her eyes.  She shifted her
hand to his face and placed it on his cheek. His head shifted slightly at the
weight, and she held her breath, but still there was still nothing.  Slowly
she lowered her head to his shoulder and closed her eyes.  "Please, God.  
Please, God" was all she could find to say.



"Agent Scully?"

"Agent Scully?"

Scully shifted hard and startled awake.  "Oh my god," she said as attempted
to orient herself.  "I fell asleep."

"That's all right."

"No...no...I can't believe I did that."

"I'm sure you're exhausted.  My name is Jeanette; we spoke on the phone."

"Yes," she answered, clearing her throat.  "Yes, I'm sorry. How long have I
been asleep?"

"Only briefly.  Just a few minutes."

Scully glanced at Mulder, whose condition was obviously exactly the same.  
She stroked his hair before removing her hand and turning her attention back
to the nurse.

"The warden called and asked if you might come up and meet with him."

"Yes, I want...I wonder if there is a restroom I could use?"

"Certainly."

"And you'll call me if Agent Mulder begins to come around?"

"Yes, immediately, and I'll send a guard with you to bring you to his office."

"Good," Scully replied.  "I'm anxious to talk to him."



Fox,
Why haven't you written?  I hate to say it, but I'm a little angry.  I know
you better than to think you'd dump me after all we've meant to each other.

Amber

 
 
Scully stood speechless before a man she had never met before.

"Agent Scully?"

She looked around the office, thinking that the warden might still be here.

"Is there a problem?" the powerful looking man inquired.

"I-I just thought..." She cleared her throat. She still felt groggy, and it
was affecting her demeanor. She wanted to appear confident and without
reservations.  "Where is the warden?" she asked more steadily.

"There must be some misunderstanding.  I am the warden.  My name is John
Lowe."

"Well then, I want to meet with the...is there someone who would have been your
deputy?"   

"Ma'am, I'm the only warden here."

"Are you being purposefully obtuse?" Scully demanded.

"No, ma'am!  I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I was here last night.  I met with a man who identified himself as the
warden.  He was the man who refused to put Mulder in a holding cell, who put
him in general lockup."

"Well, I'm more than a little confused.  When I heard what happened to Agent
Mulder, I tried to find out under whose authorization he was sent to general
lockup.  I have been unable to do so.  Nobody seems to have seen him as he
was brought in.  I thought it was just a case of misinformation between
shifts.  But it seems like something very strange went on here.  Hold on a
minute," he said as he picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers.

Scully turned her back to him and placed her hand over her eyes, feeling
overwhelmed.

"This is Lowe," the warden said into the phone.  "I need last night's tapes
brought up to my office."

He hung up and looked at Scully, his face twisted in disbelief.  "Nothing
like this has ever happened before.  I run a tight ship, Agent Scully.  I
can't even begin to imagine how a prisoner, let alone an FBI agent could be
brought in here, processed--" He ran his hand over his bristled hair.  "It's
not even proper procedure to process him.  He should have been put in a
holding cell till morning."

Scully nodded.  She felt almost certain of what had happened.  It had been
long ago when she ceased to believe there was any fortress the Consortium
couldn't breach.  "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked.  
"I want to get back to my partner."

The warden dropped his head and pressed his fingertips together.  "No,
there's a couple of other things, Agent Scully.  But I'd like to call in the
prison psychiatrist first, if you don't mind."

Scully skin began to feel as though it was tightening and being drawn from
her.  "Why?" she asked tentatively.

"I just feel she could explain things a little better."

"What things?" Scully asked, her voice growing louder, her heart beginning to
pound in her ears.

"Please, I'll just call her in."  He looked almost pleadingly into Scully's
eyes, and she nodded once.

He pushed a button.  "Send her in."

The door open, and a tall, wiry woman came in.  Her hair was black and very
wavy, most of it severely held in a low ponytail.  Her face seemed gentle,
but there was a calm assurance and strength about her that let Scully know
any attempts the inmates would make to test her would be swatted down without
question.

"You're Agent Scully," she seemed to confirm as she held out her hand.  "My
name is Donna Barkley. I'm the prison psychiatrist."

Scully shook her hand tersely.  "What is it?" she asked.

"Do you want to sit down?" Donna inquired.

"I just want--" Scully snapped, her frustration stealing away any patience
she had left.  "Please," she continued, adjusting her voice.  "Please just
tell me what it is."

Donna nodded and sat on the couch, waiting for Scully to join her.

"There is something about Agent Mulder's injuries that...raised a red flag
for me.  Although there are so many inconsistencies..."  Donna looked at
Scully's face.  "I'm sorry.  You'd probably prefer I just get to it.  Okay,
here goes.  Traditionally, when an inmate has suffered a blow to the neck, as
your partner has, it signifies that that inmate has been raped."

"Oh my god...oh..." Scully stuttered.

"I know this is hard to hear. Should I go on?"

Scully nodded.

"You see, it makes them unable to scream or call for help as well as lowering
their oxygen intake so that they are weakened and more vulnerable."

"And you think this is what happened to Agent Mulder?"

"We can't be absolutely sure until he wakes up."

"You said there are inconsistencies?" Scully said quietly.

"Yes. Yes, that's why we're not absolutely sure.  You see, the fact that he
has been knocked out doesn't jibe.  As you know, rape is not about sex as
much as violence and power.  Here in prison, it is almost solely about power.
That's why the neck injury is so valuable to perpetrators.  The victim is
awake and aware of what is being done, as are the other prisoners are aware
as a rule.  Power, through and through.  But Agent Mulder disappeared during
the time it happened.  Not even our most talkative inmates are aware that he
was raped.  Plus, the fact that he was unconscious; it all would have just
defeated the purpose."

"Maybe it was simply an act of rage because of who he is," Scully suggested
flatly, her throat tight with despair.

"That's possible," the warden responded thoughtfully.  "But, Agent Scully,
when Agent Mulder turned up missing, the entire cell block was locked down.  
No one was missing except Agent Mulder."

"I don't understand," Scully said, getting to her feet.

"As far as I'm concerned, there are two possibilities," Donna began.  "Either
Agent Mulder was raped, or somebody went to a lot of trouble to make us
believe he was."

"For what purpose?" the warden asked.

Donna shrugged.  "I haven't even the smallest idea.  But the fact that he has
the neck injury as well as being unconscious...If he were being raped and he
fought, I could see him being knocked out in the process; but he has no other
injuries that would suggest he was beaten unconscious.  Sooo, he would have
to have been knocked out and then hit in the throat, which wouldn't make any
sense, or he would have been hit in the throat and knocked out later, which
generally doesn't fit the profile. In any case, we'll have a better idea when
he wakes up."

Scully strayed away from the others, her mind whirling in horror and
confusion.  "What if he doesn't know?"

"What?" Donna asked.

"I mean, could it be possible that he wouldn't be aware?"

"I'm assuming there'd be pain, Agent Scully."

"If he was unconscious, not fighting, wouldn't there be less of a chance that
there would be pain?"

"I suppose.  What's your point?"

"If he doesn't know he was raped--"

"I think you'd need to tell him with the help of a professional.  I wouldn't
spring it on him myself.  Set something up and break it to him with the help
of a psychiatrist.  That would be my advice."

Scully nodded and was jarred as the phone rang.  Lowe answered it and nodded
at Scully. "He's coming around."

He hung up and the phone rang again, but Scully left without comment.

"Agent Scully!" he called after her.  "That was Agent Mulder's lawyer.  She
talked with the judge and, given the information he now has and the
circumstances, he has agreed to release him into your custody.  I'll get the
papers together; and as soon as you think he's ready, you can take him home."


Fox,
This is your last chance.  Call me.

Amber



Scully came around the corner and glanced at Mulder's face; he seemed exactly
the same as when she had left him.  She looked around for a nurse, but the
infirmary seemed deserted.  Sitting back down in the chair she had vacated,
she watched him silently, almost dreading the opening of his eyes.  She
didn't want to see the residual terror or horrific pain his memories might
bring him, but the lack of memories would bring their own nightmares.  His
head bobbed slightly, and she took his hand to guide him back.  "Mulder?" she
attempted, and his eyes shifted under his eyelids.  "Mulder, I'm here."

Slowly, he blinked his eyes open--once, twice and then settled on her face.  
His lips formed her name, but only the smallest whisper escaped him.  His
face contorted in pain, and he trained his eyes firmly on her face and
touched his neck tentatively.  "What happened?" he whispered hoarsely.

"You tell me," Scully replied.  "Nobody seems to know."

He frowned, chewing his lip.  "I don't remember...My-my head hurts...it's..."

Her heart sank.  Where did this leave them?  She didn't want to hazard even
the smallest thought.  "You were knocked out; that's why your head hurts.  We
don't know about your throat..."

"Scully, you look terrible," Mulder whispered, his brow wrinkled in concern.

"Thanks.  You've looked better yourself."

He shrugged self-depreciatingly and tried to pull himself up.

"Lay down, Mulder," Scully admonished.  "You've been very sick."

"I just feel a little woozy.  I--" He coughed hard and long, and Scully
waited him out.

"You need to limit the talking," she told him.  "If that's not impossible for
you."

"I think it might be. Scully, I have to use the bathroom.  Oh god, my head."

"I don't know if you should be up..."

He shook his head slowly. "There's no room for discussion."

"Fine," Scully replied.  "But I have to find help."  She peered around the
corners into the hallway.  "Where the hell is everybody?"

She looked back at Mulder, who had struggled to his feet.  "Dammit, Mulder!"
she exclaimed as she rushed to his side and placed herself under his arm.

"What are you going to do if I fall?" Mulder chuckled.

"Get the hell out of the way."

"That's reassuring."

"Whoaa!" came a voice from the door.  "What are you doing out of bed?"  
Scully turned to see Jeanette rushing toward them.

"We thought we'd take in the sights," Mulder whispered.

"He needs to use the bathroom," Scully replied.

"I think I can take it from here," Mulder told them at the door.  "I'm a
little shy in front of crowds."

Scully stood with the nurse, who couldn't look her in the eye.  Finally she
told Scully, "I have some papers that were faxed a few minutes ago giving you
the right to take him out of here."

"Yeah," Scully nodded.  "I want him out of here as soon as possible."

"Are you going to take him home, or transfer him to another facility?"

"I doubt he'd go to another facility," Scully replied.

"I'm sorry," Jeanette said quietly.  "About what happened..."

Scully looked at her purposefully and put her fingers over her lips as the
door opened.

"Okay," Mulder pronounced  "Were you talking about me while I was gone?"

"Yup," Scully replied.  "We were just saying that since you're free to leave
with me you'd probably want to go straight to another hospital."

"Hell, yeah.  Right after we stop at that Yanni concert," he replied as he
walked unsteadily toward the bed.  Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he
looked at Scully, his face turning wistful.  "Can you get me some clothes,
Scully?  I just want to go home."

She nodded.  "Then that's where we'll go," she told him with a smile  
Although she could feel the secret she kept as if it were a living being,
ominously waiting to pounce.

~~~

The Gossamer Project    Author - Title - Date - Spoilers - Crossovers - X-Files - Adventures - Stories - Vignettes
     Other stories by Greco, Jamie     
From: JGreco217@aol.com
Date: Thu, 21 Oct 1999 11:44:04 EDT
Subject: xfc: Re-Post: From the Ashes (Part 6 of ?) by Jamie Greco
Source: xfc

From the Ashes (Part 6 0f ?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com

Fox,
I don't know why you treat me like this.  I don't want to hurt you.  Please,
don't make me.

Amber


 Scully felt as if there was a ticking time bomb just under the floor of her
car that only she knew about.  Her mind felt numb; and her stomach rolled
around itself, tumbling and occasionally leaping.

The words she thought she might speak tormented her consciousness: "Mulder, I
think you should know that there is a chance...Mulder, while you were
unconscious, I spoke to the prison psychiatrist..."  Scully felt the
psychiatrist might have been right: to simply blurt it out couldn't be the
best possible course of action.  But how could she, in all good conscience,
keep the possibility from Mulder that he might have been raped in prison?  On
the other hand, she thought the possibility to be remote, at best.  She
glanced at him: he hadn't complained of any discomfort, let alone pain, which
she felt had to be an issue, to some degree.

They came upon a red light; and she stopped, looking over at him.  He held
himself tightly with his arms crossed firmly over his chest.  His head was
rolled away from her, but she could see his eyes moving.  "You're very quiet,
Mulder," she observed softly.

"You told me to shut up," he answered in a harsh whisper, rolling his head
back to look at her from the corner of his eye.

"I told you that you have a tracheal injury and should refrain from talking
as much as possible."

"Shut up in doctor talk," he countered with a small grin.

"And besides, when have you ever shut up because I told you to?"

"It's the only reason..." He paused and touched his throat, wincing slightly.
 "It's the only reason I ever shut up."

"I'm honored, I guess."  A car honked behind her, and she turned back to the
road.  "So...where would you rather stay--my place or yours?"

Mulder looked at her, taken by surprise.  "Are you coming on to me again,
Scully?"

"Mulder..."

"Because if this behavior continues, I'm just going to have to take you up on
it."

"Mulder, you've had a serious head injury.  You have to be awakened every few
hours."

"Scully, come on, you know--"

Her phone rang, and she picked it up.  "Scully."

"Hi, this is Robertson at the lab.  We have the results you asked for, Dr.
Scully."

"Go ahead."

"Well, we're a little confused by what we found."

"Confused?" she replied, looking pointedly at Mulder.

"Because we did find a foreign substance in the patient's blood, but we have
been unable to identify it."

"Does it resemble anything?"

"Well, it has some of the properties of a hallucinogenic, similar to, say,
LSD.  But it's...it's just a strange concoction.  I'll send you the report."

"Okay, thanks," Scully replied, hanging up.  "Well, Mulder, the plot
thickens."

"What do you mean?"

"Seems like you were injected with something in prison.  Something the lab
guys couldn't identify."

He cocked his head and waited. 

"There are some things I haven't had the chance to tell you yet.  Like the
warden who processed you?"  She looked over at him, and he nodded.  "He
doesn't work there.  Nobody ever heard of him."

"What?" he choked out.

"Also, the Gunmen found some sort of device that diverts all your e-mail to
an unknown party."

He mimed the smoking of a cigarette.

"That was my thought too.  Also they found three bugs in your apartment."

He shrugged.

"What?" She laughed a little at his reaction.

"I let them at my apartment every so often.  They always find something."

"Mulder, that's terrible!  You just live with the fact that somebody keeps
invading your privacy."

"What am I going to do about it?" he countered, his voice becoming thinner
and dryer sounding.  "Live with it or kill myself over it.  Anyway, I'm
pretty boring, at least until last night."

"Mulder--" She hesitated, passing the words explaining what she had been told
through her brain again, holding her breath while she considered.

"So...so, it looks like..." He began to cough harshly, bent over from the
waist.

"Mulder?  Do you think a drink might help?"

He nodded, and she pulled into a fast-food restaurant drive thru.  "Iced
tea?" she asked; and he nodded again, one hand over his throat.

"And a double cheeseburger and fries," he coughed out.

"Mulder, you need to something that will build your strength."

He shook his head, his face fixed with a disgusted expression.  "Are you
trying to finish the job?  I need fast food...fast!"

She sighed and spoke into the nose of a large clown.  "I'll have a large iced
tea, a large diet coke, a double cheeseburger," she looked over at him. He
nodded, a happy grin on his face.  "A large fry and a single hamburger."

"Is that all?"

"An apple pie," Mulder added.  "For the fruit."

"An apple pie," Scully repeated dryly.  "For the fruit."

"Happy?" Mulder asked.

"Delirious," Scully replied flatly.  "So, your house or mine?"

"Are you sure?  This means one of us has to sleep on the couch."

"Let's go to your apartment.  I have an overnight back in the trunk, so we
wouldn't have to stop at my place."

"Why do you keep a bag..." His voice gave out again.

"Because I have this crazy partner who calls me at all hours and says things
like 'Scully, I have a ticket for you to Timbuktu.  Can you be at the airport
in ten minutes?'"

"Nut," he spat out derisively. 

"You don't know the half of it," she returned as she looked for her wallet.

"I'd pay, but I left my apartment in such a hurry that I forgot my wallet."

"Isn't that convenient?" she teased.

"Not the first word that comes to my mind." 

She handed him the packages and slipped the drinks into the holders.

"Scully?"

"Mulder, I thought you were going to rest your voice."

"I-I--" He cleared his throat hard.

"Mulder, shut up," she said affectionately.

"I--just one more thing..."

"What?"

"I know you've done a lot for me today.  I want to thank you. I can't...I
don't know how--" His voice broke and he shook his head, signaling that he
couldn't continue.

Scully placed her hand on his shoulder and grinned and then wordlessly drove
toward Mulder's apartment. 



Fox,
I could see you thought your partner looked very nice today.  I saw you
watching her through the window when she left your apartment.  I hope she was
OK on the way home.

Amber 



"I don't have my keys," Mulder murmured, almost silently.

"Oh," Scully answered, digging her key ring out of her purse.  "I got it." 
She turned the lock and pushed open the door, walking inside.  "Wow," she
said quietly as she noticed the debris that had once been Mulder's coffee
table.

"Lucky I'm not sentimental," he whispered as he kicked at the wood, although
the tone in his voice hinted that the opposite was true.  "Toothpicks and
splinters," he murmured and sighed, rubbing his face.  "I'm exhausted."

"Me too," Scully agreed.  Yet they stood still, each with their own thoughts.
 "You have messages," Scully pointed out.

Mulder glanced at his answering machine and sighed again.  "I'm too tired,"
he responded.

"What if there's something to do with the case?"

He took a few steps and pushed the message button.

"Fox, it's George.  Are you all right?  I talked to your lawyer. She said
you'd be out tonight.  Can you call?  I'm worried, Bud."

"Mulder, Scully?  It's Skinner.  I'd like an update when you can."

"Fox, it's your mother.  Do you think we could have dinner soon?  Call me."

"Fox, it's me, Amber--"

Mulder looked at Scully, his expression registering his disbelief.

"--I hope you're not mad.  I might think about dropping the charges if you'll
call me."

Mulder closed his eyes, his face going slack.  "Fucking amazing," he mumbled.
 "I'm going to take a shower."

"That's all you've got to say?" Scully demanded, following him toward the
bathroom as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"I'd ask you to join me, but, I'm just not-" He began coughing again.

"Mulder, that tape...it could clear you."

He changed direction, heading toward the kitchen and opening his
refrigerator. He pulled out a sport drink and swallowed it carefully. 
"Scully, I don't think it's about her anymore.  I think there's something
else.  Something beyond Amber.  I just don't know what it is yet."

"Doesn't that scare you?"

He nodded, his face incredulous.  "I'm scared to death.  But I don't know
what do about it yet; and I-I think if I sleep, I'll be able to...I can't
even form words, Scully, let alone figure this shit out."

Scully nodded.

Mulder nodded back and patted her on the shoulder as he passed her by.  "I'm
going to shower," he repeated and headed back toward the bathroom.

Scully walked slowly into the living room and gazed at the ruins of Mulder's
coffee table.  She pushed at the bigger chunks with her foot, trying to make
a smaller pile of wood.

"Scully," Mulder said as he reappeared, unzipping his pants.  "Do you think
you should call Skinner?"  He stepped out of his pants.

Scully sighed and lowered her eyes.  "Mulder, why do you do that?"

"What?" he asked, holding his pants in one hand.

"Undress in front of me.  It makes me..."

He glanced down at himself.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  I guess I didn't think
you'd notice."

"Well, how would you like it if I undressed in front of you?"

"Like it?  I'd love it!  Scully, I'd be delirious!"

"Okay, bad example.  Just...just, stop it, okay?"

"Check," Mulder said as he went into his bedroom.  "Never strip in front of
Scully."

"Never is a very long time," Scully said under her breath.

"I heard that," Mulder replied.  "And I'm very intrigued."

Scully smiled to herself and picked up Mulder's phone to call Skinner.



Mulder made the shower as hot as he could stand it and stood under the
driving water, silent and brooding.  He tried to shy his mind away from what
had happened to him and why and who was responsible, but it was almost
impossible.  His mind felt numb with exhaustion, and now he only wanted to be
able to tolerate the smell of himself before he fell into bed. 

The thought of Scully made him smile.  She didn't want him to strip in front
of her.  That was what he wanted to hear.  He hoped she was uncomfortable
because she felt even the smallest measure of what he felt for her.  He felt
himself grow hard, and he sighed.  Frustration was not what he wanted to
feel.  He began to soap himself with the thought of finishing the shower and
ignoring his desire.  But as he washed his hips and thighs and came around to
soap his genitalia, a horrifying vision flashed in the back of his mind.  It
was as if just a few frames of film flickered across his consciousness. 
Someone--a man's--hands on his hips, pulling him backward; that's all it was.
 But his reaction was as vivid and startling as if he were being violated at
that very moment.  He threw himself back against the shower wall, the soap
falling to the floor and spinning in a tight circle at his feet. 

The vision went as fast as it came, but his adrenaline coursed through his
body as if he were surrounded by impending danger.  He squatted slightly, his
hands pressed backward against the tile. He began to take short quick
breaths, his mouth formed a tense "oh."  

"Mulder, are you all right?" Scully called from outside the door, but he
couldn't make himself respond.  Bile rose in his throat and choked off the
limited airway he still had.  Pressing his hands against his knees, he told
himself it was residual from the drug he had been injected with; but his
inner feelings told him differently.  He told himself to breathe deeply,
assured himself that he was not in imminent danger; but he felt as if he were
hopelessly doomed.

"Mulder?" she called more anxiously.

"I-I'm okay, Scully," he managed to get out.  He snapped off the shower and
stepped, trembling, from the tub.  "I'm okay," he told himself shakily.      
     

"Should I come in?" she asked, obviously unconvinced of his well being.

"No!" he cried out, suddenly shaken by the idea of his vulnerability.

"Okay," she answered.  "I'm right out here though."

"Okay," he replied.  "Okay."





Scully lay in Mulder's bed after winning or losing (depending on one's frame
of reference) a short disagreement on who should sleep on the couch.  Mulder
had been tense, anxious and insistent that he would be more comfortable on
the couch.  His manner made Scully feel as if the walls were crumbling around
her.  She found herself tiptoeing around him, careful of what she said and
did. Turning over in bed and looking out at the moonlight, she could smell
him.  She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling the overwhelming
arousal she usually, effectively tamped down.  The thought of him brought her
no pleasure though.  His face...When he had come out of the bathroom, it was
as if he had aged ten years.  His eyes had darted from place to place, and he
had watched her as if he were suspicious of her.  When she went into his
bedroom and closed the door, she had almost felt relief to be away from him.

She turned over again and looked at the clock.  It had been almost two hours;
she should check him.  She hoped to God he had been able to fall asleep.


Fox,
Why do you sleep on your couch?  Your bed looks so much more comfortable.

Amber


Scully opened the bedroom door as silently as possible.  The sudden pinging
of rain against the window startled her slightly, and she struggled to see
through the thick darkness of Mulder's living room.  Tugging Mulder's shirt
down around her knees, she assured herself she was adequately covered.  She
groped her way toward the couch. "Mulder?" she whispered so as to not startle
him. She reached down and felt the soft blanket she had covered him with
before she went to bed.  Lightning suddenly lit up the room, and she could
see the couch was empty. She gasped.  "Mulder," she called out as she ran to
the kitchen, not expecting to find him.  "Mulder!" she called out again as
she headed toward the bathroom, completely hopeless.  "Oh my god," she
whispered as if she might wake him.  "Where would he go?"

Opening his front door, she looked up and down the empty hallway.  Closing
the door, she tried to make her exhausted brain engage.  Where would he go? 
She asked herself again and again.

When the phone rang, she flinched hard, as if it had blown up.  It rang
again, and she snatched it from the receiver.  "Scully."

"Scully?"

"Mulder, what the hell?  Where are you?"

'This is going to sound...stupid."

"I don't care how it sounds, Mulder.  Just tell me where you are."

"I-I don't know." She could hear his voice trembling, even at the very low
volume he could manage.

"What do you mean you don't know?" she said more gently.

"Scully...I remembered something..."

Her stomach lurched and tightened. 

"Something that happened...I-I ran.  I couldn't...I didn't know what to do..."

"Where did you run to?" she replied, consciously trying to sound calm.

"I don't know where I am, Scully.  It's so stupid.  I...I'm confused."

"Okay, Mulder.  Hold on, will you?  I'm going to have the call traced, and
I'll be there."

"Scully?"

"Don't hang up."

"Scully?"

"Yeah..."

"It's bad."

"I'll be there, Mulder" was all she could think to say before having the call
traced, dressing and running out the door.


Fox,
You are beautiful naked.

Amber


Scully screeched to a halt in front of the public phone from which Mulder had
called.  He was not immediately visible as she scanned the area for him
through the windshield wipers.  Soon she caught sight of him, standing in a
doorway, head down, arms crossed, his breath visible in the cold.  Quickly
she ran from the car.  "Mulder?" she called out over the roar of the rain.

His head snapped up, and he looked at her not only as if he had never seen
before but as if he was sure she had been sent to kill him.  Then his face
softened slightly.  "I'm sorry, Scully.  I should have just started walking. 
Look, you're getting soaked."

"It's all right, Mulder.  Let's go home."

He nodded, but he didn't move toward the car.  So she moved closer to him in
order to benefit from the relative dryness of the doorway.  Thunder pounded
so loudly she could feel it as well as see it, and she pulled in a little
closer to him.  He pulled abruptly away, and she took a step back.

"Come back to the apartment, Mulder.  We'll talk about whatever is bothering
you."

His eyes darted past her and over her, never once landing on her face.  He
took a few steps back, until his back was against the brick wall.  "Something
happened," he said, his eyes setting on her face once and skittering away. 
He seemed completely unaware that they were talking in the middle of what
seemed like a hurricane to Scully.

"What happened, Mulder?" she asked, holding her hand out to him.

"No!" he said adamantly.  "No, don't touch me...just don't--"

"Okay, Mulder, okay.  Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"I didn't remember before, but now..." He looked quickly at her, his face
full of confusion and horror.  "But something happened...in jail."

"Mulder--"

"I remember,' he said again.  "I was--" His knees seem to go out from under
him all at once, and he sank to the rain-drenched sidewalk.

"Mulder," Scully said gently, lowering herself beside him, her only thought
to stem the flow of his horror and despair.  "It may not be what it seems."

"What?" he said and began coughing roughly.

"What you think happened, it's possible, given what we know, that it didn't
happen."

"Scully, you don't understand.  They hit me in the throat, and I went
down..." His jaw trembled with the cold, and he wiped at his eyes. "Scully, I
couldn't breathe...I couldn't...I tried..."

"Mulder, please listen to me--"

"But I couldn't get away.  They...god, oh god...They raped me, Scully."  He
threw his head back against the brick wall, his eyes pinned upward.  "They
raped me..." he repeated, his voice cracking.

"Mulder, I'm going to suggest that we go to the hospital from here and have
you examined."

He looked into her face, confused.  "Why?"

"Mulder, please...I know this is going to be hard to...accept.  It's quite
possible, I believe...Mulder, listen.  I think these memories might have been
implanted.  I've been thinking about it and--" 

He looked at her as if it were the first time he was aware she had arrived. 
"What did you say?"

"I said, I've been thinking about it and with all I know now--"

"How could you have been thinking about it, Scully?  I just told you--"

"Mulder, the warden and the psychiatrist at the prison talked to me about it,
and...I don't know.  I think they might have had a separate agenda. 
But...they said they thought your throat injury might have indicated a rape,
but--"

"You knew there was a possibility that I've been raped and you didn't tell
me?"  His words were spat out like bullets, his face twisted in rage.

"I didn't know for sure and the more I thought about it, the more I knew--"

He began to crawl to his feet, his eyes fixed on hers, his spite unspoken but
clearly felt deeply.  He held out his arm stiffly as if he would need to fend
her off, as if she would be the next to attack him.

"Mulder," she pleaded.  "Please, let me explain."

Slowly, he shook his head.  "You knew..." he repeated, his eyes pinned on
hers before he turned quickly and ran off into the night, looking over his
shoulder once as if he feared she might try to capture him.

Scully could only watch him dwindle, knowing she could never overtake him. 
Still she called out his name into the darkness.   But the darkness was all
that was left.

 
From the Ashes (7 of?)

*Author* Jamie Greco

jgreco217@aol.com

Fox,
I think it's her.  She's breaking us up.  Can't you see she doesn't love you
like me?

Amber



Scully stood watching the corner around which Mulder disappeared for long
time after he'd turned it.  She was unaware of time or logic, which would
have told her enough is enough.  Go inside.  He's not coming back.  But some
part of her still needed to stand watch.  An especially loud clap of thunder
finally brought her around and she headed downheartedly to her car.

She sat there for an even longer time, unsure of where to go, wondering if it
would be best to go to Mulder's in the hope that he would eventually head
there.  But finally she headed toward home.

As she drove, she mulled over what Mulder had said to her, huddled in a
doorway, despondent and afraid.  She thought about her decision not to tell
Mulder what she suspected.  Despite his anger and sense of betrayal, she felt
she had made the best decision under the circumstances.  She had to wonder
though, if she had told him, would he still be at home, coping in some way
with the information, rather than running from whatever it was he thought he
might escape on a rainy, frigid night

She glanced at her car clock: 1:40 a.m.  This would be the second night that
neither one of them had had any sleep.  It certainly couldn't be helping the
situation.  Then again, Mulder believed he had been brutally raped.  She
couldn't imagine anything would make that seem easier to accept.

Once she had arrived at her apartment, she simply sat for a number of
minutes, her head against the steering wheel, trying to know where to go,
what to do, how to go on.  Finally, she threw the door open and headed toward
her home, her bed.



She heard her phone ringing as she approached the door.  Fumbling with her
keys, her hands wet with rain, her dripping hair obscuring her vision, she
entered as the machine began to click in.

"Scully!" she called over the message.  "I'm here."

"Agent Scully?" someone whispered.

"Yes?"

"This is George Harris.  At the bar?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Listen." He began to speak even more quietly, so that she could barely hear
him.  "Fox is here.  He came in a few minutes ago."

"How does he seem?"

"He looks like shit and he seems...Actually, Agent Scully, I've never seen
him like this.  I gotta say, he's scaring me."

"How?"

"He's bouncing all over the place, angry, depressed.  I asked him if he
wanted me to call you---I'll be right there---He said...I don't really want
to repeat what he said."

"It's all right, George," Scully told him.  "He's angry with me, I know that."

"He's beyond angry, Agent Scully.  He's in a whole other place."

"Just...make sure he gets home.  Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I can do that.  Are you sure you don't want to come down here?"

"No. No, I'm sure he doesn't want to see me at this point."

"Agent Scully--"

"Look, George, I think you can call me Dana."

"I'm honored.  Dana, are you sure you don't want to come down here?"

'No, but I'm here at home, George. If he needs me."


Fox,
I waited on your couch. I fed your fish.  You never came home.

Amber


Scully changed out of her clothes, which still dripped freely as she stepped
out of them and rung them out over the tub.  She shivered as she stepped into
the shower and turned up the hot water.  She tried to imagine the "other
place" George had said Mulder was in.  To be raped, violated to the core of
your being, to have the last, final aspect of dignity, that should never
belong to anyone else stripped from you, leaving so little...She felt herself
begin to cry and made herself stop.  There wasn't the time or energy to
indulge her despair.  She needed to, had to rest, and most certainly couldn't
sort anything out in the mental shape she was in.  As she dried off, she told
herself, somewhat like Scarlett O'Hara, that she'd think about it tomorrow.

She turned her head toward her living room as she heard a single chime of her
doorbell.  "Thank God," she whispered as she pulled on her robe and shook the
towel from her hair.  "I'm coming," she called out, her anxiety over another
confrontation with Mulder taking second place to her joy that he had cared
enough to return.  Out of habit, she looked through the peephole, although
her hand was already twisting the doorknob.  What she saw made her release
the door immediately. With no further thought, she walked to where she knew
her gun had been left and pulled it out, removing the safety.  Then, quickly,
with no preamble, she flung open the door and pointed her gun into the face
of the man who pulled the Morley casually from his lips.  "Agent Scully," he
admonished.  "Is this how you greet all your guests?"

"You're not a guest, you son-of-a-bitch. Now turn around and get the hell out
of here before I do what I should have done the first time you sullied my
oxygen supply."

"Really, Agent Scully, you're becoming as tedious as your partner."

She took a quick threatening step forward and was a little gratified that he
took a step back.  "It would be in your best interest you not to even breathe
the name of my partner.  Not now.  Especially not tonight."

"Yes," he went on, seemingly oblivious to her ominous state of mind.  "I hear
Mulder had a difficult time in prison."

"I told you to get out of my building," she demanded.

"But I'm here to help Mulder.  I have evidence which will guarantee that he
will not have to go back to that hell hole where they treated him so very
unkindly."

She wavered slightly.  She knew she had enough evidence on her own to sway
the DA; but if he could guarantee it, if he could take that dark threat...

"You see, you're intrigued."  He pointed at this breast pocket and asked
permission to go there with a raise of his eyebrows.  Scully nodded, secure
in the fact that she would be more than happy to shoot him if he attempted to
attack her.  "This came into my possession earlier this evening.  On it,
you'll find a record of what went on between Mulder and that young hussy.  I
must say, Agent Scully, she doesn't hold a candle to you.  And she was
entirely more trouble than she was worth."

"So you did pay her off."

He laughed.  "I didn't need to dabble in this one, Agent Scully.  Mulder set
himself up.  Entirely too easily manipulated, that's his downfall."  He
handed her the tape.

"You're just going to give this to me?" she asked skeptically.

"You certainly live up to your reputation.  It's there in your hand? Are you
going to try and explain it away?"  He smiled an oily smile and dragged on
his cigarette.

"What's the catch?"

"Catch?  There's no catch."

"Good, then you can leave," she intoned, lowering her gun and going inside
her apartment.

He placed his hand on the door.  "I hear your partner had a particularly hard
time in prison."

Scully turned and looked at him, contempt flowing from every pour but she
said nothing, hoping he would let more slip than he intended.

"It's terrible.  Really.  I'm sure the memories will be with him the rest of
his life.  It's a shame.  Something like that could completely destroy a man."

With rage and strength she didn't realize she had, she raised the barrel of
her gun and shoved the much bigger man against the opposite wall.  "God damn
you for what you did!  You are completely vacant of any sense of humanity.  I
hope you die slowly and painfully.  I hope you never know a moment's peace in
this life or the next."

"No doubt all of your wishes will come true.  But until that time...I know of
a very gifted professional whose skill includes the ability to completely
obliterate any given memory.  I think your Agent Mulder might sincerely
appreciate his prowess.  All I ask is that he takes the time off from his job
to fully recuperate-say, a couple of years?"

"Are you offering to have the memories you put in place removed for a price?"

"Agent Scully, you are very perceptive, even more so than your partner. But I
think you'll have a hell of a time convincing your partner that the memories
he can almost put a hand out to touch are not, in fact, his.  I would tread
very lightly.  I hope you'll relay my offer to him."

"And I hope you're dead the next time I lay eyes on you."

"I'm very sorry you feel that way.  I have always been very fond of you...and
Agent Mulder."  He turned to leave.

"You know, it's kind of a shame," Scully called after him.

He turned and looked at her questioningly.

"The whole building was just fumigated.  Now my landlord will just have to do
it again."  And she slammed the door with all of the pent-up fury she could
release.   


Fox,
I cried all night, knowing what I have to do.  It's for the best.

Amber



Scully stood with her back to the door for a long while, breathing deeply and
giving herself the time to acclimate to her relative safety.   Finally, she
slid down the door, landing splayed like an exhausted rag doll...with a gun. 
She felt like she could sleep in this position and actually closed her eyes,
but her phone rang and she had to raise up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Dana?  Are you asleep?  I'm sorry, it's George."

"George?  What is it?"

"Fox wanted me to call you.  His voice is almost gone, and he wants me to
tell you...he needs to know what you know."

"George, did he tell you what happened?"

"Just...just that something happened to him in prison.  He wants me to give
him the phone so that you can tell him."

Scully frowned as the phone was transferred. She could hear the music, which
bounded joyfully and extraordinarily loudly.  It seemed to be in complete
contrast to Mulder at this point in time.

"Mulder?" she said after a minute.

"Just tell me, Scully."

She thought for a moment.  "No, Mulder."

"No?" he whispered harshly.

"No.  I think if you want to talk to me, you at least owe me the courtesy of
talking to me to my face."

"Courtesy?" he rasped back between his teeth.  "You expect courtesy from me?"

"I think I deserve at least that."

"All right.  All right.  Excuse me, Scully, but may I ask you why you didn't
seem to deem it necessary to tell me I was fucked up the ass?"

She didn't answer.  Although she knew logically that his anger was to be
expected, she couldn't help but wince at his words.  She could hear his
breath coming in hard, quick gasps against her ear and reminded herself of
the pain he felt, the betrayal he felt she had heaped on top of the horror.

"Scully?" he whispered.

"What?"

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Yes, I'll tell you everything I know.  But we have to talk face to face."

The dial tone hummed in her ear, and she hung up the phone.



Scully crawled into her bed and lay her head down gently.  She couldn't
imagine that she could ever have been this tired.  Still, her mind wouldn't
shy away from the thought of Mulder.  She felt certain that she could make
him understand why she felt his memories were implanted, certain that he'd
eventually believe her.  But would he b