The Newlywed Game

By Caroline McKenna
JC_SizzlinSpike827@yahoo.com


Spoilers: Arcadia, but set in season 7 before Millennium.

Teaser: Mulder and Scully, undercover, the Newlywed Game, nuff said.

Category: MSR, H?

Rating: PG-13, maybe?

Email: JC_SizzlinSpike827@yahoo.com

Feedback: YES! Please! If ya liked it, if ya hated it, whatever! I love
feedback, both good and bad. But please be kind!

Disclaimer: I don’t own them, I never will. They belong to Chris Carter, FOX,
1013 Productions, and I like to think they belong to GA and DD. They’re not
mine. Don’t rub it in. Also, I don’t own the Newlywed Game or Bob Eubanks.
Also borrowing without permission. Shame on me.

Archiving: Yes, just put my name and email address on it and let me know where
it’s going.

J EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING

AD SKINNER’S OFFICE

10:15 AM

"Good morning, Agents," Assistant Director Skinner greeted as Agents Fox
Mulder and Dana Scully walked into his private office.

"You wanted to see us, sir?" said Scully as she pulled up a chair. Her partner
did the same an anxious expression on his face. Being called into Skinner’s
office usually meant an X-File, which excited Mulder to a degree in which he
was almost ashamed of.

"Yes. I have a new case for you." Scully looked at Mulder, whose eyes gleamed
like diamonds. It was almost sad, how enthusiastic he was about his work, but
she had grown accustomed to it. In their line of work, it was hard not to
become engulfed in cases, theirs particularly. There was always something more
thrilling about the X-Files, some addictive quality that wouldn’t allow her to
leave. Not that she would want to anyway, but still.

"Oh really?" Mulder tried to appear nonchalant in his question, but Scully
found that he failed dismally. He had this boyish eagerness that seeped
through all parts of him, affecting anyone within a ten-foot radius. His zeal
was contagious.

"Yes. Within the last year and a half there have been five double murders, all
husband and wife couples."

"Have they established an MO?" Scully asked, shifting position in her chair.

"No. There is no definitive pattern. The first victims had their throat
sliced, the second couple drowned in their bathtub, the third was poisoned,
the fourth couple were shot at point-blank range, and the last couple were
strangled. She was strangled with his tie, and he with her pantyhose." Skinner
shook his head, handing out folders with the crime-scene pictures and autopsy
reports.

"How about a common denominator?"

"Yes, there was one. The couples only had one thing in common. In the days
prior to their deaths, each couple appeared on The Newlywed Game. Are you
familiar with it?"

Mulder concealed his smile. He glanced at Scully and then looked back to
Skinner.

"Yes, sir. It was an old game-show that has been redone."

Skinner nodded, saying nothing.

"So, if you don’t mind my asking, what does this have to do with an X-File, or
with us?"

"Well, Agent Scully, each of the wives were reported alien abductees. As to
what this has to do with you, I’d like you to investigate." There was a catch,
Scully heard it. With the FBI, nothing was what it seemed.

"Meaning?" Mulder beat her to the punch. Obviously he had detected something
as well.

"Meaning that you two are going undercover. As a newly married couple. You
will be appearing on The Newlywed Game next week. Hopefully, you can uncover
more into these murders than our agents have."

"Sir," Mulder said with a semi-pained expression, "are you sure that’s
completely necessary?"

"We’ve tried everything else, and we seem to be getting nowhere. Getting
inside might be the only way. Besides, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It
worked out well last time, remember?"

Boy, did she ever. How was she supposed to forget? It remained one of her
favorite cases. They had been forced to move into The Falls of Arcadia,
pretending to be a married couple, and prospective home buyers in order to
investigate the disappearance of several couples. They had solved the case, no
harm done.

Mulder and Scully shared a look.

"Yes, sir. We remember. It did go well, but national TV, sir?" Two ‘sir’s in
one sentence. Mulder cursed himself. He was damned nervous.

"I promise to tape it for you, Agents." Skinner smiled, breaking the tension.

"Is that all?" Scully asked, running a hand through her auburn hair. She was
tired already, and it was only 11. They hadn’t even eaten lunch yet, and she
would be perfectly content to lie down in bed among fluffy pillows and close
her eyes.

"Yes. Once you submit your aliases, we’ll fax you the marriage certificate and
other paper work." The two agents rose from their seats, and turned toward the
door.

"Wait," Skinner beckoned. They turned back to face him. "The game-show network
is requesting a photograph of the two of you. Any photo. Although, I highly
doubt they would want something involving an autopsy or whatnot. If you have
one, or could take one, please send it to Kimberly, my secretary, and she’ll
forward it to me. That will be all."

Both exited, thoroughly exhausted for a reason neither knew.

* * * * *

FBI HEADQUARTERS

X-FILES OFFICE

NEXT DAY, 2:23 PM

Mulder shuffled through the stack of papers Scully handed him. Among them was
their newly printed marriage certificate.

"Rebecca and Andrew Summers, Scully?" he questioned, raising a skeptical
eyebrow. She shrugged nonchalantly.

"You got to pick the names last time, so it was my turn," she explained.

"But Andrew? Do I look like an ‘Andrew’ to you, Scully?" She bowed her head to
hide her smile. The look on his face was priceless, totally and utterly
precious.

His mouth was drawn into a taut line, but his eyebrows were raised and there
was a slight hint of amusement in his hazel eyes. Only Scully could produce
that face of his. Only Scully.

"Do I look like a ‘Laura’ to you?" she shot back, knowing fully well what he
would say.

"Yes, my dear Scully, you do." He smiled, breaking through the pea-soup-thick
tension that had clouded the room.

"Well, Andrew, have you read over the case material yet?" She was sitting at
his desk, mindlessly picking at her fingernails. Looking at Mulder was
something that had to be avoided during this case, or they could both be in
lethal danger. Because, when she looked at Mulder, any coherent train of
thought was put on hold so she could see his eyes.

Yes, they worked well together, too well maybe. The two had one of the highest
solve rates in the whole Bureau, and for the cases that they worked with, that
was saying something. However, half of the Bureau already thought that they
were sleeping together- which they weren’t, and the other half suspected that
they had some kind of alien child- which they didn’t.

Those kind of rumors were not what they needed, not now. Not when they were
going undercover as a married couple.

When Scully had asked Skinner why they hadn’t chosen two other agents, he
simply replied, “Because we have you two.”

His comment had shaken her up some, left her wondering if she and Mulder
really gave of those kind of actions. What kind of factual evidence could they
have to base their theories on?

"Yeah." His comment brought her out of her rather disturbing thoughts, and for
that she was grateful. Not that the idea of being involved with Mulder was
unpleasant, just unneeded at the time.

"So?" she pried. Mulder usually had some wild theory to accompany his even
wilder hunches, and his noncommittal remark gave her no indication as to what
they might be.

He shrugged. "I dunno."

She blinked several times. Did he just say what she thought he did? That
Wasn’t like Mulder at all. Could he be getting sick?, she wondered. She
examined his face, looking for some sign to validate her prediction.

His color was good, tan like usual. His eyes were bright and lively, his face
in general, normal. Nothing to verify her assumptions. It concerned her.

"I’m not sick, Scully. Why do you presume that just because I don’t have a
theory that I’ve contracted some kind of fatal disease?"

"I don’t, Mulder." But she was caught in her own lie, and he knew it. His
lopsided smile showed that he wasn’t angry, not in the least.

"You really wanna hear it?" There, that was her Mulder. Although, since he
normally didn’t ask her whether she wanted to hear his guesses or not, she
held her breath when she answered him

"Yes."

"Okay, hear me out. Since all of the women are abductees, that means they know
something. And if you’re a married woman, and you know something, who do you
tell?"

"Your husband," Scully answered, still not quite sure where this was leading.

"Right. So then we have two people who know something corruptive about the
government. Well, we can’t have that, right? So we get rid of them both under
the guise of a popular game show. When they’re dead, they pose no threat to
the government," he finished.

She read further into his words. "You think Cancer-man is behind all this."

"Bingo, Scully. Give yourself a gold star."

"But that doesn’t explain the lack of forensic evidence. It says here," she
sorted through the papers until she found the one she was looking for, "that
there were no fingerprints found at the scene, no hair or fiber, nothing,
Mulder. How can a person walk into a room, kill to people and leave no
evidence behind?"

"Do you realize what you’re saying, Scully?" He peered at her from over his
reading glasses. This wasn’t they way she normally entered cases. In fact, she
seemed to be taking on his usual approach.

"All I’m saying, Mulder, is that either these men must be very, very good, or
very, very lucky. Or these murders are unrelated and we’re wasting our time."
She stood, straightening her skirt, and pushing a lock of scarlet hair behind
her left ear.

"I vote for very, very lucky, but we won’t know until we get a look at the
crime scenes in..." He glanced at his wristwatch. "...a little over 4 hours."

"What time is it?" she said, gathering her purse, coat, and papers.

"A little after 2:30. Our plane leaves in half an hour, so we had better move,
G-woman, or we’ll be walking to LA."

* * * * *

SOMEWHERE OVER CHICAGO

PLANE, SEATS 37 & 38

5:47 PM

"So, lets get this straight. We met through a mutual friend. No crazy UFO
conferences, or stories about New-age beliefs, okay, Mulder?"

He smiled guiltily, remembering ‘last time’ as they had come to call it. "Yes,
ma'am," he replied in his best little-boy voice.

"And we’ve been married how long?"

"Six months, 3 days..." he glanced at his watch, "...three hours and 48
minutes."

She smiled. Leave it to Mulder to invent the time of marriage.

"Okay, and we dated how long before you proposed?" she quizzed.

"Exactly six years. I popped the question on March 6, 1999," he said proudly.
She, of course, was astonished that he would remember the day they met, let
alone invent that kind of story to go along with the day.

She swallowed, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible. "Good. We
have no pets, no kids, no aliens. You teach psychology at the local high
school, and I’m a doctor at the hospital. Got it?"

The tone of her voice, though, was not a question. It just said, ‘Don’t you
dare contradict me on this, Mulder.’

"What about my fish?" She sent him her patented ‘Scully-glare’, and he smiled
his goofy smile.

"Okay, okay. I get it," he acquiesced. "We do it your way this time."

She smiled in uneasy triumph; she knew the worst was yet to come. After all,
They’d actually have to answer those silly questions.

Scully had watched The Newlywed Game as a child, and even then was shocked at
how personal the questions were. She liked Mulder enough, but she sure wasn’t
ready to tell Bob Barker or whoever about their made-up sex life, which, of
course, they hadn’t discussed.

"Look on the bright side, Scully," he said, as though reading her thoughts,
"We can make it look like we actually have a sex life. Besides, we might win.
I know I’d love to go to Jamaica or wherever they send the winners."

She smiled, picturing them on a sandy white beach, her in her black bikini,
and him in a bathing suit, his muscular chest exposed... No, she could not go
there, she wouldn’t go there.

"Dream on, Mulder. Dream on."

* * * * *

BEVERLY HILLS PLAZA HOTEL

ROOM 686

9:57 PM

"Look, Scully, how was I supposed to know that we’d get held up in Denver?" he
said, walking in the door to her hotel room, carrying her large green
suitcase.

"You better get used to calling me ‘Rebecca’ and I don’t blame you. Much. I
guess I just wanted to get to the crime scene tonight. I have a feeling about
this one."

"Good for you, Sc--Rebecca. What do you have in here, bricks?" He set the
bulging luggage on her king sized bed. Their king-sized bed.

"Get used to it, Andrew, it’s the way we women travel. Especially when we’re
going to be on national television." He grunted at the use of his alias.

"So you can get all sexy for me Scully?" He waggled his eyebrows playfully at
her.

She rolled her eyes, "You wish. I tend to fall for the blondes, much like
yourself, Mulder."

"Now Scully... Don’t go hitting on the other women’s husbands," he teased.
Scully cringed. He didn’t know how close to home his remark actually was.

"As long as you promise not to go searching for quickie with the wives."

"Spoil my fun," he grumbled, seating himself on the bed. Their bed.

Skinner had made the arrangements, and, since he worked for the cheap division
of the FBI, had only booked one room. Well, the fact that they were supposed
to be a married couple might have had something to do with it too. It wouldn’t
look very convincing if someone saw them coming out of separate rooms,
especially when they were newlyweds.

"So, what’s the first step?" she asked, sitting beside him

"Well, I figure that the murders are connected to someone involved with the
actual show, so we really can t do much except go over the crime scenes, try
to spot anything they missed. Considering that we film tomorrow, I think we
should just take it easy for now. We can investigate after we get the dirt on
the production crew."

"You’re saying that we have to tail Bob Eubanks? Great," she said dryly.

"Well, yeah. You can have the honors." He grinned innocently at her, batting
his eyelashes.

She laughed. When had he last heard Dana Scully laugh? Really laugh? Too long
ago. Much too long. He loved it when she laughed. He loved it when she did
pretty much anything, but when she laughed his heart fluttered.

She grew serious far too quickly for his liking, but he had to take what he
could get.

"When he asks us those... questions, what are we supposed to say?"

"Well, the truth, if at all possible. If not, just make something up that you
think I’ll say. We know each other well enough to be able to do that
successfully, right?"

"Yeah, but Mulder, I don’t think talking about aliens would be a smart move,
especially with these women being abductees. That’s basically all we talk
about," she said, almost sadly. But aliens definitely could not be mentioned;
they didn’t want to put anyone in danger, least of all Scully. She had been
taken-- abducted several years ago. Although they had picked up the pieces,
neither had much of an idea as to what went on during her three month absence.

"Sure we do, Scully."

"Like what, Mulder? What else do we talk about besides work?"

"Well, uh... I dunno. But we know stuff about each other that doesn’t have to
do with work."

"Like what?" She was angry now, disappointed that what she was saying was the
truth. What did they know about each other? The considered themselves best
friends, but they didn’t know the normal ‘best friend’ details.

"Uh, whenever you doubt me, you do this cute little thing with your eyebrows.
Like you raise one, while keeping the other totally straight. And when you’re
trying to hide a smile from me, you bow your head, letting your hair fall in
your face so I won’t see. The only thing you anymore is a salad with Italian
dressing, unless we have to stop for fast food. Then you eat the healthiest
thing on the menu. You love your mother, but think she’s too nosy, especially
when it comes to your love life." He faltered. What did he know about her?
Everything he had said could have easily been picked up by a stranger from
across the street.

"Okay," he said after minute, "Point taken."

"Thank you." Her eyebrow raised skeptically. She didn’t believe him.

"What’s your favorite color?"

"Blue." She smiled inwardly. Twenty questions, one of her favorite or least
favorite games, depending on the topic.

"Favorite movie?"

She thought for a moment. "An Affair to Remember."

He scoffed. "Chic flick. Favorite animal?"

"Horse. When I was younger, my aunt owned a farm about 45 minutes from our
house, and I’d go there whenever I could. She had a mare named Foxglove who I
adopted as my own. I’d spend hours with her, grooming her, riding her--"

"You rode something named Fox?"

"Foxglove, Mulder. And it was a mare. Shut up for a minute. Anyway, Foxy and I
would go out into the woods and ride. I taught her how to jump, she taught me
how to fly. When she died, I sort of distanced myself from horses. I rode
again after a couple of years, but I never really got into it again."

"I can’t believe you rode something named Fox." She glared at him. "Okay,
sorry. How long has it been since you’ve ridden?"

His interest seemed genuine, like he really wanted to know. And his smile just
melted her.

"7 years, at least. I honestly can’t remember the last time I rode." She
sighed. Now that she thought of it, she really missed riding. Missed taking
care of the horses.

"We’ll have to go sometime." That surprised her. She hadn’t pictured Mulder to
do that. Picturing him on top of a horse, however, was a thought to make her
giggle, if she was a giggling person, which she wasn’t.

"Sure, I’d like that." She smiled at him. "So, what’s your favorite color."

 ------------------------------

BEVERLY HILLS PLAZA HOTEL

ROOM 686

2:18 AM

"No way! I never pictured you as the lizard sort of guy."

He grinned. "There are so many things you have yet to learn about me, Rebecca
my dear."

They had been talking for hours, just talking, no more, no less. And she was
enjoying it, more than she cared to admit.

A yawn escaped her, and she raised a hand to cover her open mouth.

"You’re tired. You should sleep, we have a big day ahead of us," he said,
standing up and taking a pillow off of the bed. "I’ll take the floor. ‘Night,
Scully."

She laid back, snuggling into the large fluffy pillow. Before getting to
comfortable, she leaned over and turned off the bedside lamp. "Good night,
Mulder."

For the first time in a great while, Fox Mulder slept without nightmares.

* * * * *

SET OF THE NEWLYWED GAME

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

8:29 AM

"Okay, places everyone!" the director, a slightly balding middle aged man,
hollered.

The set was bustling with life. Makeup people made final touch-ups on people’s
faces, cameramen adjusted their equipment to get the best angle, and Bob
Eubanks shouted out instructions about a latte or something.

Scully sat next to Mulder in their strange-looking seat. Three other couples
did the same, each smiling nervously.

"You ready, Rebecca?" he stage whispered into her ear.

She grinned broadly, putting on her game face. "Of course, Andrew," she hissed
back.

"Okay, action in five, four, three, two, and ONE." Scully scooted closer to
her partner as the cameras began rolling.

"Hello, this is Bob Eubanks, and we’re playing The Newlywed Game. Couple
number one, Jim and Tasha have been married 18 months and are expecting their
first child. Couple number two, George and Jennifer have been married for a
little less than a year. Couple number three, Andrew and Rebecca were wed last
September. Couple number four, Gregory and Alexandria have been married for
nearly two years. Welcome to The Newlywed Game." Scully turned to Mulder and
smiled nervously. He grasped her hand, and for a second, she was shocked. But
then she remembered their cover. She definitely had to remember.

"We ask the ladies to please leave and go to our soundproof room while we ask
the husbands a few questions." Bob Eubanks smiled an incredibly false smile
while he waited for the wives to go offstage.

"Good luck," Scully whispered as she left.

He turned his attention back to the host, who he was determined to keep an eye
on.

‘He is too perky, too happy to be an actual person,’ Mulder thought. ‘Either
that or he was just laid.’

"Gentlemen, what will your wives say is the most important basis in a
relationship, whether it be marital or work related. Love, trust, or
understanding? Greg?"

A young, light haired man contemplated his answer.

"Well, I think Alexia will say that it’s... love that makes the world go
round." Mulder rolled his eyes. The stupid man was trying to use cliches to
impress people. It wouldn’t work.

"So your answer is love?"

"Yes."

"Okay, Andrew, how about you? What do you think your wife will say?"

Mulder felt the bright lights glaring down on him, but he answered without so
much as seconds’ pause.

"Trust."

"Oh really? What makes you think she’ll say that?"

‘Nosey,’ Mulder thought.

"Because Rebecca and I were friends long before we... got involved and before
she could let herself love me, we had to trust each other completely." His
answer was long and thought out, but it was the truth. Trust was the core of
his original and complicated relationship with Scully.

"Good. Jim?"

"I’ll say trust also, Bob," said a dark man, whose black hair was peppered
with gray, and his mustache drooped. His dark eyes were beady and
untrustworthy, suspicious almost.

"Fine. George?"

"Understanding. Jenny and I understand each other perfectly."

"Alright," said Bob, "Next question. Which of you will she say is right more
often, you or her?"

Mulder chuckled. He was never wrong. Not driving anyway.

"Andrew, you go first." It took a moment for him to realize that Bob was
talking to him.

"Me," he said with a uneven grin. Scully might not say that, but he knew it
was the truth. Well, most of the time. Some of the time.

The other men answered the question, each giving a lengthy narrative as to he
and his respective wives’ relationship. Mulder got bored quickly.

These men were trying to describe their marriage in a matter of sentences,
answers to cheap questions. Mulder knew that he could never do that, not with
Scully. Hell, they weren’t even romantically involved, let alone married, and
it would take him days to put into words what they had. The friendship and the
trust barely scraped the surface of what he felt for her.

"Andrew?" Bob Eubanks perpetually young voice interrupted his reverie.

"I’m sorry, what’s the question?"

"How do you complete this sentence. This is you talking. ‘The one sexual
fantasy I have that my wife won’t fulfill involves blank and blank.’" He
thought about it, having absolutely no clue how to answer. He and Scully
hadn’t even kissed, let alone... Trying to imagine what sexual fantasies
Scully wouldn’t do only brought a rather insistent hard-on.

"Uh, whipped cream and handcuffs," he replied, throwing two words into the
air, readjusting position trying to hide his tented pants. The other men
looked at him knowingly. They seemed to be having the same problem. Of course,
for them, it was different. They were married to their wives, the had had sex
with their wives. He hadn’t even kissed his ‘wife’. Sure, he’d had dreams, but
none of which Scully knew about.

The questioning went on.

"Gentlemen, what will your wives say was the name of her first pet? Andrew,
start us off. What was Rebecca’s first pet."

"Well, Bob," he said, smiling widely, "When she was younger, Rebecca’s aunt
had a horse in which she was very fond of and considered her own. The horses’
name was Foxglove, so that’ll be my answer. Foxglove."

Mulder thanked God for small favors. He eyed Bob suspiciously, looking for
some hint of sneaky government involvement. He could always tell with people,
whether they were trustworthy or not, what kind of life they had. That’s what
made him one of the best damn profilers the FBI had.

They broke for a commercial, and wrote down all their answers on cards. The
women rejoined them right before they went back on the air.

As Scully seated herself next to him, he murmured quietly in her ear. "You’ll
love question three."

She looked at him, puzzled, but then smiled for the camera.

"Ladies, welcome back." Bob Eubanks rambled on, but Scully didn’t notice. She
was too busy looking at Mulder.

"Jenny," Scully snapped back to attention. The dreaded questioning had begun.
"What is the basis of your relationship with people, whether marital or work
related? Love, trust or understanding?"

"Um," said a leggy blond, chewing on her lower lip, "Understanding." The look
on her husband’s face brightened. He held up his card.

"Understanding." The two kissed briefly, as the husband dropped his card in
the slot next to their seats.

"Alright, Rebecca, what do you think?"

Thank God it was easy. She and Mulder had this one in the bag, and she knew by
the look on his face that he knew it too.

"Trust."

Mulder held up his card. "Trust, very good," said Bob.

And then he did something totally unexpected. Mulder kissed her. On the lips.
Yes, it was short, and yes, they were merely actors in the roles assigned to
them, but it held a tenderness that she hadn’t felt before.

Realizing that people were watching, the whole nation in fact, she smiled. Not
that she wouldn’t have smiled anyway, of course.

"Next question." Bob said after the others had answered, "Which of you is
right more often, you or your husband?"

Scully could feel Mulder grinning at her, even though she was looking in the
direction of the woman answering the question. His smile was burning into the
back of her neck, as though he finally expected her to succumb and admit that
he was right most of the time.

The host turned to her and Scully swallowed her pride.

"Well, Bob. I think that Andrew will say that he is, only because of his
slightly inflated ego." She grinned coyly at him.

"So what is your answer?"

"Him."

Another right answer, another kiss. Scully was starting to like this system.
Especially the kissing part, although that was not a particular sentiment that
she felt like sharing with her partner. Unless, he felt the same way. But she
doubted that. The only thing Mulder felt for her was friendship, partnership.
Nothing that she hoped for, dreamed about.

"Question three. Finish this sentence. This is your husband talking. ‘The one
sexual fantasy I have that my wife won’t fulfill involves blank and blank.’"
Scully felt the heat rising in the room, and the color rushing to her face.
How the hell was she supposed to know that answer? Mulder’s fantasies?

"Rebecca, what do you think?"

Mulder twitched nervously beside her. He put his hand on her thigh, comforting
her, telling her that this was hard for him too.

"Uh, Carmen Electra and, um," His touch was distracting, surreal. She had to
answer the question, she remembered vaguely. "me," she finished, lowering her
head, letting her hair fall in her face.

"No, I’m sorry. The correct answer was..." Mulder held up his card, "’whipped
cream and handcuffs’."

He smiled reassuringly and leaned to her ear. "You were half right."

Scully’s heart soared. Had he meant her? Or Carmen Electra? Or was it just
their usual sway of innuendo? She didn’t have much time to think about it,
though, because soon another question was being directed her way.

"What was the name of your first pet?"

She smiled. They had gotten lucky, pure and simple, but she was thankful.
"Foxglove, but I called him Fox."

Mulder looked at her, stunned. He held up his card and kissed her again. "I
thought it was a mare and you called her Foxy," he said under his breath.

"I lied," she whispered, equally quiet. They looked at each other, silent
understanding passing between the two. Innuendo suddenly had a new meaning.

She scooted closer, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. It felt good, she
decided, it felt... electric. There was no doubt in her mind who Mulder
fantasized about anymore. That knowledge crowded her mind when Mulder was led
away.

It was the women’s turn for questioning. The cameras were rolling, and the
lights were blinding, but Scully noticed neither one.

* * * * *

SET OF THE NEWLYWED GAME

8:46 AM

When Mulder had returned to his place by her side, Scully’s heart lept into
her throat. They had asked some rather personal questions. Still, in their
brief minutes together while on commercial break, they discovered that neither
had any suspicions above Bob Eubanks, who, on those breaks, was only
accompanied by his meek assistant.

The woman was short, with mousy brown hair, oversized glasses, and no chest
whatsoever. A terribly plain looking woman. Scully was sure that they were
sleeping together.

"Andrew," their host asked, "What does your wife say is the one thing you are
never without?"

"My flashlight," he replied. It was the only other thing, besides his gun and
badge, that the Bureau provided for them. He and Scully must go through 10
flashlights every two weeks. One always ended up being eaten or crushed by
something.

She smiled, a rare Scully smiled, that showed off her radiance. He loved her
smile almost as much as he loved her laugh.

Her card matched his words, and this time, it was she that kissed him. Short,
but sweet, so sweet. He was going to make sure to send Skinner something in
thanks for this assignment.

"Husbands, what did your wives say was her favorite caress? George?"

The other man spoke, his wife’s cheeks becoming slightly pinker. "Well, uh
Bob. Jenny likes it when I slap her ass, does that count?" Mulder had to
stifle the laughter rising in his throat. He looked at Scully, who frowned in
disgust. Her face said it all. A typical male answer, one in which the female
hadn’t written, and surely never would. This guy would be sleeping on the
couch for a week.

The other two men answered, their responses slightly more legitimate, although
only one of them correct. Friendly banter between husband and wife had become
a given when a couple got a question wrong.

"Andrew? What do you think?" Bob turned to him, malice in his eyes. There was
no doubt in Mulder’s mind that this was their guy.

"Well, uh," He couldn’t find the words to describe it, so he demonstrated.
"This."

He cupped Scully’s cheek in his hand, and her face automatically leaned into
him. He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, and smiled at her, silently
saying This is for real, Scully. Don’t rationalize it away.

Scully held up her card, her smile softer now. The card read, ‘When he cups my
face in his hand, and looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world.’

"Final question, gentlemen. What side of the bed gets the most use, north,
south, east, or west? Andrew, start us out." Mulder nodded curtly, then looked
at his partner.

"Uh, east."

"No, I’m sorry, Rebecca said it was the west."

"We’ll have to work on that," he said aloud, grinning at Scully. She smacked
him upside the head.

"Mulder," she hissed in his ear, "Skinner’s taping this."

His smiled faded. Oh shit. They were really gonna hear it in the office on
Monday. Especially from Skinner, who had taken a certain... admiration for
Scully.

"We’ll be right back, with our twenty five point bonus question."

They went to commercial, and the makeup people came out to do touchups. The
mousy woman that was with Bob came up to them, rubbing on blush, and
reapplying Scully’s lipstick.

Mulder read the nametag pinned on the woman’s blouse. "Marci, have you noticed
anything weird going on lately, with Bob? You two seem to spend some time
together."

Scully noticed how nervous the woman appeared, how she tensed when Mulder
asked his question. Maybe she’s covering for him, Scully thought. The woman,
Marci, definitely knew something.

"No. Now if you’ll excuse me, commercial break is almost over." She hurried
away, never looking back.

"Is it just me, Scully, or should we interrogate her later?"

"Yeah, after the show. Now plaster a smile on your face, the cameraman is
glaring at us."

He held up his fingers. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

"Okay, we’re back!" Bob Eubanks squeaked, "Now, the husbands must answer a
final question for twenty-five points. Now, gentlemen, where did you and your
wife go on your first date?"

"Greg and Alexia. You have 25 points, twenty-five will give you fifty and put
you in the lead. What is your response?"

"To a movie."

They were correct. Kisses and hugs were shared. Scully squeezed Mulder’s hand
gently, without even realizing that it was in her grasp.

"Jim and Tasha, you have 20 points, 25 will give you 45, tying you for
second."

They answered incorrectly, giving the man a slap in her face. Scully hid her
amusement, though she privately chuckled. No, Dana Scully didn’t giggle, but
she did chuckle every now and then.

The other couple answered their question right, putting them twenty points
ahead of the agents. Scully knew it wasn’t necessary, but she wanted to win.
She wanted to show up all of these people. Solving the case was important, of
course, it was the reason that they were in this position in the first place,
but Scully desperately wanted to win that ‘second honeymoon’. No, that was
wrong. Scully wanted to get to work.

It was Dana who wanted to spend a week with Mulder in Jamaica.

She had made the distinction a long time ago, when she first joined the
Bureau, in an attempt to separate her work life from her private life.
Therefore, on the job, she was Special Agent Scully, while during her more
personal moments, she was Dana Katherine Scully. Agent Scully wanted to put
the murderer behind bars, and so did Dana, but there was one other thing that
Dana wanted. Mulder. Jamaica didn’t hurt either.

"Andrew and Rebecca. You have 45 points, 25 would give you 70 and make you our
winners. For a lovely trip to Jamaica, what is your answer?"

Mulder had that goofy grin on his face, the one that told the world how
confident he was.

"Oregon, Bob. We went to Oregon."

Scully squeaked and jumped on his lap, kissing him feverishly. Neither heard
Bob congratulating them, and bidding the viewers good bye.

The only thing either felt was the other. Their passionate kissing turned
gentle, tender, almost pleading.

"Wait, Scully. Skinner’s taping--"

"Screw Skinner," she replied, showering him with kisses.

"No thanks," he joked.

"Just kiss me, Andrew."

"Anytime, Rebecca!" And he did.

An hour later, Scully’s little groans echoed through the empty studio as she
and Mulder played with whipped cream and handcuffs, on the east side of the
studio.

* * * * *

SET OF THE NEWLYWED GAME

ONE YEAR LATER

8:31 AM

"Hello, this is Bob Eubanks for The Newlywed Game. Joining us today, are
couple number one, Fox and Dana who have been married for just under a year.
They have one child, a daughter named Samantha--"

Mulder patted Scully’s stomach affectionately, then stroked her cheek, looking
at her as though she was the only woman in the world...

* * * * *

AUTHOR S NOTES: I’m thinking about a sequel to cover the gap and solve the
case, but I’m not sure. It all depends on the feedback I get *hint, hint*.
Also, I know that in the actual Newlywed Game, they only get three questions,
but oh well! I have absolutely no idea where this came from, it just popped
into this little head of mine. Please, I adore feedback. Let me know what you
think. I’m just starting out, so I’d appreciate any kind of constructive
criticism you can offer. Thanks!

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