Title:  To Love Somebody
By:  Tess and Char Chaffin
Category:  Mulder/Other, Mulder/Scully
Rating:  R to NC-17
Spoilers:  "Never Again", "Irresistible", "Gethsemane", "Redux I and II", and 
other spots during season 4 and 5

Disclaimers:  Ours to play with, ours to love - not ours to profit from!

Author's Notes:  At the end!
Feeback:  you know we'd adore it!
Tnv099@aol.com and char@chaffin.com

Summary:   In the midst of attempting to have a normal romance, Mulder's 
escalating feelings for Scully, and her deteriorating health due to her 
advancing cancer, make it impossible for him to commit...



To Love Somebody


~ Prologue ~

"...There's a light - a certain kind of light that's never shone on me..."


"So... tell me about your young man."

"Well, there's not much to tell, Gran.  He's a Federal Agent...
FBI.  I don't know much about his job, yet.  We've been dating about
a month, and it's been fun, so far.  He's very sweet; I think you'd
like him."

"Hmmph.  If you'd ever bring him over so I can meet him... maybe I
could see for myself.  What's he look like?  Handsome?  You deserve
someone handsome, Lillian."

"Gran!  Yes, he's very handsome.  Tall and slender, with dark
brown hair and the loveliest hazel eyes.  Very nice smile. He can be
shy sometimes... and he has this great sense of humor.  He's the kind
of guy you're proud to be seen with, you know?"

"Hazel eyes, huh?  Your grandfather had hazel eyes.  They were so
clear they could make me melt at twenty paces... So.  When's the
wedding?  I'm not getting any younger, y'know."

"GRAN!  We've only gone on maybe four dates!  I haven't even met his
family yet!"

"Well, what's the hold-up, eh?  You're not getting any younger
either, Lilly.  I'd like to hold a few great-grandkids in my arms
once before I die.  You're my only granddaughter, my love... don't
make me wait too long."

"For heaven's sake, Gran... you're only seventy!  And you run rings
around all of us, even me!  Look, I have to go.  I've got a lunch
date.  I promise we'll come over, maybe this weekend, okay?  You'll
get to meet him, if he's agreeable.  As I said, it's early days
still; I don't want to jinx this.  He could end up being somebody
very important in my life.  I'll let you know, okay?  But right now
I'm running late.  I don't want to keep Fox waiting..."

I remember that conversation as if it happened yesterday, instead of
over two years ago... we'd only just begun getting to know
one another and I was eager and needy and trying so hard to hide it. 
Fox was the first man I had dated in a long time that made me feel as
if anything could be possible in my life.  And don't get me wrong;
these last few years have been wonderful.  Fox is wonderful.  He's
romantic and loving and funny and just so sweet.  Sometimes my
feelings for him make me ache.  I fell in love with him on our third
date, and after two years I am no closer to knowing for sure if he
loves me in return.

Oh, I know he cares for me a great deal.  I can feel it in the way
he touches me, makes love to me.  A woman can tell when a man
cherishes her - and Fox cherishes me.  

But, love?  Oh, I just don't know... once, about six months ago, I
thought maybe he'd say it.  Maybe, I'd finally hear the words.

He'd taken me to a little country inn outside of Boston, for the
weekend.  It was my thirtieth birthday, and he'd devoted the entire
weekend to making me happy.  We'd gone out to dinner and dancing; had
gone hiking in the hills and had made love out under the stars.   I
had come so close to telling him, saying those words to him.  I'd
held them inside for a very long time, wanting so much to tell him
but always not quite finding the right moment - not feeling the right
vibe from Fox.  It was as if a piece of him was cooler than the rest;
as fiercely as he could give me physical love, that cool piece edged
out the vital words I'd been expecting to hear, after we'd both
collapsed against each other and our bodies cooled in the night.  

This particular weekend was no different...

We'd gone dancing again, and we'd both had one too many.  We'd
walked back to the inn and on the way there we'd found a little copse
of trees far away from the lights of the inn and the security lamps
dotting some of the lanes.  A small circle of the night sky was
visible above the close-knit leafy tree-tops, and it was here that
Fox laid me on the cool grass and removed my clothes, kissing each
bared spot of skin tenderly. He'd used his hands and his beautiful
lips to stroke me and caress my skin until I was on fire with it,
with the need to scream aloud my love for him.  He'd parted my thighs
and slipped between them with one long, smooth glide of hard silky
flesh, and had buried himself so deeply within me that I could feel
him touch my soul.  To me, it had to be love; what else could it be? 
With every thrust I felt he was calling to me, telling me of his
devotion.  He wouldn't make such exquisite love to just any woman;
this I could not believe.  All that passionate tenderness; the wealth
of reverence I could sense in each touch of his trembling fingertips,
as he drove harder, and deeper... The way his mouth clung to mine and
his tongue copied each delicious movement of his body... 

He had to love me.  He had to.  And he'd tell me; this time Fox
would say the words...

"Lilly... God.  It was wonderful... you are wonderful.  Thank you
for coming with me... thank you."

I lay underneath his warm body in the cool summer night and wondered
why, after having given me so much of himself, Fox Mulder couldn't
bring himself to say those few simple words that would make my world
complete.

Six months later I am still wondering.

****************


~ Chapter One ~

I used to think that someday, when I got what I wanted in life, I
would be happy.  I'd treasure these things, cherish them, and never
again complain that life is not fair to me.  When my maturity came
and stretched out to accommodate my advancing years, and I not only
didn't get what I wanted out of life but still searched for those
things I'd lost - such as my sister - I became resigned to not living
that ideal life.  

I didn't seem fated to meet somebody, fall in love and make a future
filled with babies and PTA.  I had wanted that for so long; wanted to
improve upon the legacy my parents had left in the world, under the
name of Mulder.  Maybe by finding my way in that idyllic world I
could somehow atone for losing my sister - and the respect of my
father.  I would protect my family, and I would treat my son so
wonderfully...

In the meantime I had a job and a partner who was also my friend -
who also seemed to have an abbreviated personal life - and in between
cases and mutants and annoying Assistant Directors, I could sometimes
convince myself that I was moderately not unhappy.

I guess I just wanted the normal life that other men seemed to
enjoy.  I'd look around at some of the other agents, the ones who had
wives and families.  They went to work every day and fought the
criminal demons just as Scully and I fought; the only difference I
could see for us centered around the X-Files, and all they
represented.  And that was very daunting, to be sure.  But still...
why couldn't we be right up there with normalcy?  Yes, we both had
our share of excess baggage - certainly I had more than Scully.  I
had a lost sister and a murdered father and a shell-shocked mother. 
I had nightmares and insomnia and no outlet for my physical needs,
save a few well-worn videos for which I was forever denying
ownership.  I had fish, instead of a dog.  I had a Taurus and
expensive suits instead of a dirt bike or a Jeep, and falling-off-the-
legs-jeans and holey tee shirts.  I had a smooth face instead of a
beard.  I frequently suffered from headaches instead of heartburn
from too many hot dogs at the game... 

So when, during what appeared to be the busiest time in my Spooky
little life, I met Lillian... I grabbed for that normal with both
eager hands.  I wanted to be Joe Average, taking his girl out to
dinner and a movie.  And I did just that, with Lillian.  Movies and
ball games, long dinners whenever I could swing it - weekends in the
park.  I did it - and I tried hard to remember that on my time I
could be that regular guy.  I never talked shop with her; she knew I
had a partner named Dana Scully, and that was about it.  I really
tried...

It took me two years to understand that as long as I worked the X-
Files, I would never be Mr. Average.  That as long as I had in my
possession a Fed ID and a Taurus and a fucking Sig hanging out of my
jacket - and knowledge of all things X... Joe was just a figment of
my overzealous imagination.  That as long as I had a partner whose
back I watched and whose friendship meant so much to me - and whose
demands on my time were legitimate and consuming and necessary, a
relationship with any woman would have to be damned unique.

But two years ago, I'd sure as hell tried.

I met Lillian in a Starbuck's of all places.  I rarely went there on
the weekends, but one pre-winter Saturday I'd had a craving for a
vanilla latte, and had found myself standing in a long line,
patiently awaiting my turn.  Next to the last in line, and I was very
near the door; consequently when it suddenly flew open on a gust of
winter wind and the woman who came in with the wind literally blew
into my arms... I'd done the gentlemanly thing and had helped her to
keep her feet while we both struggled to shut the door. Her smile
flashed up at me and for that one second I'd felt warmer than I'd
felt in a long time.  She'd beamed at me; I had never seen anyone
beam before - but that's just what she did.

"Thank you very much!  Nothing like a little brisk wind to knock you
over!"  She had a soft, high voice; not a little girl tone but she
would never be able to sing "Old Man River", either. I found myself
staring openly at her - very impolite, I realize.  But it had been so
long since a woman had just fallen into my arms, with the
circumstances owing nothing to on-the-job hazard.

I saw pale brown, shoulder-length hair, waterfall-straight and cut to
frame her pretty face.  Brown eyes, and a very sweet smile.  Lillian
wasn't too tall and wasn't too thin - nicely rounded, would be a good
way to describe her.  In a world of flashy, leggy flamingoes I guess
you could call her a soft, cute little robin.  And I'd seen enough
leggy flamingoes to last me a while... Lillian was suddenly very
attractive to me.

I'd offered her my place in line and she thanked me; I stood behind
her and inhaled her delicate perfume and tried not to stare at the
back of her shiny hair.  When she'd turned to face me and had started
up a conversation I joined in, willingly.  We'd talked about the
early feel of winter and the puddle in front of Starbuck's that had
drenched both our feet, and the way prices on gas had skyrocketed
lately.  She got her order first and found a table; by the time I'd
paid for mine and turned around all the tables were taken and I just
figured I'd drink and drive, when her soft voice spoke up from a side
table overlooking the parking lot.

"Would you care to join me?"  She'd smiled up at me and I had smiled
down at her and murmured a thanks, then sat down opposite her and
sipped my latte very slowly, as she did with her brownie frapp.  We'd
exchanged names and occupations; Lillian's last name was Maxwell and
she worked as an accountant at a law firm just a few miles from my
office.  She'd asked about my job and I'd told her as little as
possible - and downplayed it, as well.

"Oh... I work for the Federal government.  Nothing big - I do
profiling for the FBI."  Well, that was a half-truth; I did profile
and I did work for the FBI.  Lillian was suitably impressed and said
as much, while I shrugged and made it seem as though the work I did
was boring and average.

An hour had come and gone before I realized it.  I knew I had to
leave - and I also knew with sudden certainty that I wanted nothing
more than to see her again.  I stood and shook her hand and didn't
let go of it right away, while I asked her out to dinner.  I said
words that I had not said in years to a woman...

"Would you have dinner with me?"  Simple words, the simplest in
fact.  Men used these words every day of their lives, all over the
world.  Most men.  Fox Mulder usually took it for granted that when
dinner came around he'd either be eating alone, or he'd be closeted
in the office, or in a motel room somewhere, hunched over a laptop
with his partner - eating cold pizza or bad Chinese takeout and
courting indigestion.  And I never had to ask Scully because it was
always a given that if we were stuck working a case after hours there
would be takeout of some sort and we would be sharing it.

"I'd love to, Fox."  

She'd called me 'Fox'.  How long had it been since a pretty woman
accepted my formal dinner invitation, AND called me Fox?  How long
had it been since I had allowed another woman to even call me Fox? 
Maybe that was the real question.  Obviously only one woman was
allowed to call me Mulder... and suddenly I needed to differentiate
between my best friend and a potential date-mate.  I got her address
and I went home to live out the rest of my day, until I could dress
for dinner and pick Lillian up.  

That first dinner was wonderful and strange and I never wanted it to
end.  Lillian wore pale pink and looked soft and pretty and very
touchable.  We ate a leisurely dinner and talked about everything -
well, I guess I listened more than talked, at first.  She told me
about the dry-as-dust law firm she worked for and the fact that she'd
been orphaned as a toddler and raised by her grandmother.  I told her
about my apartment in Arlington.  She told me about her hobbies and
about her cat Mange and about her childhood wish to be a world-famous
author.  I told her about my fish.  She told me, in one evening of
much talking, about some of her deepest, fondest wishes.  And after
three hours of her revealing all to me and of me giving up squat in
return... I finally told her a little about Scully.

"Yes, I do have a partner.  Many FBI agents are paired up when they
do investigative fieldwork.  Her name is Dana Scully.  We've been
partners for over two years."  I'd sipped my coffee and waited for
the curiosity, but Lillian's response was politely inquiring.

"I'll bet it's nice to have a partner to share the workload."  She'd
smiled at me over her own coffee cup and her words made me feel
relieved that I didn't have to say any more than that... Just a
female partner named Dana Scully, who watched my back and kept me on
track and in balance and reeled me in when I ran amok - and who
shared cold pizza and bad Chinese in seedy motels during some of the
worst cases in FBI history.  A partner, and a friend.

I wondered if she'd like Lillian.

I wondered if Lillian would like her... and at that moment there was
never any question that I would not ask this charming woman for
another date - or that she would not become someone important to me. 
It was a given, I think - after that first date.  I'd taken her home
after a really enjoyable evening, and had kissed her cheek at her
door; had turned to go - and then I'd turned back, to where she'd
stood in the door watching me leave.  I'd taken one step back to her
and had leaned into her and had cupped a hand under her chin, holding
her in place for the kiss I placed on her pink lips.  I'd kissed
Lillian very slowly and very softly and she'd kissed me back - and
when I raised my head and looked into her face her eyes were glowing -
for me.

I liked it.  I'd missed it; that look a woman gives when she's just
been kissed, and her entire being is soft and open and everything is
just... nice.  Actually, maybe I'd never had it, not quite in that
manner.  I just knew I liked it - and I wanted it.  I'd had a taste
of normal, and if I had my way there would be more than just a taste
in my future.

********************** 

I've had more than two years of normal.

It's been great, it really has.  Knowing Lillian has been one of the
best things in my oftentimes-sorry life.  She is incredibly sweet and
kind and never has a bad word to say about anyone.  We decided early
on to maintain our own places, both of us independent enough to need
our own space.  Right from the beginning we spent so much time
together it didn't really matter.  

Lillian has always been very tolerant of my sometimes-erratic work
schedule, and the great hanks of time when I have to be away on a
case.  Over the past few years I have been able to explain to her
some of what Scully and I have to face on the job - and while she
doesn't pretend to understand, I think she has a healthy respect for
the work we do.  She and Scully have met frequently over the past two
years and they get along.

They aren't friends, but they get along.  Honestly I'd expected
less and hoped for more.  Let's face it - my relationship with Dana
Scully would be a difficult thing for a lot of women to accept.  The
first time it was brought home to me that I would have to sometimes
put my partner before my girlfriend, came just a few months after we
started dating.

Another horrible case, worse than many but not as bad as I had a
sinking feeling we would face in the sometime future; Satan in the
form of a monstrous serial killer with a fetish for the hair and
fingernails of his dead victims.  He went after Scully and I barely
made it to her in time; barely saved her.  Donnie Pfaster was carted
off and I took Scully back to the hotel; she'd fallen apart on the
drive over and there wasn't a way in Hell I was leaving her alone in
her room.  Her shaky, repeated vow of, "I'm fine, Mulder," cut no ice
whatsoever - not this time.  I knew better.  I'd held her, trembling
violently in the wake of what had almost ended her life in the most
brutal fashion, and had thought about how close I'd come to losing
my partner and my best friend.  

I think I shook a bit that night, myself.

She'd had two nightmares; after the first one I'd given up trying to
sleep in the chair next to the bed and had climbed in beside her,
propping myself up against a couple of pillows, and held her head
cradled in my lap.  Her tears had soaked through the leg of my jeans
and she'd gripped my hand so hard it felt as if she'd broken my
fingers - but Scully had finally fallen asleep.  I'd winnowed my
spare fingers through her hair and kept watch over her for the rest
of the night.  It was the right thing to do, I'd told myself. She'd
done the same for me in the past; it was what good partners did for
each other.  And good friends.  We'd get up the next morning and find
a place to eat a quick breakfast, and we'd fly back to D.C. - and put
all of this mess behind us.  

In the meantime I'd forgotten to call Lillian and let her know what
had happened, why I'd had to leave town on almost no notice.  It was
really the first time it had happened, and of course I was angry with
myself for not thinking. I'd resolved to call her first thing in the
morning...

***************

"Hi, Lilly - it's me."  I'd smiled at the relieved tone in her soft
voice, coming at me over the receiver.

"Fox!  I've been so worried - are you all right?"  I cradled the
phone against my shoulder and peeped in on Scully; she was still
sleeping.  I partially-closed the bathroom door and spoke low into
the mouthpiece.

"I'm fine, really.  I feel terrible about not calling sooner - but
this is the first chance I have had.  I've been out of town on
a case..."  And as briefly as possible I'd told her some of what had
happened, during the case.  I told her a little about Pfaster and his
attack on Scully.  Lillian had been horrified; up until that point
she'd really had no idea just how dangerous our jobs were.

"My God, Fox!  Is Dana all right?  Did that animal hurt her?" 
Lillian was horrified, and rightly so.  She was an accountant in an
old, established law firm and events like this were as far-removed
from her daily arena as they were commonplace in mine, and Scully's. 
My new girlfriend was a gentle soul and still fairly innocent of the
more foul side of the human existence... I hastened to assure her of
Scully's safety.

"She's going to be fine, Lilly.  She's scraped up and shaken up but
he didn't have a chance to do any more than that.  I got to her in
time."  I'd sighed under my breath and rubbed at my tired eyes,
thinking suddenly about all the times I had 'gotten to her' in
time - and the one time I had not.  And as if Lillian could read my
mind, her soft voice had resonated in my ear, sympathy in her tone.

"There's a lot more to your job than I'd been led to believe, isn't
there, Fox?  I have a feeling, somehow - that you two are in a lot
more danger, on a regular basis, than you have let on.  I guess I
assumed that FBI agents spent most of their time doing investigation,
in a safe little office."  There was resignation in her words and I'd
sighed again, knowing that this was a critical place for us.  I
wanted this relationship to work, I really did.  I sank down onto the
rim of the bathtub and attempted to explain further.

"We do push pencils, and investigate from our office, Lillian.  We
do a lot of that.  But Scully and I are assigned to a special project
that deals with the unexplained cases, the ones that no one can solve
or understand.  We deal with the kind of danger that a lot of other
agents couldn't handle - and we sometimes get caught right in the
middle of it, the way we did with this Pfaster asshole.  Both of us
get hurt, sometimes.  It's part of the job.  We're good at what we do
and that's because we work together and trust each other and are
loyal partners to each other."  I'd stopped to take a deep breath,
suddenly knowing that her acknowledgment and acceptance of my next
words would dictate whether or not we had any sort of future together
as a couple. 

"Look... there will be times when a case comes up and Scully and I
have to take off and just go.  We spend a lot of time together on the
road more often than not.  For some reason we'd had a lull in between
cases, which does happen but it's rare - and that's why I've been
more or less rooted in the office for the past couple of months.  And
the few stakeouts and cases we've been involved with didn't take us
out of town and that's why we seemed like office-bound agents to you.
I assure you it's not the norm for us."  

"Well, then... what IS the 'norm' for you?"  I could tell Lillian
was trying to be understanding.  I reached out my free hand for the
bathroom door and shut it completely, before answering.

"Pfaster is normal for us, Lillian.  Mutants like Pfaster are what
we face, most of the time.  Our division is called the X-Files, as in
'unexplained'.  And unfortunately the dregs of society can sometimes
be the cream of the crop in our line of work.  I won't sugar-coat
what we do, Lillian - and I won't deny that there will be times, like
tonight... when Scully comes first.  She is my partner and she
watches my back just as I watch hers.  She has saved my life several
times already - actually, more than I can count - and when she needs
me I go.  She does the same for me."  

My voice had petered out as the silence on the line threatened to
overwhelm me.  Had I managed to make her understand, and accept?  I'd
really hoped so, for it was very important to me that Lillian and
Scully understand their placement in my life - and just the fact that
I was offering up to Lillian a piece of myself said reams about the
way my romance with her was heading - and it had only been a few
months.

"Fox... it's okay.  No, I don't understand it all but I think your
loyalty to your partner is admirable and must be maintained.  I'm not
going anywhere... I promise..."

Her words had made me smile in relief. She'd understood; it was
going to work out.

****************

As much as facing monsters like Pfaster had become almost
commonplace for Scully and me, and did not frighten me... the day
Scully collapsed in my apartment, right in front of me, and
Lillian... I thought I'd lose my mind.  On that frightening day I'd
known it was bad when I'd seen the blood dripping from her nose, and
I'd been in a panic. Holding her limp body in my arms; calling to
her, then shouting to Lillian to call 911, I tasted the worst sort
of fear, that day.

Scully had been quiet lately; more tired than usual and less
inclined to linger at the end of the day when our work was done and
we usually sat in the office and shot the shit for a few before
taking off for home. But we'd had a falling out, of sorts - and over
a month later we were still tiptoeing around each other because of
it.  Maybe during that time she'd been brooding on her health, or
worrying about any number of things that she refused to share with
me.  I honestly don't know.  Sometimes Scully was harder to read than
anyone I'd ever known.  She would get touchy about things that I just
did not understand.  And she'd get cool to the point of almost frost.
When that occurred she'd knock down my theories with barely-concealed
contempt, which would result in pissing me off and making me even
more determined to play the jerk, just to get her goat.  Sometimes
I'd figure out why, right away - and sometimes it would not hit me
until months later.  
  
This was one of those times when I knew nothing until it was almost
too late...

But back to the falling-out.  I guess I'd let it show in my demeanor
and in my general outlook on life, that I was happy, for the first
time in a damned long time.  I had a girlfriend and life was very
good.  Lillian was wonderful to be with, affectionate and easygoing
and so very sweet... we had been together two years and it was the
longest romantic relationship I'd ever managed to maintain.  I was
proud of that, and although I didn't flaunt my relationship or rub it
in, neither did I keep quiet around Scully.  As I'd said, she and
Lillian had met several times.  I liked being happy - and I wanted
nothing more than for Scully to be happy - to find someone - the way
I had.  But she hadn't, yet - and if her solitude made her terse or
grouchy I tried to be empathetic, for I'd been there myself.

On the morning I came into the office after a great night with
Lillian and found that I was expected to use a week of vacation, or
lose eight weeks' worth of vacation money... force of habit had made
me try fighting it.  I didn't want to be away right now; I had a case
to work.  I could sense things were not right between Scully and me
but I didn't know why, and I didn't want to be away from our
partnership either.  It worried and bothered me though I did my best
not to let on.  I finally gave in when I realized I could use a week -
away from it all, with Lillian if she could get the time off.

Why the hell not?

So I took Lillian with me on a pilgrimage to Graceland and I had a
great time, but found myself thinking about Scully up in Philly by
herself working my case; worrying about her and the case... well,
mostly about her.  The odd attitude she'd had just before I'd left,
and the frigidly polite tone she'd used with Lillian when she'd come
by to pick me up.  It's true Scully had never gushed over Lillian,
but up until that point she had at least been polite.

I called Scully a couple of times while I was gone and I could hear
it in her voice, that something was wrong.  She tried to hide it but
I could feel it, and I let those feelings get in the way of my
enjoyment of sharing my special place with Lillian.  I think Lillian
could feel it as well - but she never asked... and when I heard about
Ed Jerse I about flipped.  I'd never felt so angry, at what I
perceived to be Scully's carelessness for herself and for her own
safety.  At the time I never asked her why she'd been so on the edge
that a walk on the wild side with a dangerously unbalanced stranger
had seemed a good thing to do.  I only knew I was hurt, deeply hurt -
and the why of that confused the hell out of me.  And of course in my
inimitable, tactful way I was 'kind' enough to let her know.

"All this because I didn't get you a desk...?"  Yes, I was stupid
enough to ask Scully that question, upon my return from vacation and
her return from the hospital - and the hurt my careless remark caused
her was plain to see on her face.  And she was absolutely right; at
that moment it was all about her and nothing about me.  But I wasn't
to know that, yet - and I think Scully was only beginning to know
it.  

When she finally knew for certain; as certain as she could be... her
revelation shook me to my very core and for the first time in my life
I was very, very afraid.


"Scully!  Jesus!  SCULLY!"  I held her, pale and lifeless in my
hands; her fingers were like ice.  Lillian rushed to call 911 and I
held my partner in my arms and tried to rouse her; tried to stem the
steady stream of blood coming from her nose.  I was in a wild panic,
trying to imagine what was wrong with her.  She'd been waxy-pale and
on the shaky side all day long; I'd finally convinced her to go home
early, thinking maybe she'd been coming down with a cold.  And I'd
just let Lillian in and had kissed her hello when Scully knocked on
my door and I opened it to find her pale face looking up at me,
almost swaying on her feet.  She'd had a thick sheaf of files in her
hands that she'd held out to me, standing in the open doorway.

"Mulder, you left these on the desk..." That was all she'd gotten
out before her eyes had rolled up in her head and she'd pitched
forward.

*********************
end of chapter one


~ Chapter Two ~

Skinner had called Mulder up to his office to go over a few
questionable items on our latest expense report and I was taking
advantage of the respite from pretending that I was feeling fine. 
Mulder would be leaving shortly to spend the weekend with Lillian in
Virginia to attend her cousin's wedding.  I knew that Mulder was
worried about leaving me behind...

It was at times such as this one that I regret having come to lean
on him so heavily.  But the truth is that throughout these last few
months when I have been so ill, Mulder is the only one I can bear to
have around.  My mother worries and her fear is a palpable thing. 
She overcompensates by cooking enormous meals for me and by wrapping
me in sweaters and blankets, clucking at me to stay warm.   Mulder
worries and is afraid too, but he works hard at maintaining a calm
exterior.  He tempts me with takeout, but never pushes me to eat when
I can't and he wraps me in the warmth of his presence, which is more
comforting to me than any blanket or pain pill the doctors can
prescribe.

Over these last months our partnership and our friendship has
sustained me through the darkest of hours.  When the pain and the
fear threaten to overwhelm me, he is there to soothe and support me. 
His deep voice rumbling in my ear assures me that I am not going
through all of this alone.  And when my resolve is not enough to hold
me upright, when the pain drives me to my knees to vomit in wretched
misery... when the headache pounding behind my eyes becomes
intolerable, it is Mulder who makes it bearable.

I have had good days and bad since I was diagnosed with this
inoperable tumor.  This past week had been a good one and Mulder and
I took advantage of my spurt of energy by getting out of the office
and following up on some leads for a case that had come across our
desks.  Today, however, I could not claim to be in good health
although I put on the performance of a lifetime to convince Mulder
otherwise.  He deserves a weekend away from worry and sickness.  He
deserves to spend some time wrapping his arms around his girlfriend
instead of around a dying woman.  And so I spent the day
surreptitiously sneaking my pain meds and ruthlessly pushing down the
bile that burned at the back of my throat.   With Mulder temporarily
gone, I indulged my weakness by hiding my face in the curve of my arm
where it lay atop my desk.  I peered at my watch and rubbed my
fingertips against my aching forehead and was tiredly contemplating
the thirty remaining minutes of my performance before Mulder would
leave for the weekend when I heard the door slide open and Lillian
stepped into the office.

"Oh, Dana," she said in a softly apologetic voice.  "I decided to
leave the office early to pick up Fox so that he wouldn't have to
drive all the way across town to get me," she explained.  "Your
office is so much closer to the interstate than mine."  I raised my
head and tried to focus on her nervous chatter.  She leaned against
Mulder's desk and her hands fidgeted with some of the pencils propped
up in the cup on the top of the desk as her uneasy gaze finally
settled on my face.  I knew the very second when Lillian had
catalogued all of the changes the cancer had wrought in my appearance
as I saw pity darken her warm, brown eyes and I was taken back to the
first time I had met her...

About a month after the Pfaster case, she had popped into the
office, surprising Mulder and me.  I had known that Mulder had begun
seeing someone - he had told me about the pretty, young woman he had
met in Starbucks a few months earlier.  I had risen from my chair
when Mulder guided her to  where I was sitting to make the
introductions.

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Dana," Lillian had said in her soft, high voice.  
"Fox has told me so much about you."  I murmured my pleasure at meeting her and 
threw an  arched brow Mulder's way.  My mind flashed back to the early days of 
our partnership when he had uncomfortably stopped me from calling him by his 
first name by telling me that he even made his parents call him by his surname.  
After my abduction, I had spent fruitless weeks trying to convince my mother to 
abide by his wishes and to stop calling him Fox, but deep down, I knew that he 
had not been truthful with me.  And as Lillian stood in his office, gazing at 
him with soft eyes and using his given name in an even softer voice, it dawned 
on me that Mulder had expertly established the groundwork for our relationship 
in the first weeks and months of our association.  I had been firmly slotted 
into the role of partner and buddy.  In those early days I played the part of 
'one of the boys' and as our relationship deepened and grew it never occurred to 
me to call him by any other name.  Mulder was my partner.  Mulder was my best 
friend.  I didn't know Fox.  I had never met him and until the moment I laid 
eyes on Lillian, I didn't realize that he even existed...

For Dana had died at the hands of the faceless men of my tormentors
in the harsh lights of that boxcar and I had been reborn as Scully. 
Little remained of the young woman I had been when I was assigned to
the X-Files.  Dana had died so that Scully might live to work with
Mulder; to fight with Mulder to uncover the truth; to protect and
defend him against those who would seek to harm him, as Mulder sought
to protect and defend me.  Our friendship was my reward for the
sacrifice of family and friends; of peace and innocence.

I was drawn back to the present by the soft lilting of Lillian's
voice as she gently inquired about my health.  I was spared from
making another bald-faced lie that day by the sound of Mulder's feet
beating a familiar tattoo down the hallway from the elevator.  A
moment later he stepped into the office and a smile lit up his face,
smoothing out the tired lines that I had become so familiar with over
the last few weeks as his eyes landed on Lillian's bright and happy
face.  Mulder smoothed a hand over her shining hair and dropped a
quick kiss on her upturned lips and openly admired the pretty, floral
dress that swirled around her ankles.  I plopped back into my chair,
suddenly conscious of the clothes hanging from my spare frame as I
fingered the brittle, dry ends of my own hair.  I had been so pleased
that the cancer treatments had not resulted in the loss of my hair,
but faced with Lillian's fresh, wholesome, healthy appeal, I was
reminded that the cancer was not only growing inside of me but was
evident in the ravages to my appearance.

I watched the sparkle dim in Mulder's eyes as they slid from
Lillian's face to mine and the lines reappear around his eyes and
above his nose.  Licking my dry lips, I stood and began to stuff
papers into my briefcase, deliberately looking at my watch.

"If you two want to beat the weekend traffic, you'd better leave
now," I advised briskly, an expectant look plastered on my face. 
Lillian smiled and began to draw Mulder across the room.

"Have a good weekend, Dana," she said gently.  I smiled in reply and
lifted my brows as Mulder stopped in front of me.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asked, worriedly studying my face.
I sighed in mock exasperation and threw a rueful glance toward
Lillian who was waiting serenely for Mulder to make his goodbyes.

"I'll be fine, Mulder," I assured him.  "Go on," I urged.  "You'll
be late."  I nodded toward the door.  I knew he was torn between
wanting to spend some time alone with Lillian and the fierce need he
had to take care of me and I summoned a bright, reassuring smile for
his benefit.

"Do you need a ride home?" he asked.  I shook my head.

"I have my car," I told him.

"You promise to take it easy this weekend?" he pleaded.  "Rest. 
Eat..."  I nodded patiently as he ran through a laundry list of do's
and don'ts for me.

"I'll leave my phone on.  Call me if you need me," he urged.  I poked two 
fingers into his chest.

"Turn the cell off during the ceremony, Mulder," I told him crisply.
"It's rude to have a ringing phone in the middle of a wedding." 
Lillian and I shared a look of feminine frustration but Mulder
continued to glare at me stubbornly.

I blew out a long-suffering sigh and ran the tip of my index finger
over my heart in a tiny cross.  "I'll be good," I vowed.  "Cross my
heart."  Mulder smiled at the childish gesture and leaned down to
brush his lips over my cheek.

"Call me, if you need me," he stressed and this time I nodded,
silently promising to call upon him if the need arose.  Mollified,
Mulder straightened and reached out for Lillian's hand, leading her
from the room.  Straining to hear the sound of the elevator doors
opening and closing, I slumped back into my chair and stared at the
empty doorway and contemplated the long, lonely weekend that
stretched out before me.

***************** 

I stifled a sigh when I saw Fox pull his cell phone from his pocket
and peer at the illuminated screen for what was easily the twentieth
time tonight.  The moment the wedding ceremony was over and we had
cleared the receiving line, he had stepped out of the church and
quickly thumbed the phone's power button back on.

I smoothed my fingers over my upswept hair, and took a sip of wine
as I tried to focus my attention on my cousin, Marian, who was
animatedly bringing me up to date on the antics of her three-year-old
twin boys while I ruthlessly buried the twinge of anxiety caused by
the man standing next to me who was obviously a million miles away -
or to be more precise - whose mind was one hundred and twelve miles
north in D.C.

Fox had been distracted throughout the ceremony and had barely
touched the delicious meal during the reception.  The band had been
playing for almost forty minutes and he had yet to ask me to dance. 
I had hoped that this weekend away would be a chance for us to spend
some time alone together.  Ever since Dana had been diagnosed with
cancer, Fox had been preoccupied and moody.  I understood his concern
and I tried not to begrudge Dana the time that Fox spent with her. 
At night, if he was not at her apartment, I offered him the comfort
of my embrace.  I used soft words and gentle hands to soothe the
tension and fear from his body.  His best friend was dying and there
was nothing he could do to stop it.

Marian indicated that she was going to the ladies room.  Picking up
my purse from the table, I leaned toward Fox.  "I'll be right back,"
I whispered into his ear.  His head jerked toward me and his eyes
were clouded and troubled and I knew at that moment that he wasn't
seeing me.  He shook his head slightly and his eyes cleared and
crinkled at the corners when he smiled.  He stood politely as Marian
and I rose from our seats and brushed his lips across my cheek.

"Hurry back," he murmured softly as he sank back into his chair.  I
nodded and followed Marian across the room.  As we skirted the dance
floor, I glanced toward our table and found Fox's chair empty.  My
eyes swept across the room and I saw him striding toward the door,
cell phone in hand.  He was already speaking into the phone as he
pushed open the door and stepped out onto the patio.

"Is Fox expecting an important call?" Marian asked as we settled
onto the plush stools in front of the lit vanity.  She drew a small
comb from her purse and was looking at me curiously in the mirror as
she lightly rearranged a few mussed tendrils of hair.

"His partner - his best friend is very sick," I explained, pulling a
compact from my purse and dusting powder over my nose and forehead. 
"Cancer," I said by way of further explanation.  Marian made a
sympathetic face.

"Poor Fox," she commiserated.  "Have they been partners a very long
time?" she asked.  I nodded and carefully outlined my lips with lip
liner.

"Over four years," I told her as I put down the liner and lifted a
tube of lipstick.  Marian shook her head and dug through her bag for
a small bottle of perfume.

"I guess they're almost like brothers," she said guilelessly as she
dabbed her wrists with the delicate fragrance.  She looked up and
flashed a quick grin into the mirror.  "At least that's the way they
make it seem in the movies and on television."  I frowned and stroked
the berry-colored lipstick over my lips.

"His partner is a woman," I said, reaching for a tissue and blotting
my lips.  My frown deepened and I shook my head as Marian now
directed a pitying look at me and what I could only imagine she
thought was my silly naiveté.  I snapped my purse closed and stood. 
"You're wrong," I told her as I slipped the delicate gold chain of my
purse strap over my shoulder.  "It's not like that." I pushed the door open and 
stepped out of the room.

It's not like that, I repeated to myself as I made my way past the
dance floor and through the tables of the hotel's ballroom.  Fox's
seat was still empty and my eyes darted toward the doors leading out
to the patio.  I had watched Fox and Dana together for more than two
years now and I had never, not even in the earliest days, suspected
that there was anything more between them than a deep and loving
friendship.  Over the years, I had found Dana to be an intensely
private person and I had accepted the fact that we would never be
great friends.  But I also accepted that she was a vital part of
Fox's life and always would be.  

Marian had no idea what she was talking about...  I shook my head
slightly and chided myself for allowing her to raise suspicions that
I knew had no foundation.  I resolutely put her pitying look out of
my mind and stepped into the cool night air.  Fox had his back to me
and was leaning against the wrought iron railing, staring sightlessly
into the darkness.

"How is she?" I asked, laying a gentle hand on his arm.  Startled,
Fox lifted his head to look at me.  "Dana," I said quietly, glancing
toward the cell phone still clutched in his hand.  "How is she
feeling?"  Fox smiled softly and I knew that my concern for Dana's
well-being pleased him.  His smile quickly faded and he turned to
lean his hips against the railing.

"She says she's fine..." he began; I heard an underlying note of
disgust in his voice.  I tilted my head to one side and folded my
arms across my chest.

"But you don't believe her?" I asked cautiously, rubbing my hands
over the chilled skin of my bare arms.  Fox blew out an exasperated
breath and shook his head.

"No, she always says she's fine," he told me.  He wore a look of
agitation and I cast about desperately for some way to comfort him.

"That's not true," I told him slowly.  He looked at me quizzically
and for a moment I thought he was going to tell me that I had no idea
what I was talking about.  Instead he held out one hand, indicating
that I should continue.

"It seems to me that Dana has been very honest about her health."  I
carefully choose the right words.  I took a step closer and laid my
hand on his chest, my fingers rubbing against the expensive silk of
his tie.  "She calls you when she needs your help," I added.  Fox
closed his eyes and nodded slowly and I knew that he was remembering
the phone calls and the doctor's visits that he had accompanied her
to.  

I tugged on his tie and his head jerked up - he looked at me for what
seemed like the first time since we left his office yesterday.  "It's
chilly out here," I complained softly.  "Let's go inside," I
suggested.  Fox nodded and absently chafed his hands over my bare
arms.

"You haven't danced with me all night," I reminded him.  He raised
his eyes and looked over my head at the couples swaying on the dance
floor.

"Lilly," he said in a funny, formal tone.  "May I have the pleasure
of this dance?"  I smiled happily and linked my arm through his and
allowed him to lead me inside.

*************** 

Later that night, I stroked my hands over his back.  The sweat was
still drying on his skin and he shivered in his sleep as a cool
breeze wafted through the open window.  I could feel the warmth of
his breath puffing rhythmically against the bare skin of my breast
and although I was tired, my mind refused to shut down.  

Fox had thrown himself into being an attentive escort for the
remainder of the evening.  We danced several times and spent long
minutes in a quiet corner of the room talking.  For the first time in
weeks, I truly felt that I was the center of his world and I basked
in the familiar warmth of his attention.  When the reception was over
we joined the rest of my family in bidding a fond farewell to the
happy couple before making our way up to our suite.  Fox stole a
couple of kisses from me in the elevator and I floated blissfully
into the bathroom after snatching from my suitcase the pretty new
nightgown I had recently purchased.  I quickly washed up and slid the
satin oyster-colored gown over my head and took a few minutes to fuss
with my hair.  Snapping off the bathroom light, I laid a hand over my
fluttering belly.  Fox and I had not made love in almost two weeks
and I was strangely nervous.  

A shaft of moonlight spilled over our bed and I was surprised and
disappointed to find it empty.  My eyes darted around the room and I
heard the quiet murmur of his voice coming from the small living room
of our hotel suite.  Padding silently over the thick carpeting, I
eased the door open and found him speaking softly into the phone. 
And I knew he was checking up on Dana again.  He had ended the call a
few moments later and his eyes had swept over me and my new nightgown
with seeming interest...  I held out my hand and led him to our bed.

Later, lying awake and alone with my thoughts, I was plagued by the
memory of Marian's sympathetic face.   I mentally chastised myself
for allowing her to stir up worries and fears that I knew were
groundless.  And yet a nagging voice in the back of my head was
reminding me that the seeds of doubt had been planted more than six
months ago.

Fox and I had gone away for our first real vacation together.  He
was a workaholic and when the Bureau had forced him to take a week
off, I had eagerly latched onto his invitation to join him at
Graceland.  But instead of the carefree week of fun and solitude I
had envisioned, Fox had spent an extraordinary amount of time calling
Dana.

"We're supposed to be on vacation," I pouted at one point.  He
looked at me ruefully and made a production of stuffing his cell
phone into his back pocket.  He had held his hands up in surrender.

"I know," he began apologetically.  "I just wanted to check on
Scully - she didn't seem very happy when I asked her to go to
Philadelphia and follow up on a lead I had on a case," he explained. 
I planted my hands on my hips and huffed out a frustrated breath.

"You're always telling me what a fantastic agent Dana is," I said,
pressing my lips together and staring at him hard.  He nodded under
my fierce gaze and we spent the rest of the day exploring Memphis. 
We returned to our hotel room hours later and I went downstairs to
the spa for a massage when Fox announced his intentions of taking a
nap before dinner.  Relaxed and limber after my massage, I returned
to our room to find Fox trying to reach Dana on the phone.  He hadn't
seen me enter the room and he threw the phone down onto the bed in a
fit of anger when Dana apparently failed to answer the phone.

"Is everything all right?" I asked quietly as I eased the door closed
behind me and tossed the key card down onto the small table near the
door.  Fox had thrown his hands up into the air.

"Scully isn't answering her phone," he said in an annoyed tone.  I
looked at him in confusion and then glanced down at my watch.

"Didn't I hear you say when you spoke with her earlier today that
she had a date with someone she met in Philadelphia?" I asked softly.
"She probably turned the phone off," I said.  "I'm sure she's fine." 
I was beginning to become annoyed with his preoccupation with the case
she was investigating.  I was shocked to see his cheeks flush and his
eyes darken when I mentioned Dana's date, but I shook it off when his
eyes cleared and he apologized.

"Why don't we get dressed for dinner?" he suggested softly.  I
nodded, relieved at the change in subject - and I forgot my fears as we
ate dinner and lingered over dessert and coffee.  

Two days later I huddled in the corner of the sofa in Fox's
apartment as he stalked around the living room.

"What the fuck was she thinking?" he had raged.  "Going back to some
creep's apartment - some guy she just met?"  His voice had been
shaking with barely suppressed anger.  "She's a cop for chrissake!"
he thundered.  "She should know better!"  When he had fallen into an
exhausted slumber after spending hours pacing and raging about the
apartment, I had lain awake convincing myself that his seemingly
frenzied anger was due to the scare he had received when he had
learned of Dana's injuries and brush with death - not due to
her choice of bedmates.

All these months later, lying in a hotel bed, with Fox's dark head
pressed to my breast, I was finding it increasingly difficult to keep
my fears at bay.  He had been passionate and tender in his lovemaking
and just the tiniest bit... preoccupied.  In the darkened room, I
fought against my worries and insecurities.  He was sleeping in my
arms - had emptied himself into my body - I reminded myself.  And
clinging to these thoughts, I had fallen into a troubled sleep.

******************* 

I set the phone back into the cradle and stared at it for a long
moment. I spent the last twenty minutes reassuring Mulder that I
would be okay until he returned.  He had called me at least five
times since he and Lillian left yesterday afternoon.  He called once
from the road and then again under the pretext of wishing me a good
night.  He called early today to say good morning, although the
relief evident in his voice when I answered the phone told me that he
was afraid that I might have slipped away during the night.  Two more
phone calls rounded out the day and his husky 'sweet dreams' lingered
in my ears.

I couldn't imagine what Lillian was thinking...  I was sure she was
looking forward to getting away and spending some time alone with
Mulder.  I was also sure that she had become tired of sharing him
with a sick woman.

I looked at the clock.  It was late and I should have been sleeping.
There were days when it was all I could do to keep my head up and I
was more than happy to sleep the day away.  Then there were the other
days - like today - where I was acutely conscious of the fragility of
life and the passage of time.  Days where I fought to stay awake and
savor every precious minute.  Tonight, my mind didn't want to shut down;
I pushed myself from the sofa and made my way toward the bathroom, hoping that a 
hot bath would relax me.

Twisting the taps, I tested the water temperature with my
fingertips, forgoing bubbles in favor of the purity of clean, clear,
hot water.  I stepped out of the pajamas that I had been wearing all
day and pinned my hair up.  I did all of this without once looking
into a mirror.  Lately I'd found myself avoiding my reflection
whenever possible.  As my disease progressed it was harder to hide
its effects on my appearance.  In the beginning I tried using a
heavier hand when applying my makeup, but a couple of months ago I
realized that I was highlighting rather than hiding the ravaging
effects of the cancer.  Now I would stand before a mirror only long
enough to apply minimal makeup and bring some order to my hair.

I braced my hands on the safety bars that Mulder had insisted on
installing two months ago when the dizzy spells began, and gingerly
lowered myself into the hot bath.  Dipping a washcloth into the
water, I squeezed it out and draped the hot, steamy cloth over my
face.  I realized that I'd left the cordless phone in the living room
and I briefly considered climbing out of the tub to retrieve it. 
Chances were slim that Mulder would call again at this late hour, but
I didn't want him to panic if he should call.  A familiar lethargy
spread through my limbs as the hot water began to work; I decided
against fetching the phone.

Surely he won't call again, I reasoned.  It was late and although
Lillian had been exceedingly understanding about the amount of time
that Mulder was spending with me over these many months there was
little doubt that she had other plans for him this weekend.

Lillian.  I couldn't understand the visceral reaction I'd sometimes
have toward her.  It was true that we'd never been close, but in the
more than two years since she became a part of Mulder's life, we have
been friendly -  if not exactly friends.  She'd always been very
gracious and accepting of my relationship with Mulder.  I was
intensely aware of the fact that this seemed a strange line of
thought.  I was Mulder's partner and if I were a man, I would not
have been contemplating Lillian's gracious understanding of our
relationship.  People would have accepted our friendship without
question; they would expect me to be a welcomed presence in Mulder and
Lillian's social life.  But the truth was that after Mulder met
Lillian things did change.  Mulder slotted us into our appropriate
positions in his life - girlfriend and best friend - and he made a
few tentative approaches at melding the two.  The three of us met
several times for drinks after work or for the occasional dinner. 
But sitting across a booth from Lillian and Mulder and watching the
happy, adoring look on her face or seeing the indulgent, affectionate
way he played with her fingers made me intensely aware of my third-
wheel status.  The next time Mulder suggested that I join them for
drinks I found that I had to finish up a report that I was working
on.  And when he invited me to his apartment for pizza and a ball game
on a chilly autumn Sunday, I had plans with my mother.  The
invitations dwindled and stopped shortly after that.  

>From that point on Mulder stopped trying to blend the two different
aspects of his life and we settled into a comfortable rhythm. 
Mulder's late night telephone calls to discuss a case or shoot the
breeze didn't stop, although at times his voice was hushed and I knew
that Lillian was asleep nearby.  And when we were on the road
investigating a case, I would watch with sleep-heavy eyes as he would
drag himself out of the other bed in my motel room and away from
whatever late night horror movie or sports wrap-up show that had
caught his interest for a few moments before he would toss the empty
takeout cartons into the trash can on the way to his room.  Through
the thin walls of the various nameless motel rooms, I could hear the
low murmur of his voice as he called Lillian to wish her a good night
or tell her that he missed her.

So I was caught off-guard by the suddenly negative feelings that had
assaulted me when Lillian had walked into our office last February to
pick Mulder up for their trip to Graceland.  I had already been angry
with Mulder for the heavy-handed way he had tossed the assignment at
me.  A little something to keep me busy while the boss was gone... that was
how it had seemed.  I had taken a look around the office and felt
an intense wave of dissatisfaction with my life.  To my way of
thinking, I had given up everything else in my life for the job.  I
had drifted away from friends and family.  The few attempts I had
made at establishing a relationship with a man never lasted.  Most
men were not as accepting of Mulder's presence in my life as Lillian
was about my presence in his.  They didn't understand our friendship,
the sudden trips out of town or the random phone calls... and they were
threatened by it.   The few vacations I took - I took alone.  

I had put my career and my life on the line time and again for our
partnership - for our work - for our friendship.   And in the back of
my mind, I knew, even though I wouldn't admit it at the time, that I
had sacrificed my health on the altar of Mulder's quest.  I had taken
a look around the office toward the dark corner that Mulder had
indicated was mine and I saw the rickety chair and the long low table
crammed with books and files and newspaper articles - all Mulder's. 
The poster on the wall, the trophies on the shelves, the basketball,
the framed picture of a lost sister - all Mulder's.  There was
nothing in that room that I could claim as my own - nothing that said
Dana Scully worked there, toiled there.  His, not mine.  Then Lillian
pushed open the door and the dim light from hallway glinted weakly
against the nameplate on the door and the quiet rage that had been
simmering for days exploded quietly inside of me.

Mulder's look of pained confusion at my attitude disappeared into a
happy grin as Lillian brushed her lips across his.   She was
chattering excitedly about the thrills of an unexpected vacation and
I forced myself to remain coolly polite.  The teasing curve of
Mulder's lips disappeared when he turned to me and dropped a piece of
paper on top of the file that he had set down on his desk.

"That's the name and number of the hotel we'll be staying at," he
told me.  "You know my cell phone number," he said.  Slinging his arm
around Lillian's waist, he steered her toward the door.  "Call me if
you need my help," he flung over his shoulder and then they were
gone.  I bit back an oath and fumed that I had better things - more
important things - to do with my time than to chase down one of his
stupid leads.

Twenty minutes later I was on my way to Philadelphia.

I leaned forward and spun the taps, sending a fresh wave of hot
water into the tub; then I lathered up the washcloth and began to
furiously scrub my skin - trying to wash away the shame and sickness
that crawled over my body when I remembered that time.  To this day,
I was mortified by my behavior in Philadelphia and my attitude toward
Mulder and Lillian.  At the time I didn't understand what was driving
my anger and my dissatisfaction with the course of my life.  

Everything I had said that weekend had been a lie.  I wasn't acting
out against the authority figures in my life.  I wasn't angry with
Mulder for giving me an assignment and expecting me to do it.  I was
angry because he had a life - a good life with Lillian - and I was
afraid.  I was afraid that I would never be happy.  I was afraid of
the truth that whispered to me in the darkness of my dreams - 'You
have something I need' - it said.  

I had drinks with Ed Jerse because he was handsome and interested in
me.  I allowed my body to be marked by the needles of the tattoo
artist because I wanted to do something wild and naughty - something
that Agent Scully would never do.  And I went with Ed to his
apartment because it had been so long since someone had looked at me
with desire in his eyes.  So long since someone had touched me with
trembling fingers.  So long since the passion I heard in a man's
voice had been directed at me instead of a case.  So long since
anyone had taken the time to look past Scully to the woman inside.  I
went with him because I wanted... I wanted...  I went with him
because I was so tired of being lonely and because I wanted to know
the warmth and the passion of another's hand.

In the end it all went horribly wrong and two weeks later I knew... 
Never again would the hands of a lover touch me; never again would I
know the whisper of a kiss being trailed across my skin.  I learned
then, and I acknowledged now, that it would be the gentle familiarity
of my mother's hands and the comforting strength of my friend's arms
that would be the last touches I'd be destined to enjoy as they eased
me from this world and into what I could only hope and desperately
pray would be the welcoming embrace of a sister lost and a father
gone before.

*******************
end of chapter two

~ Chapter Three ~

When I overslept for the third time in a week, I knew two
certainties: that Skinner was going to call me out for missing the
first twenty minutes or so of an important meeting - and the very
real possibility of having to make a choice between the women I cared
so much about.

I stood in the shower with as hot a stream of water as I could
stand, waiting for the steam and the pounding spray to ease the
tension away.  Never a sound sleeper, I'd found myself with too
busy a mind to sleep at night and too much to have to think about
during the day.  I was not eating properly, walking through my hours
at work without that clear head in which I'd always taken such pride.
It was only a matter of time before Skinner reamed me about that, as
well.  And I would not blame him a bit.  I was not performing the way
a good agent should perform.  My only saving grace was the knowledge
that at least I was office-bound for the rest of the month and not
out in the field.  Bumbling around the basement was marginally better
than out on a case with your peers snickering behind their badges.

Drying off, I peered into the fogged up mirror over the sink; even
through the mist I could see how tired and red my eyes looked.  I was
accustomed to functioning with just a few hours' sleep per night but
in the past month those nightly hours had not been restful.  And it
didn't seem to matter where I slept - my apartment or with Lilly - or
on Scully's sofa... I couldn't shut down my brain.

In just a little over a month I'd watched Scully's health take a
plunge that frightened me and violently tilted my world.  The cancer
had its grip firmly locked upon her and each day I'd see its ravages
on her face and hear it in her voice.  I knew she wouldn't give up -
Dana Scully is so much stronger than that - but her body could only
take so much abuse.  And her courageous heart might not be enough to
combat the invading enemy within.

As I dressed for work, thanking my lucky stars I'd miss nothing more
than the first ten minutes of yet another importantly dull meeting...
I pondered the way my need to be with Scully was affecting my still-
evolving life with Lilly.

We'd been together two years and I knew Lilly wanted that total,
final commitment.  What marriage-minded woman wouldn't?  And I knew
she was marriage, as well as children-minded.  Women like her -
nurturing and caring - always were.  I'd seen her with her nephews;
she was crazy about them.  She'd stop in the middle of a street to
coo at a baby.  

I knew she loved me, was in love with me - she'd told me.  Oh, I
don't believe she'd meant to; it just slipped out one night.  We were
lying in bed at my place and I was almost asleep.  Lilly had made
such sweet, generous love to me, and in need of some strong comfort
I'd taken all she'd had to give me and had managed (I'd hoped) to
return in some measure her generosity.

Maybe she'd thought I'd fallen asleep; I might have dozed a little -
but I was fully awake when those whispered, tremulous words were pressed into my 
neck, her head against my shoulder.

"Fox... I love you so..."  And I pretended to sleep because I could
not face those words of hers - not yet.

On the way to work, still running late, I contemplated my feelings
for Lilly.  I care for her, so much.  She's easygoing and loving,
intelligent and humorous.  She's lovely and soft and her eyes sparkle
at me.  I care for Lilly.  But it's not the kind of love I'd thought
would develop - it's just not there yet.  After two years I'd expect
it to be there.

I've told myself it's the nature of my job; enough of a hazard to
give me serious pause and hesitancy when considering a long-term
relationship.  The woman I marry could easily become a widow three
days after the ceremony; children I father could become fatherless in
the blink of an eye.  I'd seen it happen to other agents - I wouldn't
be able to imagine it happening to a family I'd helped create.  I
found myself stumbling over the words I know Lilly waits to hear.

Now I was suddenly not so sure.  Now I wondered if something -
someone - else was holding me back.

I spent what was left of my morning attending a meeting that bored
me and that couldn't even begin to capture my attention.  Luckily for
me, Skinner seemed equally preoccupied and aside from one sharp
glance in my direction when I first slipped in, he'd mostly ignored
me.  I sat and twiddled a pencil between my fingers and worried about
Scully.  She'd been released from the hospital a few days ago and was
at home, supposedly resting.  Somehow I doubted she was resting as
much as her doctors had prescribed.  I had a lunch date with Lilly
but had impulsively canceled it - I'd called on my cell phone and had
left a message for her explaining that I needed to visit Scully.  I'd
been strangely relieved to be able to give that message to her phone,
and not to her.

As soon as the meeting broke I was out of my chair and headed to the
door.  I didn't want to answer the now-standard question, "How's
Agent Scully doing?"  

Almost out the door... a few more steps...

"Agent Mulder, wait."  Shit - Skinner.  I turned to him, fighting to
hide my impatience.  He walked up to me, staring hard, no doubt ready
to comment on my half-assed shave job or my red eyes.  His own shrewd
orbs raked me up and down, then he spoke in a row rumble.

"You look like shit, Agent.  When was the last time you got a decent
night's sleep?  No, don't answer that.  I already know.  How's she
holding up?"  I let out the breath I'd been holding and rubbed at my
eyes, suddenly gratified that I could at least speak my thoughts in
front of someone.

"She has her fair days and her poor days, Sir.  I fight with her on
a daily basis to tell me when she's in pain, when she needs comfort -
someone to talk to.  Sometimes she does and other days she isolates
herself.  It's frustrating."  Skinner nodded and we fell into step
together as we headed for the parking garage, and our respective
vehicles.  I walked him to his car and we stood outside a few minutes
longer, talking about Scully.

"I've called her several times, in between visits when she was in
the hospital.  I get a lot of 'I'm fine, Sir.' I don't believe it for
a minute, of course - but I'm sure you know the feeling."  I nodded
at Skinner, resignedly.

"Oh yeah - I know the feeling.  But sometimes she'll call me, and
she'll talk to me.  About her fears - her worries for the future. 
I'll hold the phone close to my ear and she'll tell me what's on her
mind.  Sometimes I'll go over to her place in the middle of the night
and I'll sit with her.  When she's awake and in pain I'll hold her
hand and we may not talk at all - just sit together.  When she's
asleep I sit there next to her bed and watch her sleep."  I didn't
add the feelings of anguish and despair I'd have, seeing what this
horrible disease had done to Scully; how it had changed her.  I
didn't say that - I didn't need to.  My boss nodded in understanding,
and regarded me with curiosity.

"How's your lady friend handling this, Agent?  Lillian, isn't it?" 
My head jerked around at the mention of Lilly.  Skinner had only met
her once in two years.  'Lady friend' - yes, that would be a good way
to describe her... I smiled.  Well, more of a grimace, I suppose -
and as Skinner climbed into his car and rolled down his window, I
chose my answer carefully.

"Well, she's been very understanding, Sir - but it's not easy for
her either.  I cancel a lot of dates."  My voice trailed off; I was
remembering how many dates I'd either cut short or canceled, since
Scully's diagnosis.  And I knew Lilly was trying to hold her
impatience with me.  I couldn't be everywhere at once and the strain
of dividing myself between Lilly and Scully was beginning to make
itself felt.

"Well, Agent - I suppose the logical question would be - how badly
do you want your relationship with Lillian to succeed?"  Skinner's
eyes were as enigmatic as always as I raised mine to stare at him. 
Skinner nodded at me and with a short wave backed out of his parking
spot.  As I walked to my car I couldn't help but wonder...

How badly, indeed?

Scully was asleep when I let myself into her apartment. I walked
into her room and perched on the edge of her bed; I reached out a
hand and gently stroked her hair.  With her face relaxed in sleep
Scully looked as young as she'd looked years ago when we'd first
started working together, the shadows underneath her eyes eased out
and the strain of her illness smoothed away.  As I slipped my hand
down and linked fingers with her, she came awake slowly and the
sleepy smile she gave me was easy to return.  

"Hi... what're you doing here in the middle of the day, Mulder?" 
Her voice was thick and she yawned as she spoke.  I shrugged and
squeezed her hand.

"I just wanted to see you, that's all."  I gazed at her, noticing
that awake, all the strain of the cancer became more apparent on her
face.  The ravages of her treatments showed, in her eyes and around
her mouth.  

A sudden squeeze back of my hand brought me to the awareness that I
had been staring hard at her, wordlessly.  I met her inquiring
glance, and took a deep breath.

"Truth, Scully - how are you?"  She opened her mouth, probably to
utter the usual retort - then she huffed out a little breath of
impatience, and her eyes met mine.

"Awful, Mulder... I feel awful.  The treatments still leave me
nauseous; it's getting worse instead of better.  This morning I raked
a hand through my hair and for the first time came away with a lot in
my hand.  I find myself forgetting things, Mulder - Charlie's
birthday.  I can't even remember my little brother's birthday!"  

Scully's voice broke and so did my heart; I groaned in despair and
gathered her close, feeling her ball her fists into my shirt as her
tears soaked my neck.  I held her tightly and rocked her as she cried
it all out.  I could feel myself fighting to hold my own tears at
bay, swallowing the lump in my throat, enough to speak the words of
encouragement that she so urgently needed.  I parted my lips to speak
- but nothing came out; the trite phrases I'd said to her on other
occasions stuck in my vocal chords and refused to be set free. 
Instead I saw my hands slip from her frail body and cup her face;
brushing unsteady thumbs across her wet cheeks... leaning in to press
her trembling lips with mine.  And the tiny hiccup of surprise she
uttered against my mouth was accepted gratefully as it registered
within my head, that Dana Scully was alive and vital despite the
cancer slowly killing her.  Alive... in my arms.

For now.

It was our first kiss on the mouth and I told myself I was kissing a
friend, or perhaps a beloved sister.  While her lips clung to mine
and her hands gripped my hair; while my fingers stroked her cheeks
and my mouth moved on hers, I told myself some lies and I'm sure
Scully told herself a few as well.  Oddly neither of us thought to
bring our tongues into play.  And equally oddly, the lack thereof
only made the kiss more intense - as if the denial of intimacy caused
a rush that neither of us could ignore.

Long seconds later I released her mouth; kissing Scully had been so
sweet. Sweeter than any kiss I'd ever experienced... and all the more
precious to me because our time was running out.  I could feel it
slipping through my fingers, the sand of her trickling down, grain by
grain - within an hourglass of her life.  I looked into her face,
noting the tinge of pink and so damn proud to have been the one to
put it there.  For one wild moment I wanted to chuck it all; fuck the
job and to hell with the relationship. I wanted to spend my every
waking hour just finding ways to make Scully's days happy - I would
devote it all to her, gladly - if it meant her remaining time could
be free of tears and loneliness.

I could do this... but Scully would refuse me that sort of decision -
would see it as a sacrifice, and would not let me.  

For endless moments after the kiss, we stared at each other, I think
neither of us knowing quite what to say.  Finally, I cupped the back
of her head and pressed her into my shoulder, cradling her gently. 
Under my hand her hair was dry and brittle, and I fought a losing
battle against comparing it with Lilly's silky mass.  And of course
I'd remembered the feel of Scully's hair before the treatments - just
as soft and silky as Lilly's.  One more outward reminder of this
insidious monster -

At that moment, if cancer had been a tangible creature, I would have
killed it with my bare hands - for forcing me to feel a need to
choose; to notice a difference and to make a comparison.

"Mulder... why?  Why the kiss?"  Scully's low, choking words reached
my ears as her head moved back so as to better see the face I quickly
erased of sadness, and I managed a half-assed smile as I looked down
at her.  My words came out in a rasp.

"Because we both needed it - and because I wanted it.  Is that okay
with you?"  I held her gaze and watched the smile fill those baby
blues first, before it spilled over into her face and curved her lips.

"Yes, Mulder - it's okay with me..." 

I leaned her back into the pillows and pulled the blanket up over
her shoulders, and held her hand as I guarded her sleep.

I never called Lillian back, that day.

**************** 

The quarterly budget meeting ended around twelve-thirty and I
hurried to my office.  Dropping a stack of files in the middle of my
desk, I bent over to open the bottom drawer and grabbed my purse from
within.  I was supposed to meet Fox for lunch in fifteen minutes and
I wanted to touch up my lipstick and run a brush through my hair
before leaving the office.  As I straightened up, I noticed the
message waiting light blinking on my telephone.

I set my purse down and picked up the phone.  Tucking the receiver
under my chin, I quickly dialed the code to access my voice mail. 
Great, I sighed.  Three messages.  I glanced at my watch impatiently
as I listened to the beginning of the first message.  Not important,
I decided and quickly pressed a button to skip to the next message. 
I listened for nearly a minute as one of the junior partners in the
firm droned on in an outraged voice over the 'hatchet job' I had
performed on the latest expense voucher he had turned in to
accounting.  "Next time, don't take your mistress out on the company
dime," I muttered as I cut the message off in mid-drone and skipped
ahead again.  Eager to get through this last message so that I would
not be late for my lunch date, my fingers hovered over the keypad. 
The caller had barely begun speaking when I impatiently pressed the
pound key to skip over the call.

"Damn," I said as I realized that I had cut off a message from Fox. 
I punched in my access code again and rolled my eyes in frustration
as I waded my way through the first two messages again.  Finally, I
heard Fox's low rumble as his message played in my ear.

"Lilly, I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel our lunch
date.  I thought I'd stop by and check up on Scully, maybe take some
lunch to her place.  She's still not eating and I'd like to try to
bully her into eating some soup or something."

His voice had been brisk as he spoke, then suddenly it softened.

"I'm really sorry, sweetheart.  I promise I'll make it up to you.  I
just... you've been so great about all of this, but I... I hate the
thought of her lying in that apartment all alone."

I could hear the muffled sound of someone speaking in the background
and then -

"Lilly, honey - I've got to get to this meeting.  I promise I'll
call you later.  Bye."

And then he was gone.  I played the message back a second time and
tossed my purse into the bottom drawer of the desk as I sank
down into my chair.  I sat quietly for several long moments as I
willed my racing heart to slow, then I pushed my chair away from the
desk and stood.  I grabbed five dollars from my wallet and walked
down the hallway to the elevator.  As I rode the elevator down to the
lobby, I kept my eyes glued to the electronic panel that displayed
the floor numbers as the elevator swiftly made its way downward from the 
fiftieth floor.  My heels clicked across the marble tiles as I strode across the 
lobby to the small luncheonette that was attached to my office building.

He hates the thought that she is lying all alone in her apartment,
but it doesn't seem to bother him that he's left me lying alone in my
apartment three nights this week, I thought as I viciously yanked a
plastic container of fruit salad out of one of the refrigerated
cases.  I smacked the plastic container and a bottle of diet iced tea
onto the counter and fished the five-dollar bill out of my pocket.  I
stuffed my change into my pocket and snatching up the bag containing
my meager lunch, I stalked back across the lobby to the bank of
elevators.  

She's dying, I reminded myself.  You're not being fair to him, I
thought as I entered my office and closed the door behind me.  I sank
back down into my chair and pried the lid from the container of fruit
salad.  Staring sightlessly downward, my eyes filled with sudden
tears, until the small mountain of fruit was a blur of reds and
greens and pale, pale orange.  Sniffing, I reached for the telephone
and pressed the first button on my speed dial.  The phone rang only
one time before I lunged forward to slam the receiver back into the
cradle.  I can't call him, I thought.  I shouldn't.  What would I
say?  My fingertips stroked idly over the slick plastic of the phone
and I resolutely lifted the receiver again and punched down another
button on my speed dial.

The phone rang three times before it was answered.

"Hello?"  I closed my eyes with relief as the beloved voice drifted
over the telephone lines.

"Gran?" I ask softly.  She laughed lightly at the sound of my voice
and my lips curved upward in response.  This, I thought, this was the
right call to make.

"Lilly!  Darling girl!  What's wrong?"  Her voice was sharp and
knowing and I briefly tried to pretend that nothing was bothering me -
even though I knew it was useless.  My grandmother would pry the
truth out of me in minutes - and that was exactly what I had been
counting on when I picked up the phone.  Still, there was a ritual to
be maintained...

"What makes you think that something is wrong Gran?" I say, trying
to inject a teasing note into my voice.  "Can't a girl just give her
grandmother a call if she wants to?"  Gran made a tsking sound and I
could picture the slow, sad shaking of her head.

"Lillian Maxwell, I have been able to tell when you are lying from
the time you were able to say your first word," she said tartly. 
"Now, what is so wrong that you have to call me in the middle of the
afternoon when you know my shows are about to start?"  Her comment
had the desired effect when I snorted out a tiny laugh.  Gran is
simply not the type to spend her day watching game shows and soap
operas.  The truth is that I was lucky that she was even home.  Gran
keeps busy volunteering at the library for reading hour after school
or by getting together with her girlfriends for an afternoon of
bridge.  She always has something going on.  She tells me that an
active life keeps her young.

I tucked the phone under my chin and listlessly poked at the fruit
salad with a plastic fork.  "Oh, Gran," I sighed heavily.  "What
isn't wrong?" I groaned.  And she listened quietly as everything spilled out of 
me in a rush.  Dana's cancer and its effect on Fox and our relationship.  The 
canceled dates.  The distracted look on his face when he was away from her.  The 
constant telephone calls.  Gran listened and made small encouraging noises until 
I slumped back against the imitation leather of my chair in exhaustion.

"Oh my sweet girl," she finally said.  "I wish I could wave a magic
wand and tell you that everything is going to be all right."  I heard
her sigh softly into the telephone.  "Let me ask you something," she
began.

"Sure Gran," I said as I lifted a chunk of cantaloupe from the
container and began to nibble on it.  I could hear her lifting the
kettle from stove; Gran says that the ritual of brewing a pot of tea
helps her to think.

"Are you afraid that Fox is falling in love with his partner?"  I
sucked in a deep breath at the blunt question.  Gran had sifted
through everything that I had said to get down to the base level.

"Maybe," I whispered in a choked voice.  I dropped the piece of
fruit back into the container, all pretense of having an appetite
gone when Gran gave voice to my deepest fear.  I couldn't see her,
but I knew she was nodding as she let the tea steep in the pot.

"Okay," she said softly.  "Then let me ask you another question. 
Before his partner became ill, did you ever worry about the nature of
their relationship?"  I instinctively started to shake my head no,
but I paused and forced myself to really think about my answer.

"Noooo," I said slowly.  "No.  There was never any question.  Fox
always made it very clear to me that Dana is his partner and his best
friend.  I never had any cause to doubt him," I told her.  I closed
my eyes and listened to the rhythmic clinking of Gran's teaspoon
against the delicate china of the teacup and I gave an involuntary
smile as I pictured her lifting the cup to her lips to gently blow on
the hot liquid.  Gran was a firm believer that it was acceptable to
drink coffee from a mug, but that tea should be sipped out of the
prettiest, most translucent of china cups.  

"And did Dana ever give you cause to believe that she felt more for
Fox than friendship?" Gran asked, prodding gently.  Again, I forced
myself to think back.  From the moment I had met Dana, I knew that
she cared deeply for Fox.  Over the years, I had come to know that
she loved him - and that he loved her - but it was a love based in
friendship.  It was a love that had never threatened my relationship
with Fox.  There had been times, early in my love affair with Fox,
when I wondered if Dana's cool, reserved attitude toward me was the
result of some deeper, hidden feelings that she had for him.  But as
time passed, I realized that we were simply different people, with
different interests and vastly different outlooks on the world.  

"No, Gran," I said.  "I've never questioned the depth of her
feelings for him or his feelings before.  They are often away for
days on end when they are working on a case and I've never been
threatened by it," I told her honestly.  "Until now."

I heard Gran settle the china cup into its saucer.  "Well," she said
finally.  "I'm not saying that you don't have cause to worry," she
told me softly.  "But I think you need to speak with him, Lilly," she
counseled.

"I know," I sighed as I brushed a tear from the corner of my eye. 
"I know, Gran," I said.  "But it's hard... I don't know what to say." 
I sniffed and yanked a tissue out of the box that was perched on the
top of my desk.  I dabbed at my eyes as I let Gran's loving, familiar
voice wash over and reassure me.

"Tell him the truth," she advised.  "Tell him your fears," she said.
Her soft voice paused for a moment, thiking... then she gave me her final words 
of advice.

"Fox is a good man," she said.  "But he's spreading himself too
thin.  Don't force him to make a choice," she warned.  "Lilly - he
needs you now, even if he isn't showing it.  But that doesn't mean
that you don't need things from him as well.  Just tell him the
truth."

After I thanked her and told her that I loved her, I hung up the
phone and thought about everything she had said to me.  I nodded
sharply and grabbed a file from the stack on the center of my desk
and began to study it while I nibbled on my lunch.

I had come to a decision.

**********************
end of chapter three