Ghill52695@aol.com
Gerry Hill
5/20/96
 
Disclaimer:  The following work is for the distribution and
entertainment of the EMXC members only.  Any further distribution
of this work without the author's consent is in violation of
federal law.  This story is based on the characters and situations
created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen
Productions.  As such, the characters named are the property of
those entities and are used without permission, although no
copyright infringements are intended.

Warning: Probably PG-13 rated.  Some UST.  No spoilers; "Paperclip"
plotline mentioned.

DEATH AND REBIRTH

Mulder's Apartment
8:15 PM

Mulder drifted into consciousness.  At least it was light now,
where before it had been dark.  He became aware of air on his skin,
so he wasn't completely dressed, apparently.  He finally focused on
the edge of a coffee table and the ceiling beyond.  It looked like
his coffee table.  And that hairline crack in the shape of a
fishhook was unmistakably on his ceiling.  The question then
occurred to him, "But why am I lying on the floor in my apartment?" 
He wondered about that for a moment, then tried to turn his head. 
Nothing happened.

"Don't panic.  Try again."  But he couldn't move anything at all,
no matter how hard he concentrated.  He couldn't even blink, he
realized.  "NOW you can panic," he thought.  And he knew then what
was in the back of his mind since he tried to move; he couldn't
even feel the inhalation and exhalation of his breath, nor his
heart beating in his chest.  Nothing.  No, wait; there was the hint
of a pulsation deep within, but oh so far away and indistinct.

Suddenly a knocking sounded loudly at his door.

"Mulder!  It's me!"

"Scully!" he exulted.  "She'll know what to do."

Another series of knocks sounded.  "Mulder!"

Finally he heard a key in the lock and the door creaked a bit as it
opened.  Scully shut the door behind her, and walked toward the
living room, but halted abruptly when she saw Mulder lying on the
floor by his couch, head slightly turned, eyes open, wearing only
his blue boxers.


"Mulder!  My god, what happened?"  She shoved the coffee table out
of her way and knelt beside him.  She frantically tried to feel a
pulse at his throat.  Finding nothing, she put her ear against his
chest, which was uncomfortably cooler than normal in the warmth of
his apartment.

"No," whispered Scully as it became clear that there was nothing to
feel or hear in his chest.  She put her hands on each side of his
head and turned it so she could gaze down into his fixed and
unreacting eyes.

Now she screamed Mulder's name, tears running down her face.  Some
fell on his body and they felt warm to Mulder.  But he still could
not react in any physical way. It hurt him to see Scully so
devastated and he wanted to reassure her that everything was OK -
that he wasn't dead...but was he?  He didn't know for sure, but
didn't think so.

Scully knew that he must have died at least an hour or more ago, by
the cooling of his body.  

She tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from Mulder's forehead
and brokenly sobbed, "Oh, Mulder."  She gently closed his eyelids,
then leaned down and kissed his lips.  Mulder could feel the
softness of her lips on his, and marvelled at how wonderful they
felt.  If only the kiss hadn't been out of pity...

Sitting there for a moment, she seemed incapable of any action. 
Then she saw the pill bottle where it was lying on the coffee table
next to a water glass.  The bottle was empty and the label was
missing. With her hand shaking, she managed to take her cellular
phone from her purse and dial a number.

She was vaguely surprised when Skinner answered his own phone, but
then remembered it was late Friday night and Kimberley had probably
gone home long before.

"Skinner."

"Oh, sir, I'm..."  Scully took a deep shaky breath, then went on,
"I'm at Mulder's apartment.  Please...I need you to come here,
now."

Skinner was taken aback, since Scully was usually so poised and
self-assured.  If she was distraught, it must really be a
catastrophe.

"Agent Scully?  What's wrong?"

She managed to get out, "He's...Mulder is dead."  She sobbed openly
then, holding onto the phone with whitened knuckles.


There was a pause.  Skinner felt a sharp stab of pain at the
thought of losing Fox Mulder, and finally managed to reply, "Stay
there, Agent Scully.  I'll leave right away with some technicians." 
Then he added, "Will you be OK?"

She shook her head from side to side and whispered, "No," and
disconnected.

Mulder was in agony over the distress he was causing Scully.  And
he was terrified, too, that he was truly dead and doomed to see
first-hand all the misery his dying would cause.

Scully was weeping quietly by his side with an occasional deeper
sob wracking her body.  "There's so much I wanted to tell you.  I
thought we had so much time..."  Then, "Oh, Mulder!"  The words
tore out of her heart.

When the experts on death arrived, they found Scully cradling
Mulder's head in her lap, her eyes brimming with grief.

Skinner touched her shoulder and said, "Let them take care of
Mulder now, Dana."  She looked up and saw that he was grieving,
too.

She laid Mulder's head gently against the carpet, touched his
cheek, and let Skinner help her to her feet.

She sat in the front room with him for awhile, lost in her
memories.  Skinner talked with his agents and specialists from time
to time, always returning to Scully's side.

Meanwhile, Mulder suffered the indignities of the dead;
photography, probing, poking, and measuring his body, then being
placed in a body bag.  The zipper closing over his face made him
finally lose it.  He was silently screaming, knowing no one could
hear him or see his terror.

As the body bag was carried past Scully towards the door, she
automatically began to reach out, but halted her hand before it
reached its goal.  Instead, she stepped in front of a tall, thin,
balding, bespectacled man who was speaking into a tape recorder. 
Scully placed her hand on his arm and he immediately stopped
talking.  Her eyes questioned him, and he nodded.

"Dr. Scully, he has no visible injuries.  The only thing I have to
go on is the empty pill bottle at this point.  There is also a
needle-mark at his inner left elbow.  Very fresh.  I almost missed
seeing such a small puncture.  In addition, his body is cooling
much slower than is normal.  No rigor is evident yet.  Until the
autopsy is done, toxicology results received, and all the other
tests completed, I'm afraid it just appears to be a suicidal
overdose of some sort."  After a pause, he added, "I can't fix a
time of death yet, either.  Based on body temperature and other
indications, I would normally say it would have been no more than
an hour ago, but that's about when this crew arrived, so that can't
be right."

He was interrupted by a young technician named Mary Gray who held
an evidence bag in her hands.  "Excuse me, but we found this under
the sofa where it had rolled."  She held the bag up and they could
see it was a hypodermic needle, apparently used.

Larson said, "Thank you.  Go ahead and send it with the other stuff
to the lab.  I'm coming down there in a minute."

Ms. Gray nodded and went back to finish up the inspection of the
scene.

Scully asked Larson, "When will the autopsy be performed?"

"I'll do the autopsy myself in a couple of hours."  When an agent
died, schedules got shifted to take care of their own.

"I'll stay out of the way of the autopsy for obvious reasons, Dr.
Larson, but I'm going to be present for it."

He obviously didn't like that idea, but decided against trying to
argue with her.  He only commented, "Better clear that through AD
Skinner."

Now all but Scully and Skinner had left Mulder's apartment. 
Skinner moved to her side and said, "I've sent an agent to his
mother's house to break the news in person.  You need to go home
and call someone who can stay with you right now.  Could I give you
a ride back to your place, Agent Scully?"

She shook her head and thanked him, saying, "I'll be all right. 
I'll see you Monday morning, sir."  She deliberately avoided
mentioning her intentions for the next few hours, as she knew he
would forbid her attendance at the autopsy of a partner.

Skinner looked as though he would say more, but Scully turned and
left the apartment.

Meanwhile, Mulder had been given a ride to pathology, where a
name/number tag had been placed on his big toe.  He had lost his
boxers which had been bagged and sent for analysis of foreign
substances, fibers, etc.  The pill bottle, water glass, and
hypodermic needle had also gone for testing.  Finally, he had been
temporarily placed in a refrigerated drawer.

Silence settled all around him.  Mulder was very cold and could do
absolutely nothing about it.  He knew exactly where he was, and
thought he would probably be insane by the time they got around to
actually cutting on him.


Time stretched on forever, when suddenly Mulder was startled by the
jerky motion of the opening drawer.

"You get the feet; I'll get the shoulders."  Two men moved him onto
a wheeled table, shut the drawer again, and rolled him down to a
vacant autopsy room.

The man with a deep voice commented, " You know who this is, don't
you?"

A noncommittal grunt was the only response.

"It's 'Spooky' Mulder.  You know, the weird agent who's got those
wacky ideas about alien abduction and stuff?"

"Never heard of him."

"Don't you ever listen to the talk around here?"

"I got enough to worry about than listen to that crap."

They arrived at their destination and lifted Mulder onto the
stationary table.  They quickly arranged the sheet over him, and
left the room.

Mulder could still hear the deep voice as its owner walked down the
hall.  "Yeah, they say he offed himself."

That surprised Mulder.  Why would they think that?  This must
appear to be a suicide for some reason.  But what the hell did
happen?  He couldn't remember anything at all.

Time seemed to drag on forever, and finally he heard someone else
enter the room.

Scully had arrived to see that the autopsy room was prepared, and
her gaze was immediately drawn to the still figure that lay under
a sheet on the stainless steel table.  She took a deep breath when
the realization of the loss of this man stabbed right through her. 
She had to lean onto the table's edge for support, it hit her so
hard.  After a moment she stood unaided again, eyes bright with
unshed tears and a hand to her mouth.  She left the room to wait
for Dr. Larson in the corridor.

Dr. Larson approached the autopsy room and saw that Agent Scully
had already arrived and was wearing a white smock and had tied her
hair out of the way.  He put his hand on her arm and said, "This
will be too hard on you.  You should go home.  I promise that I'll
do a good and professional job.  For him, for you, for all of us."

She held his gaze a moment, then said softly, "I need to do this. 
I'll just assist if I may.  And I'll leave the minute it affects my
work." He finally nodded, and they entered the room.

Scully knew that she had made a mistake being here when Dr. Larson
drew the sheet from Mulder's body.  He looked so much
like...Mulder.  He certainly didn't look dead.  In all autopsies
she had performed, very seldom did it appear that the subject was
just "sleeping."

It was then that Scully knew she could never watch an autopsy
performed on him, much less assist at one.

Dr. Larson was recording his observations of the exterior condition
of the body.  He had already done this once at the scene, so he cut
this session short.  He then picked up the implement for the "Y"
incision of the body cavity.

Scully cleared her throat and said, "Doctor, I...I can't do this
after all.  You were right.  I'll be outside."

Mulder's eyes were shut, but he knew what was coming.  He
desperately tried to lift a little finger, anything, to no avail. 
He had hoped for unconsciousness before this point, with no luck. 
Then he felt the cold metal touch his sternum and silently began
screaming.

Scully's eyes moved nervously away from this part of the procedure
as she turned to leave the room.  But there was something...

"Doctor, wait!" she called loudly, startling Dr. Larson as he was
beginning the incision.  He removed the implement and gave her his
attention.

If Mulder had been able to communicate at that point, he would have
been babbling.  Betraying his cool exterior.  Acting very much like
a man having a nervous breakdown.  What almost happened was enough
to make him black out, but the nature of his condition wouldn't
allow him the luxury, so he just had to deal with the emotional
trauma.

She moved to Mulder's side and pointed with an unsteady finger at
his arm, inside the elbow.  Dr. Larson stared at the black bruising
all around the puncture from the needle.

Scully commented in a semi-hysterical voice, "Bodies don't bruise
after death.  You said you almost missed this because it was
fresh."  Her eyes travelled to Mulder's chest where Dr. Larson had
broken the skin.  "And they don't bleed, either."

They both looked in shock at the thin rivulet of blood making its
way down Mulder's chest from the site of the broken skin where Dr.
Larson had begun the incision.

In a sudden flurry of movement, both doctors got Mulder covered,
trying to retain what little body heat there may have been.  Scully
called 911 so they could get him into a hospital at once, then took
a sample of his blood for immediate analysis.  Dr. Larson
volunteered to walk it through, and left quickly.

Scully stood next to Mulder with her hand on his arm, and said, "If
you can hear me, Mulder, we know you're alive and we're going to
bring you back to us.  Please hang on."  She lay her head against
his neck and whispered, "I'm so sorry we put you through this. 
Please, please hang on."

Things began happening very fast then.  Scully rode in the
ambulance which delivered Mulder to George Washington Hospital. 
She held his hand and spoke reassuringly to him during the trip and
while being transported through emergency.  It seemed like an army
of medical staff awaited their arrival, and they began trying to
save his life.  They ran tests, an IV was inserted, they gave as
well as took fluids, warming blankets were applied, and procedure
followed procedure, as they frantically worked on Mulder's still
form.

Scully kept out of the way as best as she could, but was never very
far from the partner she had thought she had lost.  She was
thinking about the terror he must have been going through if he had
been conscious the whole time.

Scully's cell phone rang.  She answered it with a distracted,
"Scully."

"Larson here.  Mulder's condition is a result of an injection of
some derivative of the curare family of poisons.  We haven't yet
pinned it down exactly, nor do we know the quantity given."  There
was a pause.  "The physical evidence has disappeared."

"What do you mean, disappeared?"

"Just that.  The evidence left the scene in a container that Mary
Gray had entrusted to Agent Girard and, according to Agent Girard,
was personally handed to a lab technician here, who signed for it. 
The lab tech said it was placed on a counter while he went to get
the materials for sampling and testing, and when he returned, it
was gone."

Bitterly, Scully commented, "Mulder and I have run into the
'disappearing evidence' routine quite a bit, and it's not funny
anymore.  Have you told the doctors here about the curare in his
blood?"

Dr. Larson said that he had someone on another line right now
talking with the hospital about it, and they were setting up an
open line so that information could be relayed as it was developed.

"Are you OK?"


Dr. Larson's question startled Scully, who had heard that same
concerned question many times from Mulder.

She answered tiredly, "I'm fine."  The same answer she invariably
gave Mulder.  Thanking him for all he was doing, she disconnected
and turned to look up the hall toward the room where they were
working on Mulder.

She saw a burly-looking doctor in a white jacket get off the
elevator at the end of the corridor.  He was carrying what looked
like vials and a syringe with a folded towel.  He looked straight
at her, then quickly looked down at his shoes and began walking
toward her, but not before she recognized him.  She had last seen
him with "Cancerman," their nemesis in the "Shadow" government,
when their jobs were on the line and Skinner was arguing against
shutting the X-Files department down permanently.  She was certain
of two things:  He was not on either her or Mulder's side; and, he
was no doctor.

She reached for her gun, but remembered she had removed it before
the autopsy and had never replaced it in all the commotion getting
Mulder to the hospital.

The "doctor" saw her gesture, turned around, and ran for the
stairwell exit.

She ran after him, but stopped as she reached the doorway where
Mulder was being treated when she realized the commotion level had
drastically risen in the room.

"We've lost him!" yelled a young doctor in distress.

An older, bearded doctor was quickly preparing a syringe,
muttering, "No, you don't, dammit.  Not after we've gotten you this
far.  There!"  He moved to Mulder's side and quickly injected the
solution directly into his neck artery.

Scully was still standing in the doorway, eyes wide, afraid to move
or breathe.  "Oh, God, Mulder.  Stay with me, don't leave.  Please
hold on."  The thoughts were desperately flowing while she tried to
keep hysteria at bay.

A disembodied voice in the corner was asking, "What happened?  Is
it working?  Somebody talk to me!"

One of the nurses approached the forgotten speaker phone and said
in a raised voice, "We're waiting, Dr. Larson.  Just a
second....YES!!!  He's responding!"  Everyone was staring at the
monitors, which had decided to jump around and make little noises
only a medical staff could understand.  A cheer rose from the
gathering.


Scully slumped against the door jamb and felt her heart thumping
rapidly in her chest.  A tear of relief threatened to spill over
onto her cheek.  Then she remembered the pseudo doctor, and
realized he would be long gone by now.

"What on earth had he been planning to do?  Maybe finish the job on
Mulder?  And why are they attacking again, after Skinner had gotten
us a 'deal' to be left alone?"  As far as she knew, the disc
information was still secure in the hands of the Navaho nation, and
could be exposed by Skinner if 'Cancerman' harmed Scully or Mulder.

She was aware suddenly that the room was being vacated and she was
in the way.  Moving inside the room against the wall, she waited
for the bearded doctor to reach her vicinity, then held her ID up
so he could see it, and asked him, "Doctor, I'm his partner in the
FBI, Agent Dana Scully.  What can you tell me about his condition?"

The doctor gave her a tired smile and replied, "He will probably be
all right now.  Thanks mostly to your colleagues at the FBI labs,
that is.  With their analyses and proposed solutions, we were able
to finally stabilize his nervous system where the poison was doing
the most damage, and then address the pulmonary and respiratory
problems.  They had been dangerously suppressed, and would have
truly shut down permanently if the antidote along with epinephrin
hadn't 'jump-started' him in time."

She noticed his hesitation at this point, and said, "I'm a forensic
pathologist.  I understand what you're saying.  Will there be any
long-term damage?"  She was afraid of the answer.

He bit his lower lip and thought about it.  "Not likely, but short-
term he may have trouble with physical and mental stress for a
while; shortness of breath, sweating, blurred vision.  But that
shouldn't be for long since he's young and in pretty good health to
start with."

She thanked him so he could get on with his duties, and then
studied the various monitors to get an idea of what Mulder's
systems were doing right now.  And was shocked to see his eyes open
and looking at her when she glanced down.

These eyes were aware, unlike the glazed ones she had seen a few
hours ago.  They were wide open, the hazel depths carrying a wealth
of meaning as he returned her gaze.

She stepped up to his side and reached for his hand, carefully
avoiding the IV needle and tubes.  "Hi," she said as she smiled
down at him.

They had removed the airway, but the plastic tube had irritated his
throat and she knew it would be painful if not impossible for him
to talk yet.  But he did manage a raspy croak that sounded like
"Scul..ly."

"Don't try to talk yet.  Here, I'll get you some crushed ice. 
It'll help."  She reached over to a tray on the side counter and
retrieved a paper cup of ice with a plastic spoon the nurse had
thoughtfully left and carefully spooned a bit into his mouth.

While that made its way down his throat, she asked, "Were you
conscious while we thought you were dead?" dreading the answer.

He slightly nodded his head affirmatively, and Scully winced. 
"Then the autopsy room....?"  He nodded again.  She could see the
pain and residual fear in his eyes.

"Th..thank...you," he managed.  She knew he was thanking her for
realizing he was still alive before Dr. Larson had made the fatal
incision.  But then he added, with a gleam in his eyes,
"..for...kiss."

The blush came suddenly and furiously to her face.  She had
forgotten the goodby kiss she had given him while on the floor of
his apartment.  Before she could think of an adequate reply,
however, she saw that he had drifted off to sleep, a slight smile
on his lips.

She turned to look for a chair, having no intention of leaving him
alone and open to another murder attempt, and was startled to see
AD Skinner in the doorway.  He looked as if he may have been
standing there for a while.

She walked over to him and said in a low voice, "He just went to
sleep."  She gave a tired smile and added, "They think he's going
to be OK, sir."

He took her elbow and moved their conversation into the hallway. 
"I've just been talking with the doctors and then called off the
agent who had been going to tell his mother that he was dead. 
Thank goodness I caught him before he had given her that kind of
information.  Now I can let her know that he's sick, but
recovering; much better news."

He paused and then asked, "You do realize that the evidence, other
than Mulder himself, has all disappeared?"

She nodded.  "And I know who is behind this, and that they just
about got to Mulder again just a little while ago."

She explained all she knew and suspected, and saw that he had
clenched his teeth while listening to this old familiar refrain.

"Cancerman again."  Skinner thought about it for a moment, then
said, "We'll have a 24-hour two-man guard on Agent Mulder just in
case they try again, but I really don't think they will."

Scully raised here eyebrows at this.  "Sir?  After what they've
just been doing?"

"Think about it, Agent Scully.  They tried to get the FBI itself to
kill Agent Mulder - the autopsy would have done that.  The plan
failed.  The curare poison would have eventually killed him if the
lab and doctors hadn't come through so quickly with an antidote and
rapid treatment.  So they failed again.  They tried to supplement
the curare poison with some further lethal injection, but you
recognized that attempt and chased them off.  Third time failure is
the charm.  They realize now that another attempt would be overt
and would throw a great big spotlight on them.  That will be enough
to give me the excuse to throw them to the wolves."

She said, "That sounds logical, but wouldn't they know that you
would know they were behind this from the beginning and would
release the information right away that they fear?"

"No, their involvement would have been suspected, but proving it
would be impossible.  Any attempts from now on, however, they know
we'll be watching for, and it would be quite difficult to avoid
getting caught and exposed."

"Well, just in case, I would like to remain here to see that no one
else tries to finish the job."

Skinner smiled and said, "Of course, Agent Scully.  I'll have the
other agents in the hall and entrances.  But you need to get some
things together, I'm sure, if you intend to stick around here for
very long.  Why don't you go run some errands and I'll stay here
until you get back?  If he wakes up, I can reassure him of his
safety."

She gratefully took him up on his offer and left the hospital after
taking one last look at Mulder and checking with the nurse to see
whether they would be putting him into intensive care or a regular
room.

It took an hour and a half before she returned to the hospital.  In
that short time she had managed to take a shower and change,
retrieve her weapon, make some phone calls, and pick up some things
from Mulder's apartment for when he could maneuver again.  Besides
shaving equipment, she made sure she brought underwear, sweats and
regular clothes; she knew how Mulder hated the nurse to 'see my
bare ass peeking out from this f****g hospital gown,' as he so
elegantly put it last time he was an inpatient at GW.

Scully swung by Admitting to make sure of Mulder's current
location, then took the elevator up to the fourth floor.  As she
neared the room, she could hear Skinner's voice, and he sounded
angry.

Cautiously, she peeked into the room and saw Skinner standing near
Mulder's bed, saying, "No.  No, and don't bring it up again.  The
answer will still be no.  And don't give me the sad 'I almost died
so give me whatever I want' look."

When Scully discreetly cleared her throat, Skinner spun around and
glared at her.  "Maybe you can talk some sense into this...this
idiot."

Scully cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, and approached Mulder's bed
on the opposite side from Skinner.  She saw a partner in pretty
much the same condition in which she had left him.  He looked ill
with shadows under his eyes, unshaven face, and a slight pallor to
his skin.  The oxygen tubes still were in place in his nose and the
IV needle was taped to his arm.

She took his hand and looked into his eyes.  "Whatever it is, I
agree with AD Skinner.  You nearly died and you're far from well
yet.  So behave."

He gave her such a sad helpless look that, if she didn't know him
better, would have brought a tear to her eye.

Mulder was able to speak a little better now, but it still took an
effort and was painful.  "Scully.  I just want you to get the Lone
Gunmen in here so I can talk with them for a few minutes."  His
voice faded and he reached for the cup of ice.

She grabbed the cup for him and held it while he dipped a spoonful
into his mouth and crunched it with his teeth.

"Mulder, you need rest, not aggravation.  That would be like
bringing the clowns from the circus in here with you.  Besides, you
are not supposed to be working, but healing right now.  If you
really need something done, I'll go talk with them for you."

She said this while internally gritting her teeth.  Dealing alone
with Frohicke and his infernal crush on her was not Scully's idea
of a good time.  The "Lone Gunmen" referred to the name of the
three men's underground publication which dealt with government
conspiracy, UFOs, and a myriad of other strange and weird subjects. 
Mulder's favorite magazine, next to "Love Slaves of Outer Space."

Mulder sighed and finally said, "Well, I suppose that's the best
offer I'm going to get on this."  His eyes held hers, a pitiful
sadness still visible in their depths.  But Scully held firm and
wouldn't let the ploy crack her determination.

She heard a sharp intake of breath behind her, and turned to see
the mysterious Mr. X, Mulder's source within the shadow government,
standing and facing Skinner near the door.

Mr. X kept an eye on Skinner while he spoke to Scully and Mulder. 
"The Lone Gunmen won't be necessary in this case, agents.  The
matter has already been taken care of.  The instigator of this
murder plot was a rogue in the organization who didn't see eye to
eye with the powers that be, and has been dealt with in a very
final manner.  You won't have any more trouble from that
direction."

He approached Mulder's bedside and added, "I'm sorry you went
through this, Agent Mulder.  A straightforward death is one thing,
but this..."  He shook his head, turned, and walked out the door. 
Skinner made no attempt to stop him, although he would dearly have
liked to question him about many things.  He realized, however,
that he would get no answers and would probably stir up more
trouble than it would be worth.

Skinner spoke up, startling Scully, who had been wordlessly
exchanging gazes with Mulder.

"I'm going home, and I would suggest you do the same, Agent Scully,
since Agent Mulder seems to be doing quite a lot better.  Good to
have you back with us," he directed to Mulder.  He looked as though
he was about to say something more, but merely added, "Good night."

Once Skinner was gone, Scully drew a chair up beside Mulder's bed
and took his hand.

"Do you think he was telling us the truth about not having to worry
about another attempt?"

Mulder nodded, then rasped, "Yeah.  He lies, but I don't think he
was lying about this.  Now, what's that you were saying about
having a lot to tell me?"

She looked puzzled, then she realized he was referring again to her
words and actions when she had thought he was dead in his
apartment.  Her blush was not as noticeable this time, but Mulder
caught it and smiled.  He still felt the terrors grabbing at his
soul, but felt that he could make it with Scully's support, and it
was always fun to tease her unmercifully just on general
principles.  And besides, he thought that they were going to have
a little bit closer relationship now, judging from her recent words
and actions.  His smile got wider until it became a grin.

"What's so funny, Mulder?"

The End