TAKING LIBERTIES
by:  CAC
(alias the Stinker)


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

FORWARD

OK, Just a warning...There is romance in this story, ooooh  nooooo.....If
you don't like the idea of our heros having a little fun then don't read
this cause it'll just piss you off.  There is also some violence and and
occasional "naughty word".  So if romance doesn't bother you and you
*realize* that "hey, it's just a story" then I think you'll have as good
of a time reading it, as I had writing it.

                                                   
*******************************  
Jack Hopkins and his cousin "lucky Lucifer Claymore were ex-Airforce
special forces.  They were intelligent men who had just stepped off the
edge of sanity, by robbing four banks in the last three days and murdering
seven people in the process without reason or remorse.  Their intelligence,
experience, and growing instability , coupled with an insatiable PCP and
crack cocaine dependence made them a volatile mixture indeed.  They
committed their crimes randomly and without an apparent pattern which they
believed would prevent authorities from "crashing their party".  They
failed however to take into consideration one thing.  One lone FBI agent
who seemed to have the uncanny ability to think two steps ahead of
whatever criminal mind he took it upon himself to study.  An agent whose
intensity and passion for solving the unknown bordered on obsession.  An
agent with the unlikely name of Fox Mulder.

The noise in the bull pen was deafening and not conducive to any type of
meaningful concentration.  He missed his office and the privacy it had
afforded him and although he still held a supervisory position he knew his
transfer back to the Violent Crimes Section was Skinner's way of punishing
him for doing his job *too* well.  He had no doubts that he was being
"dumped on" in grand style but he had decided that if he could not get his
X-Files back, he would at least make life miserable for the criminal
element's lower life-forms that seemed to crawl out from under every rock
lately.  He tackled the worst cases(cause that's all they seemed to be
giving him) with a singular vengeance, solving the last four major cases
in just three months.  That really got their attention, but it also made
life difficult for him among his co-workers.  It seemed he'd gotten the
reputation as being somewhat of a hot-shot know-it-all even though he had
never acted condescending toward anyone.  One day he would get his files
back.  He'd find a way, of that he was certain but in the meantime he'd
sworn to himself to be the bad guy's worst nightmare and so far at least,
he managed to fulfill that objective.  He would survive this....He knew
that, but he just couldn't help thinking about the way things "should be".

Face it Mulder, he thought to himself, you miss her--plain and simple. 
You miss seeing her every day.  You miss her smile.  Shit, you even miss
the way she used to rag on you when you did something *really* stupid,
which was more often than you'd like to admit.  She was the only person
you ever knew who even tried to understand you and didn't feel threatened
if she didn't.  A part of you is missing and she's buried in the Forensics
Department at Quantico.  Hell, that's your fault too...Sure you see her
every once in a while for lunch or something and you talk on the
phone....a lot, but it's just not the same.  Take this new case for
instance.  You needed her feedback, her insight, her rock-solid
personality---Damn it, you needed *her*.

Two men had been terrorizing the Miami area for the past week, robbing and
murdering indiscriminately.  The FBI had been called in and he was being
sent to head up the task force there.  It was Dana's birthday and he'd
wanted to do something "special" for her to let her know how much she had
meant to him but now she'd be here and he'd be cooling his heels in
Miami.  He had an idea but he wasn't sure she'd go along with it so in
typical fashion...he didn't tell her.  He turned the plane tickets over in
his hands and phoned an old friend to ask a *big* favor.

He had to hurry.  It was already 3:00 PM and Dana would be leaving the
classroom around 4:30 PM..  There wouldn't be enough time for her to go
home and change so he stopped by Fifth Avenue on the way and had the
salesgirl help him pick something out for her and had it wrapped.

Scully stood by her desk as the last of her students left the room.  She
closed her briefcase and stacked the books on  shelf behind her while she
pondered over the sudden wave of melancholy that enveloped her.  No one
had even wished her a Happy Birthday.  OK, so your mom called, moms are
supposed to call...that doesn't count.  She had to admit, though, that she
was a little miffed at Mulder.  She'd have thought that at least he would
have said something because she knew for a fact that he *couldn't* forget.

Mulder...she thought about him often and marveled at  the strength of the
bond that had formed between them in the relatively short time that they
had been partners.  At first she thought as Skinner had, that in their
separation they would drift apart and forget but instead their
relationship had solidified and become stronger in the past few months
than it had ever been before. She looked down at the desk again and didn't
want to be here.  This is not what she had trained for.  Stop it Scully,
she chastised herself.  At least this position still had some prestige and
people treated you with respect.  If only she could have obtained the same
thing for Mulder, but they had come down *hard* on him.  It hurt her to
see how badly he was treated....the ridicule, the barbs, and the continual
harrassment,yet he remained true to his beliefs and his convictions.  He
endured it all.  Hell, Mulder was brilliant....she knew it and even though
nobody else would admit it...so did they.  She missed him.

Jesus, he was out of breath.  He'd made it just in time to see Scully lock
the classroom door and turn to leave.  He crossed his arms and leaned his
shoulder against the wall in nonchalant fashion, asking with schoolboy
innocence, "Teacher, can I carry your books?  Any plans for the weekend?"

She spun around, startled by his voice.  "Mulder, what are you doing
here?", she said slightly miffed. No, she wasn't going to let him off the
hook that easily..not even mentioning her birthday. "No, I don't have
anything to do this weekend, nothing at all, Why?"

"Well, guess what?" he asked happily.  "I tell ya what....I need you to
help me on this case I'm working on, so believe it or not, Skinner
agreed.  Will wonders never cease?  There's no time to stop cause our
plane leaves Dullus at 6:00PM."

"Jesus Christ, Mulder, so what am I supposed to wear, a smile?"  

"Women," he quipped lightly, "Everything's a fashion statement."  He
opened his mouth to say something else, thought better of it and mumbled
hurriedly, "You can pick something up when we get there."

"Fine," she said testily, "let's go."

On the way to the airport he briefed her on the case and asked for her
input and ideas which she seemed more than happy to give him.  The
discussion continued on the plane but he found his mind wandering to other
thoughts that had nothing to do with murder, crime or the case at hand. 
The scent of her perfume was driving him to distraction, not that he'd
never noticed it before..it was just that this was the first time that he
had allowed himself to enjoy it.

He hadn't realized he had been staring off into space.

"Hey, earth to Mulder, you're not listening to me.  Where's your head?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he ventured doubtfully.

"Try me."

"...I like your perfume," he replied softly.

"What?" she asked with a puzzled look.

"...Your perfume...it's...nice."

"Thanks...I never knew you noticed those things."
"I *notice* a lot of things...it's just that I don't always say it when I
"notice" that's all."  You're digging yourself into a hole here, Mulder,
Christ...you're babbling.

"Gee, Mulder, what other  things do you *notice* that I don't know about
cause you won't tell me?"

He blushed visibly and turned to face the window"...just...things."  He
closed his eyes and soon she could hear his deep, even, breathing ,
punctuated by an occasional light snore.

Coward, she thought accusingly.  Reaching across him she removed the
ticket copies from his coat pocket.  Something just didn't seem Kosher
here.  Why in God's name would Skinner approve of *anything* that Mulder
would request?  His ticket looked official enough and was paid by
government  voucher, but her ticket, she noted with interest was purchased
today and paid for in cash.

"Oh Mulder," she purred, shaking him gently.  Wake up and tell me what's
really going on here!  I want to know why I'm on this plane."

He glanced sleepily at her from beneath thick lashes.  "Better fasten your
seat belt, we're about to land."

"Don't change the subject," she countered.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," he stammered with
exaggerated innocence.

"Oh yes you do, Fox Mulder.  You're a terrible liar."  She narrowed her
eyes, "the  Bureau paid for *your* ticket---*You* paid for mine, Why?"

She's too damn smart, he thought, and she's right...you're a *lousy*
liar.  The gig's up..better come clean before she hits you with the third
degree.  "OK, suppose I told you that I did have ulterior motives."

As they disembarked from the plane, she asked suspiciously, "What ulterior
motives?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said mysteriously, "just the usual ones.  Hey
there's our car now."

Dana's mouth opened wide in surprise as a sleek, black, limo pulled up
beside them.

"Everything is as you ordered, Mr. Mulder," the chauffeur said cheerfully
as he opened the door."

Mulder stepped back, gave her a theatrical bow, and in his most gallant
voice whispered "After you."  She stepped in and nearly sat on the box of
roses lying on the seat.  A bottle of champagne sat chilling in the ice
bucket and on the bar was an assortment of finger foods.

"I didn't think there would be time to eat so I had Tony put some food in
here."

"Mulder, what's this all about and where are we going," she asked a little
overwhelmed.

"You still like the "Eagles", right?"

"Yes, of course I do, you know that.  I tried to get tickets in DC but
they were all sold out..in fact, they're all sold out everywhere."


"Well, I guess I'm taking you to a concert."

"You flew me all the way to Miami just for a concert?"

"Well, not "just" for a concert--Happy Birthday," he said softly and
smiled as he pulled the gift-wrapped package from his flight bag.  "I
thought you might need something to wear."

She stared at him incredulously, "All of this for me?  Why?"

His eyes softened.  "Because you deserve it...because I wanted to find a
way to let you know how much you've meant to me.  I wanted to do something
for you in DC but Skinner sent me to Miami.  I think the bastard did it on
purpose."

She raised her hand and lightly caressed his cheek, then laughed.  "How on
earth did you get tickets to this thing over night when I *KNOW* they've
been sold out for months?"

He grinned.  "I have connections."

This wasn't necessary you know, a card would have done.  I know what you
make and you can't afford this."

His eyes danced.  "You right, I can't....let's just say I called in a few
favors.....and isn't this more fun than a *card*?"

She had to admit that it was--and that she still couldn't believe he'd
done this.  No one had ever gone to this much trouble for her before...she
was at a loss.

The limo pulled up to the side gate and they were escorted out of the car,
given backstage passes, and shown to a row of dressing rooms where they
could change.

She carefully unwrapped the package and opened the box.  Mulder, she
thought, at least you have good taste.  A pair of jeans and a loose
fitting, royal blue, silk blouse peered out from beneath the paper.  "How
did he know my size?"she wondered out loud.

This is crazy she told herself, yet she couldn't resist the adventure.  He
had a way of making crazy ideas seem normal.  He had always affected her
that way and she would never travel the "safe" path again.  During this
past year, this one man had forced her to look at herself and her life,
testing her beliefs and disbelief to their ultimate capacities.  He lived
on the edge and he had taken her with him.  No, she would never be
satisfied with mere contentment again..he had ruined that for her. 
Everything that came after her partnership with him had bordered on the
mundane.  Well enough of this reverie.  There was a concert to see and
handsome man to see it with her.

She peered out of the door and saw him fidgeting uncomfortably as he tried
to avoid the stares of a dozen or so groupies that had gathered around him
in the hall.  A slender figure in black...she could understand their
apparent interest for she finally admitted to herself that she also found
him undeniably attractive.

She emerged from the dressing room, strolled over to him, took his hand
and led him away from the crowd and onto the main floor.  "Where are we
sitting?"

He pointed to the front row.  "Right here will be fine."

"Front row?", she replied in surprise.  "Those must be some connections."
"They are," he commented, offering no further explanation.  The lights
dimmed and the whole stadium began to rock.

This was absolutely fantastic!!  She swayed with the music and sang with
the crowd.  She hadn't had this much fun in a long time.  Glancing at
Mulder, she noticed that the music seemed to flow through him like a
healing river.  The tension and stress lines around his eyes seemed to
vanish and he appeared to be much younger.  He was obviously enjoying
himself.  Amazing, she thought to herself, Mulder having a good time. 
What a concept.  She had never before seen him this animated.  Though she
had witnessed fleeting glimpses of his wry humor and quick wit , she could
never remember him acting with such abandonment.  She liked it.  She placed
her arm around his waist which surprised and pleased him and he drew her
closer.

After the show, he took her backstage to meet the band.

"You weren't kidding when you said you had connections, were you?"

"Nope," he replied with a mischievous smirk.

As they walked into the room, a man she recognized from one of the album
covers came strolling up to them and started yelling, "Hey Fox, long time,
no see.  How the hell are ya, ya crazy son of a bitch?  And who's the
recipient of all this attention? " he said laughingly as he studied Dana.

"This is Dana Scully," he quipped--"It's her birthday, but then you
already knew that cause I told you.  Think you could spare a couple of
autographs for her?"

"Sure thing, anything for you pal.  Hows about sittin' in and jammin' with
us for a while?"

"Wish I could, Glen, but unlike some people, *I* have a *real* job and
have to work tomorrow."

Dana's face became one large question mark.  

Mulder's only answer to her was, "It's a long story."

"Sure, go ahead and hurt my feelings," Glen cried with mock sorrow. 
"Listen, if you can't stay, at least  take the keys to my mom's place on
the beach.  Just make sure you get the keys back to Tony on Monday or mom
will hang me up by my "cahones.""

"Ouch," Mulder managed to say with a pained expression.

Glen then took Mulder over to one side and murmured in a conspiring
fashion, "Listen guy, just one more thing....If ya mess up the sheets,
change em ok?"

Mulder gave him a slight shove as his face turned a dark shade of red. 
"Jesus Glen, get some class."

Glen gave Scully a wink and replied with a jovial tone.  "See how easy it
is to embarrass this guy...Fox, you're a real piece of work, you really
are."

They said their good-byes and walked out  into the silence of the now
deserted night, strolling wordlessly down the empty pathway toward their
car.  The intoxicating scent of night blooming jasmine hung heavily in the
air as they stopped to study one another as if for the first time.  The 
southern breeze caressed Dana's hair as the light of a full moon reflected
softly upon her face.

Mulder felt light-headed and slightly off-balance.  I must be coming down
with something, he thought abstractly as he studied her with renewed
wonder...She's beautiful.  He felt desire rise within him and attempted to
squash what he thought he had no right to feel.  Gazing into her eyes, he
lost all sense of propriety and giving into temptation, gently lifted her
chin and sensuously kissed her lips.

She was momentarily stunned as though an electric charge had just passed
through her entire body.  She had often wondered what it would be like to
kiss him and was amazed to find that the fantasy could never even approach
the reality of what she was experiencing at this moment.  The depth of
passion she felt surprised even her as she responded to him with equal
fervor.

He slowly pulled away from her, clearly disturbed over his seeming lack of
control.  My God, he thought,  you've done it now...what if you've lost her
friendship because you couldn't keep your fucking libido in check.  What if
she doesn't feel the same way you do?  What if she does...Christ, Mulder,
you're falling apart.  OK, try and salvage the situation....maybe she
*won't* kill you.

"I'm sorry....I didn't mean to take liberties," he stammered in obvious
emotional confusion.

"Liberties" are taken only when the "advances" are unwanted she advised
him as she slowly slipped her hands beneath his jacket and held him
close.  He returned her embrace tentatively at first and then with renewed
conviction, burying his face in her hair as they stood motionless, clinging
to one another beneath a blanket of stars.

It had been a long time since he had really "cared" for anyone and this
new turn of events both frightened  and exhilarated him.  He found himself
at a loss as to what he should do...if anything.  He'd sworn he would never
completely trust another woman, yet he trusted Dana with his life...more
than that, he would trust her with his heart and his very soul if
necessary for he *knew* in some inexplicable way that she would never hurt
him.

He smiled shyly and released her.  "Dana," he spoke softly, "I really
hadn't planned on this....I can't deny that I hadn't thought about
it....but I hadn't planned on it."  He stood quietly for a few moments,
trying unsuccessfully to assess her mood.  Come on, Mulder, don't turn
into a goddamn invertebrate, you have to take a chance sometime.  You know
you want her to stay,  so at least let her know it.  Tell her........... 

He took the plane ticket from one pocket and the apartment keys from the
other and held them out to her separately.  "In this hand is a return
ticket to DC.  The flight leaves in two hours....And in this hand are keys
to a beach side apartment that's mine until Monday morning.  I ....don't
know what you want, Dana...I just needed you to know that a choice exists."

The implications were clear to her.  She could go back to DC and spend the
rest of her weekend  alone or stay here with him just a little while
longer.   She tilted her head back to look up at him and saw that his face
wore an  expectant, yet uncertain expression...God, he's just as scared as
you are!  How *do* you feel about this?  How *do* you feel about him?  OK,
you know how you feel about him...you've always known.  Dana, you  think
too much.  You've  spent your whole life following your damn intellect,
perhaps it's time to give your heart equal billing.  Stay or go?  No
contest.....

She reached out in an indecisive manor and quickly snatched the keys from
his hand, turned abruptly and strode purposely back toward the limo,
leaving him standing there momentarily dazed.  She stopped at the car and
called over her shoulder, "Whatta ya waitin' for, Sherlock?  You gonna
stand there all night and miss possibly the best birthday I've ever had?"

He came to his senses, made a dash for the car, and mumbled,"What do mean
*possibly,*" as he slid in beside her and shut the door.

(continued...)
end part 1
(Taking Liberties prt. 2)


She came to in a tangle of satin sheets and wondered if she'd been
dreaming until she saw the single, red rose and note on the pillow next to
her. 
 
"Didn't have the heart to wake you.
Have to catch a couple of rabid animals 
before they kill again-- Mulder
PS.  Got you a bathing suit, after all it is Miami and
       one of us should go home with a tan."

She was astonished to find that under Mulder's seemingly cool and
collective exterior, lurked the heart of a romantic and after reviewing
recent events she also came to the conclusion that he was the most
sensual, erotic man she had ever known.  His actions in that department
were just as unpredictable as he was, being dictated solely by the mandate
of his own imagination, which she discovered first hand was......formidable.

She felt pleasantly exhausted and decided to take his advice and hit the
beach.

The condemned building smelled of garbage, mildew, and urine.  Jack and
Lucky had run out of stash.  It was time to make another "withdrawal" so
Jack sent his live in love, Norma Jean, to "check out the layout" as Lucky
was fond of saying.  They picked out several weapons from their collection
that they had not used before and loaded up their ammo.  Norma Jean
returned with the required information, to which Lucky would reply as
always, "piece of cake."  They piled into the late model, faded green
sedan and set off to visit their local "financial institution."  The sedan
pulled up in front of the building and Norma Jean went in as she usually
did...she got a big kick out of watching.  She would leave later after it
was over.  The bank exploded with gunfire as Jack shot the three tellers
behind the counter and Lucky blew away a security guard.  They made their
escape, leaving four people dead and themselves three thousand dollars
richer.

Mulder strolled through the Miami Bureau's conference room with a spring
in his step and the shadow of a smile on his face.  He felt slightly
guilty for feeling so good.  Considering the gruesomeness of the case at 
hand, he guessed he should at least try to appear a little more solemn. 
All of the agents assigned to the task force were already there with the
exception of course of Agent Hanson...that's par for the course, he
thought.

"Listen up people," Mulder yelled.  "Has anyone seen Hanson?"

Agent Nicholson snickered, "I heard an unconfirmed report that he's around
here somewhere....Could be one of those "X-Files".

Ordinarily, the intended barb would have irritated him but today, for some
reason, it didn't really bother him that much.  Mulder raised both eyebrows
at Nicholson's remark and replied sardonically, "You could be right
Frank.  Hanson's been abducted by fucking aliens.  They got a whiff of his
feet and dropped him off in the most remote spot they could find so I guess
we'll be lucky if we find him during this goddamn century."

Nicholson started in surprise.  That was not the kind of response he was
expecting...irritation or mild annoyance, yes, but not a humorous
retort.  He liked Mulder alright, even though he thought the man was a
little odd and like just about everyone else, he couldn't resist taking a
shot at him every once in a while.

Nicholson glanced toward the door as Hanson hurriedly barged his way in
and took a seat.  "Hey Mulder, looks like the aliens brought him back and
decided to punish us instead."

Hanson looked up nervously.  "Sorry I'm late...I was..."
Mulder interrupted him with a wave of his hand and assumed a *put upon*
stance.  "I don't want to know....Hanson, you'd be late to your own
goddamn funeral.  Now that we're all here, let's get down to business.  In
the interest of time, I spent several hours this morning being briefed on
this situation  by our counterparts here as well as by the local
authorities and I will pass this information on to you.  Unfortunately,
while I was meeting with them, these two excuses for humanity robbed
another bank and killed four more people.  I accompanied the local police
to the scene, collected evidence and interviewed witnesses.  This
information will also be available to you.  Now I know that in the past,
there has been some "friction" between local law enforcement and federal
agents so I 'll tell you exactly what I told them.  I have no time for
egos, red tape or bureaucratic bullshit.  I don't give a flying fuck who
discovers what or if someone else "breaks" the case.  All evidence is
important, all ideas, hunches, and insights are equally valuable no matter
where or who they come from.  This is a group effort and we have one
objective....to catch these mother fuckers before they can take another
human life."

Mulder continued the briefing, giving them all the information that he had
and assigning to each man, according to his expertise, a section of the
case.  He then went to work creating their psychological profiles in an
effort to find a pattern where no pattern seemed to exist.  He worked
throughout the day, missing both lunch and dinner.  He examined every
scrap of evidence, went over every report and eyewitness account and
viewed the bank video tapes over and over again.  It was redundant...
after all, he had photographic memory, but just doing *something* somehow
made him feel better.  The answer was here.  He knew it!  Their madness
invaded his thoughts as the carnage he had seen replayed itself unbidden
in his mind.  Sometimes his memory *was* a curse.  He removed his glasses
and rubbed his eyes as a major headache threatened to erupt.

A clerk walked over to the desk and placed a hand on his shoulder.  "Agent
Mulder, everyone on the task force has left for the night, perhaps you
should get some rest too."

He looked at his watch in alarm.  "Oh shit, I didn't realize it was this
late!"  He grabbed his jacket,  a hand full of files, and a the stack of
video tapes and headed for the exit.

He stood outside the apartment door trying to decide if he should go in or
retreat to another state.  He hadn't called her all day....she stayed and
he hadn't even called her.  He put his hand on the door, leaned forward
slightly and mumbled under his breath, "I swear Mulder, sometimes you're a
fucking idiot."  He put the key in the lock and slowly opened the door...a
crack.  The door chain was efficiently and annoyingly in place.  Well, so
much for a stealthful entry.  "I give up," he sighed, then rang the
doorbell.

Dana padded slowly across the room, removed the chain, returned to the
sofa and sat down, drawing her legs up under her.  He stood in the
doorway, arms full of files and tapes and the fire in her eyes burned a
hole right through him.  She was angry and this time he had to agree that
she had a right  so he braced himself for a well deserved reaming.

She had been really pissed at him.  Sometimes he could be so unbelievably
aggravating, focusing his concentration so narrowly that he became
oblivious to everything else...even her.  Dana, she told herself, you know
how he is when he's on a case, that relentless, obsessive drive...you
accepted it...you accepted him.  It's a part of who he is and you know you
wouldn't have him any other way.  She took a closer look at him as he
dumped his things by the door.  Jesus, he looked exhausted.  The stress
lines and circles had begun to appear around his eyes again, along with a
hint of a five o clock shadow on his face.  His hair was wickedly astray
and he moved slowly with fatigue.

Her eyes softened as she patted the cushion next to her.  "Come here."  He
walked over and slowly lowered himself onto the sofa, let his head fall
back and allowed a quick burst of air to escape his lips.
"Rough day, huh," she offered with understanding.  He nodded his head in
agreement. "And I bet you haven't eaten all day either, have you?"

"You telepathic on top of everything else?" he asked.

"No, I just know *you*."

He dropped his head down and stared at his feet.  "I'm sorry I didn't
call...I lost track of time...I mean I didn't notice how late it was...."

"You know from anyone else, I would have considered that a pretty lame
excuse."

"From anyone *else*?" 

"From you, Mulder, that excuse is highly probable and more than likely the
truth."

"Thanks a lot, and I was afraid you wouldn't *believe*."

"Just *keep it up*, Mulder."

"I'll try," he eyed her with a wicked gleam.

With that remark, she promptly picked up a cushion and thrashed him
soundly.  Not being one to take a thrashing lightly, he immediately
returned fire.  The living room erupted in a blur of flying pillow
cushions as the sofa tipped over and spilled them out onto the floor. 
Her  laughter was contagious and he found himself holding his side, unable
to move.  She straddled his body, held his arms down with her hands and
asked with authority, "Do you concede defeat?"  He gave her the most
helpless expression he could muster and replied, "I surrender, if I had a
white flag I'd wave it.....What is your present form of torture?"  One
corner of her mouth turned up.  "I've heard it said that too much pleasure
can be a form of torture...however, I've never had the opportunity to test
the validity of that belief......until now."

A sound from the living room pulled her back to wakefulness and as she sat
up, she noticed that once again she had awakened "alone."  That man was
going to give her a complex.  She was beginning to think that Fox Mulder
was just a figment of her imagination, existing only in the dream-state
recesses of her mind.  She moved quietly to the doorway and peered into
the semi-darkness.  The TV was on *naturally*, and a bank camera video
tape was playing.  The robe hung loosely about his shoulders as he paced
the room like a caged panther, stopping occasionally to place the back of
his hand near his mouth and stare at the screen.

After  a year of working closely with this man, she'd seen this behavior
before.  Mulder was on to something.  Something that he wasn't quite able
to put his finger on was gnawing at the back of his mind and neither one
of them would have any peace until he figured out what it was.

She walked up behind him, stood on her tip toes and whispered in his ear,
"You want to show them to me?"  He nearly jumped two feet off the
ground.  "Holy Christ Almighty, you nearly gave me heart failure.  I
didn't mean to wake you, Dana...Sorry."

"Don't worry about it.  You want to show me the videos?  Maybe I'll see
something that you don't."

"Sure, why not.."  He put in the first video and pressed "play."  She sat
on the couch and watch them all several times.

"I don't know, Mulder.  It's just the same cast of characters over and
over again."

"What did you say?" he asked with sudden comprehension.

"I said that it looks like the same cast of characters."

"That's it!" he yelled.  "Dana Scully, you're a genius."

"What's *it *and why am I suddenly a genius?"

He played the videos again and with each one, he was able to pick out one
bystander who was present in every one.  In the last video the individual
fingered a statuette that was sitting on the counter.

"You're a genius, Dana, because we were all concentrating on the robbers
and weren't paying enough attention to the background.  That woman was
present at every robbery and unless she's incredibly rich or has a weird
case of bankphobia, the chances of that happening accidentally are a
million to one.  We have a photo and possibly a fingerprint so if we can
match them up, we'll also have an ID.  Then all we'll have to do is find
her, tail her.....and wait."

"Well, you can't do anything about it at three in the morning, so will you
*please* sit down."

He stepped over to the couch, stretched out, and laid his head in her
lap.  She stroked his hair lightly and whispered in his ear, "go to
sleep."  

"Yes m'am", he replied sleepily in a half-yawn. He slowly closed his eyes
and peacefully drifted into unconsciousness.

She awoke to find him still peacefully sleeping in her lap.  Well, how
about that, she thought ruefully,  the only way to wake up with this one
is to sleep on the blasted sofa....must be all those years of falling
asleep in front of the TV...

Mulder arrived at the Bureau offices early Sunday morning ahead of the
rest of the team...he had a lot of details to work out before he briefed
them on  his theory.  He wished he could have spent more time with Dana
but he knew this couldn't wait and she understood.

Task force agents began drifting in around 7:00 AM  and by 7:30 AM
everyone was accounted for except of course...Hanson.  Mulder  had hoped
since he told Hanson the meeting was at 7:00, that he might actually make
it on time.  Wishful thinking.

Mulder scanned the room and announced, "And now ladies and gentleman, for
the $50,000 question....." 

They all shouted in unison.  "Where's Hanson?"

Mulder asked with mock concern, "Does anybody have any theories?"

"He could have been swallowed up by a black hole," offered Nicholson.

"Maybe he's dating Carmen Sandiego," shouted Bergman.

"NOT," said Mulder.  "He's changed his name to Waldo and we'll have to buy
the board game to find him."

Suddenly Hanson burst through the door and slid into an empty seat. 
"Sorry I'm late.....My..."

"Dog ate my car?" Mulder finished for him.  "Can it Hanson, just try to
get somewhere on time, OK?"

"Alright, listen up.  There have been some new developments in this case
and I think I've found a way to locate these assholes before they can kill
again."  He told them about the woman and how he proposed to find the
killers through her.  He called the bank president to open the doors and
allow agent Bergman to obtain the statuette that was in the video and when
Bergman returned, Mulder took the object to the lab to have a laser lift
the prints.

Lasers always fascinated him and he watched in awe as the delicate beam of
light found its target.

"You realize of course, agent Mulder, that there may be *several* prints
on this object." Judy didn't want to get his hopes up too high.

"Yes, but the owner of only one of them will match the photo.  Yeah, I
know it's a long shot, but it's all I've got."

"In that case, I shall give it my best shot."  It had taken two hours but
she had lifted fifteen prints and hopefully one of those would be the
right one.  He took them all and ran them through the system, keeping his
fingers crossed that the computer would find a match.  Bingo!! She had a
record:  Norma Jean Cooper--arrested for prostitution; drug possession; 
Oh great, present address unknown, but....she owns a 1982 green Pontiac
sedan, license number JKL-04N.  Yes!!!!!  He immediately put an APB out on
the car with the instructions that it NOT be apprehended, but reported to
him and followed if possible.  He wanted to pick the place and time of
apprehension and he wanted  everything to go down on his own terms not
theirs.  If they were as dangerous as he believed they were, he wanted his
people well prepared and ready for them.  

He called the team together, gave them the description and told them what
he thought they could expect.

"Just a couple of things I want to make clear:
Everyone *will* wear vests.
No one will make a move on the vehicle until I give the word
You will have your shotguns available *before* we move in
Oh, and each task force vehicle will be driven by a local agent..
They know the streets and you don't so give them your respect, you'll
need their help."

"Worst case scenario.  If they make you and start to run, make a felony
car stop as a last resort to keep them from endangering local residents. 
I don't like it because there's no control and it's not on our terms but
we can't have them shooting up innocent people.  These are dangerous men
and from what I've seen in the video tapes, they have an arsenal of
weapons, so be careful.  Now, since there is nothing to do but wait, and
since waiting drives me up the fucking wall, I suggest that we use the
time to canvas the general areas around the last two robbery locations. 
Granted, it's Sunday and they're not likely to blow any banks today, but
hey, maybe we'll get lucky. In any case, it's better than sitting around
here with our thumbs up our asses."

He had been patrolling the area around SW 12th Ave and SW 8th Street for
the last hour and a half with agent Victor Mendez, without incident. 
Mendez seemed to be a likable fellow who really knew his way around all
the back streets, which Mulder thought would be a distinct advantage
should he need to get somewhere fast.  So far nothing unusual had
transpired other than the usual criminal elements  hard at work...the 
ever-present  pimps, dealers, hookers, etc..
Perhaps they wouldn't find the car today.  It was almost 5:00PM and time
to call it a day.  He picked up his cellular phone and called Dana, after
all she had a plane to catch tonight at 9:00PM, so maybe he could treat
her to dinner before taking her to the airport.  "Hey Dana, Looks like
it's a bust, how about dinner?"  

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

Mulder looked at Mendez with a questioning glance,...."Ah Vic, where's a
good place to eat around here?" 

Mendez started to answer when  Nicholson's excited voice came over the
radio.  "We've spotted the suspect vehicle headed south on I-95 .  From
what I can see the occupants appear to be one female and two males and
they're gonna be coming in your direction."

Mulder absently placed the phone on the seat and grabbed the radio mike. 
"Nicholson,  hold back and maintain surveillance...car  one to cars six
and seven fall back and set up.. ..Prepare yourselves, this could get
messy. "  

Nicholson radioed, "Ah Shit, Mulder, We're burned...they see us and
they're runnin'"

"Force them off onto an exit, we can't afford gunfire in heavy traffic. 
What are you  commin' up on?"

"SW 8th St.," shouted Nicholson.

"We're there.  Get them off that highway.  Car one to four and five..I'll
catch them at the exit and herd them in your direction...cut them off at
SW 8th Ave and 8th St..   Car three..come up Sw 7th and box them in. 
Shit!, Shit!, Shit....Mendez, I hate it when perfectly good plans go down
the fucking toilet.  I don't like this....this is *not* the way this was
supposed to go down."

Mendez looked at him with understanding and grinned.  "Even the best laid
plans...."

Moments later a late model, green sedan flew off the 8th St. exit like a
bat out of hell, clipping the front end of Mendez's car in the process. 
Mendez floored the accellerater and was on his bumper in a matter of
minutes, saying under his breath,"nobody does that to Vic's car and gets
away with it...son of a bitch." They followed him to the intersection and
boxed him in as planned, however this area was filled with residential
neighborhoods and the risk potential for civilian casualties would be high
if he turned down a side street.  Mulder made a decision.

"Stop him NOW...Felony car stop, NOW goddamn it...Let's do it!" he said
over the radio.  The other six cars converged on the sedan, which squealed
to a stop as they slammed on the breaks, thereby causing Vic's car to crash
into their back end.

Forced to stop their car, the two men began firing at the agents from the
vehicle.  Mulder pulled out his weapon, opened the car door and rolled
onto the pavement, just as a bullet whizzed by his head.  He looked up
momentarily to check on Vic only to fine him slumped forward in the seat
and covered with blood, the round that had just missed him had penetrated
the car door and Vic first.  Jesus Christ, he thought , they were using
high velocity rounds which meant they were probably using assault rifles
or carbines.  Fuck, the bullet proof vests would be next to useless
against those weapons, especially at close range.  He crawled to the rear
of his car and peeked over the top of the trunk to try and get an idea of
their location for after the first barrage of gunfire the men had emerged
from their car and began firing on agents at close range, killing and
wounding several officers.  He raised up, took aim and fired....he knew he
hit his targets, yet they didn't fall...he emptied a full clip  firing at
them and though he could see them bleeding, they still continued to
advance on him.  He dropped his empty clip to replace it with a fresh one
when he felt  the hot lead rip through his left shoulder and slam him into
Nicholson's car which in the melee had pulled up behind his.  He slid to
the ground and saw the shotgun lying there on the opposite side of the
car....Nicholson was lying motionless next to it, at least he thought it
was Nicholson...his face was gone.  He fought down the bile that rose into
his throat and with monumental effort he half crawled, half dragged himself
beneath the car to the other side, and grabbed the shotgun with his right
hand.  He braced the stock between his legs, since he had lost the use of
his left arm, and racked in a round.  He staggered to his feet, propped
the barrel on the trunk of his car and fired into Nicholson's vehicle
where the three fugitives were amazingly, still trying to escape.  The
driver, though obviously severely wounded, got out of the car and fired
his weapon once more. Mulder knew he had been hit again but he couldn't
tell how badly. He fell by Nicholson and grabbing the gun from his hand,
stood unsteadily and fired directly into the passenger window repeatedly
even after the clip had been emptied.  Tears streamed down his face as he
collapsed to the pavement.

Thick smoke from the gunfire hung over the area like a dark cloud, as a
small voice shouted from the floorboard of Mendez's car.  "Mulder, what's
going on?  Is everything Ok?  Talk to me damn it!  Someone talk to me!" 
In the confusion, he'd forgotten to hang up and for the last 8 minutes she
had been witness to the violent confrontation that had taken place.  She
could hear the emergency personnel working in the background and heard
where they were taking the wounded, so she hung up called a cab and
quickly made her way to Jackson Memorial.

She paced the floor in the waiting room relentlessly....it was taking too
long, she thought.  He'd been in surgery now for six hours....too
long...she was worried.  Come on Dana, get a grip, you're a doctor,  you
know these things take time...what happened to all that objective medical
training?  She jumped as a surgeon in hospital greens emerged from the OR
looking grim.  She knew that look, she'd had it herself a few times and
her heart sank.  She looked at him expectantly and braced herself for the
worst.  

"Doctor Scully, I won't beat around the bush.  Agent Mulder is in pretty
bad shape right now and  we nearly lost him on the table...twice.  His
injuries were severe and he lost a lot of blood but I believe that the
operating team did one hell of a job putting him back together.  Now, it's
up to him and whatever deity he believes in.  If it's any conciliation, I
heard of the circumstances surrounding this incidence and anyone with that
much determination is not about to give up without a fight.....I'd bet on
him to survive.  Why don't you go get some sleep?  He'll be in recovery
until tomorrow morning and then we'll transfer him to ICU.  In any case,
hanging around here isn't going to help since he'll be unconscious for
quite some time and won't know you're here anyway.

Where would she go?  She didn't know anyone here.  She'd already missed
her flight and wouldn't  have left anyhow..not now.  She went to the
phone, called DC and asked for a week of   personal time, which she
obtained without incident.  Well, Skinner would know where she was now and
she discovered that she really didn't care anymore.  Looking around, she
noticed  the families and friends of the other agents waiting hopefully
along with her and decided to ask them for recommendations on where to
stay.

"Does anyone know a good hotel that's reasonable and fairly safe?" she
asked.

A small, attractive Latin woman rose from a chair and took her hand.  "My
name is Elena Mendez.  Your man will be OK?" she asked with genuine
concern.

Dana opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind.  "I don't
know, they say they won't know for another day or so. "

The woman tightened her grip on Dana's hand and said with tears in her
eyes, "My Victor has died and I do not wish to be alone....please, you may
stay with me until you need to go.  Hotels in this place are not safe for a
woman alone."

"Thank you, but I don't wish to impose."

"It is not an imposition," she glanced around at the faces in the room, "
We are all family here and we take care of our own.  Get your
things.....you will stay with me."

The next two days were hell.  She sat  by his bed subconsciously checking
his  vital signs over and over again waiting for a movement or sound that
didn't come.  The needles and tubes left  ugly purple bruises  on his arms
and hands and the sight of them made her ache.  Finally, at the end of her
rope,  she slowly placed her head on the bed and wept silently until she
felt a hand gently place itself in her hair. Opening her eyes, she saw him
slowly opening his with a  confused, questioning stare.   He tried to say
something, but it was a whisper and she couldn't understand.  She bent
closer and distinctly heard him say, "thirsty." 

"Thirsty?  Mulder," she laughed playfully," that's the nicest thing you've
ever said to me."  He was back....Mulder continued to improve over the next
few days and by the time Dana had to go back to DC, he was sitting up in
bed and being a real pain in the ass.

After a long day at  Quantico, Scully sank down onto the couch and phoned
the hospital like she'd done every day for the last two weeks.

"So, how ya feelin', Sherlock?"

"Me?   Oh, I feel just great.....I've got Godzilla for a nurse and the lab
techs. are using me for dart practice.   I gotta get out of here Scully, if
for nothing else....just to find out what it's like to be some other color
besides black and blue."

"Ah come on, it  can't be all that bad.  At least you don't have to dodge
advances from over eager anatomy students.  When are they gonna parole ya,
Mr. Capone?"

"Doc said if I'm a good boy, they'll throw me out on Friday.  Think you
could possibly pick me up at the airport...I'm not allowed to drive yet."

"I don't know.  If they're waiting for you to be a *good boy*, you could
be in there a long time.  Sure, you know I'll come get you...don't I
always?  Just let me know when your flight gets in."

"Dana,.......Thanks."

"For what?  Just hurry up and get your butt home, ok?   I miss ya."

"I miss you too, ...Bye."

Mulder wouldn't  be fit for field work again for a least a couple of
months, so Skinner had  him reassigned to personnel.  She didn't bother to
tell Mulder about it because she knew he'd go ballistic when he discovered
that he'd be stuck behind a desk, pushing papers.  They should have given
him a commendation...the inquiries showed that he made the right decisions
based on the circumstances and acted admirably in the face of overwhelming
adversity, yet Skinner used the incident as a vehicle to get Mulder out of
the field entirely.  No, she thought, life certainly is not fair.

Mulder went over the events in his mind repeatedly trying to think of what
he might have done differently.  Nothing....he decided...he would  not have
changed his decision.  Four men died, nine were injured, including
himself.  Only one agent escaped that disaster in one piece....wouldn't
you know it.....Agent Hanson.   He was late as usual.  Mulder chuckled to
himself as he sat back in bed and prepared himself for what he considered
more cruel and unusual punishment.....dinner.


  
 
  
     
FINE
  



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

END NOTES
****************************

Miami is a smorgasbord of criminal activity.  It is an international city
where almost all the money is some way tainted  and where flashing your
headlights to get the car ahead of you to move may result in getting
yourself blown away by machine gun fire.  Million dollar drug deals are a
daily occurrence and hardly worth noting.  The Miami office of the FBI is
the 5th largest in the whole organization and is considered the number-one
office in the drug field.  It is a volatile city and I would like to pay
tribute to those officers who risks their lives daily in an effort to keep
the whole place from going apocalyptic.  Thanks guys.....