THE GHOST IN HER LIFE - Pt. 2
by - Joyce
June 1997

NOTE: Italics indicate thoughts.  Underlining is for emphasis.
 

 

8=8=8=8=8=8=8=8

Sunday evening

Dana Scully's Apartment
 
 

Rather than take his advice to relax, she drove to the Great Falls State Park and hiked for hours beside the rushing water of the upper Potomac River. Pushing her body to the limit, she exorcised the demons of her disbelief in sweat. The heat was keeping more sensible people off the trails.

Perched atop a rockfall, high above the rapids Scully let her mind ramble over the situation she found herself in with Mulder or, more properly, his ghost. Ghosts did not, could not exist, testified her mind, but the evidence of her eyes and heart told her otherwise.

Trust Mulder to defy the laws of science and reason and, in doing so, give me a Class A-One headache.

"Mulder why is it whenever you are involved, I'm left between a rock and a hard place? Why is it that I always have to give up a part of myself for you? My heart or my mind - what kind of Hobson's choice is that?" The waters of the Potomac gave no answers to her questions, the rocks did not cry out the secret that would tell her which path to follow.

Resigned to her indecision, Scully gave up the effort to compromise between science and faith and started back down the trail. Mulder was an enigma. The best choice she could make was to try to take this new relationship one hour at a time, if Mulder's ghost was anything like Mulder in life.

By the time she reached her apartment it was growing dark. She was tired and sweaty. As she slipped into her apartment she was praying for a chance to take a long cool shower before Mulder showed up.

"Hey, partner," Mulder said softly from the darkness.

Shit! Scully leaned her head against the door momentarily as she locked it behind her. She really wanted that cool shower, not a conversation with a manifestation that contradicted all she believed in.

"Don't worry, Scully. I just wanted to let you know I'm here if you need me. I'll let you get cleaned up." Mulder smiled teasingly. "I'll even promise to stay out of the bathroom. However, if you need your back scrubbed . . .."

"Not a chance, Mulder." Scully hesitated then ventured a come-hither smile. "But if I do, you'll be the first to know."

The dumbfounded look on Mulder's face told her she had scored a hit. As she closed her bedroom door, Scully's smile was replaced by a sad, pensive expression. So much had changed between them. She wondered if the fact that Mulder was dead allowed her to indulge in the secret urge to give back as good as she got in innuendoes. She could trade sexual innuendoes now because there was no chance of Mulder ever calling her on it.

"Damn, I never wanted safe. I just wanted time to sort out the consequences," she complained to the silent darkness.

Scully stood under the cool cascade of water for nearly an hour washing away the heat of the day as her stubborn mind returned to the problem of coping with a ghost in her life. If only the problem could be sluiced away along with the dirt and grime of the day's exertions. Letting the water beat down on her head, she realized how ungrateful she must seem to Heaven. First she grieved for the loss of Mulder in her life and now, when beyond all reason and expectation he returns, she lamented the complications he brought with him. Life with Mulder, whether dead or alive, seemed destined never to be simple, she reflected ruefully.

As she slathered the soap over her body, she wondered what Mulder would do if she actually called his bluff and asked him in to wash her back? It might actually be soothing to have her back scrubbed, to feel the slow sensuous strokes of the bath mitt against her skin. The notion was tempting, a deep purring sensual sort of temptation buried deep within her for too long, but this balance between them was too precarious to hazard on a playful impulse. Scully sighed and finished her shower alone. Maybe later . . ..

Mulder was sprawled on the couch, actually on top of the couch for a change she was relieved to see, when she came out dressed in an oversize T-shirt and sandals. He looked so natural it hurt. Only the faint transparency of his form jarred her into remembering that he was dead. He looked up and smiled at her. Biting her lip to control the sudden urge to cry, she gave him a wavering smile in return. She would be in control, she would not give in to the confused mix of emotions she had about having him back in her life.

"Scully," Mulder sighed as he got up and walked over to stand in front of her. So many issues still remained unsettled between them. This was his atonement perhaps for leaving so much unsaid and unresolved during his lifetime, to have to deal with the tangled emotions he felt for his partner now when resolution and completion was beyond his grasp.

Scully looked up at him, defying her emotions to break free of the tight control she was exerting over them. She felt his ice-cold touch as his hand cupped the side of her head. Deep haunted hazel eyes peeled away her defenses, stripping away the walls she erected around her heart. She shivered at his touch, but leaned into his hand when he tried to pull back.

"It's not easy for me either, Scully. We never talked much, did we?" Mulder asked softly, his voice trembling with the effort to control his own stampeding emotions. "Would it help if I only showed up when you call?" he offered gallantly, if reluctantly.

"Running from the problem won't help, Mulder. We ran from dealing with our feelings when you were . . .," she hesitated as she fought to say the word, ". . . alive." Scully turned her face slightly allowing his hand to cup her face. "Sooner or later we are going to have to confront a lot of issues we managed to avoid," she whispered into his hand.

Fighting tremors of cold and fear, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his chest, praying that she wouldn't fall right through him. He felt solid enough, but cold. No heart beat reassuringly under her ear as she laid her head against his chest, no breath stirred the hair on her head. She breathed in the lingering scent of his spicy after-shave and soap and Mulder, marveling that even as a ghost he retained his own distinctive scent. Despite the chill that stung her soul, she held onto him as if he was her only anchor in a wild and stormy sea.

Mulder started, shuddering with the effort to remain cohesive and not abandon her to flee into the ether. The volcanic tangle of his feelings for Dana Katherine Scully simmered just under the surface. Feeling her warm living body against his chest threatened to shatter his resolve to shelter her from his confused emotions. Unconsciously, drawn by a need that burned his soul, his arms tightened around her and he laid his head atop hers, content to hold her like this for eternity.

They stood outside time, holding each other until her tremors reminded him just how cold his embrace was. Tenderly he pushed her away with a final brushing caress along her cheek. She resisted for a moment then allowed him to separate them, grudgingly consenting to the end of their silent communion of spirit and body.

"I won't run, Scully. If you are willing to put up with me, I guess I owe you some honesty in return," Mulder said with a resigned sigh.

He hoped his self-control was up to these little discussions. In fact, he was rather surprised to discover that he could still react to her as a man. He plaintively wished that someone had taken the time to write a manual on being a ghost. He was dead, damn it, he sternly reminded himself. In his present state however, thought was action. His mind was responding to her touch, to her scent, to the feel of her in his arms and his body was obliging by becoming solid in a most embarrassing way.

Desperate to hide his reaction from Scully, Mulder focused on keeping his arms and chest solid while allowing other portions of his anatomy to lose cohesiveness. This was not the time or place to discover just how fully functional he was. Moving furniture was one thing, dancing the horizontal tango was something else entirely. He was operating blind. Maybe a physical relationship would do no harm to either of them, but the possibilities if he was wrong were terrible to contemplate. Scully deserved a living partner who could share her life, not chained to a memory of a dead past.

"There's no hurry on this. Just don't feel you have to avoid touching me," Scully said firmly as she fought to control the cold shivers that set her teeth to chattering. The feel of Mulder's arms around her had been both comforting and terrifying. Their removal had been like sailing out of a safe harbor into wild waters. She vowed to challenge her fear and Mulder's to feel them around her again.

"Better than an air conditioner, eh Scully?" Mulder quipped, dispelling the emotion-heavy atmosphere. To his delight, his grin provoked an answering one from Scully. Heaven could easily be summed up for him in one of her rare grins.

"You could come in handy during the next blackout, I suppose," Scully said thoughtfully trying not to laugh at Mulder's expression. Chagrin at being one-upped, delight in the return of the relaxed give-and-take between them, and just a hint of sadness all chased each other across his face in the split second before he grinned at her.

Mulder raised his arms in mock surrender and retreated to the couch where he watched Scully putter around for awhile. She munched grapes and stray vegetables while straightening up the apartment and doing laundry until she finally settled in her favorite chair with her journal and a glass of wine. Mulder caught the shy, uneasy look she gave him as she opened up the book and her nervous fidgeting with the pen. Ghost or not, he was an intrusion or, at the very least, a distraction.

"I can take a hint Scully. Don't be shy about telling me to scram. You won't hurt my feelings. I'll be back after you've gone to bed." Mulder smiled reassuringly at her as he began to fade away. "Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day," he added in a serious tone.

"Good night Mulder and thank you," Scully whispered to the fading shadow of his body. He seemed so alive that she actually felt embarrassed by ignoring him when he was visible. For all she knew he might still be in the room, silently watching her, but as long as she couldn't see him, she could put him out of mind. She trusted him not to invade her privacy, though she wouldn't put it past him to periodically check on her. Still, if he said he was going, she had to believe him. There was no way to check up on him, at least any way she considered scientifically reliable.

Will I ever get used to this? she wondered idly as she began to jot down her scrambled thoughts about this entire situation. Writing usually helped her organize her thoughts, to make sense out of nonsense.

It was late by the time she went to bed. The sense of someone watching over her lulled her to sleep as the faint shadowy outline of Mulder's body sat on the end of her bed. Her last conscious thought was that it was so nice to feel totally safe in the darkness again. She thought she could hear Mulder's whispered 'good night Scully' as she slipped into the warm welcoming world of dreams where all things were still possible.

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Early Monday afternoon
X-Files Office - FBI Building

Dana Scully sat at her desk grimacing at the backlog of e-mail clamoring for her attention. She was sitting down for the first time today after spending the morning cleaning out the desk. After Mulder helped her shift boxes and stack them out of the way, she began organizing his eclectic collection of books and clippings. Mulder was now busy organizing and filing his slide collection. Scully was trying not to be distracted by the sight of slides floating through the air.

Mulder had considerately remained visible while they worked to clear the comfortable clutter he had accumulated over the years. However, by the time they were finished, he was almost transparent with exhaustion. A raised eyebrow from him was answered by a quick nod and he gratefully faded out of sight before turning his attention to the slides.

To her relieved surprise, Mulder had let her take the lead in rearranging the office to suit herself. She began making small changes, reluctant to distress him, but when he made no objection and readily shifted things to the places she indicated, she grew bolder until the office was arranged to her taste. Whatever qualms or regrets he may have had remained locked behind the inscrutable expression he kept firmly in place. Only his sad eyes betrayed his distress. Scully knew how difficult this was for him and appreciated the effort he was making to prove his willingness to let her lead.

"Scully, are you really sure I can't use my computer?" Mulder's voice interrupted her mental meandering. She glanced over to the small table covered with slide boxes. Mulder was still invisible and two slides hung side by side suspended in mid-air.

"Mulder, they probably deactivated your network account last Monday. I'm going to have to arrange to have access to your network files sometime this week," Scully answered patiently. Mulder was not even making an effort to hide his frustration at being denied access to his own files. This was the sixth time this morning he had asked the same question and received much the same answer.

"Well then some of these slides are going to have to wait until I can cross-check them against the list I have on file." The two slides settled back onto the table.

"I'm going to grab a quick lunch while I can. Will you be all right here?" Scully asked warily.

"Yeah, I'll be a good ghost, scout's honor." Mulder materialized holding three fingers up in the Scout salute.

"I'd feel more confident in that promise if I didn't know for a fact that you were never a Boy Scout," Scully replied, fixing him with a stern glare.

Mulder laughed. "Checking up on me?"

"Know thy enemy . . . and thy partner are always words to live by, Mulder," she retorted as she left the office. She mentally counted to twenty then threw open the door.

"Oh, and leave my computer alone, Mulder," she ordered as she popped her head back inside, catching him just as he was sitting down in front of her computer. She had the satisfaction of seeing him give a guilty start.

"You're a slave-driver, Scully," Mulder sighed in frustration but nodded his agreement to her terms.

Mulder watched her leave, listening carefully for her retreating footsteps down the hall to the elevator. Once he heard the elevator doors close behind her, he faded into thin air.

This office, his basement refuge for so many years, was already beginning to feel like Scully. The new arrangement opened it up, gave it a feeling of space and organization his old office had lacked in spades. Throughout the reorganizing spree, he had maintained rigid control over the mixture of sadness and resentment he felt as Scully rearranged his domain to suit her purpose. They were useless emotions right now and Scully deserved better than to be subjected to his selfish resentment of inevitable change.

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For nearly an hour Mulder worked off his frustration by bouncing around paying flying visits to the Gunmen, pausing long enough to leave them a cryptic message on Frohike's computer then to his favorite bench on the Mall where he watched the living pass by on their endless errands.

"Mulder?"

Mulder felt Scully's voice vibrate within him. Flowing along the silken thread of her summons, he appeared in their office a few moments later. Just as he started to materialize, he remembered his promise and let out a soft whistle.

"Here I am, Scully," he said as he carefully materialized several feet away and in front of her.

She gave him a slightly suspicious stare that did not diminish when he flashed her a very innocent look. Mulder secretly enjoyed these silent interrogative exchanges. He knew she wasn't fooled by his little-boy-innocent look, but she got such an outraged-parent look in her eyes that he couldn't resist.

"I've been good. Well, reasonably, but I made sure I didn't leave any evidence," he hastened to add before he broke down and grinned at her alarmed expression.

"Mulder, you are incorrigible," Scully snapped. She didn't need any complications from Mulder's tendency to poke his nose in where it didn't belong.

"Scully, ghosts don't exist, remember? Unless I materialize right in front of someone no one is going to know. Believe me, it is to my advantage as well not to get caught. I won't put our partnership at risk, but I can't be tied down to mortal rules of behavior," Mulder argued, still smiling slightly. He didn't want to get into a real argument with Scully, but she was going to have to realize that she wasn't his keeper anymore.

Scully glared daggers at him until she finally, reluctantly nodded her head. Mulder had been on his best behavior all morning, she gave him that. She couldn't expect him not to take advantage of his situation. Then again, it was beginning to dawn on her that she wasn't answerable for his actions anymore. Yes, his penchant for getting into trouble no doubt survived with the rest of his personality, but there would be no more trips to the hospital, extended verbal flayings from Skinner or even the constant worry if he was going to come back from one of his abrupt trips into the unknown without her. With a sudden shock, she realized she was nostalgic for those things which she had hated most about her partnership with Mulder. She glared at him again, for good measure, gratified to see him squirm just a trifle.

"OK, Mulder. But if you spook someone bad enough to prompt an investigation, I'm going to make you wish you had chosen a nice damp, abandoned house to haunt. Am I making myself clear, mister?"

"Loud and clear, Scully," Mulder replied, still smiling but letting his eyes grow serious. Unexplained phenomena, of which he was now one he realized with pride, occurring too frequently in the FBI building could prompt some very uncomfortable inquiries from certain quarters.

The phone rang. Absently Mulder reached for it but stopped when he felt Scully's hand pass through him to pick up the receiver. He retreated, muttering.

"Agent Scully," Scully answered as she flexed her hand trying to warm it up again.

"Hello?"

Mulder tensed as he heard the loud click of a severed connection. His paranoia kicked in as he tried to calculate the odds of a wrong number.

Scully looked puzzled for a minute then shot Mulder a steely suspicious look. Mulder froze as he tried to think what on earth she could be blaming him for.

"One of your phone buddies from the phone lists that you don't belong to, Mulder?" Scully was torn between amusement and exasperation.

"Scully, do you honestly think I would be stupid enough to give them my work number, providing of course that I would have any reason to give them a number at all," Mulder protested. He started chuckling as he considered the near panic he could have caused the various sex-call-in services he occasionally patronized if they had traced his number back to the FBI. Missed opportunities, he chastised himself in between chuckles.

"I think I'll plead the Fifth on that point considering all those videos I found that weren't yours," Scully retorted. Mulder controlled his chuckles and shrugged, trying for the much-maligned look in his repertoire. Scully merely shook her head.

Mulder left the slides and began amusing himself by sorting through the piles of inter-office memos that had been accumulating since his untimely demise.

Nothing is more certain than death and taxes than government paperwork.

He sensed slight shift in air currents as the door began to open a moment before Scully caught the snick of the door handle being turned. He was already fading into thin air as Scully's hiss sped him on his way.

Damn! Scully is going to have to put a 'knock before entering' sign up or we're in deep trouble.

Scully resolutely turned her attention to the door, trying to keep from glancing over where she had last seen Mulder to make sure he was not visible.

"Agent Scully?" a soft authoritative whisper preceded A. D. Skinner through the door.

"Sir?" Scully was caught off-guard and nearly stuttered. She wouldn't have been surprised by a visit from Cancer Man, except that she figured she would have smelled him long before she heard his approach, but Skinner?

Skinner edged into the office and carefully shut the door behind him, easing the door closed without a sound. "I am not here, Agent Scully, and this conversation is not taking place, do I make myself clear?"

"Clear as London in a fog," Mulder muttered quietly from the chair in the corner. Here he was far enough away from Skinner to avoid any accidental encounter, but close enough to feel part of the conversation.

Scully swallowed her questions and an urge to tell Mulder to shut up and nodded. The weight of paranoia bequeathed her by long association with Mulder kept her silent and wary. She saw a tangled web of deceit and obfuscation looming in front of her. Perhaps her grand idea of carrying on their work wasn't such a bright idea after all. Conspiracies gave her a headache and she felt a real migraine coming on.

"In half an hour you will not be here to receive a call summoning you to my office to receive notification that a new partner is being assigned to you." Skinner paused to see if Scully was following him. She nodded again. While she might not understand what exactly was going on, she sensed the deadly serious intent behind Skinner's words. Remaining silent, letting Skinner have his say, seemed the wisest course. Only when she had all the data would she make any comment.

"Damn it! I'm not even decently buried and Cancer Man can't wait to sic a spy on you. Congratulations Scully, you've hit the big time," Mulder commented sarcastically. Skinner's role in this game was unclear, but Mulder sensed he was acting without orders, perhaps even against orders, to give Scully a fighting chance.

It was too soon. She wanted more time to get used to having the X-Files before even attempting to break in a new partner. A suspicion that Skinner was trying to exert subtle pressure on her to change her mind came to mind. Well, he'd learn a thing or two about stubborn, she vowed. She might still have doubts, but by God they were her doubts and weren't open to manipulation by anyone outside of herself.

"If the Acting Head of the X-Files Division however has already requested the assignment of a particular agent to be her partner, then I would be inclined to go with her preferences. It is the absence of a personal preference that seems to be at issue here."

"And does the Acting Head of the X-Files have a preference, sir?" Scully finally found her voice and was pleased to find it was as level and noncommittal as Skinner's, though with a touch of ice.

"Take my advice, sir, and prepare to duck," Mulder warned as he got down from his perch and walked over to stand behind Scully. If his suspicions were correct, Scully was about to get a real shock. Skinner was a braver man that he had ever been. Being a ghost, he noted, hadn't really improved his desire to be on the receiving end of Scully's temper when she was backed into a corner.

"I believe her preference will be clear once she has read this folder." Skinner offered her a personnel folder, his eyes focused on something in the far distance over her shoulder. Scully shifted ever so slightly, aware of Skinner's hesitation and unsure of the reason why. A chilling brush of fingers along her arm reminded her that she was not facing this alone. Controlling the urge to shiver, she relaxed and allowed some of her wary tenseness to seep away.

Skinner sighed so softly that even Mulder was barely aware of it. Without another word he handed the folder to Scully. As she grasped it, he held onto it for a moment. Scully raised her eyes to his in mild surprise.

"Agent Scully, look beyond the obvious and I believe you will find that this agent meets all of your qualifications, especially the one involving trust."

Curiosity mixed with wary suspicion clouded Scully's eyes. Skinner was up to something. She took the folder, nodding once to acknowledge Skinner's final admonishment. Moving with slow deliberate care, she opened the folder, curious about this mystery candidate Skinner seemed determined to make her partner.

Oh my God!" Scully's voice shook with shock.

Skinner sighed again, audibly this time. This was not going well, a thought echoed by Mulder who knelt by Scully's side trying by touch and voice to persuade her to cooperate with Skinner's effort to protect her.

"Scully, listen to me. You said you didn't blame him. Please, this is important. Skinner is trying to help you." Mulder's quiet pleas rattled Scully. She twisted in her chair, glaring at the empty space beside her.

Scully resisted the sweet temptation to tell Mulder to go to Hell and take Skinner along with him. Yelling at thin air would more than likely get her several mandatory sessions with a staff psychologist. She wasn't insane - angry at Mulder for not warning her, furious with Cancer Man for precipitating Skinner's preemptive move and furious with Skinner for forcing her to make a decision she wasn't ready to make yet.

"Are you seriously suggesting that I take as my partner the man who is directly responsible for Mulder's death, sir?"

The sarcastic bite on the last word was not lost on Skinner. He winced, a barely noticeable narrowing of the eyes, as he continued to maintain a calm, sternly professional outward appearance. This was not an unexpected storm. If she could come through the initial fury to see what he saw in young Ambercrombie then he could forestall the impending disaster being orchestrated by her enemies.

"I am merely commenting on a wise choice by the Acting Head of the X-Files, Agent Scully. The individual in question is his own man, not part of any agenda, an excellent choice as her new partner." Skinner's voice turned cold, communicating a deadly warning of matters running out of his control, "Now if you prefer to wait or find Agent Ambercrombie unsuitable, I'm sure a suitable partner can, and most likely will, be assigned to you by the end of the day."

Scully seethed in silence. Glaring at the personnel dossier in her lap she realized she was gripping it so tightly her fingers were crumpling the crisp manila folder containing the life and career of a man she never wanted to see again. Unshed tears blurred the neatly typewritten words until all she could see was Mulder's body lying in the dust beside a gory white ball.

"Scully, you don't have a choice. I'm sorry. I didn't think that black-lunged bastard would move so fast," Mulder pleaded with her. He understood her anger. Scully never liked being backed into a corner. She liked to take the time to consider all possibilities before acting. Now she was being rushed on the most important issue of her new life by forces beyond her control.

Scully's hiss warned him to back off. He retreated back to his chair. Skinner flinched ever so slightly taking the hiss as meant for him.

"Thank you, sir," Scully snapped with military precision "I would certainly hate to disagree with the wise decision of the Acting Head of the X-Files Division, but I would like to review the file before I put out the welcome mat." She stood up, putting the folder down on the desk as if it were some disagreeable piece of evidence. She glared at Skinner and then glanced pointedly at the door.

Skinner took the hint and left as quietly and inconspicuously as he had arrived. He had launched his preemptive strike. Now he could only wait and hope that good sense overcame the obvious strikes against Ambercrombie. Agent Drew Franklin was not someone he wanted to inflict on Agent Scully or on anyone else he cared about. The man had an impeccable record but left behind the intangible trail of a slug.

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Scully watched Skinner leave with a mix of frustration and impotent anger. She wasn't ready to consider another partner, especially Ambercrombie.

"Damn it Mulder, did you know about this?" she snapped with more irritation than she intended. She wasn't really mad at Mulder but she was mad at the intangibles that were suffocating her and Mulder was convenient.

"Scully, let's take this discussion someplace else, please. Apparently you are the center of attention here today. As Skinner said, if you're here to receive his call, you'll be stuck with the rat the Cancer Man wants to give you." Mulder hazarded a small smile. "Besides, if someone should happen to come down to the basement and hear you talking to thin air, you'll be on mandatory psychological leave."

Scully glared icily in his general direction. Well, at least I have her undivided attention, Mulder thought as he wondered if this was really a good thing.

"If it will get you moving any faster, no, I did not know, but I suspected that Ambercrombie was being considered. Now can we leave?" Mulder felt exasperated. This whole thing was not his fault. He didn't ask to die.

"Sure, fine, whatever." Again the flat statement, words clipped and angry. Scully knew her anger was irrational, but Mulder had held out on her, had once again kept her in the dark to protect her. Damn it, I am tired of his bullshitting over-protective attitude. He could have warned me.

Dismayed by the anger she had held in for four years and now threatened to burst loose, Scully gathered up her things and marched out of the office. Long years of burying her emotions kept her face impassive as she strode through the FBI building and out to her car. Wary of the incandescence of her anger, Mulder made no effort to touch her.

"I'm sure you can find your own way to my place, Mulder. I would really prefer to drive without an iceberg sitting next to me. Especially one who let me be blindsided by Skinner's little plan." Even as she spat the bitter words at him, Scully felt a twinge of regret. Mulder did not deserve that. Well he did, but not right now. He did not deserve to have all his past sins raked up to stoke the flames of her anger.

"Mulder?" she started to apologize, to explain, then realized she could no longer sense him. The air in the parking garage was hot and humid, without any trace of the chill that marked Mulder's presence.

8=8=8=8=8=8=8=8

3:30 p.m. Scully's Apartment
 

The drive home did nothing to relieve her anger. Washington traffic on a sunny hot July afternoon was clogged with tourists trying to find their way around and natives trying to escape the city's heat. Her normal commute of half an hour tripled. Preoccupied by her anger and the traffic, she never noticed the tan Explorer following her at a discrete distance. By the time Scully reached the tranquil calm of her neighborhood street, she was ready to spit nails. The Explorer slid effortlessly into a parking space on the street across from her apartment.

Mulder sensed her angry approach before her key hit the lock and took the prudent course - he stayed invisible. Listening to her swear at the idiot motorists, at Skinner and last, if not least, at himself, persuaded him that invisible was safer. In stunned disbelief he listened to Scully use words he was fairly sure her father hadn't known. Considering the intensity of her anger, he would really have liked to have disappeared completely from the vicinity, but he had promised Scully he wouldn't run away from their confrontations and he intended to keep that promise.

Scully slammed her briefcase down on the coffee-table and stormed around the room. Mulder noted uneasily that his name came up rather frequently in her profane opinions of this absurd choice being foisted on her. This was a side of Scully he had never seen before, never even suspected existed. Was he responsible for the birth of this frustrated rage that was consuming his rational, cool-headed Scully? Doubt began to gnaw at his belief in the rightness of his plans for their future.

Mulder had to move quickly to stay out of her way. She was throwing off enough sparks to ignite him like a moth. Just keeping his ectoplasm from scattering in twenty different directions for shelter was a major task. Until she calmed down, he didn't want to venture a materialization. He wasn't entirely sure he would make it in one piece. While it was amusing to consider a disembodied head floating in the air, he really doubted if Scully was in the mood for 'amusing' today.

"Damn you Mulder, where the hell are you? You were real big on promises not to run. I should have known better, damn self-centered bastard," Scully raged to the empty air in her living room. He should have warned her, given her time to prepare, but no he had to keep everything to himself as usual. Partners were supposed to back each other up. All of Mulder's faults came to bask in the fiery flames of her anger. By this time her anger had taken on a life of its own and existed quite outside the issues which sparked it.

"I'm here where I've been since you told me to get lost back at the office. I wasn't aware that hearing my name used in a variety of curses and profanities constituted you calling me. I'll have to remember that," Mulder said in a calm even voice as he slowly materialized in front of the couch. He was holding a tight rein on his temper, determined not to be baited or enticed into trading verbal barbs with Scully. Her pain was a physical torment to him, tearing him apart until nothing was left but a memory.

A sound outside the door caught his ear and he froze, half materialized. Then, abruptly, he vanished. Scully's anger teetered on the brink of exploding before the worried look on Mulder's face registered. She was already reaching for her gun when Mulder yelled a warning and her door burst open.

Three hooded men, armed with air guns staggered into her living room. From the wild thrashing going on Scully suspected Mulder was somewhere among them being a 'pest'.

"Freeze! FBI."

She was answered by a wild shot that sent her diving for cover. A hypodermic dart skimmed past her shoulder. Two of the men broke from the confused melee and advanced on her position. The third man seemed to be having a tug of war with thin air for his gun. His eyes were wild and he was swearing hysterically.

Hell with this fight fair shit! I'm a ghost, damn it, I'll fight like a ghost!

Concentrating for a moment to make sure he had the suitably gory effect he wanted, Mulder suddenly let go of the gun he was fighting for and materialized. The assailant staggered back then looked up and screamed as the partially decomposed body of a man dressed in a long bloody white T-shirt appeared right in front of him.

"BOO!"

Losing all desire to assist his partners in crime, the man bolted for the door, screaming incoherent prayers to God and a couple of saints thrown in for good measure.

The apparition grinned and advanced on the two remaining assailants. One of the men heard the commotion and glanced over to see what the matter was. A dart flew through Mulder striking the door. The man gaped in horror, first at the apparition advancing on him, then at his useless gun. Throwing the gun at Mulder he tried to jump through the window.

Scully winced as one of her assailants dove head first through the window and rebounded from the security bars. Mulder actually flinched at the sound of skull meeting iron with a solid meaty thunk. Vivid memories of his own skull shattering halted his menacing advance for a moment.

The remaining assailant held his ground and fired at Scully. One of the darts sliced a thin line across her arm, but the other landed in the muscle on her upper arm. Fighting a wave of dizziness, Scully fired and noted with satisfaction through the haze that the man dropped.

"Scully!"

As she sank bonelessly to the floor she saw the apparition rushing towards her. Drugged and fading she was startled into horror, her mouth open in a silent scream as she recognized Mulder's panicked face behind the rotting flesh hanging from the skull.

"Nooooo," she moaned as the room spun and she fell into blackness.

Mulder swore as he plucked the dart from her arm. At least she was alive. There was some advantage to being a ghost, he didn't have to check her pulse to know she was alive. He could feel her heart beating across the room. She was hurt, probably drugged, but he had no way to help her except to make her more comfortable where she lay on the floor.

He felt the man behind him dying and felt no pity. Then the air around him grew dark. Sensing danger he looked around and his eyes grew wild as he vanished.

Mulder looked on in horror as the spirit of the man she had killed spiraled out of its body and came after him. Black tentacles of evil and violence trailed behind him and threatened to engulf Mulder as well.

"Damn you and the bitch both. I'll take you both to Hell! "

Mulder dodged the man's charge as he frantically sought some way to escape. Hand-to-hand combat rules seemed to have changed from the FBI's training manual. Here there were moves he didn't even pretend to understand. Unfortunately, he realized, some men sprang into ghosthood fully aware of the evil potential of their new existence. His opponent grinned sadistically as he reached out and stuck his hand into Scully's chest and squeezed. Scully gave a loud gasp and convulsed.

"NOOOO!" Mulder charged the man, barreling into him, enveloping him, forcing him away from Scully by sheer impact of will. Fueled by hate and the evil in his soul, the newly formed ghost was powerful, but ultimately no match for Mulder's insane attack. Ruthlessly expending all of his energy in a reckless berserk attack, Mulder battered the new spirit, shattering its hold on cohesion until all that was left was a thin wailing spiral of black smoke that fluttered briefly in the air before being sucked into the ground.

Lacking the strength to hold himself together, barely cohesive enough to be called a wraith, Mulder tried not to sink down after his late opponent. He had no desire to go where that spirit was heading. The eddy of its passage into Hell was strong and Mulder fought with all his dwindling strength to keep from getting pulled into the undertow. Desperate he reached out a hand to grasp Scully's hand and felt the warmth of her life-force anchor him to her. Finally the air settled down and Mulder was left floating in a gray haze, only partially aware of his surroundings.

Even unconscious, her mind felt Mulder's touch, sensed his desperate need and reflexively clenched her fist, certain somehow that he was reaching out to her for help.

Gradually Mulder drew himself back together, drawing in the filaments of energy from the air around him, reknitting his shadowy form. Not daring to waste the energy materializing, he carefully scanned the room. Scully was moaning slightly in her drugged sleep, but seemed to be recovering. Just as a guess, he estimated that she was in the twilight realm between deep sleep and the waking world. It would have been long enough for the men to have overpowered her and done whatever it was they were supposed to do, but not long enough to seriously incapacitate her. Unpleasant speculations as to the purpose of their visit occupied his thoughts as he drifted over to check on the remaining assailant.

Using Scully's handcuffs, Mulder cuffed the man's hands behind his back. Exhausted by even the little effort it took to manipulate the cuffs, Mulder drifted back to sit by Scully and keep watch. There wasn't much he could do if another team attacked, but he vowed he would scatter his ectoplasm to the four winds before he'd let anyone touch her.

An hour later, Mulder was beginning to feel better and Scully was twitching and mumbling as her eyes flickered open and shut. She was waking up and, from the tone of her mumbles, wasn't feeling very good. Mulder considered expending the energy to become visible, but decided unless she called him, he wasn't going to spend any more energy than he had to.

"Ooh shit," Scully moaned as a wave of nausea rippled up from her stomach to her throat as she tried to sit up. A pair of icy hands supported her until she could lean against the couch. She clung to the couch for several minutes until the tide of nausea receded into a vague uneasy dizziness.

"You OK, Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder." Yeah, sure. I'm drugged by God-only-knows what, my face is green and my floor is rolling like a fucking rowboat on the ocean. And if you believe that I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you.

"Don't lie to your friendly neighborhood ghost, Scully. You're paler than I am and that particular shade of green is not your color at all," Mulder quipped quite happy to remain invisible and out of range of the glare Scully shot him or rather tried to. Not being able to see the target was a serious handicap.

"Scully, I'm going to dial 911. Can you manage a groan or two for the nice policemen?"

If the groan she delivered was more curse than moan, Mulder felt sure even the tape wasn't going to be able to distinguish the words without serious analysis. He merely shook his head at the language she was using and left the connection open and the cell-phone by her side. Let the police make of the situation what they wanted.

8=8=8=8=8=8=8=8

The police arrived within minutes of her call. Two squad cars were already in the area handling a bizarre one-car accident about two blocks away. A Ford Explorer going roughly ninety-miles-per-hour had missed a curve and impaled itself in the living-room of a house killing the driver and giving the elderly occupant of the house the fright of her life, as well as a story that would insure her star billing at the senior center for days to come.

Scully was still groggy and barely coherent when they arrived, but managed to wave her ID at the persistent young policeman who kept telling her, in polite but patronizing tones, to let him take her gun and put it somewhere safe. As soon as Scully identified herself as an FBI agent, the police immediately notified their superiors and the FBI that they had a police-involved shooting - break out the paperwork and bring extra pens.

For the next three hours Scully found herself in the middle of a three-ring circus. Medics arrived on the heels of the police and checked her over. Except for some residual dizziness and a mouth that felt like the bottom deck of the Ark, she was given the all-clear. The older medic advised her to drink plenty of fluids and eat a substantial dinner, but warned her she would probably feel like the morning after the night before until the last of the drug wore off.

Skinner arrived as she was giving a severely abridged account of the afternoon's events. Her head was spinning so hard that she had to concentrate to selectively edit her story to avoid mentioning that she had been assisted by the ghost of her dead partner.

"I assume the man tried to jump out of the window when I returned fire."

"No, I have no idea why he would choose the window over the door. I was rather busy at the time."

"I'm an FBI agent, yes I have enemies. No, I don't know either of these men."

At this moment, the other man woke up screaming about bloody ghosts coming for him. Even cuffed he thrashed around so violently that it took two policemen sitting on him to hold him still until the medics could sedate him. The police were not optimistic about getting a coherent statement from him.

As the police milled about her apartment, making sketches and comparing her statement with the evidence on the scene, Skinner took Scully aside.

"Are you all right?" Skinner's expression was stern, but his eyes showed his concern for her.

"I'm fine, sir. Just dizzy and a little confused. I'm not working on anything right now that would justify this sort of attack, unless . . .." Scully looked up with dismay.

"Unless your resumption of the X-Files would be justification enough? I don't think so, Agent Scully. All indications I have suggest that there is no particular difficulty with you taking over the X-Files. You did miss a meeting this afternoon and it is well after the end of the day, in one sense. However, the end of a day is a relative term, don't you think, Agent Scully?" Skinner looked at her intently, letting his words sink in through the drugged haze, determined to bend, twist and mutilate the English language to give her a chance. There would be hell to pay, but he was determined he would be the one to pay it.

"Thank you, sir," Scully answered with a slight nod to let him know she understood and to thank him for giving her the extra time.

"Now, get some rest, Agent Scully. I want to see you in my office at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow morning. As per your recommendation received today, I will be discussing the new agent assigned to the X-Files." Skinner finished brusquely and walked off to talk with the senior detective on the scene. Scully sank down in a chair and tried to sort out the confused web of deceit and counter-deceit closing in around her.

In the end, the police decided Scully was acting in self-defense to ward off an attack that seemed to have no motive, but which they would assume was a robbery gone awry. The body of the man she killed was wrapped up and removed. She would have to go down to the station sometime tomorrow to make a formal statement, but that was just a formality required by the demi-gods of paperwork.

8=8=8=8=8=8=8=8

9:20 p.m.
 

Scully leaned her head against the door as she shut it behind Skinner and the police. She was too tired to even contemplate moving yet her day wasn't even close to being over.

"Coast clear?" Mulder asked as he slowly materialized, looking clean and neat once again.

"All clear, Mulder," Scully replied wearily. It was part nine o'clock at night and she still had the problem of her new partner to consider before she could even think about resting.

"Been doing some thinking while I was stuck out here. I think someone wasn't happy when you didn't show up for that meeting with Skinner. Guess you scare the hell out of them, Agent Scully," Mulder said lightly, trying to mask the worry that was consuming him.

"It's OK, Mulder. I know the dangers. I just wasn't ready for them to start up quite so soon." Scully tried to reassure him, but her tone came out sounding flat and tired.

Mulder looked at her, then through her and finally stared moodily off into space for a few minutes. Scully felt a gnawing fear that something had changed in him over the past few hours, something she wasn't ready to face.

"Maybe you better tell Skinner you'll take the Nashville job. Jyrcouski is a fine man, you'd like him." Mulder's shoulders moved as if he had sighed. His face was unreadable but his eyes reflected a sad resolution.

"It's not fair for me to ask you to chain yourself to my problems. You'll only end up getting hurt. You came too damn close this afternoon. I don't want to lose you and I'd rather you didn't end up hating me." Mulder's voice was sad but strong. He stood quietly, shoulders slumping slightly. This was the right decision, for her. It was time he began considering what was best for her, past time in fact.

Scully stared at him, her eyes a translucent blue, frozen by surprise in crystalline sharpness. Whatever she had expected to hear coming out of his mouth, those words were not even close.

"Running away?" she asked sarcastically, suddenly frightened by Mulder's calm determination, by the sinking feeling that he believed that their relationship was not working. Fear gave her words barbs to tear his soul.

"No. Just trying not to be a 'selfish, arrogant bastard.' Were the words you used?" Mulder refused to be baited. He gave her a sad smile that spoke volumes of grief, loneliness and sacrifice. "Maybe I'm just now realizing how damn selfish I have been and how much better you'd be if I hadn't barged back into your life. You would have taken the position at Quantico and been acknowledged by your peers or gone to Nashville and shown them what a hell of a good field agent you are."

Scully opened her mouth and nothing would come out. Part of her wanted to deny his calm resigned acceptance of guilt and responsibility for her anger and the aborted attack on her in her own home, part of her wanted to tell him he was dead-on right. Caught on the razor's edge of conflicting emotions, she froze.

"Scully this afternoon, I couldn't protect you . . ." Mulder sounded ashamed, almost apologetic.

"Mulder you did help me. You kept one man occupied so only two of them could come at me, then took out the second man. From where I stand you did a pretty good job, partner," Scully retorted.

Mulder shook his head, denying her absolution. He knew what he had to do. If she wouldn't accept Ambercrombie, he had to convince her to take the Nashville offer or, at the very least, to go back to the safety of Quantico, away from the conspiracies that would kill her to stop her from carrying on their work. Fear spurred his powers of persuasion.

"Scully, Ambercrombie is a good man. He had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I've tried hating him, but I can't. God, can you even begin to understand the load of guilt he's carrying?" Mulder paused for a moment as his eyes faded into hollow pools of darkness. Scully shuddered as shadows of horrors barely glimpsed and beyond her darkest nightmares flickered in those depths. Mulder saw her shudder and quickly turned away, veiling his eyes and returning to face her only when they were once again the familiar hazel eyes of a friend.

"Sorry, Scully. There are things to being dead that you are better off not knowing. I can see Ambercrombie's guilt weighing him down. The guilt I carry for my sister is nothing compared to his. Deep down, I suppose I realize that I was only twelve and was facing something beyond even a man's ability to fight. Ambercrombie has no such escape clause. He bears a man's guilt for a man's deed however accidental it was."

Scully cleared her throat as she took in deep calming breaths. "If you are so keen on sending me to Nashville, why plead Ambercrombie's cause?" Curiosity was a safe middle-of-the-road emotion, helping her steer the perilous course between fear and need.

"Perhaps because I can't help wanting you to stay. Can't help being that 'selfish bastard' you ranted about earlier. I don't know anymore. I just know that I want you to be safe and I don't think that involves the X-Files and me," he concluded sadly.

"Yet despite what happened here this afternoon, despite everything, I am selfish enough to want you to carry on with what we started, to fight these bastards, to let me be part of your life. But if you are only staying out of loyalty to me or out of pity, then you need to reconsider. Nashville isn't so bad, if you can overlook the lack of good barbecue. It does have a very excellent German restaurant with a superb microbrewery," Mulder added with a knowing smile. Their arguments over beer had occupied many a long dreary drive.

"Damn it, Mulder," Scully began, perhaps a bit more sharply than she intended. Her earlier anger over being forced into a corner was diminished, not gone. Fighting for her life had scattered most of it, but a residual resentment at the way her life was being manipulated by others still simmered restlessly just under the surface of her weariness. Much of her anger had been due to surprise, shock that Skinner would place her in such close working relationship with a man who every day would remind her of Mulder's death. Maybe Mulder should have warned her, but she did understand the reason he didn't. After all, considering her extreme reaction, how would she have been able to explain to Skinner how she knew who he was planning to suggest?

"Right now I want to take a shower and wash off every memory I have of tourists and masked assailants. When I am feeling human again, we can talk about Ambercrombie, Nashville breweries and the future like two calm rational adults."

"How about one calm rational adult and one rather frazzled ghost?" Mulder asked plaintively. He did look rather fuzzy along the edges, Scully noted with dismay.

"Are you OK?" she asked concerned, though not entirely certain what she could do if he wasn't.

"Sure, just add to that list of things we have to talk about sometime the effect your Irish temper has on my ectoplasm," he answered with a tired groan. He wasn't even going to mention the residual effects of fighting another ghost.

"Go invisible, get some rest or whatever it is you do, Mulder. I plan on being in that shower at least a half an hour." Scully disappeared into her bedroom. "And stay out of the bathroom," she shouted back.

"Spoilsport."

8=8=8=8=8=8=8=8

When Scully emerged from her room over an hour later, Mulder handed her a frosted mug of lemonade and a large roast beef sandwich on rye before retreating to his perch on her computer table. There was some advantage in being an iceberg he reflected with amused satisfaction. The startled look on Scully's face was well worth the effort he'd spent on getting the mug frosted without shattering it.

"Thanks, Mulder. You do come in handy." Scully acknowledged his gesture with a salute followed by a deep swig of the lemonade. The crisp tart lemonade cooled her throat clear down to her stomach. Mulder seemed to have developed a knack for doing the unexpected right thing at the right moment or maybe it was just that she had never taken the time to notice before.

The glass shards under the window had been cleaned up, a plastic tarp was taped over the broken window and another tarp had been placed over the bloodstain on her carpet. Mulder had been busy. Scully shot him a grateful look. She had been dreading the cleanup. This was her home, damn it! They had no right to make her afraid in her own home. She was angry again, her eyes glaring. Mulder flinched slightly wondering what sins of his she was contemplating. Scully saw him flinch and relaxed, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Bribery just might get you places you never expected to be, Agent Mulder," Scully teased with just a slight lift of her left eyebrow. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as Mulder turned a smoky transparent. This could get to be fun; payback for all the innuendoes Mulder had showered her with that she had forced herself to ignore.

"Promises, promises," he retorted, gratified to see a faint blush darken Scully's cheeks. Two could play at this game, at least as long as Scully believed she knew the rules of the game. Mulder did not intend that she should ever learn that there were rules she wasn't even aware of. This fair exchange of innuendoes and light sexual teasing delighted him, almost made him forget he was dead, and certainly was amusing Scully.

"Do you feel up to discussing life, the universe and Ambercrombie?" Mulder quipped.

"Probably not, but as I recall, Skinner did say I better make my preference official by the end of today before the Smoking Man elbowed me out of the equation," she said as she sat down on one end of the couch. She took a large bite of the sandwich and carefully chewed it to give herself time to consider Mulder's arguments.

"You do realize you would probably be a thousand times better off taking the job offer at Nashville or even Quantico? I'm not going to argue on their side. Hell, after this afternoon you would have to be blind not to see the advantages of taking Skinner up on either offer." Mulder slid down from the table, paced around a bit, realized he was standing in the middle of her couch and deliberately walked back to the computer table and sat back down. "Sorry, I have a tendency to pace while I talk. Until I can remember not to walk through your couch, I'll try to stay in one spot." Mulder looked sheepish.

Scully nodded gratefully. She wanted her wits about her for this discussion, not wandering off having hysteria because her friend and partner was standing in her furniture.

"Mulder, I want to keep the X-Files open. Not just because they are your legacy, but because I think I can prove to the FBI that they serve a useful purpose in tackling crimes no one else has a clue how to handle. You were right. We often came to different conclusions, but we solved the case and sometimes even got to lock up the criminal." Scully let some of her secret pride in the work they had accomplished shine through. Mulder needed to know she wasn't staying just for him.

"And whoever planned this afternoon's little game badly miscalculated. Whatever doubts I had before about taking on the X-Files are gone. I'm not letting that chain-smoking SOB chase me away. A Scully has never run from a battle before and I am not going to be the first. They want a fight, they'll have a fucking fight," Scully snapped.

Mulder heard the roar of an enraged tiger behind her words and silently prayed he could keep up with her. Scully's mad - God help us all.

"In other words, Agent Scully wants a challenge. Prove the X-Files were more than 'Spooky' Mulder's paranoid obsessions?" Mulder said, twisting the conversation slightly, trying to ease her anger against the men responsible for the assault on her home to the point where she could make a rational judgment, not an emotional one. That ball must have really jarred my brains - now I'm the rational one, Mulder chuckled to himself. His amused smile caught Scully's attention and she stared at him, silently demanding an explanation.

"When you take on a challenge Scully, there's nothing halfway about it." Mulder gave her an approving grin. "Personally I think if you took the Nashville job, Jyrcouski would be looking over his shoulder sooner than he thinks he would."

"Why play catch-up to someone else when I've got an entire division, albeit only a small one, to play with?" Scully retorted.

"So, you want the X-Files, but Ambercrombie is the problem?" Mulder wanted to make sure he understand the foundation he had to work with before he began his arguments.

"That more or less sums it up. Nashville is an extremely attractive offer, but I'm not sure I want to go back to playing office politics, even under someone who doesn't automatically think my ex-partner was a certified nutcase."

"Thanks, I think," Mulder replied uncertainly.

Still restless, he got up and carefully picked his way around the furniture until he was sitting on the coffee table facing Scully. He would have liked to have touched her, to reaffirm their connection for this next part of his argument, but decided she didn't need to be distracted by the shivers.

"Mulder, how can you or Skinner for that matter think I can successfully work with a man responsible for killing you? I keep seeing you stretched out in the dust every time I look at his file. I'm not sure I want to know what I'll see if I have to work with him everyday." Scully's voice softened until it was barely above a whisper. Her mind was rebelling against what her eyes were saying. She was sitting in her living-room talking to Mulder about his death.

"It does get rather complicated doesn't it. I mean, I'm here, but I'm not here." Mulder leaned over and rested a hand on her knee. He wanted her to know the important part of him was here, however much he might have changed physically, his spirit and soul had come back to her.

Scully barely flinched at the coldness of his touch. He looked impossibly young and alive still dressed in the light jeans and T-shirt he died in. Her mind and her heart were once again fighting the war between rational science and the extreme possibility that was sitting in front of her. Scully felt the reassurance of his physical presence along with the biting chill of his touch and felt rational science yield the field to her heart.

"Look at me Scully. Our partnership didn't die that afternoon. See beyond that moment to what we have now. It won't be easy. Ambercrombie is tearing himself apart with grief. I think the only thing holding him together is a whispered promise from Skinner that he would find a way for him to atone. You're his atonement," Mulder finished with an ironic twist to his smile.

"I'm what?" Scully barked. Of all the . . .

"Look at it from Skinner's point of view. He has Cancer Man breathing down his neck wanting to assign you a partner, a spy sent to discredit you - sound familiar? I really doubt if he'll make the same mistake twice and assign anyone he doesn't own right down to his soul. He has Ambercrombie, a fine young agent, two years out of the Academy and apparently destined to be the newest Golden Boy of the Violent Crimes section until a week ago. Now they're making book on how soon he's given mandatory psychological dismissal." Mulder fell silent for a moment, his eyes clouded with memories.

"I was him, Scully, after Patterson got through with me. The best odds gave me six months before my permanent address changed to a rubber room. Instead I found the X-Files, perhaps not that big a change according to some people, but they saved my sanity. I think they can do the same for Ambercrombie," Mulder said in a soft whisper.

"How do you know I can trust him? Above and beyond the fact that he may feel an obligation to me, why should I trust that he'll be able to watch my back, that he can be taught to recognize the signs of conspiracy that you've taught me, that he is even capable of keeping up with me on a case?" Scully listed her objections in a calm rational tone. She was determined to make her judgments on the facts not her emotion-laded memories.

"I think you can trust him a hell of a lot more than anyone else Skinner might have to assign. Ambercrombie can't be bought, at least as far as your safety is concerned. He sees you as the one salvation for his soul. Of course, you might have a small problem with over-protectiveness, but then I'm sure you've never had to worry about that before," Mulder teased.

"Well, he's young so maybe he can be trained easier than the older model I had to work with before," Scully shot back. Mulder sputtered for a moment before holding up a hand in a fencer's acknowledgment of a hit.

"Touche. Ambercrombie is smart, very competent and relatively open-minded about the unknown. You might check out his academic background; very unique for an FBI agent. He took a fair amount of teasing about it at the Academy." Mulder sat back and smiled at her with one of those frustrating know-it-all smiles that drove her up the wall.

Scully glared at him, engaging in a brief battle of wills before she realized he wasn't going to cough up the relevant information.

"Damn you, Mulder," she said good-naturedly as she got up and retrieved Ambercrombie's folder from her briefcase. What was so unusual in the man's background to spark this kind of amusement from Mulder?

Scanning the personnel history Scully was pleased to note his consistently high performance marks as an agent. Coupled with his ranking among the top 15% of his class at the Academy and she began to feel more confident about his qualifications. He had a Master's in Criminal Justice, good, very good in fact. Wrote his thesis on creating profiles to predict criminal behavior patterns using forensic evidence combined with psychological and paraphysical profiles. Scully's eyebrows shot up.

"Interesting idea for a thesis. Not quite as original as rewriting Einstein, but the kid has promise," Mulder teased.

Scully opened her mouth to retort, then abruptly shut it again. She began reading Ambercrombie's resume in very careful detail. Mulder leaned back and watched her brow furrow and her eye twitch as she scanned the history of the man Skinner was conspiring to make her partner. Mulder wished he had known Ambercrombie better. Other than a brief consult on a case, he knew him only to speak to him. Ambercrombie shared his love of baseball and basketball and they had intended to get together for a few one-on-one games but their schedules never seemed to mesh.

"This is some kind of set-up, right?" Scully sounded slightly miffed, not quite irritated but getting close.

"No, Ambercrombie is the proud owner of a major in anthropology - specifically the anthropology of magic in folklore and religion and a minor in poetry. Oh, and you might also notice a heavy dose of courses in forensic anthropology." Mulder sounded like a fond uncle.

"Mulder . . ."

"The kid has an open mind as well as a brilliant one. Enough grounding in hard science to keep up with your theories, something I'll admit I have a hard time doing, yet open enough to the fantastic to accept the possibility of the kind of unusual suspects we run across." Mulder leaned forward, pressing his case. "He was also a Boy Scout, which means if he says Scout's honor you'll probably be able to believe him," Mulder gave her a wicked grin.

"He can't be real. This has got to be a set-up."

"Nope, I checked him out after I first met him. He was interested in the X-Files and you know me, anyone who shows an intelligent interest in my work, I suspect of ulterior motives. Ambercrombie is for real."

Scully put the folder down and rubbed her eyes. Part of her wanted to hate Ambercrombie, to find reasons to reject him, even if it meant the peril of accepting one of Cancer Man's minions as a partner. That part of her that saw Mulder die, that part that felt her heart shatter to lie in the dust with him - that part of her wanted Ambercrombie to fall short of her demanding criteria, to be a pale shadow of the partner to whom she had committed her trust and her honor.

Ultimately, after several minutes of introspection, it all came down to a fear that Ambercrombie would somehow begin to replace Mulder in that special place partners share. She didn't want to share that place with someone new, to give another the trust and friendship she knew partners had to share in order to function.

"Scully," Mulder interrupted quietly, brushing two fingers across the back of her hand. "I can't promise not to be jealous," he gave her a rueful smile. "I can try not to make an ass of myself about it though." The smile moved up into his eyes as he saw Scully's eyes roll in disbelief. "Well, I did say try. Scully, if you had been the one to die, I don't know if I would have been strong enough to even consider taking another partner. I'll still be here, we're still partners. Just give Ambercrombie a chance. He needs this chance. You both do. He can protect you in ways I can't. I think this afternoon proves that."

Scully continued to look doubtful as she tried to examine why she felt so reluctant to accept such a promising young agent as her partner. Mulder watched her and, with a newborn sensitivity to her doubts, he realized he had gone overboard on his sales job. Nothing halfway, that's the old Mulder motto, he chastised himself.

"Scully, I know Ambercrombie sounds too good to be true. He is good, but he has some really severe weaknesses; they just haven't had time to show up yet. So far everyone in Violent Crimes is so overwhelmed by his eclectic brilliance and his ability to reconstruct a crime scene that they're overlooking his weaknesses," Mulder paused as he tried to put into words what he had intuitively sensed when he met the young man. Scully waited patiently, curious about these hidden problems. Nothing overt had leaped out at her in his personnel file.

"Ambercrombie can reconstruct a crime scene better than anyone I've ever known, but he can't get inside the head of a perp. He understands human nature, but not inhuman behavior." Mulder's eyes turned a smoky green as he recalled his own trips into the abyss of psychotic minds.

"As far as the X-Files are concerned, he has an even greater weakness. He is completely naive about conspiracy. I doubt if he even understands exactly what Skinner is pushing him into. He would have seen the assault today as just an attempt by some organized militia or drug lord to intimidate the FBI. I doubt if the smell of cigarette smoke means anything more than someone being stupid enough to choke their lungs with nicotine." Mulder gave a harsh bitter laugh devoid of any humor. Then he leaned towards Scully, his voice low and soft, almost regretful.

"You will be his guide, his teacher. You're getting a green young agent, a little like a certain green young agent who walked through my door four years ago, and your task will be to educate him enough to allow him to survive, to carry on our work."

Scully looked at him incredulously. Mulder's words blew away the fear that Ambercrombie was some sort of super agent she could never hope to match, let alone surpass, but replaced the fear with a dawning realization of what she was going to have to do to his illusions of a sane and rational world. She remembered her naivete four years ago and pitied Ambercrombie. Did they have the right to shatter his illusions? Could she face her guilt at transforming his innocence into the grim awareness of the nature of evil, be it human or inhuman? With a sudden flash of insight, she wondered, not whether Mulder had known that same guilt, but how he had borne it as well as he did?

There was a deep wrench as her perception of this proposed partnership shifted and she realized the weight of responsibility for another man's soul climb onto her shoulders and press down, hard. Mulder had endured its weight for four years, probably still felt it if she knew him half as well as she thought she did.

She stared deep into his eyes searching for the truth behind his words and saw acceptance of his own guilt and the knowledge that his legacy to her involved an equal share of guilt passed onto her. His eyes clouded under her intense probing but he did not look away or try to turn aside her silent appraisal of the cost of accepting this burden. The guilt was a necessary price to pay for what they had accomplished.

Finally she sighed, surrendering to the inevitable, accepting the challenge Ambercrombie posed.

"All right, Mulder. I guess if I want the X-Files, Ambercrombie is a necessary accessory," Scully conceded.

She walked over to the computer, absently avoiding the plastic sheeting covering the bloodstain on the carpet, and typed out her official recommendation for Ambercrombie's transfer to the X-Files. Before she could have second-thoughts, she faxed the request to Skinner's home computer. Eleven-ten - beat the bastard's deadline by fifty minutes, she boasted to herself, unsure which bastard she was referring to. Getting another glass of lemonade she returned to the couch and settled in comfortably. She was still too wired to sleep, though she knew she should try to get some rest before facing Skinner in the morning.

"Well, you put up with me for years, Scully. I'd say you've got a head start on coping with erratic partners. If Ambercrombie gives you any trouble, or worse if he's really a plant, he'll spend the rest of his life losing keys, dropping guns, tripping over invisible rocks, whatever else I can think of to make his life a living hell," Mulder promised earnestly as his eyes blended deadly intent and mischief.

"You would know, Mulder," Scully retorted remembering her partner's tendency to lose his grip on important personal accessories, like guns.

"Low blow, Scully." Mulder held up his hands in mock surrender while trying to look indignant. His mood changed on a dime again and turned serious.

"Scully, this will work because we'll make it work." Mulder started to get up, caught himself and plopped back down on the coffee table. "Maybe this is one of those things Gordon said I have to take care of before I can leave. I don't know, but I do know that if the X-Files are to continue, you need a living breathing partner. Ambercrombie is intelligent, competent, and, I believe, trustworthy," he paused, but with an somber expression that warned Scully he was finding the next words hard to say. "A new and improved model," he finished in a low, husky voice Scully had to strain to hear and wasn't sure she was supposed to hear.

Mulder sighed as he straightened up. Looking over Scully's head, far off into the distance, his eyes turned dark and dour. He remained silent. Pangs of jealousy tore at his determination to remain calm and detached. Scully was his partner. Part of him was afraid that she would soon learn to depend and trust someone else and gradually learn not to need him anymore. Good for Scully perhaps, but the closest thing to Hell on earth for him.

"Mulder?" The sudden shift in his mood tore at her heart. He looked so sad and lost, resigned to a fate beyond her understanding. Fear for him inflamed a need to protect him, to stand between him and whatever fate he saw in the darkness.

"It's nothing, Scully," he murmured, not looking at her.

"Bullshit, Mulder. Honesty, remember that word?" Scully sat up, until she could look him in the eyes, refusing to allow him to retreat, praying he wouldn't flee back to wherever it was that he spent his time when not visible.

"Just thinking."

She breathed a silent prayer of thanks. He wasn't running, yet, but she sensed his need to flee from her was balancing on a razor's edge against his promise not to run. She let her eyes ask the question, afraid to speak, uncertain of the words to say, afraid that she would say the wrong words and startle him into flight. He still wasn't looking at her, but she knew he was aware of her, he shook with his awareness of her presence.

"You have a chance now to work with a partner who isn't cluttered up with obsessions and quixotic quests." Silence, long painful silence finally broken by words torn out of him by his promise to be honest. "I guess I'm afraid." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper as he began to fade, his face clouded with embarrassment and fear, fleeing to battle his fears alone in the dark as he had always done.

Not this time, Mulder. This time I'm not letting you run.

Scully reached out and clutched his hand between both of hers, anchoring him to her. With her eyes alone she begged him not to run. Mulder shuddered as her hands began to pass through his, saw Scully give an answering shudder as she endured the cold of his touch, refusing to relinquish his hand. With a resigned shake of his head for stubborn partners, he re-materialized.

"Scully, it's OK, really. You know me, always one to snatch pessimism out of the jaws of optimism." Mulder managed a shy smile as he laid his other hand atop hers and squeezed.

"Mulder, you'll always be my partner, no matter how well Ambercrombie works out. I will always need you Mulder. If I didn't know that before last Saturday, I knew it when I thought I had lost you forever. I knew it this afternoon when we fought together again." Scully found her voice, letting the words come from her heart and even, perhaps, a little from her mind. Trying to reassure the little boy in Mulder who never quite believed in happy endings.

"Trust me, Mulder." Her eyes flashed with laughter as she gently teased him. Trust, such a simple word that had such complex meanings for this very complex man.

"Always have, always will," Mulder replied with a soft laugh. His eyes answered her question with a promise. He would stay, embrace the pain of watching her bond with another partner, trusting in her promise that he would always be needed.

"Now that we have the matter of my partner and my future settled, can I ask a favor?" Scully's expression turned serious as she stared at him.

"Anything, Scully. Anytime," Mulder replied earnestly.

"Get the hell out of the middle of my coffee table!"
 

THE END
 

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