Title: TLC

Author: Andrea

Rating: NC-17

Category: SR, case file, Mulder POV

Disclaimer: I wish...then there would be no ninth season,

never mind a semi-Mulderless eighth.

Archiving: I'd be honored, but I'd also like to know.

Timeline: There is no timeline in the vicinity of this

story...well somewhere in season 7, I guess.

Notes: Thank you Aly, Angela and Dan for the beta reading! 

Summary: What do you do when it has always been easy for you?

Spoilers: 

Feedback: Yes Please! ardywyn@hotmail.com



My other stories can be found at;

http://members.rogers.com/faloona4/aloneindex.html



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



"So this is what I was thinking," I began to sum up my thoughts.

Scully and I had been discussing a case that we'd been asked to

consult on. Skinner had handed it to me after 5 p.m. and Scully had

already left for the day. Instead of calling her back in, I'd done 

a bit of background research. It was after 10 when I called her at 

home to fill her in on what I'd found out.



"I think this might be more than a standard serial killer."



"Mmm hmm," she agreed.



"I do think it's one person, probably a man, actually I'm sure

it's a man," I continued.



"Yup," Scully concurred.



"The reason it's so baffling is the lack of connection between 

the victims. Different races, different ages; the only 

connection is that after each victim was killed, their eyes were

removed," I wrinkled my nose. Things like that never seemed to

bother Scully, but even after countless disgusting cases and 

viewing innumerable mangled bodies, even reading a coroner's 

report could make me queasy.



"I didn't know that," Scully spoke suddenly. "That explains a 

lot."



"Didn't know what? I told you the killer had taken their eyes 

when I first read you the report," I was confused.



"What? Oh, I'm sorry Mulder. I was talking to myself. Right, so

this guy is taking eyes as trophies," she tried to sound

thoughtful.



"If you weren't talking about the case, what were you talking

about?" I was irritated that I'd apparently been talking to

myself.



"Nothing, Mulder, just a TV show."



"A TV show?" I looked at my watch; 10:30. I couldn't help 

wondering what she was watching.



"Yes, I do watch TV every now and then, Mulder. Although God

knows I'm rarely home to watch anything decent," she muttered.



"So what is this enlightening program? Maybe I should watch it,

too."



"Can we get back to the case, Mulder?" she sighed.



"I wouldn't want to interrupt your show," my voice was dry. 



"Mulder," she sounded exasperated. "I'm sorry I wasn't giving 

you my complete attention. There -- I've turned it off. So 

these cases have all been in DC? Why are we involved?"



"Why won't you tell me what you were watching?"



"Because it doesn't matter. Were we requested specifically or

did we get the case by default?" she pressed on.



"Was it a news magazine show, like 20:20?" my curiosity was

getting the better of me.



"Mulder," her voice was starting to get tight.



"I doubt it was ER," I mused as I flipped through the channels.



"I guess we're done here," it was her turn to sound annoyed.



"Was it something on A&E?" I paused as Bill Kurtis very seriously

explained the details of a gangland slaying.



"I'll see you in the morning, Mulder," Scully said tersely right

before the line went dead.



With the phone still in my hand I went to the Discovery channel.

I thought that was more Scully's style, but they were showing 

something about the rainforest. When the phone started to bleep

I hung it up absent-mindedly; I was trying to think of what other 

channel she might watch. When I turned to the Learning Channel,

I knew I'd hit pay dirt. But then I needed to know what 

specifically she hadn't known. Remembering that this channel 

rebroadcast for the West Coast, I settled back into the 

couch and prepared myself for a late night.



When the show she'd been watching came on again, I checked my

watch. It was about halfway through when she'd made her

proclamation. At 10:28 the expert began his explanation and I 

knew immediately what Scully hadn't known, because it was news to

me, too. But then I was even more intrigued. She'd said that it 

explained a lot. The images that created kept my mind occupied 

until I heard the voice-over when the credits began to roll.

I smiled to myself and made my decision quickly.



Even though it would have been more my style to torment Scully,

I decided not to bring up the subject of our phone 

conversation the following morning. I'd been in love with her for 

a very long time. Now that I thought I had the perfect way to 

worm my way into her well-barricaded heart, I figured I should 

keep a low profile. Not that it mattered; our new case quickly 

filled our time.



"None of the victims were sexually assaulted, Mulder. You didn't

mention that last night," Scully looked up from the case notes

she was reading as soon as I entered the office.



"Did you assume?" I asked as I hung my coat up on the rack.



"You said it was a serial killer who was taking the eyes of his

victims as trophies. There are very few serial killers who's 

motives aren't sexual in some way," she told me what I already

knew.



"I think the key phrase is 'in some way'," I pointed out as I

plunked myself into my chair and opened my copy of the case 

notes.



"Has there been any evidence at any of the scenes that it was

sexual...semen, saliva, anything?" I watched as Scully furrowed

her brow in concentration.



"No, but remember each of the bodies had been carefully washed

and wrapped in satin before they were dumped," I put my feet up

onto the desk and leaned back. My thoughts always seemed clearer

when I sat this way.



"And the satin couldn't be traced?" Scully shook her head slowly.



"Nope -- different manufacturers, different dye lots, even 

different scissors used to cut it. Do you have any idea how

many fabric stores there are in the DC area, Scully?"



"A lot, I take it," she pursed her lips. "But you still think

the murders are sexually motivated?"



"I'm not ruling it out," I clarified. "By washing his victims

he could have removed any trace evidence."



"Yes, but what about bruising?" Scully adjusted herself in her

chair, crossing her legs the other way.  "You can't wash away 

bruising."



"The only bruising was from the way the bodies were positioned 

after death," I collected my thoughts.



"Postmortem lividity," Scully nodded. "Did that provide any 

clues?"



"Not really," I shrugged. "Just that he kept them on their backs 

the entire time."



"Well, that's a clue, but let's backtrack for a second, but

remind me about them being on their backs."



"Okay," I tried not to grin too broadly. Was there anything about

Scully that I didn't love? Just sitting there watching her mind

work made me ridiculously happy.



"Obviously the coroner would have looked for signs of sexual 

assault," she flipped a page of her notes.



"Right," I nodded, "and there were none."



"But with this many victims, even the most fastidious person

is eventually going to leave some DNA if there was any there to

begin with," she looked at me over her glasses.



"Maybe he hasn't screwed up yet," I suggested with a shrug.



"Mmm," Scully didn't sound convinced. "Were there still traces

of soap on the bodies?"



"Yup."



"What about vaginal secretions?"



"What do you mean?" I wasn't following her line of thinking.



"Well," she raised her head to look me in the eye, "if there

were still vaginal secretions present, he couldn't have submerged

them postmortem to clean them. And I think everyone agrees that

the cleaning was postmortem."



I nodded, intrigued by her thought processes.



"And since it says here that vaginal secretions were present, I'd

have to say he didn't submerge them. And unless he did, I 

strongly doubt he could have removed all traces of his DNA."



"So you think there was none to start with," I sat up. "Then why

wash them?"



"And why remove their eyes and wrap them in satin? If I had all

of the answers, Mulder..."



"Okay. You wanted me to remind you about the victims being on 

their backs," I told her as I jotted down what she'd said about

the victims not being submerged to clean them in my notes.



"Right," her eyes had that far way look she got when she was

deep in thought. "Given the timing between death and discovery, 

and the lividity patterns in the autopsy pictures, it's clear 

that the victims were kept on their backs the whole time."



"And that's important because...?"



"Because he would need a big enough vehicle to transport them 

that way," she rolled her eyes. 



"Why didn't anyone else notice that?" I began to look at the 

coroners' reports for all five victims.



"The corners did notice it, Mulder," she got up and walked around

the desk. "Right here," she turned to the report on the first

victim. "And here, and here," she continued through all five of

the reports.



Scully was pointing to notes about contact pallor and only one 

pattern of lividity.



"I know I've been reading coroner's reports for years, but that

doesn't say the guy's got a big-ass car to me," I looked up at

her. Her face was only inches from mine.



"The coroner just includes his findings, Mulder. The rest is up

to you and me, unless, of course, the coroner is Quincy," her

lips spread into a smile. "And I would think he has a van,"

she walked back over to her chair and sat down.



"Yeah, a van makes sense," I agreed.



"And there was no fiber evidence, so that makes me think it's

a delivery van," she tapped her pen on the file.



"Yeah, no red shag rug," I chuckled.



"Do the police have any suspects?" Scully closed her file.



"Well, they've hauled in the usual suspects for questioning, but

nothing concrete."



"You never said why we were given this case," she reminded of

our conversation the previous night.



"Default basically," I shrugged. "We didn't have an active case

and violent crimes is swamped. We do have an impressive solve 

rate for this type of case," I added with a grin.



"If you do say so yourself," she laughed. "So where do you want

to start?"



"I think we've got it wrapped. We're looking for a fastidious guy

who drives a van with no carpeting," I waggled my eyebrows.



"Does that mean I can take the rest of the day off?" she smirked.



"That depends. How many fastidious guys with vans do you know?"



"The only guys I know with a van, I wouldn't call fastidious,"

she winked at me. "Well maybe one of them."



"Yeah, we should go arrest Byers," I looked back at my notes.

"I wonder what his trigger was? Why now?"



"Have you looked at similar MOs? Strangulation followed by 

removal of the eyes?" 



"Not personally, but yes that search has been done, and nothing,"

I sighed.



"Well, I think we should start by talking to the investigating

officers again. Maybe they saw something they didn't think 

to..." Scully began but the ringing of the phone interrupted her.



"Mulder," I answered.



"Agent," it was Skinner's voice. "They've found another body."



"Where?" I glanced up at Scully. She was already standing up.



"Riverside Park, by the Memorial Gardens. They're keeping the

scene for you."



When I hung up Scully was holding my coat out to me. I threw it

over my arm and we walked wordlessly to my car.



The ride over was silent. I knew without asking exactly what 

Scully was feeling and why we weren't speaking. We both felt 

like we'd failed already. We also both knew we'd just been 

assigned the case and there was no way we could have prevented 

this death. But knowing that didn't change that feeling that 

we'd somehow been remiss in our duties.



The first thing that struck me when we arrived at the park was

the incongruity of the scene. The early morning sun was shining

brightly, reflecting brilliantly off the dew that still clinging

to the grass and flowers in the garden. The stone walkways and

tall hardwoods would have normally given me a sense of peace, but

the yellow tape and police cars harshly reminded me of why we 

were there.



Once we left the car, I went to talk to one of the uniforms and

Scully made her way over to the white satin bundle behind the 

crime scene tape. While the young officer told me how an older

couple had discovered the body while they were walking their 

dog, I watched Scully crouch next to the body and pull the 

satin back from the face. After replacing it, she looked over at 

me and nodded.



Something about the scene was nagging at me. Scanning the park

didn't help. All I saw was trees, grass, flowers, doggy 

land mines and a growing crowd of people. I thought back to the

reports I'd been reading, but it didn't help. It was like it

was on the tip of my consciousness, but I couldn't drag it out.

I knew from experience that the best thing to do was not to think

about it. 



"After they do the pictures of the scene, I'm going to do the

autopsy," Scully had suddenly appeared beside me.



"I think I'll stay here with the crime scene guys." 



"Are you looking for something in particular?" she cocked her

head at me.



"Yup."



"What?" she asked as she picked a piece of lint off my shoulder.



"I'm not sure," I told her distractedly.



"Okay. Want me to call you when I'm done?" 



"Uh huh," I think I nodded.



The next thing I knew one of the crime scene guys was calling 

me over to look at some tire tracks. Scully was nowhere to be 

seen. I had no idea how long I'd been standing there in a daze. 



The tracks turned out to be a dead end. We found out from talking

to the city's park staff that one of the local nurseries had been

there the day before delivering bedding plants for the garden. I

spent another two hours at the scene and left with nothing except

the same nagging feeling that I was missing something.



I was on my way back to the office when my cell phone trilled

in my pocket.



"It's me," Scully announced when I answered.



"Hey," I smiled at the sound of her voice.



"I'm done."



"And?"



"Nothing new," she sighed. "I did find some dirt under her 

fingernails that I sent to the lab. What about you? Did you find

anything?"



"Nope."



"What's up, Mulder? You sound distracted. You were distracted 

this morning," I could hear concern in her voice.



"Sorry, Scully. It's nothing. Something's bugging me. There's

something I should be seeing, but I can't figure it out," I 

tried to explain it to her.



"Well, let me buy you some lunch. Maybe you'll be able to think

more clearly on a full stomach," I could hear her smiling, but

even the warmth in Scully's voice wasn't enough to stop my mind

from racing in circles.



"That sounds like a good idea. Let's go someplace quiet." I 

thought maybe some stillness might help me think.



"Any ideas?" 



"How about that Japanese place downtown? They have those rooms

with the fountains and flowers," the thought alone calmed me 

down. Scully and I in a private dining room, shoes off, sitting 

on cushions, the sound of water splashing, what could be more 

soothing? I hoped it would be soothing. I needed to be soothed.



"Mulder? Did you hear me?"



"Sorry, static," I lied.



"I'll call and make sure they have room. If you don't hear from

me meet me there."



Much to my delight, Scully didn't call me back. She was waiting 

in one of the smaller rooms at the back of the restaurant.



"I already ordered," she smiled when I opened the screened door.



"That was fast," I chuckled as took off my shoes and set them 

beside hers. I knew that Scully could already tell I'd thrown

myself into this case. She was worried about me, but I didn't

want her to be concerned about me. That would only increase my

anxiety.



"When I called, they said they could take my order then, if I 

knew what I wanted," she explained as I lowered myself to the 

cushion beside her.



"And what did we want?" I forced a grin, hoping she wouldn't 

notice.



"I just got tepanyaki," she shrugged. "I know we won't get the

show in here, but I still like the food."



Before I could tell her that her choice was fine with me, the

waitress arrived with our salad. Scully began to skillfully

manipulate her chopsticks while I struggled to get a piece of

lettuce into my mouth.



"I know it's considered rude to spear your food in Japan, Scully,

but it's that or I need a fork."



"It doesn't bother me at all," she smiled, "but hang on for a 

sec."



I watched in bewilderment as she began to search through her 

briefcase.



"A ha," she grinned, holding a piece of paper and an elastic band 

aloft.



Then she took my chopsticks, folded the paper and placed in 

between the ends and then wrapped the elastic band around the end

with the folded paper creating a pivot point.



"There," she handed them back to me. "They should be easier to

use now."



It worked like a charm. The elastic kept the chopsticks from

sliding around on me and I was able to eat my salad easily.



"So where'd you learn this trick? Chopsticks for dummies?" I

inquired once my salad bowl was empty.



"This is the way I learned how to use chopsticks when I was a 

kid," she chuckled.



"Oh right," I'd forgotten she'd spent time in Japan.

The soup was easier. We basically drank it from the bowl. When 

I'd finished mine and put my bowl back on the table I turned to

check on Scully's progress. She, too, was almost done, but a 

drop had escaped the bowl and hanging precariously from her

bottom lip. Without even thinking about it, I reached out

and wiped it off with my thumb.



"Mmm, thanks," her eyes flicked over at me briefly.



"I would've licked it off if I thought I could have reached it

before it dripped onto your blouse," I told her honestly.



"I see you're starting to relax," she rolled her eyes at me.



"I am," I smiled and leaned back against the wall.



"I wish you wouldn't let the cases wind you up so much," she

reached over to fix some problem with my hair.



I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of her fingers gently

smoothing my hair. When I no longer felt her touch, I opened my

eyes. Her blue eyes were looking into mine questioningly.



"If I didn't get wound up, I wouldn't be able to look forward to

you calming me down," my voice was quiet.



Her eyes widened at my confession, but before she could say 

anything the door opened and the waitress brought us our main

course. Scully was right, the food was making me feel better.

Or maybe it was Scully that was making me feel better, but either

way, I was no closer to figuring out what had been bugging me

all morning.



"I'm going to call the lab and see if they have my results,"

Scully informed me once the waitress had removed our dishes and

left our tea.



"Hey Steve, it's Dana Scully," she said after a few moments.



"Yeah?" she chuckled. "No, I was actually wondering if you'd 

had a chance to run that sample I sent over."



"No?" she sounded dismayed. "How come?"



"I know," she began after a few seconds, "but I really need

these results right away."



"Come on, Steve, what'll it take?" she lowered her voice sending

little chills down my spine.



"Is your wife going to join us?" Scully's voice was still sultry

and my heart began to beat faster.



"You've got a deal," Scully's voice was breathy. "I'll be over

as soon as she invites me."



I'd been listening to her conversation still lounging back

against the wall, but I had to sit up quickly to disguise my

growing erection.



"Okay, thanks, Steve. I really appreciate this," Scully's voice

was back to normal.



"Correct me if I'm wrong, Scully," I began once she'd ended the

call. "But did you just use your feminine wiles to get your

sample run right away?"



"And you never use your charm to get women to do anything for

you," she raised her eyebrows at me as she reached for her cup.



"I certainly don't promise sexual favors," I laughed.



"Relax, Mulder. I've known Steve for a long time. It's just

a little game we always play," she paused to take a sip of her

tea. "And I don't know what you were thinking, but we were

talking about a dinner invitation."



"Oh, it sounded like..." I stammered.



"Sounded like what, Mulder?" Scully was smiling knowingly at me.



"How come you never talk to me like that on the phone?" I

changed the subject.



Without answering, Scully replaced her cup on the table. Then

to my amazement she got to her knees and began to crawl slowly 

toward me. 



"Is that what you'd like, Mulder?" her voice had dropped again.

"Do you want me to be coquettish with you? Do you think we'd

work better together that way?"



I tried to speak, but no words came out. And if Scully had 

lowered her eyes a little, she would have seen the bulge that

was growing in my pants again.



"I didn't think so" she shook her head and sat down again.



"Well maybe not all the time," I finally found my voice. "But 

once in a while would be nice as a treat."



"Dream on," she snorted. 



Before I could tell her that her little demonstration would 

definitely be featured in my dreams, the waitress came in with

our bill. Scully told me she'd take care of it and meet me back

at the office.



As I drove back the J. Edgar Hoover Building it suddenly occurred

to me that I wasn't being plagued by that feeling that I was 

missing something anymore. I hadn't figured it out either, but at 

least Scully had managed to draw me out of my own head. I smiled 

at how quietly she'd learned this skill. No one else had ever 

managed to do before, but she had accomplished it without me even 

being aware of what she was doing.



I sat behind my desk without opening my notes and waited for

her. She came down the back stairs. I knew she would. Although

she would likely not admit it, Scully got as focused on cases

as I did and walking through the offices might distract her.



"Thanks, Scully," I smiled when she walked into the office.



"Oh, it was no problem. We should go there more often. It was

good," she pulled a chair up to the desk.



"I wasn't thanking you for lunch, Scully."



"You weren't?" her eyebrows shot up. "Am I supposed to guess, or

are you going to tell me?" she titled her head and widened her

eyes.



"For bringing me out of my head," I told her quietly.



"Oh," she smiled slightly. "I only did that because you were 

lost in there, Mulder. I can tell when you're focussed and 

it's working and I can tell when you're just running around

in circles."



"I knew I was going in circles, but I couldn't stop myself. 

That's why I wanted to thank you," I was about to reach and give

her hand a squeeze when I saw a shadow darken our door.



"Agents," Skinner announced himself.



"Sir," Scully turned in her chair to face him.



"I know you've got a lot on your plate, so I thought I just come

down and see what you've got," he took a step inside the room.



Scully glanced over at me, but I looked at her and lifted my chin 

toward our boss. Since she was the only one who'd learned 

anything, I didn't see any point in me telling him.



"Well, we didn't learn much, sir, but I did find some dirt 

under her fingernails that I'm having analyzed."



"Has the victim been ID'd yet?"



"Yeah," I took out my notebook. "He left her driver's license in

her pocket, like he did with the others. Her name is Shirley 

Serrao; 48, divorced mother of two."



"Does that help with a pattern?" Skinner flexed the muscles in

his jaw while he waited for my answer. 



"Nope," I sighed. "All of the women have been over 30, but 

they've ranged in age from 32 to 67. Not all were married, not 

all had kids," I shook my head.



"It has to be there," Skinner's nostrils flared in agitation. 

"Why can't we see it?"



I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying 'of course

there's a fucking pattern and it's killing me that I can't 

nail it'. Scully must have seen me clamp my mouth shut, because

she spoke up.



"We're hoping the lab results might be the piece of the puzzle

we need, sir."



"I thought they hadn't found anything on the other victims,"

he furrowed his brow.



"They were only looking for DNA and they didn't find any," she

informed him quietly.



"Let me know as soon as you find out," he instructed and left as

quickly as he'd arrived.



I heard his footsteps fading down the hall and as soon as I 

heard the elevator doors close, I was on my feet.



"We?" I spat as I stormed out from behind my desk.



"Mulder," Scully's tone was gentle as she turned in her chair

to follow my movements.



"Who the fuck is we? *We've* had the case less than 24 hours and 

he wants to know why *we* haven't figured out the pattern?" I 

raged.



"He just wants it over, Mulder, you know that," Scully kept her

voice low.



"And I don't?" I spun around to face her.



"Of course you do, Mulder. We all do. Skinner's just doing his 

job," Scully's tone was unchanged.



"And I'm not. Is that it?" I fumed.



"Why do you think they gave you this case, Mulder? If it was an

easy solve, even with their caseload, VICAP could have taken it 

on. But they knew it would take serious attention. No one expects 

miracles, Mulder. Skinner wasn't angry with you. Just angry."



As Scully spoke gently to me, I slowly realized that I'd been 

standing there yelling at her. I'd been taking out my 

frustrations about the case, about Skinner, about this sick 

bastard on the most important person in my life. I crumpled at 

her feet.



"Shit, Scully, I'm sorry," I buried my face in her lap.



"It's okay," she began to stroke my hair.



"It's not okay," I shook my head against her skirt.



"It's better to get it out, Mulder. It would've eaten you alive

if you'd tried to bottle it up," she was caressing the back if my

neck.



"But I shouldn't have taken it out on you," I protested as she 

traced small circles onto my skin. 



"Better me than Skinner," she chuckled, making me smile in

spite of myself. 



I was about to thank her again, when the phone made us both 

jump. Scully leaned across the desk to pick it up.



"Scully," she answered.



"Steve! That was fast," she smiled at me and winked.



I stood up quickly and began to tap my foot, wishing I could

hear both sides of the conversation.



"Oh," Scully sounded disappointed. "Nothing else?"



I felt my shoulders sag; another dead end. I'd been counting on 

some sliver of information that might push us in the right 

direction. Scully was still listening to Steve, and I tried 

to watch her face to see a faint glimmer of hope. Instead I saw

her brow furrow.



"Okay, thanks Steve," she tried to sound sincere.



"No, that's all right," she said a few seconds later. "Thanks

for running it right away."



"Nothing?" I sighed when she'd hung up.



"Nothing enlightening," she shook her head. "Apparently my

description of 'dirt' was fairly accurate. It was literally

garden variety dirt; fertilizer and all."



As soon as the words left her mouth it clicked. Whatever had

been hiding in my subconscious came spilling out.



"That's it, Scully!" I grabbed for file.



"What's it?" she ducked out of the way of my arm.



"Gardens!" I began to flip through the file.



"Gardens?" she repeated.



"All of the bodies were near gardens, sort of," I nodded 

vigorously. "One was behind a florist, one at a garden 

center, one on the grounds of a university -- see," I pulled out

the crime scene picture, "right beside a flower bed." Then I

showed her the photos from the church and the golf course. 

"Every time the body was wrapped in satin and displayed 

beside flowers."



"Oh God, Mulder," Scully put her hand to her mouth.



"What?" I cocked my head.



"He's giving them a funeral," her eyes were wide.



"A funeral?" I shook my head.



"The satin, like in a casket, all the flowers," she looked at

the pictures again.



"Damn," my shoulders slumped. "I thought the flowers might 

connect the victims somehow."



"Hang on a second," Scully put the pictures down and began to

read the notes again. "Look, Mulder, a landscape architect, a

mycologist with the department of Agriculture, an herbalist,

an employee of the city of Alexandria -- parks department, but

these two don't quite fit," she had been lining the reports up

on the desk. She held the two that didn't match her profile in

her hands.



"Just because they didn't do something botanical professionally,

doesn't mean they aren't connected," I thought she was onto

something. "Let's make some phone calls."



Scully took Frances Catherwood. She had been the first victim.

Since she was a widowed wealthy socialite the police had 

originally assumed that the murder had been financially motivated

and had been pursuing that avenue of investigation until the 

body of Lynne Hughes had turned up 16 days later.



I followed up on the fourth victim; Carolyn Sharma. Ms. Sharma 

was the youngest victim, at 32 and definitely the most 'out 

there'. Her body had been found on the church grounds, and the 

police thought her killer might have been making some kind of 

statement about her morals. Carolyn Sharma was Caucasian, but 

she kept her vivid blue hair in dreadlocks. Her body had been 

pierced, tattooed and branded; her teeth had been filed down into 

points. Some of the investigators still doubted that she was 

killed by the same man. But her eyes had been removed and that 

information had not been released to the media. And with the 

positioning of her body next to a flowerbed, I was left with 

no doubts at all.



Scully was done long before I was and sat waiting patiently

for me to finishing chasing up the activities of the very busy

Carolyn Sharma. No one seemed to know what she did for a living

or what her hobbies, other than body modification, might be. When 

I finally tracked down a friend of hers from college she asked

me if I'd talked to Carolyn's mom yet. I hated to admit I hadn't,

I'd assumed that Carolyn hadn't been close with her family. After

jotting down the number, I thanked Carolyn's friend and then 

called Ruth Sharma.



As it turned out Carolyn Sharma was a well-known freelance graphic

artist, known in the business as Thalia. Since her profession 

didn't match our profile, I asked her mother about Carolyn's 

hobbies. 



"So?" I asked Scully when I finally put the phone down.



"Frances Catherwood was on the board of the American 

Horticultural Society," Scully nodded, a slight smile on her

face.



"That's here in DC?"



"Alexandria, actually. What about Carolyn Sharma?" Scully's

eyebrows were high.



"Well, Ms. Sharma was a freelance graphic artist. She worked out

of a warehouse where she also partook of her hobby. She was into 

hydroponic gardening," I grinned.



"Hydroponic?" Scully chuckled.



"Now, Scully," I chastised. "You should know better than to make

assumptions. Carolyn liked to raise her own herbs, but she didn't

smoke them. She grew stuff like Echinacea and ginseng, and all of

her own vegetables, too. Her mom said she was extremely careful 

about what went into her body."



"But not what went into the first few layers of her dermis,

apparently," Scully shook her head with a laugh.



"It takes all kinds, Scully," I smiled and put Carolyn Sharma's 

report back into the file. "I think we know what our next move 

has to be."



"Yup, I guess it's time to tell Skinner. Are you okay now?" she

put her hand on my arm.



"Couldn't be better," I took the Catherwood report from her.

"Let's go."



"Don't you think we should let him know we're on our way?" Scully

called. I was already out the door. She always remembered the 

little things. 



Since Scully had called Kimberly to let her know we were on our 

way Skinner's door was open when we got there. Kimberly waved us 

in.



"Did you get the lab results back?" Skinner wanted to know

before we'd even sat down.



"We did," Scully folded her hands in her lap as she sat down.

"The scrapings from under Mrs. Serrao's fingernails turned out

to be dirt and some fertilizer."



"Dirt?" Skinner looked unimpressed. "So much for that lead."



"Actually, sir, it was a lead," I told him calmly.



"Go on, Agent," Skinner leaned back in his chair.



"When Scully told me about the dirt, I made the connection."

I took all the reports out and lined them up on his desk. "All

of the victims were found near flowers."



"The second victim was found in an alley, Mulder," Skinner

pointed out.



"Behind a florist's." Mulder pointed to that detail in the 

report. "And Scully figured out the satin. He was giving his

victims a funeral; wrapping them in satin and displaying them 

near flowers."



Skinner raised his eyebrows and nodded at Scully; high praise.

"Is that all you've got?"



"No, we also found that not only were the victims displayed near

flowers in some way, but they did something relating to gardening

either professionally or as a hobby," I smiled.



"A lot of people garden as a hobby, Mulder. Are you sure you

aren't grasping at straws?" Skinner leafed through the reports.



Before I could say anything, Scully jumped in. "We aren't talking

about backyard gardeners, sir. One victim was on the board of

the American Horticultural Society and the other had an extensive

hydroponic set up."



"I see," Skinner nodded slowly. "So what does this give us? He 

kills women that like flowers.  How is that going to help us 

find him?"



"I think it gives us the connection between him and his victims,"

I began. "These women were into gardening in a big way. They 

needed to get their supplies from somewhere."



"Right," Skinner straightened up and looked at his watch. 

"Find out who these women dealt with. If we're lucky the list

won't be long."



It took another couple of hours, but Scully and I managed to

determine that the women had three suppliers in common. When

we took that information to Skinner he asked if we'd need help

following up in the morning. After I'd assured him we could cope

on our own, we left with instructions to let him know as soon

as we knew anything.



When we got back to the basement, we both collapsed into our

chairs. Scully looked how I felt; mentally exhausted.



"What are your plans tonight, Mulder?" Scully asked after heaving

a big sigh.



"What did you have in mind?" I could feel myself start to grin.



"Well, I assumed that your plans involved some greasy take-out

food and a night in front of the TV watching God knows what. Am

I right?" she raised her eyebrows, knowing perfectly well that

she was right.



"Probably," I shrugged. "Are you making me a better offer?"



"I thought I could make you some real food," she smiled.



"And then what?" I waggled my eyebrows.



"I don't know, I'm sure there's something on TV," she shrugged.



"So it's not a sleep over?" I pouted.



"Are you coming or not?" she got up, ignoring my question.



"Well if it's not a sleepover, I guess that'll depend on 

what you wear to cook dinner," I grinned unabashedly at her.



"Do you ever stop, Mulder?" she was gathering up her things to 

leave.



"It's part of my boyish charm," I stood up to follow her. "I

thought you liked it."



"Love it," she rolled her eyes at me and walked out of the 

office.



"Did I detect I hint of sarcasm in your voice?" I asked when

I'd caught up to her.



"I have to go to the market to pick up a few things," Scully

informed me, ignoring my question. "Just go ahead and let yourself

in. I won't be long."



"I don't want to be any trouble," I told her sincerely as she

was unlocking her car.



"Mulder," she opened the door, "you are always trouble. Why 

should this be any different?"



Before I could respond, she'd closed her door again and was 

starting her car. 



It felt strange, letting myself into Scully's apartment. Any 

other time I'd done this it hadn't been with her permission. It

had always been because something was wrong, but I tried to put

those memories out of my mind. Scully was going to cook for me.

That was a good thing and it had to mean something. At least I 

hoped it did.



After I took my shoes off and I'd hung my jacket in the closet,

I wandered restlessly around her apartment. I had no idea what to

do with myself. I found myself looking at the CDs she had 

underneath her stereo. One in particular caught my eye. It was by

a band I'd never heard of -- Train -- but the title made me stop.

I was surprised Scully had an album called "Drops of Jupiter".



After powering up her stereo, I popped the in the CD. One of the 

tracks had the same title as the album, so I skipped to it to 

listen. While it played, I kept looking at her other CDs, but

some of the lyrics made me stop and listen more carefully. I

had to wonder if Scully ever listened closely to this song. Was 

she the type to hear things in lyrics that sounded like her own 

life? Probably not. Beside that, in this song, it was a guy 

singing about a girl. If anything had struck Scully, she would 

have had to reverse the roles in her head. That seemed a bit of a 

stretch. But those lyrics really had struck a chord in me. 



I took out the CD liner and read the lyrics as I played the song 

again. If Scully had ever listened to this song, she must have 

heard it. 



"And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out 

there?" 



I was probably reading too much into it, but the song seemed to 

be about a girl who had far out ideas and a guy who didn't. He

was afraid she would think less of him for it.



"I'm afraid that she might think of me as plain ol' Jane.

Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never 

did land." 



But it was a lyric toward the end of the song that made me think

she had to have heard it the same way I did.



"Your best friend always sticking up for you, even when I know 

you're wrong."



When the song ended, I backtracked and listened to it again. I'm

not sure what I was trying to hear. Maybe some proof that Scully

was hearing it the same way, but all I got was a weird feeling 

that the song was about me.



I was listening for the fourth time when I turned around to see 

Scully standing at the front door with several grocery bags in 

her arms. Her eyes were wide open in alarm.



"What's wrong?" I immediately thought my suspicions about the 

song were correct.



"Mulder," she had to raise her voice. "That's so loud I could 

hear it the hall."



"Sorry," I apologized and turned it down.



"I'm already on shaky ground with my neighbors with everything

that's gone on in here in the past. I don't want to press my 

luck."



"Sorry," I reiterated. "Do you need any help?" I nodded toward

the bags.



"You can help me most by staying out of my way and keeping

the volume on the stereo at a reasonable level," she kicked

off her shoes and headed into the kitchen.



"Okay," I felt like I'd been chastised. "Will I been in your 

way if I sit at the table?" I called to her.



"I guess not."



I left the CD to play to the end and went into the kitchen.



"What are we having?" I asked once I'd plunked myself into a 

chair.



"Shrimp scampi," she remarked offhandedly as she unpacked the

groceries.



"Shrimp scampi?" I repeated in amazement. "Isn't that hard to

make?"



"Not really," she shrugged. "Just shrimp sauteed with garlic

and some herbs."



As I watched her work, it didn't look as easy as she said it 

was, but I guess she was more comfortable in the kitchen than I 

was. Before she even started cooking the shrimp she had to clean 

them and she also started some rice and made a salad. It all 

looked like a lot of trouble to me. Granted, complicated to me 

was heating up a can of soup. Uncomplicated was picking up the 

phone.



In half an hour it was all ready. My mouth had already been

watering, but when Scully put the plate down in front of me I

practically drooled.



"Wow," I inhaled deeply.



"Try tasting it," she chuckled as she sat down.



"Your wish is my command," I picked up my fork.



"I said taste it, not inhale it," Scully shook her head at me

less than five minutes later. She was still working on hers and

I'd noticed that she'd given me more than she'd given herself.



"It was good," I defended myself as I picked at my salad.



"Thanks," Scully's eyes flicked up at me briefly and she looked

back down at her food. I was sure I could see a hint of pink in

her cheeks. Just because I'd said the food was good? I compliment

her all the time and she blushed because I said the food was

good. I wondered if I'd ever figure women out.



When we'd finished, I asked her if she needed help cleaning up,

but she said she'd be able to do it faster by herself and sent me

in to watch TV.



"Do you want coffee?" she called as I was sitting down.



"No thanks, it'll keep me up," I called back, making her chuckle.

"What do you want to watch?"



"Doesn't matter."



"Why don't I see if TLC has anything good on?" I gave her a jab.



"Sure," she agreed from the kitchen, oblivious to my attempt at

humor, but then again she had no idea that I'd figured out what

she'd been watching.



When she joined me she was carrying a mug. Scully never worried

about being able to fall asleep. TLC was showing a program called

"Secrets of the Bermuda Triangle Revealed". Scully looked at me

sideways as she sat down.



"I can change the channel if you like," I offered.



"That's all right," she took a sip of her coffee.



We watched in silence until they referenced the Queen Anne. I

turned to say something to Scully, but she'd fallen asleep; her

coffee cup still perched on her knee. When I eased it out of her

hand, she stirred and snuggled back into the couch. I couldn't

help smiling. Some things never change and I took comfort in 

that.



Leaving her on the couch, I went into her bedroom to pull back

the covers on her bed. Then I went back and picked her up, trying 

not to wake her. I wondered what I should do about her clothes,

but I decided it would be best to just leave them. 



Once she was settled into the bed, I leaned back against the 

dresser to watch her sleep. Only for a few minutes, I told 

myself. I'd had the chance to watch Scully sleep often. On

some of the occasions she'd been ill, and seeing how fragile

she'd looked had torn me apart. Now she simply looked serene;

completely at peace with herself. Somehow I doubted that I looked

like that when I was sleeping. I suddenly found myself wondering

if Scully had ever watched me sleep and how it made her feel. The

only opportunities I could think of were when I was hospitalized,

so no doubt all she felt was concern. But at least she felt 

something, that was better than nothing. 



The next thing I knew my right shoulder really hurt, and my

right hip wasn't far behind. Then I felt a hand in my hair and

heard Scully's voice. When I opened my eyes I found that I'd

been asleep on Scully's bedroom floor and she was kneeling in 

front of me, still in the clothes she'd been wearing I'd put 

her to bed.



"What are you doing, Mulder?" Scully's voice was gentle. "Why

are you sleeping here? If you were too tired to drive you could

have slept on the couch," her hand was still playing with my 

hair.



"This was probably more comfortable than your couch," I groaned

as I sat up and leaned against her dresser. "And I didn't intend

to fall asleep here. It's official, Scully, I'm too old to crash 

just anywhere," I complained as I tried to loosen the stiff 

muscles in my neck.



"You still haven't explained why you were asleep on the floor

of my bedroom," she stood up and held her hand out to me.



"I was watching you sleep," I confessed as I let her help me

up.



"You were what?" her eyes were wide.



"I've always been jealous of your ability to fall asleep at the

drop of a hat. And when you are sleeping you look like you don't

have a care in the world. I wish you could share some of that 

with me," I tried to explain.



"Well, if you just slept for 7 hours on the floor, Mulder, I'd

say I did share it with you," she chuckled. "Next time you want

me to share I'll see about making you more comfortable," she

winked at me. 



"Okay," I stammered, my stomach still recovering from the 

somersault her wink caused.



"I think you need a hot shower, Mulder," Scully was looking at

me with her doctor's eye. "Do you still keep a change of clothes

in your trunk?"



"Uh huh," I nodded.



"The you go jump in the shower and I'll go out and grab you 

clothes," she held her hand out to me, palm up.



I looked down at her hand and then back up to her face, feeling 

very confused.



"Keys," she chuckled. "And then I'll make coffee, because 

apparently you need some."



Scully was right about the shower. When I emerged I felt much

better. My shoulder was still a bit stiff, but at least I could

walk without hobbling. As soon as I opened the bathroom door 

cooking smells took hold of my nose and dragged me to the 

kitchen. Scully was just sliding an omelet onto a plate.



"Good timing," she smiled at me and handed the plate to me.



"Thanks," I grinned and sat down at the table. When I picked

up my fork and tried to break of a piece of my omelet, my

shoulder protested, making me wince.



"Still sore?" Scully was suddenly behind me, her hands coming

to rest on my shoulder.



"A little," I nodded.



"Maybe this'll help," she began to massage the muscles in my

shoulder and neck. "And if it doesn't I'll get you some 

ibuprofen."



"'Kay," I sighed as I concentrated on the feeling of her hands.



Even through my shirt I could feel that her hands were cool at

first, but the more she worked my flesh, the warmer her hands 

became. Letting my head loll to the side, I closed my eyes and

enjoyed her touch. Scully touched me often, but never in the ways

I wanted her to. Instead of seeing love in her eyes when she

brushed the real or imaginary hair from my forehead, I always

saw concern. She would often use her touch to calm me. If my 

blood pressure was on the rise, Scully could do some magic 

biofeedback thing by simply placing her hand on my arm. Since

I wasn't in a rage her touch was having the opposite effect on 

me. She was only touching my shoulder and neck but my blood was

starting to really pump and not just to the affected area.



"Mulder!" Scully's voice startled me.



"What?" I forced my eyes open.



"I thought you'd fallen asleep on me," she laughed. "I asked

you if that was better, because I should really go have my shower

now."



"Yeah, it's great," I gushed. "You have magic fingers, Scully."



"Does that mean I get a quarter for this?" she laughed.



"You're never going to let me forget that are you, Scully," I

sighed.



"Never," she looked back over her shoulder at me as she walked

to bathroom.



Forty-five minutes later Scully and I were back in the car.

When I turned left off her street, she looked at me quickly.



"Mulder, the first garden supply store we were going to hit is

the other way." 



"I know, there's something I want to do first," I told her.



"And were you planning on letting me in on the secret sometime?"

she huffed and folded her arms across her chest.



"Sorry, Scully, I was caught up in my thoughts. I wasn't keeping

it from you deliberately," I tried to make amends.



"You still haven't told me," she informed me dryly. I didn't hear 

much forgiveness in her voice.



"Something else was bugging me about the case," I explained.



"Mmm hmm," she nodded, wanting me to continue.



"Well, it's about the dump sites," I began.



"What about them? Do you think we were wrong about the flowers?"

she furrowed her forehead.



"Definitely not. I think we hit the nail on the head with that

one; you and me, both," I assured her.



"Then what?" I could hear the confusion in her voice.



"Well they all have something in common except for the first 

one," I explained.



"That was the house, right? And the rest were all public places.

Is that what you mean?" 



"Not quite. All the rest were places that this guy had probably

visited in the course of his work," I reminded her.



"Maybe he'd delivered something to the house too," Scully

suggested.



"That's what we're going to find out."



"You told Skinner we were going to the nurseries first thing in 

the morning," she reminded me. "Want me to call him and let 

him know what we're doing?"



"Nah, let's live dangerously," I waggled my eyebrows at her,

making her smile and shake her head.



In ten minutes we were pulling up in front of a large house in

an affluent neighborhood of DC. When I saw the elaborate gardens

that surrounded the house, I suspected that Scully was right; the

killer had likely made deliveries here. But something else caught

my eye. The house was for sale. Maybe having a body dumped in 

your yard was enough to motivate some people to leave -- I wanted

to know for sure.



Without asking what I was thinking, Scully followed me when I got

out of the car. After I knocked the front door was opened by a

woman in her early thirties. I knew from the file her name was

Diane Tillson. She looked surprised to see us.



"Oh, the open house isn't until this afternoon," she apologized.

"But if you like I could show you around. The agent does a better

job. I can't make it sound any better than it is."



I glanced at Scully just as she was looking at me. In unison we

reached for our badges. The women's eyes widened.



"Is this about that poor woman?"



"I just have a few questions for you," I explained.



"Would you like to come in?" she held the door open wider.



"Thank you, but we don't have a lot of time and this should be

brief."



"Okay," she nodded, her expression serious.



"We noticed your gardens and we were wondering if you ever have

supplies delivered?" 



"My gardens?" she chuckled. "No, they're part of the reason I 

bought this house. I love them. But part of the fun is going out

and buying what I need. It never occurred to me to have anything

delivered," she smiled brightly.



"Oh," I was somewhat disappointed.



"If you like the gardens so much, why are you selling?" Scully

jumped in.



"Well," she lowered her voice. "We originally bought this house

because it was in the right price range. We normally couldn't

afford something in this neighborhood. But now I think this house

must be cursed, I don't care how great the gardens are."



"You're selling because a body was left on your property?" I

clarified.



"Not just that, I mean that was bad enough, but the reason the

house was so cheap to start with was because there was a murder

here. At first it was kind of interesting -- a good conversation

starter, but now, forget it. I'm outta here," she shook her

head in determination.



"A murder?" My interest was definitely piqued. "Do you know 

anything about it?"



"It was the owner of the house, Rose Sommerville. She designed

all of these gardens," she scanned the yard and sighed. "There

are more in the back."



"Was anyone ever convicted?" I wanted to find out everything I 

could about the case.



"Her son," Diane grimaced and shuddered. "But I think he got 

off -- because they said he was crazy. He was really young, too,"

she remembered to add.



"How young?" Scully had pulled out her notebook and was writing

down what Diane told us.



"Under 18, that's all I remember, like 16 or 17," her face had

become pinched in concentration.



"How long ago was that?" I asked immediately.



"5 years ago last month," she nodded.



"Do you remember his first name?" Scully had her pen poised.



"Um," Diane drew a long breath. "It was something like Greg or

George, I'm not sure, exactly.



"Thank you," I smiled. "You've been a great help."



"Does the murder 5 years ago have anything to do with that body?"

Diane's eyes were wide.



"I can't say for sure," I cautioned. "But I think it's a good

bet."



"Wow, I never thought of that," her voice was almost a whisper.

"You think it's him, don't you? He's the guy that's been killing

all the women."



"Like I said, Mrs. Tillson, I can't say for sure. It wouldn't be 

a good idea to talk to anyone about this. If it got back to him 

somehow, he might make a run for it and we don't want that," I 

warned her.



"My lips are sealed," she promised excitedly. "Good luck!" she 

called as we walked back to the car.



"Now I'm calling Skinner," Scully announced as soon as we were 

back in the car. "He can run some checks."



Nodding in agreement, I started the car and pulled away quickly,

anxious to get to the first supply store on our list. By the time 

we pulled into the first establishment, simply called The Garden

Center, Skinner had still not called us back. When we asked 

several staff members if anyone named Sommerville worked there

we drew a blank. We also found out that although several of the

names we mentioned had made purchases there, some of them hadn't

for more than two months. I was fairly sure that our suspect was

reacting to something far more recent.



We were halfway to our next stop before Skinner finally called

back. I only got to hear Scully's side of the conversation, but

I could tell it wasn't good news. 



"The file is sealed," she told me once she hung up.



"Diane said he was young."



"Skinner's trying to get a hold of the original investigating

officer," Scully sighed. "He'll get back to us as soon as he 

knows anything."



The second supplier on our list was called "White's Nurseries". 

It was almost 11 o'clock now and the place was fairly busy and

we had to wait before we could talk to anyone. When I repeated

my question about any employees named Sommerville, we got a 

different response.



"You mean Gary? Yeah, he's in the back. Just a sec," she got out

what looked like a walkie-talkie. "Hey, Gary?"



"Yeah," a voice crackled back.



Before she could say anything else, I grabbed the radio out of 

her hand. Holding her hands in the air, she took a step 

backwards.



After putting my hand over the mouthpiece, I reached for my 

badge and showed it to her.



"You there, Cheryl?" the crackly voice asked.



"Tell him to bring something up here," I handed the radio back

to her.



"Sorry, Gary, I dropped the walkie-talkie. Could you bring up

10 bags of weed 'n feed, please?" Cheryl voice was shaking and I

hoped the crappy quality of the radio hid that fact.



"10?" the voice repeated.



"Yeah, we're going through a lot this morning," Cheryl lied 

convincingly.



"Okay," the crackling stopped when Cheryl let of a button on the

side of the antique mode of communication.



"Why do you want to talk to Gary? What did he do?" Cheryl's eyes

were wide.



"We just want to talk to him," Scully assured her gently.



"He'll use the tractor and park it over there," she nodded toward

the south wall of the building.



"Thanks, Cheryl," I tried to smile reassuringly. After we were 

out of Cheryl's earshot, I leaned closer to Scully. "Let's wait

inside until we hear him turn off the tractor. I know a tractor's

not fast, but he could use it as a weapon."



Scully nodded in agreement as we approached the south wall. 

Before we got there we could already hear the hum of the tractor.

It slowly got louder until we could tell it was on the other side 

of the wall from us. I was positive he must have stopped, but the

noise from the tractor continued. He wasn't turning it off. Before 

I could tell Scully a young man in jeans opened the door 

and a White's Nurseries t-shirt. His arms were loaded with two 

bags of fertilizer.



"Are you Gary Sommerville?" I decided we had the upper hand since

his hands were full.



I watched as he took in our appearance; the damn suits always 

gave us away. When I saw realization flash across his face I made

a move toward him, but he was faster, throwing the two bags of

fertilizer in my direction. They hit me in the stomach, knocking 

me off my feet. By the time I got back to my feet, he was gone 

and so was Scully.



Once outside, I scanned the area as quickly as I could. I didn't 

see anything in the front of the building so I began to run 

around the corner. A road led from the main building to a smaller 

shed about 100 yards away. About halfway down the road I could see

Gary sprawled on his stomach; my tiny partner on his back. By the

time I got there, Scully had him cuffed and was reading him his 

rights.



"You okay?" she looked up at me.



"Aside from the grinding humiliation...yeah, I'm okay," I 

grumbled.



Before Scully could respond her phone began to ring.



"I'll take care of him," I assured her. "You take your call."



When Scully got up, I hauled Gary up by his cuffs and began to 

walk him in the direction of our car, he'd apparently decided not

to resist anymore. A crowd had gathered at the corner of the 

building and watched, exchanging whispers. I said nothing to 

Gary; I just put him in the back sat and leaned against the car

waiting for Scully. I still kept a sharp eye on Gary, but he

was keeping very still.  



Scully was rolling her eyes when she walked up to the car. Her

suit had been dusted off and her hair straightened; only the 

pinkness of her cheeks betrayed her recent exertion.



"That was Skinner," she informed me, a hint of mirth in her 

voice. "He wanted us to know that our suspect's name was Gary

Sommerville and he is currently working at White's Nurseries."



"What did you say?" I laughed.



"I told him we were already there and he told me to wait

for back up," she chuckled. "Then I told him that you'd just

led him away in cuffs."



"You didn't tell him that you actually collared him?"



"What difference does that make?" she huffed. "Let's take

him in. I want this over with."



As it turned out, it was all over with far more quickly than

anyone had anticipated. It didn't Scully long to figure out that

something was up with our suspect. When he wouldn't respond 

to anything we said, she undid he seatbelt and turned around

on the seat.



"He's unresponsive, Mulder," her voice was muted.



"I noticed that," I looked at her sideways.



"No," she sighed in exasperation, "He's completely catatonic."



"Is that a bad thing?" I chuckled.



"Unless he comes out of it, we won't be able to question him,"

she explained.



"Yeah, but it makes him much easier to deal with right now."



"I'll call St E's. We should take him right there," she

ignored my joke. "There's no point taking him in for questioning

like this."



After Scully called the hospital she called Skinner to let him 

know what was happening. When she got off the phone she told me

that Skinner was going to put around the clock guards on 

Sommerville in case his catatonia was a ruse. It took almost

an hour to get to St. Elizabeths and our suspect's condition 

remained unchanged. An hour later we'd completed all of the 

paperwork and I drove Scully home.



It was after 5 when I finally got home and I was ready to

become one with my couch, but then a brown paper package

sitting just outside my door made me change my mind. I knew

I could have packages safely delivered straight to my house.

In fact something could probably sit outside my door for days

without anyone in this building going near it. Sometimes it

was good to have reputation.



When I looked at the package more carefully I was delighted

to see that it was just what I thought it was; the video tape

I'd ordered from The Learning Channel. And if my stars were in

the proper alignment Scully would be free for a movie night.



"Hey, Scully," I smiled when she picked up the phone.



"Mulder? Did you forget something?" she sounded surprised to

hear from me.



"Not really, just my manners," I shrugged.



"Huh?"



"Well, you made supper for me last night and then breakfast this

morning. The least I can do is ask you to have supper with me

tonight?"



"Umm, what were you planning to have?" Scully sounded nervous.



"What do you mean, Scully? Are you asking me what I'm planning

to cook?" I chuckled.



"Well...yeah," she admitted quietly.



"I thought we could order in -- your choice," I offered.



"Okay," her tone brightened.



"So what do you want me to order?"



"I'll order it and have them deliver it to your place," she

told me cheerfully. "I'll be there in about 45 minutes."



"Okay."



"And don't open anything, I'll sort it out when I get there,"

she warned.



"Okay, see you in 45."



After I said good-bye, I decided to tidy up my apartment. I 

vacuumed, cleaned off my coffee table and washed it. I even dug

around in the cushions of my couch to make sure there weren't 

any wayward shorts that might make their presence known at an

inopportune time.



I was freshening myself up when I heard a knock at the door.

It was too early for Scully, so I figured it must have been the

food. When I opened the door the delivery guy looked confused.



"Did you order some food?"



"Yup," I reached for my wallet.



"Weird! I was sure it was that cute redhead on the phone and 

she'd moved or something," he explained as he handed me two

white plastic bags.



I looked up from reading the receipt, "It was and she'll be 

here any minute," I informed him tersely as I began to count out 

the money. "Want to wait and talk to her?"



"Hey, sorry man. I wasn't planning to make a move on her or

anything. She's just -- never mind," he took the money I was

holding out to him without counting it and bolted. 



I put the bags of food on the coffee table and got some plates

and utensils from the kitchen. Aromas from the bags were already

wafting around the apartment. I could tell without opening the

bags that Scully had picked Indian food. I just hoped she wasn't

expecting me to eat goat or anything.



We ate as soon as Scully got there. Apparently she'd ordered

different food for me than she had for herself; mine had meat, 

hers didn't. I was actually surprised that I liked it and when

we were done I felt quite sated. 



When we'd done the little bit of cleaning up there was to do,

we sat down side by side on the couch.



"Are you ready to watch a movie, then?" I grinned at Scully.



"Sure," she looked at me quizzically. "What movie is it?"



"It's a surprise," I waggled my eyebrows at her.



"Oh, yay," she rolled her eyes.



When the tape began to play and Scully saw the TLC logo flash

up, she cocked her head and wrinkled her forehead.



"It's a TLC program?" she turned to look at me; confusion

obvious on her face.



"Yup," I grinned more broadly.



When the title "The Human Sexes: The Female Orgasm" flashed 

across the screen, Scully stiffened up and moved backwards 

into the couch. That wasn't quite the reaction I was hoping for.



"What is this, Mulder?" there was no happiness in her voice.



"It's the show you were watching the other night," I was 

surprised that I had to remind her.



"I know that!" she spat, taking me aback. "My question is why

are you showing it to me?" Then she grabbed the remote out of

my hand and stopped the tape.



"I thought it --, well I thought maybe --"



"Do you think this is funny, Mulder?" she got to her feet. "Well,

I don't," she marched toward the front door.



"Scully, wait, you don't understand," I went after her.



"What I don't understand, Mulder," she was pulling on her shoes,

"Is at what point in our friendship you thought making fun

of me this way became appropriate?"



"I didn't think --" I began, but she cut me off.



"You're damn right you didn't think," she opened the door. 

"Good-bye, Mulder," she slammed the door behind her, rocking my

apartment.



I stood there for a few minutes, blinking rapidly, trying to 

figure out what had just happened. Apparently I'd been wrong 

to think that using that program from TLC might be a good way

to start something with Scully. It appeared like I was going

to be lucky if she ever spoke to me again.



The next thing I had to figure out was how to fix it. The coward

in me said to just wait and let it all blow over, but doing that

had never rewarded me with Scully in the past. My only other 

alternative was to go and explain everything to Scully, assuming

she'd even let me in the front door.



After I parked my car in front of Scully's building, I just sat

there for a few minutes trying to summon up the courage to face

her. She scared me when she got that angry. When I finally sucked

it up and went to her door, I hung my head and closed my eyes 

after I knocked. I hoped she might take pity on me. 



She was slow in opening the door, but at last she was standing 

there in front of me. She wasn't inviting me in, but she had 

opened the door. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that

she was waiting for me to speak.



"Scully, I'm sorry. This was a huge misunderstanding. Will you

at least let me try to explain?"



Her expression remained stony, but she opened the door wider,

allowing me to pass. After taking off my shoes I went to the 

couch and sat down. Scully didn't move from the foyer. Her arms 

were crossed in front of her chest.



"Scully, please," I patted the couch beside me.



With her lips pressed firmly together, Scully strode to the 

couch and sat down heavily; her arms still crossed.



"I wasn't trying to make fun you, Scully. Honestly, that was 

the furthest thing from my mind."



She didn't open her mouth, but her expression told me that she

didn't believe a word I was saying.



"Scully," I shook my head, "I was trying, well, trying to tell

you that I wanted to, well," I stammered," I thought it make 

you realize how I felt about you."



"How you feel about me?" her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"And how's that, complete disdain?"



"No!" I was getting frustrated. "I was trying to tell you that

I love you!"



"What?" she snorted. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"



"Yeah," I sagged against the back of the couch.



"Mulder, that is either the worst lie you've ever told, or it

was the lamest attempt possible to confess your love to someone," 

she was actually smiling.



"Nothing else seemed to work," I shrugged.



"What?" she stopped smiling and her face went white.



"I've tried to tell you before," I explained and then looked down

at my hands.



"Like when?" Amazement was evident in her voice.



"All the time, like after you saved me when I went looking for 

the Queen Anne," I reminded her.



"Mulder, you'd just finished the best Dorothy Gale impersonation

I'd ever seen and you expected me to take that seriously?" her

face was still white and her eyes wide.



"There was that time we went undercover, when we were playing 

house," I picked another example.



"All you did was crack jokes," she held her palms up. "That 

was supposed to be some sort of sign?"



"Well, it worked before," I sighed.



"On who?" she laughed.



"Everyone," I was starting to get defensive.



"Oh, I bet talk like that makes all the ladies swoon," she rolled

her eyes.



"I'm sorry, Scully, but I don't know any other way," I was 

starting to get angry. "How else am I supposed to tell you how

beautiful you are, how my heart beats faster every time you walk

into the room, how my breath catches in my throat when you call

my name, how time stops for me when you smile at me, how my skin 

tingles whenever you touch me, how I'm sure you must know exactly 

what I'm thinking when you look into my eyes, how I lie awake at 

night wondering what it might be like to feel your skin next to 

mine?"



"Just like that would have been fine," her eyes seemed to have

become more blue and she looked like she might cry.



"Was that good?" I perked up.



"Shut up, Mulder," Scully breathed as she closed the distance 

between us. As her lips covered mine, I guessed the answer was 

yes.



As she continued to kiss me, Scully climbed into my lap and I

was happy to accommodate her. Her hot little tongue was pushing 

it's way into my mouth and her cool little hands were on the

back of my head, making sure I wasn't going anywhere. I was so

stunned by her reaction that I did nothing except let her have 

her way with me. Well, my hands weren't still and I was kissing

her back, but I usually tend to be the aggressor in this type of

situation. But this was one power struggle I was more than happy

to have with Scully. I even thought about letting her win 

occasionally.



It only took a couple of minutes for me to remember that I could 

be an active participant. Scully gasped when I stood up and with 

as much control as I could muster place her on the couch. I 

think she wanted to say something but I didn't let her, my tongue

was too far into her mouth. She settled for sliding her hands 

under the waistband of my jeans. I assumed at first she was 

trying to get at my ass, so I was momentarily distracted when she

slid her hands around to undo the button of my fly.



Not wanting to be outdone, I moved my lips to her neck while

my fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons on her blouse.



"Oh," Scully drew a sharp breath when I began to nibble at her 

neck.



Taking that as a good sign, I continued to tease her neck as

I removed her shirt. When I straightened up to look at her I

discovered that she'd completely undone my jeans. My erection 

was only being contained by my boxers, and barely. When I looked

back at Scully, I found she wasn't looking at me, or at my face,

I should say. I was so astounded by the lust I saw in her eyes,

I could only lean my head back and lose myself in the sensation 

when she began to caress me.



"Why don't you take those off?" her breathy question made me

open my eyes.



"Not so fast," I cautioned her. "My work here isn't done yet."



Since her bra opened in the back and I didn't want to waste time

getting her to standing up, I simply pushed it up out of my way.

Scully's eyes followed me as I lowered my head to taste her. When

I drew her nipple into my mouth, her hips lifted, increasing the

pressure on my already throbbing cock.



"Oh God, Mulder," her voice was barely recognizable. It had 

become breathy and sultry.



Her hips jerked again when I hummed against her breast. Trying to 

keep most of my weight on my knees and one arm, I moved my other 

hand to Scully's neglected breast. I didn't want to play 

favorites. As I continued to kiss and fondle her, the writhing of 

her hips became more frantic. The more she bucked and gyrated

against me, the more I wanted to end her frustration.



When I finally left her breasts, Scully didn't move. She lay

on the couch with her arms limply at her sides and her eyes 

closed. After taking a moment to marvel at her beauty, I swiftly

removed her slacks and panties in one motion, making her gasp 

again. Then I took her by the hips and turned her so I could 

sit on the floor while I continued to explore her body.



"Oh God," she shuddered when she realized what I was about 

to do. 



After putting her legs on my shoulders, I stopped to look at

her. It really was Scully, completely naked in front of me. Her

breathing was shallow and I could smell how aroused she was -- 

how aroused I'd made her. 



"What are you doing?" she raised her head to look at me.



"I don't know what to do," I told her quietly.



"Pardon?" she got right up on her elbows, her eyes wide with

shock.



"I know *what* to do, Scully," I rolled my eyes, "I mean, I want 

to kiss your mouth. I want to go back to your breasts and spend 

hours there just teasing your nipples and making you squirm.  I 

want to bury myself deep inside you and stay there, but I also 

want to taste you; taste what I've done to you."



"Oh God," she shuddered again, collapsing back to the couch.



I took her limited vocabulary as a good sign. Resisting the urge 

to dive right in, I began to lightly run my fingers along the

inside of her thighs. When I replaced my fingers with my mouth

Scully gasped. It was a sound I could easily get used to. 



Taking as much time as I could stand, I slowly licked, sucked, 

nibbled and kissed my way down her thigh. When I got to the 

juncture of her legs, I started on her other thigh, making her

groan in disappointment.



"Be patient, Scully," I scolded her.



"Shut up, Mulder," she practically growled at me, making me

chuckle into her leg. 



Disregarding the way her hips were moving, I resumed my original

pace. By the time I reached my goal, Scully was panting and she 

was almost dripping wet, making my cock throb even more. When my

tongue flicked out to taste her lips, her hips bucked increasing

the contact. Unless I'd been out of the game too long, it seemed

like Scully was pretty close. Instead of continuing to torment 

her, I placed my left thumb firmly on her lip and gently spread

her open. When I began to run my tongue along her glistening

flesh, she drew a sharp breath and released it with a groan. 

Her hips were permanently off the couch and the muscles in her

legs were quivering. I was afraid if I didn't hurry, she'd come

before I even touched her clit.



As I gently slid two fingers into her, I looked up to see her 

head arch back and her shoulders almost come off the couch.



"God, Scully, seeing what this is doing to you is going to make 

me come," I lifted my head to tell her.



"Shut up, Mulder," she pushed my head back down.



Taking her rebuke as a compliment, I lowered my head again and

finally tested her clit with my tongue.



"Yes," she hissed.



"Mmm," I hummed against her making her hiss again. Then with my 

fingers buried as deeply as I could get them, I began to run the

flat of my tongue over her clit. Her internal muscles tightened 

around my fingers and her leg muscles began to quiver. It only 

took a few more strokes of my tongue before I felt her vaginal

walls begin to ripple. At the same time her entire body 

stiffened. Seconds later her clit began to pulse against my

tongue, sending a jolt straight to my cock. Luckily I had

enough presence of mind not to change the rhythm of my tongue.

After a minute or so Scully's muscles slackened, but her clit

continued to twitch. Finally her hips fell away from my face 

and I had to chase her to taste her again.



"No!" she shrieked and scooted away from me.



"What?" I laughed.



"Wait," she held up her hand, panting.



To occupy my time while she caught her breath, I stroked her 

legs gently. It seemed to be helping with whatever the problem

was.



"Sorry," she sat up at last.



"What's wrong?" I was worried that I'd screwed up.



"Nothing's wrong," she laughed.



"Then why did you move away from me," I was confused.



"I'm not sure if you noticed, Mulder, but that was one powerful

orgasm," she smiled.



"Yeah, I noticed," I beamed.



"Well, after I climax like that I'm really sensitive," she

explained.



"And that's a good thing?" I made sure.



"Yes, that's a good thing," she leaned forward to kiss me.

"Now stand up," she smiled against my lips.



My cock twitched at her implication and I got to my feet as

quickly as my stiff knees would allow. Before I was all the way

up Scully was pushing my jeans and boxers down. My stiff knees

were rapidly becoming weak, as well. I had to step out of my 

jeans to widen my stance. It was that or risk falling over. 



When Scully's hand closed around my shaft, I inhaled sharply.

But when I felt her mouth close over me, I got woozy -- not 

enough blood left in the big head. Her tongue was sliding 

around the head of my penis. She paused every so often to lick 

off the drops of lubricant I was producing. As her mouth worked,

she ran her hand up and down my length.



"God that feels good, Scully," I groaned.



When she hummed in response, I began to see stars. The next thing 

I knew, my cock was out in the open air, making me look down at

her.



"I'm glad you're enjoying it," she smiled teasingly at me as she

continued to stroke me.



"Uh huh," I mumbled, praying that she would start to use her

mouth again soon.



Before she ended her torture, she used her free hand to gently

cradle my balls. It was then my addled brain realized that she

was doing this on purpose. She was paying me back for teasing

her and damn, it felt fantastic.



"Fuck," I hissed when her lips finally closed over me again. But

instead of using her tongue, I could feel myself sliding further 

into her mouth. Her tongue would occasionally dart out, as if it

was leading the way, as she slowly took me deeper. Then I felt 

something I'd never experienced before. I wasn't going any further

and I could feel the back of Scully's mouth -- *Scully's mouth*.

Her mouth was too small to take me any further; the head of my

cock wouldn't fit into her throat.



"Are you okay?" I was concerned when I noticed she was taking 

deep breaths through her nose.



"Mmm," she nodded slightly and slowly let my cock slide out of

her mouth. "Sorry, I can't go any further," she looked up at

me apologetically.



"God, Scully, don't be sorry," I stroked her hair tenderly. "The

fact that we're doing this at all is blowing my mind, no

pun intended," I winked at her. "It's the most incredible 

feeling, being in your mouth, feeling your tongue on me, but 

I don't want to do this if hurts you at all."



"It doesn't hurt," her dusky voice sent chills through me. "Not

at all."



Before I could tell her that we should probably stop anyway,

I was inside of her mouth again. Her tongue and hands quickly

had me right on the brink again.   



"Scully," I panted. "Gonna come."



"Mmm," she made a little noise in her throat and I was gone.



I felt my balls contract and I began to pulse into her mouth.

Scully kept caressing my balls and applying gentle suction to

my cock. When I opened my eyes I found that my softening penis

was still in her mouth and she was smiling up at me. I was also

surprised to find that I was holding a handful of her hair.



"Sorry," I let go of it quickly.



"What?" she chuckled after releasing me. "You didn't do anything 

-- you just kept clenching and unclenching your hand."



"My powers of control are better than I thought," I laughed.

"But I did think we would stop so we could make love."



"In my books that is making love, Mulder, but if you mean 

intercourse, we'll have plenty of time for that," she grinned

slyly. 



I wasn't sure what I liked hearing Scully say more, that we had

plenty of time or that giving me a blowjob was making love. I

decided the best thing to do was kiss her. As our kiss deepened, 

felt myself collapsing to the floor and I was bringing Scully 

with me. When I felt her hot little body sprawled on top of mine

and her mouth trailing wet kisses down my neck, I knew it

wouldn't be long until I was ready for action again. Maybe there

were some benefits to having been out of commission for so long,

or maybe it was all Scully. I was running my hands down her back

and I was almost to the curve of her ass when I heard the most

obscene noise -- the phone.



"Machine'll pick up," Scully barely lifted her lips off my chest 

to tell me.



She was a woman after my own heart. I was about to take two

handfuls of Scully ass, when I heard Skinner's voice. It put a 

complete damper on my mood.



"Agent Scully, I tried to get Agent Mulder but he's not picking

up at home or on his cell."



"Shit," Scully muttered and scrambled off of me. I missed her

immediately.



"I wanted to let both of you--" Skinner's voice cut off when

Scully picked up the phone.



"Sorry, sir, I was in the bathroom."



While Scully listened to Skinner, I got up and sat on the couch.

She mostly listened, nodded and said okay. Skinner must have

finally stopped speaking, because Scully got an entire sentence

out.



"He's here, sir."



Then she said okay again and hung up.



"What did he say?" I was curious.



"After we took Gary in, the DC police did a search of his 

apartment. They found several bolts of satin and receipts from

White's Nurseries in the name of each victim. Each receipt had 

the victims signature and Gary's signature, putting him at 

each victims' residence. There were no other receipts found,"

Scully filled me in.



"Is that all he said?"



"Well, the staff at St. E's have started medicating Gary again

and he's not back at therapeutic levels yet, but he's not

catatonic anymore. Skinner wants us to go over and question

him."



"Ahh," I nodded. "But I meant what did he say when you said I was

here?"



"He said he figured as much. Why?" she looked confused.



"I just wonder what he'll think when he finds out," I shrugged.



"If he finds out, you mean," Scully was pulling her panties

on. I was watching.



"I think people will know."



"How?" she was doing up her bra. I was still watching.



"I don't know. I thought it was written all over my face

that I was madly in love with you, so maybe you're right. Maybe

no one will be able to tell."



"No, I couldn't tell," she bent over to give me another kiss.

"Are you planning on going like that?" she nodded toward my nude

form.



"Hmm?" I looked down at myself. "Sorry, I was distracted." I

grinned and stood up to dress.



"Mulder?" she put her arms around me.



"Yeah?" 



"I love you, too."



In ten minutes we were on the road. The music playing on the 

radio reminded of the night before, when I'd listened to that

song at Scully's. 



"Can I ask you something, Scully?" I broke the silence.



"Sure," she shrugged looking up from the notes she'd been

reading.



"You know that song I was listening to when you got home

yesterday?"



"Yeah," she sounded hesitant and a blush immediately started

on her cheeks.



"Have you ever really listened to it before?"



"Yes, I have, Mulder," her cheeks kept getting pinker.



"Oh," I nodded then we were both silent for a couple of minutes.



"You know, Scully," I spoke again suddenly, making her jump. "I

don't think any less of you because we don't necessarily think

alike all the time."



"I know," her voice was soft.



"And whenever we're apart, I miss you a lot."



"I know I already said this, Mulder, but I love you."



Her words made me feel warm and my heart started to race. I'd 

never felt better. 



"Thanks," I beamed. 



Breaking every rule in the FBI's driving guidelines, I took one

hand off the wheel and reached out for Scully's hand. I felt her

fingers lace with mine and she gave me a squeeze. I had the urge 

to pull over and just hold her as tightly as I could for as long

as she'd let me, but I knew Scully would think that was frivolous 

and we did have a job to do. So instead I squeezed back and kept

driving.



When we got to the hospital 15 minutes later, we were met at

the entrance by Skinner and the doctor in charge of Gary 

Sommerville case. 



As we walked to the interview room, Dr. Correa told us about

Gary's history.



"It didn't take long after he was admitted for the diagnosis of 

bipolar disorder to be made. Gary responded well to the 

medication and after a year he had no symptoms at all," the

doctor began.



"Anti-depressants and mood stabilizers?" Scully flipped 

through Gary's chart.



"Well," Dr. Correa shifted uncomfortably. "The lithium seemed

to be working so well, we didn't feel he needed the valproate."



"Was there any other kind of treatment? Any kind of therapy?"

Scully inquired.



"No, he'd responded so well to the drug therapy...," Dr. Correa's 

voice trailed off.



"So after doping him up for a few years you decided he was fit to

rejoin society?" I clarified.



"It was more complicated than that, Mr. Mulder," the doctor 

replied haughtily.



We had reached a room on the first floor that was usually 

reserved for several doctors to observe a patient during a 

therapy session.



"Go on," I encouraged him.



"We have programs designed to integrate people like Gary back 

into a normal life," Dr. Correa's voice faltered. 



"What kind of programs?" I wanted to know. "Did you teach him

to recognize when his symptoms might be reappearing?"



"No, we taught him how to manage his money, write a check, 

things like that. He'd been here for three years without a single

problem when he was released. He'd been on the outside for

two years before this happened," Dr. Correa defended himself.



"Did he have any contact with you?" Scully interjected.



"Not me directly, but with staff at the hospital. Up until two

months ago he had to report to a caseworker every two weeks. He

never missed an appointment and he was holding down a full time 

job."



"What happened two months ago?" Scully asked. She seemed to have

a better rapport with Dr. Correa than I did.



"His appointments were changed to quarterly."



"From every two weeks to quarterly?" I was astounded.



"Everything seemed fine. We did blood work every visit. His

lithium levels were right where they should have been," Dr. 

Correa's voice was tight.



"Well you obviously missed something," I kept my voice low.



"That's enough, Mulder," Skinner interrupted us. "Thank you for

your time, Dr. Correa. I'm sure you can understand Agent Mulder's

anxiety about the case."



The doctor said nothing. He nodded sharply at Skinner, then 

turned and walked quickly down the hall.



"Mulder, what is the point of antagonizing the doctor?" Skinner

sighed.



"Someone is responsible for these deaths and you can bet it 

won't be Gary Sommerville," I turned to face Skinner. "I want

to see the results from that blood work. How could he have been

taking his medication and have this still happen."



"It is possible, Mulder," Scully's tone was calm. "Some patients 

have been known to enter a state called hyopmania even while on 

lithium. That's why I asked about the valproate. In recent years

it's been shown to work very well in conjunction with lithium to

prevent hypomania and rapid cycling. Which is why I assumed that

Gary Sommerville would have been receiving it as well."



"You mean they weren't giving him the proper treatment?" I was

astounded.



"Not the treatment that's widely accepted today," she held up

her hands apologetically.



"How can they get away with letting people out when they aren't 

even treating them...."



"I'll make sure there is a full inquiry," Skinner interrupted me.



"Oh, I'm sure that will make the families of these women sigh

with relief," I didn't try to hide the sarcasm in my tone.



"Mulder," I felt Scully's hand on my arm. "What else can we do?"



"I understand your frustration, Mulder," Skinner lowered his 

voice, "but find a better way of dealing with it. Don't take it

out on the staff here. They're doing their best. The conditions

here aren't exactly spectacular." 



Just as he finished speaking, a door opened on the opposite side 

of the room. An orderly wheeled Gary Sommerville into the cubicle.

They were followed by a mousy looking man in a cheap gray suit I

assumed to be the public defender. Despite the fact that he was 

no longer catatonic, Gary looked small and withdrawn sitting strapped 

into the wheelchair.



"I'll stay out here," Skinner informed us as he handed me a file

folder.



Before we went into the room, I looked at it and showed it to

Scully. It contained photographs of all six victims and all 

of the receipts that had been found at Gary's apartment. I 

wondered how easy he would be to break.



When we went into the room Gary looked up at us without 

recognition. After we introduced ourselves to Gary and his PD, 

I sat down at the table and Scully leaned up against the wall 

to my left.



"Before we start," Gary's lawyer began, "I want to make it 

clear that I will stop this interrogation if my client becomes

overly stressed in any way."



"That's fine," I agreed.



"Is there anything you want to tell us, Gary?" Scully began.



Gary looked at her and shook his head; there was no expression

evident on his face.



"We know about your mother," I informed him quietly.



His face changed instantly. He seemed to shrink in his chair

and his eyes darted around the room.



"She can't see me anymore," he whispered.



"Why not?" Scully jumped in.



"Because she's dead," he was still whispering.



"Yes, she is, Gary, because you killed her. Why did you so that?"

Scully continued.



"Because she could see," he nodded, his eyes wide.



"See what, Gary?" I wanted to know how his mind was working.



"What I was thinking," he answered, as if I should already know.



"So you killed her?" Scully shifted against the wall.



"I had to make her stop," he made it sound perfectly reasonable.



"Then what happened?" I was trying to lead him to the current 

case.



"Then we had a funeral. It was beautiful. She looked so peaceful

in the shiny white material. And all those flowers! She loved 

flowers," he told us dreamily. "You know what is very sad? When

I got out and went to visit her, there weren't any flowers. I 

fixed that. I made a nice garden, beautiful..."



"What about the other women, Gary?" Scully tried to bring him

back into focus, but he shook his head.



"Tell me about these," I took out the receipts and showed them

to him. 



"They bought flowers and stuff from work," he explained calmly.



"But why were the receipts in your apartment, Gary?" Scully 

began to move closer to the table.



"I don't know," he shook his head again.



"Do you recognize this person?" I put the photograph of Frances

Catherwood on the table in front of him.



"No!" he shouted and began to struggle against his restraints.

"No! She can't see me anymore!" 



Scully quickly flipped the picture over and Gary started to calm 

down almost instantly. If the public defender thought Gary was

overly stressed, he made no indication.



"Why can't she see you, Gary?" Scully pressed him.



"No," he whimpered. "I had to stop her." 



"Like you made your mother stop?" Scully clarified. 



Gary nodded again. "She could see what I was thinking."



"Is that why you took their eyes, Gary?" I asked him quietly.



"They can't see me anymore," he whispered.



"What did you do with their eyes, Gary?" Scully's voice was

stern.



"Far away," he whispered dreamily. "Where they can't see me."



"You have to tell us," I kept my tone firm.



"No," he shook his head. "It's okay. It's nice there, beautiful."



"Okay, Gary, you can go now," I nodded to the orderly.



"You got what you needed?" the public defender seemed surprised.



"Yes, we got what we needed," I nodded.



After he shook our hands, he left the room leaving Scully and

me alone. She was looking at me quizzically and was about to ask 

me something, but the door opened and Skinner walked in.



"What did I miss," he looked as puzzled as Scully. "What did

you get?"



"If you take a forensic excavation team out to Rose Sommerville's

grave, you'll find the eyes of all of the victims buried in the 

garden there."



"It's nice there, beautiful," Scully shook her head slowly. 



"Ah," I saw the light go on in Skinner's eyes. "Good work, 

Agents."



"Thank you, sir," we both murmured.



"So let me get this straight," he continued. "When Gary first 

developed this bipolar disorder he believed that his mother

could see what he was thinking. And he killed her for because

of that?" 



"We aren't sure what thoughts he was having that he thought

she could see. Maybe he thought it was something he shouldn't

be thinking," I ventured. "We'll probably never know."



"So then he was released after only three years of treatment and

for two years he was fine. And suddenly he's off the deep end

again? Why now?" Skinner had turned to Scully.



"It's hard to say, sir," she began. "Something on the outside

may have triggered his hypomania. Stress is a well-known factor

in causing relapses."



"I think his first victim is our biggest clue," I jumped in. "I

think Frances Catherwood reminded him of his mother in all the

wrong ways. After that he was so manic, it took smaller and

smaller events to trigger his response."



Scully was nodding as I spoke.



"Include all of this in your report, but don't rush, Gary 

Sommerville isn't going anywhere. End of business Monday

will be fine," Skinner informed us graciously.



By 11:15 we were back on the road heading to Scully's apartment,

Skinner having wished us a pleasant evening.



"I'm very impressed, Mulder. I barely noticed his reference to

his mother's grave, never mind that he'd used the same words

to describe where the eyes were," Scully's praise made me smile.



After that we stayed quiet for the rest of the ride. It was 

almost as if we were switching gears from work back to our 

personal lives and we needed the silence to do it.



Once we pulled up in front of Scully's place, I was thinking

about what we might do for the rest of the evening. I hoped

that Scully wasn't too tired.



"Ready for bed?" I asked when we got inside, trying to find out

her frame of mind discreetly. 



"Actually, Mulder, I'd really like to take a bath. All I can

smell is disinfectant. It gets into my hair or something," she

sighed.



"Can I come with you?" I asked meekly.



"If you like," she grinned and took my hand. If I hadn't thought

she'd think less of me, I would have skipped all the way to the 

bathroom.



I stood stock still in the brightly lit room and watched as 

Scully slowly removed he clothes and tossed them into a hamper

in the corner. Having fully recuperated from our earlier 

activities my erection was making my pants tent. If Scully 

noticed or cared she made no indication.



"I'm going to wash my hair first," she informed me as she began

to adjust the water. She had a portable shower nozzle in the tub

apparently for this express purpose.



"I could do that," I offered happily.



"Okay," a shy smile formed on her lips. 



After climbing into the tub, she knelt down with her rear-end 

resting on her heels. She turned to look at me expectantly.



"I should probably take my shirt off," I handed her the shower 

head.



"Probably," she smiled in agreement.



Once my shirt was off I took the water back from Scully and 

proceeded to thoroughly wet her hair.



"Mmm," she sighed as the water ran over her, leaning her head

further back.



I couldn't stop myself from staring at the picture she presented.

Even though her head was tipped back, some of the water was 

running over her breasts. Her eyes were closed and her hands were

gently resting on her thighs. She trusted me completely. It was 

the final act trust I'd wanted from her, needed from her. Seeing

how easily she bestowed it on me made my heart ache.



"I love you, Scully," my voice cracked a little as I caressed

her cheek with my free hand.



"You mean you love me wet and naked," she chuckled, opening one

eye to squint at me.



"You say that like it's a bad thing," I recovered my voice and

laughed with her as I reached for the shampoo. I wouldn't want 

her knowing how simply she could turn me to mush. After I'd squeezed 

out the amount of shampoo that Scully recommended, I asked her to

turn her back to me so I could use both hands. I wanted to make 

sure I washed her hair well.



I'm not sure if Scully realized it, but the sounds she made as

I massaged the shampoo into her hair were very erotic. Every 

little sigh and moan went straight to my cock. It was throbbing

mercilessly; no doubt wondering why the object of our affections 

was so close and so naked and we were still dressed and separated

from her by porcelain.



While I was washing her hair, Scully held the showerhead for me.

After I took it back and rinsed her hair completely, she pointed

to another bottle on the rack.



"Conditioner," she told me, "Or I'll never be able to get a brush

through this," she grabbed a handful of her hair to show me.



"Sure," I smiled, trying to look calm. I didn't want her to know

how desperately I wanted to be wet and naked with her. "How long 

does it need to stay in?" I hoped I sounded nonchalant.



"Not long -- a minute or two," her eyes had closed again as I

worked it into her hair.



"Okay," I murmured as I her slippery hair ran through my fingers.

I continued to play with her hair absently. I'd become distracted

by what had happened to her nipples. With the water no longer 

running over them, they must have become cool, because they had

tightened up and were jutting out, taunting me. My fingers ached

to touch them, my tongue longed to feel their firmness.



"That's enough, Mulder," Scully's voice pulled me out of my daze.



"Okay." 



At first I'd thought she was referring to how I'd been staring at

her, almost drooling, but I quickly realized she meant I could 

rinse out the conditioner. It took longer to get it all out of

her hair, but when it squeaked as she pulled a lock through her

fingers she said it was good enough. Then she stood up while I 

replaced the showerhead and put the plug in the tub. 



"Could you pass me my brush please, Mulder," she pointed to the

vanity.



After I'd handed it to her, I looked at the other bottles she

by the tub, wondering what she might like.



"Want me to use this tea tree oil stuff?" I held up a bottle.



"Sure," she agreed, her eyes had closed again as she brushed her

hair.



Once I'd poured two capfuls under the running water, I replaced the

bottle and turned to watch Scully again. I would never tire of

the way she looked with her head thrown back. She seemed to 

thrust out her chest to compensate. That, in combination with her

erect nipples, made her breasts look like works of art. She 

looked like a work of art. Her every curve was an artist's 

fantasy; my fantasy and my reality.



"Are you planning to wear your pants into the tub?" Scully's

voice startled me again.



"Sorry," I mumbled as I took them off.



"Sorry?" she repeated quizzically.



"I was a little distracted," I explained, wondering what she

would think of my raging hard-on.



"Oh," she smiled shyly, dropping her eyes.



"Want me to get in behind you?" I asked as I turned off the 

water.



"Yes," she lifted her eyes to meet mine. I was surprised to see

a little shyness there. It took me a second to realize that she

was feeling a little uncertain about expressing what she wanted. 

Even though it seemed like we'd been together forever, even after 

what we'd shared earlier, this aspect of our relationship still 

felt brand new. She must have been feeling as unsure as I was.



After climbing in behind her, I carefully sat down. Then I 

reached up and holding her by the waist, I helped her sit between

my legs. When she leaned back against me she must have felt my

cock; she was pinning it against my belly.



"I've been dying to touch you," I whispered into her ear as I

ran my fingers lightly over her arms.



"I don't know what I want more," she sighed, "to lie here while

you caress me, or to turn around and explore your body." As she

spoke she gently moved from side to side, rubbing my cock between 

us. My question had been answered.  



"I think there's time for both," my hands had reached her 

shoulders.



"All the time in the world," she whispered as I lowered my lips

to her neck.



As my lips continued to plunder her neck, I let my hands slide

down to her breasts. When I felt her nipples harden again at

my touch, I felt my cock surge. We both loved how she reacted to 

me. She didn't remain still as I teased her. Her hips swayed 

constantly, increasing my pleasure. The motion against my 

erection was almost maddening -- not enough to make me come, but 

too much for me to ignore. 



While I moved my lips to the opposite side of her neck, I also

dropped one hand and slipped it between her arm and her side. I 

let it rest on her belly for only a moment, before I began to 

ease it slowly between her thighs. She tried to open them for me,

but there wasn't enough room in the tub. I didn't need more room

to massage her gently. The motion of her hips picked up speed.

Her reaction was almost enough to send me over the edge, never

mind the way she was rubbing against me.



I was on the verge of telling her she was going to have to stop

when she suddenly turned in my arms. Her lips were on top of 

mine, her tongue plunging into my mouth. Instead of being between

my legs, she was straddling me. Her hard nipples were pressing 

into my chest, her hot sex pressing against mine. I thought for 

a moment that she was going to mount me, but she just kept 

rubbing against me while she continued her exploration of my 

mouth.



I seized the opportunity and began to massage her ass. She turned

her attentions on my neck, nibbling and sucking her way to my 

shoulders, her hips moving constantly. When she began to work her 

way up the other side of my neck, I was surprised to feel her 

hand close around my cock. I wanted to tell her no, not to stroke

me; I knew I wasn't far from coming. But she didn't move her 

hand, she just held me firmly. I was thanking my lucky stars 

when she lifted her lips from my skin to speak. 



"I think we should move to the bedroom."



Scully climbed out first and retrieved a couple of towels. 

Neither of us spoke as we began to dry ourselves off. I did more

watching than drying.



"If you keeping looking at me like that..." her voice was low.



"What? If I keeping looking at you like this, what?" I took a

step toward her.



"I'll let you fuck me right here on the bathroom floor," her 

pupils had become so dilated there was almost no blue left.



"Fine with me," I closed the distance between us with one step

and pulled her into my arms, my mouth devouring hers. 



"Please, Mulder, bed," she panted when I moved my lips to her

neck.



"Mmm," I grunted my agreement and picked her up. Somehow I 

navigated my way to her bedroom without my eyes ever leaving 

hers. I even managed to flick on the light with her in my arms.



When I set her down on the bed, my cock surged again. I knew if 

we started now, I'd be done a lot faster than Scully would want,

so I took some long slow breaths.



"Something wrong, Mulder?" her voice was quiet.



"No," I shook my head. "I'm just trying to regroup."



"Regroup?"



"I was almost done in the tub," I explained with a chuckle. 



"That's okay, Mulder. We can make love again in the morning,"

she smiled up at me.



"No, I want the first time to be good."



"I have no doubt of that," her voice lowered again. "It's already

fantastic."



"It is, isn't it?" I could feel myself beaming.



"It is," she nodded and held her arms open to me.



"Hang on," I held up my hand. "I wanted to ask you something."



"What?" she sounded impatient. I liked that she was in a hurry

to make love to me.



"I know I screwed up with that tape tonight..."



"Yeah?" she sounded hesitant.



"But when you were watching that show, was it cervical orgasms

you didn't know about?"



"Yes, Mulder, it was. Are you happy? Can we make love now,

please?" 



Scully was asking me to make love to her. This night was 

fulfilling more fantasies than I could count.



"I'd never heard of them either," I denied her request. "But what

I really want to know is what that explained."



"What are you talking about?" frustration was evident in her 

voice.



"On the phone, you said it explained a lot. What did it explain?"



"Can't we talk about this later?" she pleaded.



"Please tell me, Scully," I whined.



"Fine," she sighed. "It explained why I like a certain position 

so much."



"Oh yeah?" I could feel myself grinning. "What position is that?"



"Mulder," she was using her warning tone.



"Aw, come on, Scully," I whined again.



"Mulder, it's not generally a position most people use their 

first time."



I resorted to sticking my bottom lip out.



"Is this punishment for some offense I don't know I've

committed?" she narrowed her eyes.



"Please?" I said as sweetly as I could.



"How do I let you talk me into stuff like this?" she shook her

head.



"Because you love me so much?" I offered.



She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop a smile from twitching

at the corners of her mouth.



"We can't dive right into this, it won't work," she began. "So 

let's start this way," she beckoned me with her finger. "Stay 

on your knees like that, and I'll put my heels on your shoulders."



"Sounds good so far," I crawled over to her.



When she opened her legs to lift them to my shoulders, my cock 

surged anew. I prayed that I'd last long enough to bring her to

orgasm after all of my whining. 



"Let's start like this, okay?" she looked up at me. Her eyes had

darkened again.



"Yes," I whispered as I slowly eased into her.



"God that feels good," her voice was raspy.



"Yes," I repeated, relieved that we'd taken that short break. If

we hadn't I might have been done by now.



"Just go slowly," she breathed. 



Following her instructions, I watched as my cock slid slowly in

and out of her. When I looked up again, she was watching me, her

eyes blazing. 



"Come here," she crooked her finger at me. "Put your hands by my

waist."



I did what she said and leaned a little closer to her.



"More," she panted and slid her legs of my shoulders so that

her knees hung over my elbows. "Kiss me."



"Are you sure?" I would be almost bending her in half.



"Very!"



To my amazement I reached her lips without feeling any 

resistance from her legs. Her knees were almost on the bed and 

were about even with her breasts.



"Okay," she pulled out of the kiss, breathing heavily. "Stretch

your legs out."



Basically I was in the missionary position, but Scully was almost

folded in half beneath me. 



"Okay," I nodded and when I did, her ass lifted up off the bed. 



"Oh God," she moaned and her head lolled to the side. "Now 

straighten up a bit but make sure my rear-end stays up and keep

going slowly until I tell you, and then go as fast and hard as

you can," she had to pause to breathe after every few words.



"How will you tell me?" I continued my slow pace as I watched

the growing look of bliss on her face.



"I'll say now," her voice was starting to shake.



"Okay," I was panting too. The look on her face was almost too 

much for me. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, and even

though her mouth was hanging open, I could tell that she was 

smiling. I was beginning to fear that I would be done before

she's given me the word when she cried out in her hoarse voice.



"Now!"



As soon as I picked up my pace she pulled her arms away from me.

Her hands were by her head and she kept clenching her fists. When

I looked back at her face it was contorted by a what looked like

a mixture of pleasure and pain. Then I realized that she was 

holding her breath. I watched in complete awe as she tossed her 

head back and forth. When she finally let her breath go, it was

with a wail. I was stunned into increasing my pace. Every muscle

in her body was taut. Her head was still thrashing back and forth

and her fists were balling and unballing. 



"Yes," she grunted when she released her next breath.



I'd never seen this level of ecstasy in a woman before. The 

sudden realization that it was me bringing Scully to these

heights was more than I could bear. After two or three more

frenzied thrusts I came, shuddering from my toes to my scalp.

Another wail from Scully made me shudder again. We lay as we

were, panting, until I had the presence of mind to lift up one

arm at a time so she could lower her legs. 



When I lowered my body to hers to kiss her, I could feel her 

trembling.



"God, Mulder," even her voice was shaking.



"Can I say wow, Scully? I've never seen anything like that 

before," I kissed her softly on the tip of her nose.



"Well if you've never seen anything like that..." she sounded

amused.



"I'm serious, Scully, you always look beautiful, but just now

you were radiant, glowing -- I don't know how to describe it,

you were exquisite,"  I tried to explain.



"Mulder," she sighed softly. "I love you," she pulled me close

and began to kiss me.



"Can I ask you something?" I asked when she began to nuzzle my

neck.



"You know, Mulder, we could just lay here quietly and bask in the

afterglow -- maybe kiss a little," Scully lowered her voice.



"Just one more question," I promised.



"Fine," she was beginning to sound drowsy.



"Were those were cervical orgasms?" I asked after I'd kissed her

softy.



"I assume," she chuckled weakly. "Based on the position and the

fact that my other orgasms are completely different."



"Other orgasms?" my interest was piqued as I rolled to my side.



"Mmm," she sighed as I pulled her close to me. "Covers," she

mumbled, waving her hand vaguely at the bed.



Scully stayed as limp as a rag doll as I scrambled around to

cover us. And I'd thought my orgasms wiped me out. I'd forgotten

to turn the light out, but I doubted it mattered.



"Tell me about these other orgasms," I whispered into her

ear once I had us settled.



"We have all the time in the world for that, Mulder," she assured

me sleepily. "Besides, don't you want to save those questions 

until after we make love tomorrow?"



end



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