From: "Susanne" <sbarron@surfsouth.com>
Subject: Chasing Mulder (1/2) by Susanne Barringer
Date: Thu, 9 Apr 1998 18:22:35 -0400


TITLE:  Chasing Mulder (1/2)
AUTHOR:  Susanne Barringer
FEEDBACK:  Please!  sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE:  Anywhere okay with my name and address attached.
SPOILERS:  Up to Chinga 
RATING:  PG for occasional language
CLASSIFICATION:  SR
CONTENT WARNING:  a bit of MSR
SUMMARY:  A couple of nightmares, a lunch, and a ferris wheel.
DISCLAIMERS:  These characters belong to Fox, 1013, and Chris Carter.
 No infringement is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This story takes place sometime after the Reduxes but
before Patient X/R&B.  Mulder's still in major doubting mode.

________________________

Chasing Mulder
by Susanne Barringer


Scully's lungs burned as she frantically gulped in air.  She was
running as fast as she could, but it wasn't fast enough.  She could
see Mulder standing at the end of the tunnel.  The light coming from
behind him rendered his body only a shadow, but she would know his
form, his stance, anywhere.  She had to reach him, had to get there
in time.  Her legs stung from exertion and the pressure in her chest
was nearly paralyzing.  Her body couldn't withstand much more.  She
could feel the panic rise in her throat; she fought to remain in
control.  She had to move faster.  She had to get there, get to
Mulder.  It seemed like she had been running forever, but he was
still so far away.  She had to get to him in time.

"MULLLL-DERRRR!"  The sound of her scream sliced the silence as she
sat straight up in bed.  Her heart was pounding and her breaths
couldn't come fast enough.  Her body shook with panic and terror as
she squinted her eyes to look for Mulder in the darkness.  As she
gathered her wits and realized she was in her bedroom, she slowed her
breathing and willed herself to calm down.  It was that dream again. 

Scully reached over to turn on the bedside lamp.  She grabbed the
book off the nightstand and pulled open the drawer to look for a pen.
 She waited for her heart rate to slow even more, then opened the
book to where the green ribbon marked her place.  She recorded the
date and time, and made a notation.  "Chasing Mulder through the
tunnel again.  Same images, same feelings.  He's just a shadow.  I
can't get to him.  He's waiting for me.  I feel like I have to help
him in some way, but I can't run fast enough.  There's something
telling me I'm running out of time."  Scully stopped writing and
breathed a heavy sigh, finally feeling almost calm again.  Keeping a
dream journal had turned out to be a restorative experience for her. 
Not surprisingly, it had been Mulder's idea.

Just after her remission, she had suffered from horrible nightmares
about her cancer.  In a fit of frustration and sheer exhaustion, she
had confided in Mulder about them one afternoon at work.  She knew he
battled with his own nightmares often, so she had told him a little
about the cancer dreams that seemed to continually haunt her and kept
her from getting a good night's sleep.

Two mornings later, she came into work bleary-eyed as usual.  Sitting
on her desk was a beautiful leather-bound book with her initials
engraved in gold on the front cover.  She opened the book to find
blank pages, trimmed in a similar gold.  She wondered what the book
was for until the pages fell open to the front cover.  There, in his
distinctive scrawl, was an inscription from Mulder:

For Scully,
A dream is an answer to a question we haven't yet figured out how to
ask.
Always, Mulder

The gift had touched her because it was so appropriate and
thoughtful, something she never would have bought for herself.  Much
of the time Mulder could be so damn insensitive, so unaware of what
she needed--or didn't need.  But every now and then he would show
such awareness of her, such caring, that those moments made up for
everything else.  Almost.

She smiled as she thought about how surprised Mulder would be to know
that she was indeed using the book as a dream journal.  He probably
figured she would never be interested in such a thing, but she had
been faithfully recording her dreams in the two months since he'd
given her the book.

Scully was wide awake now, so there was little point in trying to get
back to sleep immediately.  She flipped through the previous entries
in her journal.  The dream about chasing Mulder was coming more
often, almost every other night now instead of once or twice a week
as before.  As terrifying as the dream was when she was experiencing
it, in many ways it was a relief because it had gradually replaced
her cancer dreams until she hadn't had one of those in almost three
weeks.  At least the tunnel dream was the same every time.  She knew
what would happen, and she knew how it ended.  The cancer dreams had
been terrifying because they were always different.  She never knew
what to expect.  Sometimes she saw her body being devoured by insects
or by a creature she was unable to see.  Sometimes she watched her
body disintegrate slowly, unable to move or call out.  The worst
dreams were those where she was buried alive, trapped under the earth
before her time. 

Scully turned back to her newest journal entry.  She knew she ought
to record her impressions.  What did this recurring dream of Mulder
mean?  She was running toward Mulder, unable to reach him.  Mulder
was slipping away from her.  She knew that's what these dreams were
about, but she had been unwilling to face that thought head-on.  He
was slipping away from her, and from the X-Files.  The discovery that
Mulder might have been tricked into believing for all those years had
affected him intensely.  The doubt, and later the absolute certainty,
that it was all a lie had transformed him.  He had distanced himself
from her in many subtle ways.  His beliefs still didn't fall in line
with hers, but he seemed unable to find any commonality between them.
 Before, they had had their conflicting beliefs to challenge each
other, but also to give them a kind of common ground with which to
begin their investigations.  They had always known where they stood
with each other, their differences serving as refreshing knowledge of
what would never change between them.  Now things *had* changed.  He
*was* slipping away from her, and she had no idea how to bring him
back.

Scully realized she was frantically writing down all that was running
through her head.  It was the first time she had allowed herself to
actually admit that Mulder's changes were driving them apart.  She
finished her thoughts, then closed the book, slowly running her hands
over the soft leather cover.  She traced her index finger around the
gold engraving.  D.K.S.  It was a beautiful book, not the kind of
blank book one could find in a book store, but the kind found only in
specialty shops.  The leather was smooth and soft, and smelled as
only good leather can.    

Mulder.  

He had bought her this book because she needed it.  Now he needed
something, something to bring him back.  She had no idea what she
could do or what she could say to help him see that even if his quest
had changed, there could and would still be a quest.  The truth was
still out there, even if it wasn't the truth he had originally
sought.  Without a quest, Scully knew Mulder would be lost.  He *was*
lost.  She had to do something to help him.  She was sure that was
what her dream was telling her.  It was up to her to help him.  If
there was anything she knew with certainty, it was that Mulder needed
her, now more than ever.  

**********

Even before Scully opened the door to their office, she knew Mulder
would be there.  Lately, he had always been in earlier than her. 
That alone should have signaled her that something was different,
that something was wrong.  She opened the door and, sure enough,
there sat Mulder, files piled up around him.

He glanced up upon hearing her enter.  "Mornin' Scully.  Sleep well?"

Scully simply grimaced in reply.

"Are you still having those nightmares?  Still the same ones?" 
Scully could see the concern etched on Mulder's face even though he
had asked the question with a light tone of voice.

She debated whether or not she should tell him about her newest
dream.  It might worry him even more.  Then again, he, like her,
might be relieved that the horrible cancer dreams had
disappeared--for the time being at least.  In the end, she decided
she had better be open with him.  Being honest about her personal
life was an ongoing struggle for Scully, but since she had been given
a second (or was it a third?) chance at life, she had been trying her
best not to disappoint Mulder that way anymore.

"No.  Actually, Mulder, the cancer dreams have stopped.  They've been
replaced by another one.  A recurring dream.  It's not as bad as the
others, but it still upsets me because I'm not sure exactly what it
means."

Mulder put down the file which he had been reading in order to give
Scully his full attention.  He could be a great listener when it came
to her spilling about her personal life.  Of course, she did it so
rarely that he probably thought of it as a special treat.

"Yeah?  Do you want to tell me about it?"  Mulder had the concerned
look on his face again.  She appreciated him asking that way instead
of grilling her about it.  He had become better about that recently,
which had helped her talk to him more about what was bothering her
and about her illness, her fears, everything that the recent past had
created in her.  It was actually Mulder these days who was shutting
*her* out.

She wanted to tell Mulder about the dream.  It seemed like it was
important for him to know what she felt was happening between them,
but it suddenly seemed awkward to her to be quite so open with him. 
Scully had a sudden flash of an idea.  She reached into her portfolio
bag and grabbed the dream journal.  On a sudden whim that morning she
had thrown it into her bag, not sure why really, but feeling the urge
to do it.  Now it had become clear why.

Scully pulled out the book and ran her hand across the cover for a
moment, out of habit.  She looked up to find a surprised look on
Mulder's face.  Yes, he really hadn't expected her to use it.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Mulder, but I'm not sure I can talk
about it with you.  It's very personal, in a way, about us.  About
you."

Mulder managed a weak smile at her, but the concern lingered about
his eyes.

"I'd like for you to read this, though.  It tells all about my dreams
and what I think about them."  She held out the journal to Mulder.

"Scully, I . . . "  Mulder didn't reach for the book but instead
stood up and stepped toward her.  "Are you sure?  I mean, that's
really personal.  It's probably something you shouldn't share."

Scully couldn't help but laugh.  "Mulder, come on.  You're always
pissed at me when I tell you I'm fine and just walk off.  I'm not
fine right now, and I'm trying to tell you that."

Mulder laughed too.  "I know, Scully, but this . . . this is really
above and beyond the call of personal sharing.  Know what I mean?"

"Just take it Mulder.  I *want* you to read it.  It's important to
me.  Don't worry, there aren't any erotic dreams in there or
anything."  She flashed a leer at Mulder which she knew would disarm
him--she didn't do it very often.

"Yeah, okay Scully."  He looked flustered.  It was charming.  "Even
if it did have all your sex dreams in it, I guess I would just have
to deal with it, huh?"  Okay, now he was back to Mulder again--the
concerned look had waned.

"Yeah, in *your* dreams."  This felt good.  This felt normal.  This
was what had been missing between them recently.

Mulder slipped back into seriousness.  "Scully, I'm surprised you'd
really pay much attention to your dreams.  I mean, you usually don't
go for that kind of stuff."  Mulder moved back to his desk and gently
placed her journal in a space he cleared away for it.

"Mulder, just because I don't believe in aliens and vampires doesn't
mean I don't see the value of studying the unconscious mind.  Even a
scientist can see the intrinsic value of unconscious thoughts and
desires played out in dreams.  There's nothing 'extreme' about that!"

Mulder didn't answer but simply sat down at his desk, his hand
hovering over the journal.  He seemed to be waiting for her to leave,
like he didn't want to read it in front of her.  Conveniently, Scully
had had the same thought and was planning a graceful exit any minute.
 As much as it had seemed right at the moment she had given Mulder
the journal, she was having second thoughts.  Maybe this was too
much.  Maybe she shouldn't let him know that she dreamed about losing
him.  Maybe he would take it the wrong way.  

No, this was Mulder.  He was concerned for her.  He was interested. 
She had to trust that this would work out.

"I think I'll just take a trip upstairs and see how that lab work is
coming on the McAllister case."  Scully suddenly felt awkward.  She
headed for the door.  As she turned to shut it behind her, she saw
Mulder reaching for the journal.

**********

By the time Scully had climbed the three flights of stairs to the
laboratory, the second thoughts had become third and fourth thoughts.
 She was on the verge of running back downstairs and snatching the
journal out of Mulder's hands.  Why was this so hard for her?  It was
just a dream.  A dream about Mulder.  She had had lots of dreams
about Mulder.  Some made her wake happy and serene; some simply drove
her insane with the desire she couldn't tell him about.  But this
dream was an important one, one she knew she had to tell him about. 
Knowing that didn't make it any easier though.  It went against every
grain in Scully's being to be so open with someone, even Mulder. 
Especially Mulder.  She was used to keeping it all in, to dealing
with things on her own.  It was easier that way.  But this wasn't her
own problem; it also involved Mulder, and he had a right to know. 
She just hoped that he would see it for what it was--her fear that he
was losing his drive, his passion, his work, his life.

After killing what she thought was an appropriate amount of time, she
made her way back down to the office.  She opened the door slowly and
quietly to peek in and see if Mulder was still reading.  To her
surprise, the office was empty.  Confused, Scully entered and shut
the door behind her.  She saw that Mulder had placed the journal back
on her desk; there was a note beside it.  Scully picked up the paper
and read:

Scully,
Something came up.  Had to go.  We'll talk later.
M.

Scully crumpled up the note and tossed it toward the trash.  She knew
quite well that nothing had come up.  Mulder had left because he
didn't want to face her.  It was plain and simple.  As angry as she
was, it was disgust that flowed through her body--disgust at herself,
at Mulder.  She felt like she had opened a can of worms, and there
was no way to close it again.  Scully plopped down in her chair,
tossed the cursed journal aside, and tried to concentrate on the
files piled high in the "to be reviewed" stack on her desk.  Damn
Mulder and his obsessions!

**********

By lunch time, Scully had made hardly a dent in the pile of work
awaiting her.  She didn't feel like she should be distracted, but
questions about Mulder kept popping up.  Where the hell was he?  He'd
been gone for hours, and that was starting to worry her.  Was he that
afraid of facing her?  Her condemnation of Mulder was interrupted by
the ringing of her phone.  She shook off the dread surrounding her
and answered by the third ring.

"Scully."

She was met with Mulder's signature pause. Then, "Scully, it's me."

Scully was surprised at the intensity of the relief she felt upon
hearing his voice.  "Where are you Mulder?"

"Didn't you get my note?"  The question sounded genuine, though
Scully felt a smile brimming at the idea that Mulder was so clueless.

"Yes, Mulder, but it still doesn't tell me where you are."  She tried
not to sound too frustrated.

"Oh, right.  Well, something came up.  You know.  I just had to take
care of something."  He sounded so unsure of himself, so questioning.
 "Anyway, wanna meet me for lunch?  Larry's Deli?  My treat?"

Okay, so Mulder was trying to make up for his fleeing the room.  The
only time he ever offered to treat was when he was apologizing for
something.

"I guess.  In twenty minutes?"

"Sounds good.  See you then."   Mulder hung up before Scully could
get another word in.  She suspected Mulder was trying to get them to
neutral ground, somewhere where they could talk outside of the
office.  That might be a good idea, in fact.

Scully grabbed her coat and headed out the door.

**********

Mulder was already at the deli when she arrived and had taken the
liberty of ordering her a diet soda.  Even though she hated to be so
predictable, in a way it pleased her that Mulder knew her so
well--and that he actually paid attention.

She quickly slid into the booth across from Mulder.  He smiled at
her, sincerely.  It didn't take long for him to cut to the chase.

"Hey, Scully.  I'm sorry I ran off on you like that.  I just needed
some time to think.  Reading about your dreams, well, it really got
to me.  I mean, I had no idea your cancer dreams were that bad.  They
sounded truly horrifying."

Leave it to Mulder to start with the issue that was not the real
issue.

"That's not what I gave you the journal for, Mulder.  It's about that
other dream.  The one . . ."

"I know, Scully.  That's what I want to talk to you about.  It
reminds me of a dream I have.  Well, they're not alike exactly, but
sort of similar in a way.  I've been having it almost every night for
the last month or so."  

Mulder's confession was cut off by the waiter coming to take their
orders.  Scully picked something healthy and Mulder ordered his usual
"Dagwood Special."  After the waiter left, the silence enveloped
them.  It looked like Mulder was going to need some prompting.

"Go on Mulder.  Tell me about your dream."  

Mulder's eyes fell to the table and seemed to study his hands clasped
in front of him.  He didn't look at Scully as he began his story.

"I'm in a dark place and I feel helpless, like someone I care about
is in danger.  I'm not sure what exactly is going on, but I'm
standing in front of someone, or sometimes a group of people. 
Someone is making me choose--between you and Samantha.  And I stand
there, and I don't know what to do.  I can't decide.  They tell me if
I don't pick, they'll kill both of you.  I want to say you, but every
time I say 'Samantha.'  Every time I pick her."

Mulder finally looked up at her, his eyes sad and glistening with
unfallen tears that caught Scully by surprise.

"Of course you do, Mulder.  She's your sister, your flesh and blood,"
she reassured him.

"No, Scully!"  Mulder's voice raised a notch.  He paused to collect
himself.    "You don't understand.  I *want* to pick you.  I want to
say, 'I pick Scully.'  That's what's in my head and that's what I
mean to say.  It feels like the right choice; in fact, I know it's
the right choice.  Somehow, I know with certainty that picking you is
the only way I can save *both* of you.  But then I say Samantha's
name.  I hear that name, and I can't believe I said it, and I know
that means they'll kill you.  And I hurt.  Every part of me just
aches with pain.  Then I wake up."  His eyes were still shiny with
emotion; it broke Scully's heart to see him so torn up about a dream.

"Why does it bother you so much?"

"Scully, don't you see?  I betray you.  Every single time!"

"For god's sake, Mulder, you can't feel guilty about a dream."  Only
Mulder could suffer such severe guilt from something over which he
had no control.  "It's just a dream.  You've never betrayed me.  It's
not like that will ever happen.  You'll never have to make that kind
of choice."

"I already had to make it once!"

Scully shivered with the sudden memory Mulder's words created--that
night on the bridge when the man who shifted into a Mulder look-alike
had kidnapped her.  The fear and uncertainty she felt that night as
Mulder made the trade still haunted her.  As tense and terrifying as
the episode had been, though, what had turned her blood to ice was
when the man and the woman fell over the bridge and Mulder had called
out "Samantha."  In a sickening moment of understanding, Scully
realized he had traded his sister for her, and it was all she could
do to stop the bile rising in her throat.  That moment had played
itself over and over in her nightmares for months afterwards.  Even
though Samantha had turned out not to be Samantha, that didn't
prevent the nauseous feeling Scully got whenever she thought about
it.

Scully shook off her memory of that nightmare.  "It's not likely
anything like that will happen again, Mulder," she tried to reassure
him, but Mulder still looked miserable.  "Okay, so tell me what you
think this dream means."

Mulder paused a long time, finally looking back down at his hands
before speaking.  "Scully, we're dysfunctional."

The words and Mulder's dead seriousness made Scully laugh.  "Mulder,
we chase genetic mutants and aliens as a career.  We're way past
dysfunctional."

Mulder looked frustrated with her attempt at humor.  He was all
earnestness.  "You know what I mean, Scully.  You and I--we have a
dysfunctional relationship.  You have nightmares about not getting to
me in time to save me from myself.  I'm haunted by the thought I
might sacrifice you in order to find the 'truth.'"  At that word,
Mulder's mouth turned down into a grimace of pain.  "These are not
healthy things for partners, and definitely not for friends."

Scully sighed.  Mulder was so serious about this.  He had a point,
but it was something that was so ingrained in their relationship that
she had never given it much thought before.  

"You're just realizing this now, Mulder?  Where have you been for the
last five years?"  For some reason, Scully felt the overpowering urge
to try to keep the conversation light.  She wasn't sure she liked
where it was heading.

"I know, Scully.  It's not news to me.  It just seems a lot more
important now."  Mulder looked up at her again, his face tortured
with whatever unacknowledged pain this discussion was creating for
him.  "I've lost everything else in my life now.  Everything.  I
don't want to add you to that list."  He reached across the table and
touched her hand which was resting next to her soda.  Then he
retreated again.

Scully felt a mixture of frustration, pain, and love swell inside her
at Mulder's vulnerability.  "You're not going to lose me Mulder." 
She spoke softly in order to help him see that she was now serious. 
"That's why I wanted to talk about this, to talk about what's
happening between us, how things have changed."

"No, Scully.  What you wrote in your journal, about feeling like
you're losing me?  It's true.  We're losing each other.  We let these
fears and obsessions get in the way of us, of our relationship.  I
know you're afraid I'm going to go crazy if I don't have my quest.  I
promise you, I won't.  I'm fine."  Mulder's face revealed a slight
smile as he said those infamous words.  "I'm sorry I've been shutting
you out.  What you wrote did show me what I've been doing to you. 
And what you do to me."

Scully wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she didn't like the
sound of it.  "Just what exactly do I *do* to you?" she challenged,
quirking up an eyebrow.  Under any other circumstances, Mulder would
have jumped on the chance to make some kind of innuendo.  Not today. 
Today he was all seriousness, and that was beginning to concern
Scully.

"It's not what you *do* exactly.  It's that having you as a partner,
as a friend, my caring about you, makes me doubt myself.  I'm always
questioning myself, why I'm worthy of you and your trust and your
friendship.  That's why I dream what I do.  I'm afraid I'll let you
down.  I'm afraid I'll unintentionally betray you.  Or maybe even
intentionally."

Somehow this was getting to be too much about Mulder's unassailable
guilt.  "Mulder, that's what my dream is about too.  I dream I'm
chasing you but I can't get there.  Don't you think that's the same
thing?  I'm running but it's too late.  I can't get there in time.  I
let you down.  I'm not there when you need me.  Don't think this is
all about *your* neuroses!"  The tone of her own voice surprised
Scully--all the latent anger and frustration.  

Mulder smiled a small, tight smile at her outburst and her
defensiveness of her own obsessions.  Neither of them spoke for
several moments.  Finally, Scully reached out and took Mulder's hand
and squeezed it.  She held on.

"You're right, Mulder.  We *are* dysfunctional.  What are we going to
do about it?"

__________

End 1/2


TITLE:  Chasing Mulder (2/2)
AUTHOR:  Susanne Barringer
EMAIL:  sbarringer@usa.net

____________

Chasing Mulder 2/2


When Scully had asked Mulder what they were going to do about their
dysfunctional relationship, this was not what she had in mind.  They
had made no decisions at lunch that day, but on Friday night, Mulder
called and told her to be ready on Saturday at 6:00 wearing
comfortable clothes.  It wasn't until they were in the car that he
revealed that he had bought tickets to the state fair.  Scully was
not amused.

"When was the last time you were at the fair, Scully?"  Mulder's
enthusiasm was bordering on annoying.

"Not since I was about twelve, probably."    

"Exactly.  You've been deprived for far too long."

Scully avoided the inclination to demand that Mulder take her home
immediately.  Going to the fair just wasn't high on her list of
things she could be accomplishing on one of the rare weekends when
they had no active cases open.  "And this is going to help our
relationship how exactly?"  Scully wasn't sure she saw the logic of
this.

"That's not what it's about, Scully.  We just need to get out and
have some fun for a change, doing something besides working."

"Oh, and that's your *professional* opinion, Mr. Oxford
Psychologist?"

"Yes, actually it is.  When was the last time you and I did something
strictly for fun and for the sheer pleasure of each other's company?"

Scully thought about it for a while.  A long while.  She couldn't
remember them ever doing that.  Was that possible?  Sure, she and
Mulder had dined together often, hung out at each other's apartments
occasionally (very occasionally, now that she thought about it), but
those things were usually because they had a case to discuss or some
paperwork to do.  Okay, so there may have been a dinner or two that
wasn't work related, but that's always what they ended up talking
about.  In fact, Scully realized that they had never even gone to a
movie together, or to any kind of concert, or anything.  They were
supposed to go to a football game once, a couple of years ago, but
Donnie Pfaster had interfered with those plans.  Of course, a
football game wasn't exactly Scully's idea of a fun time.  Neither
was the fair, for that matter.

"Never," she finally answered, her voice not betraying her awareness
of how truly strange that was.  Mulder turned to look at her.  A
thoughtful look passed over his face.

"God, that's weird, Scully.  We're friends, aren't we?  How come we
never do anything as friends?"

"I guess because we spend so much time together working, any more
time together seems sort of like overkill."  She said it with a light
tone, even though she felt like they had stumbled onto something
serious here.

"Maybe that's the problem, then," commented Mulder, this time keeping
his attention on the road.  "Maybe we get so obsessed with each other
and the danger and betrayal and fear because we never experience each
other outside of that environment."  He paused for a few beats.  "We
need to have some fun," he announced authoritatively.

Scully stayed silent for awhile, thinking about what Mulder had said.
 As much as they said they were best friends, as much as they were
even closer than friends in terms of trust and knowing each other and
communicating, they didn't really *live* like friends.  On weekends
when they weren't working a case, they usually talked on the phone,
but they hardly ever saw each other socially during those times off. 
Of course, given the long hours they worked on out-of-town cases, it
made perfect sense they'd want some time apart.  On the other hand,
it made no sense at all.  She was most comfortable and contented when
she was with Mulder, and she was confident it worked both ways. 
Maybe her fears of losing Mulder in that tunnel dream were due to the
fact that they had only the X-Files.  If Mulder lost interest, as he
seemed to be doing recently, and left the X-Files, they'd have
nothing.

Mulder looked equally pensive.  This was not a good way to start the
evening.  Scully decided to change the subject.  "When was the last
time you were at the fair, Mulder?"

Mulder smiled, seeming relieved to have something less intense to
discuss.  "Hell, I used to come all the time when I was younger.  It
was my favorite place to take a date."

"Ahhh.  That explains why you never have any dates!"

Mulder spat out a laugh.  "Low blow, Scully."  Scully, for some
reason, giggled.

"So, is this a date, then?" she teased.  

Mulder looked at her suddenly, then grinned.  "No, of course not." 
He looked back at the road, then added, "I mean, not necessarily."

Okay, that was interesting.  Scully decided to continue the joke. 
"That's good, Mulder, because if any man took me to the *fair* as a
first date, he wouldn't be having a second one."

Mulder looked at her once again, surprise lighting up his features. 
"What, are you kidding?  The fair is the perfect place for a first
date.  What do you want--dinner and flowers?  Jeez.  When you go to
dinner, everyone puts on their best face and you have all that
meaningless getting-to-know-you conversation, and half of it is an
act, and you try to be yourself but you have to be impressive.  It's
far too stressful."

"And the fair is better because . . .?"

"Because, at the fair, you get to relax, be a kid, scream at the top
of your lungs, eat junk food, and just hang out.  There aren't any
awkward silences because you can just be walking or standing in line
and silence is okay.  You don't have to talk constantly at the fair."
 He added, "And, a pretty sure way of getting a good-night kiss is to
win the girl a stuffed animal at a game booth."

"Uh huh.  I see."  Scully guessed that made some sense in some sort
of warped Mulder way.  "You know, Mulder, those games are rigged.  It
doesn't make the odds of getting that kiss all that great."

"Scully, you're too cynical.  For tonight, shut down that scientific
mind of yours and just have fun.  It's a rule of the fair that you
have to act and think like a kid.  You can't be over-analytical."

"A rule of the fair?"  Scully raised an eyebrow at him.  "And you
have this rule book?"

Mulder just smiled at her.  "I know you'll enjoy it.  The fair is the
perfect place to bring a woman like you."

"A woman like me?"

"Well, uh."  Mulder looked suddenly uncomfortable.  Scully was glad
she pressed it.  Mulder found his bearings and continued, "Someone
professional, serious, in a good way of course.  This way you get to
see what she's like when she lets loose."

"Mulder, if you think I'm going to let loose at a fair of all places,
you're seriously delusional."

Just as she spoke, Mulder pulled off the road into a dirt parking
lot, then quickly pulled the car into an empty spot at the far end of
the makeshift aisle.  "Well, in any case, we're here.  Try to control
your boundless enthusiasm."

**********

It truly had been a long time since Scully had been to a fair.  She
had forgotten how overwhelming the atmosphere could be--the constant
movement of lights, the smell of food drenched in oil and fat, the
sound of music, laughter, voices.  The fair was crowded, which only
added to its feel, and Scully smiled to herself as they walked down
the midway.  She liked this, though she wasn't close to admitting it
to Mulder yet.  Let him work for a while.  

Mulder, meanwhile, quickly got sidetracked by the exhibit of the
headless woman.  Scully could see that being at the fair with Mulder
was going to be a lot like being with a 10 year old.  

"Come on, Scully.  Let's go in.  I want to see the headless woman." 
God, he even sounded like a 10 year old.  This was likely to be
exasperating.

Mulder paid the man and escorted Scully into the trailer.  There sat,
not surprisingly, a headless woman.

"Isn't that cool, Scully?  Wow!  Imagine going through life without a
head."

Scully rolled her eyes.  "Really, Mulder, you know that's done with
mirrors and a dummy.  You can't possibly believe it's real."  

"Cynicism, Scully.  Put it aside.  Pretend you're a kid again. 
Remember how fascinating this stuff was back then.  Of course,
knowing you, you probably always knew it was a fake, even when you
were six!"  He flashed a 10-year-old grin at her.

In the back of her mind, Scully knew her party-pooping was only going
to make Mulder more obnoxious.  She might as well play along.

"Okay.  No more cynicism."  Mulder smiled like a child given his
greatest wish.  "Yeah, it must be hard to go through life like that.
I wonder how she eats," Scully pronounced with the sarcasm dripping
off every word.

Mulder laughed loudly and escorted her out of the trailer.  "Much
better."

They walked further on down the midway, observing the rides and the
food trailers.  Every few seconds, Mulder got distracted by something
and changed their direction.  Finally, he stopped walking, nearly
right in the middle of the midway.  "So, Scully, I've got a ton of
ride tickets.  What do you want to ride first?"

Scully turned in a full circle, scrutinizing the rides and the
crowds.

"That!" she pronounced loudly, pointing a finger at a torture trap
that turned occupants every which way including upside down and left
them there, hovering with their heads facing toward the earth.

Scully smiled to see that Mulder looked visibly disturbed.  "Um,
Scully, don't you want to start with something a little bit more . .
. mellow?  Work up to this?"

"Come on, Mulder, I know the rules of the fair as well as you do. 
You save the mellow rides for after you eat.  What are you, a wimp?"
she challenged.  Mulder looked at her pathetically.  "I'm sure you've
done your share of seducing all those dates onto these rides to show
off your manliness and bravery."  

He looked like he wasn't going to budge.  "That was a long time ago. 
I was a lot younger then," Mulder whined, nervously eyeing the ride
and all its loops and turns.

"Come on, you stud.  You wanted to have fun.  This looks fun." 
Scully grabbed Mulder's arm and physically dragged him toward the
long line of people waiting.

**********

After the ride, Mulder looked a bit green around the gills.  Out of
spite, Scully made Mulder ride it again, then proceeded to drag him
onto every one of the most terrifying, violent, nausea-inducing
attractions, one after the other.  Mulder screamed like a girl on
every of them, and Scully was highly amused.

After about an hour of being spun and twisted until their brains
rattled in their heads, Mulder called it quits.  Well, not exactly. 
He tried to do it with chivalry.

"Hey Scully, you must be famished.  We should eat."

Scully stifled a smile and agreed.  It had taken longer than she
thought to break him.  She was impressed with how long he had gone
along with her, despite the fact that he obviously hated every minute
of it.

They snacked on chili dogs and corn fritters.  As much as Scully
usually avoided such food, it was hard to resist in this environment.
 One night of artery-clogging food wouldn't kill her anyway.  And she
felt weird this evening, not quite herself.  Something about the fair
was making her feel young again.  Irrepressible.

After dinner, Scully wanted cotton candy.  Mulder quickly ran off to
do her bidding and returned with two cones, one pink and one purple. 
Scully chose the pink and they sat down on an empty bench in the food
area where they could watch the people go by.  Scully carefully
pulled off small pieces of cotton with her fingers and placed them in
her mouth.  Mulder, on the other hand, sank his face into the fluff
and ate right off the stick.  When he finished he wiped his mouth
with a handful of napkins he had grabbed.  There was still a sticky
spot on his cheek where a small tuft of moist purple cotton stuck. 
On an impulse that came from somewhere deep inside her but of which
she was barely aware, Scully leaned forward and gently kissed the
sticky part of Mulder's cheek, quickly licking off the offending
spot.

Mulder's eyes grew wide with surprise.  "Scully!" he murmured in a
tone of voice usually reserved for when he was impressed at one of
her deductive conclusions.  Scully just shrugged and wondered to
herself what in god's name had made her do that.  It was totally
unlike her, totally spontaneous.

Whatever it was must have been contagious because Mulder caught it,
and he suddenly leaned forward to kiss her.  On the lips.  He
lingered for only a second, then pulled back.  His lips tasted like
cotton candy, like Mulder, like the evening.  "Thanks," he said. 
Scully wasn't sure if he meant thanks for removing the candy or
thanks for the kiss.  She smiled shyly as she felt the blush creep up
her neck.  

What the hell was going on?  She felt giddy, like she was drugged. 
She felt outside herself, like tonight she could do anything, take
any dare, ride any ride.  Yeah, it must have been those rides--her
brain had slammed up against her skull a few too many times and had
somehow caused some kind of personality change.  That had to be it. 
It couldn't be Mulder.  Could it?  Why had she kissed him like that? 
It wasn't like she hadn't done it before.  They kissed often, on the
cheek--for greeting, support, comfort, whatever.  But this time she
had done it for no good reason, and then he had . . .  

Something was weird.  

Mulder had stood during her reverie and was holding out his hand to
help her up from the bench.  "Are you ready to ride the ferris wheel
now, Scully?  Or is that too tame for you, you wild woman!"

"That sounds perfect.  I'm really stuffed from that wonderful
dinner."  Mulder glanced at her expecting to see her sarcastic look. 
It wasn't there.

Mulder steered them toward the giant ferris wheel instead of the
smaller one.  The line was long, but they decided to wait anyway.

"Remember, Scully, if we get stopped at the very top we have to kiss
for good luck."

Scully tried not to look surprised.  "We have to what?"

"Kiss.  For good luck.  That's a rule.  Like mistletoe."

"I've never heard that rule, Mulder.  I think you're making it up. 
Whose rule is it?"

"People's."

"People's?"

"Yeah.  I can't believe you've never heard that rule.  I guess you
never went to the fair with a boy, did you?"

"I wasn't like you, Mulder.  I didn't use the fair as a seduction
ground."

Mulder gave her his best "I'm so offended" expression.  "Ha Ha. 
Seriously, though, if you don't believe me, we'll ask the ferris
wheel guy."

They had moved forward enough in the line that they would be on the
next batch of riders.  Mulder maneuvered Scully closer to the ride
attendant.

"Hey, isn't it good luck to get stopped at the top?" he asked the
man.  Scully snorted with laughter at Mulder making such a fool of
himself.

The man glanced briefly at the couple.  "Only if you kiss," he said
and winked at Scully.  "Otherwise, it's bad luck."  Scully's eyes
widened.  This was a conspiracy if she'd ever seen one.

"See," said Mulder waving a hand in the direction of the man.  "It's
a rule of the fair."  

As they passed through the gate to enter into their car, the
attendant grinned at Mulder, and Scully knew for certain that the
ride was going to stop with them at the top, thanks to the burly,
tattooed ferris wheel man who certainly didn't *look* like a romantic
kind of guy.

As it turned out, Mulder and Scully were one of the last couples to
be loaded in the ferris wheel, so it made only one stop before the
ride got going, and it wasn't at the top.  Scully found herself first
relieved, then disappointed, then anxious.  Was the ferris wheel man
going to come through for them?  She stopped that line of thought as
quickly as it had come to her.  Having to kiss Mulder and *hoping* to
kiss Mulder were two very different things and the latter was not
good.  Not good at all.

The ferris wheel spun around for what seemed like an hour.  Scully
just wanted to get off the damn thing.  Now.  She didn't like this
teasing.  It was creating evil thoughts inside her head.  Thoughts
she should not be having about Mulder.  Thoughts that would not, in
any way, shape, or form, help their relationship.

The ferris wheel slowed as the ride ended, and Scully felt Mulder
tense beside her.  They were going to end up at the top.  She just
knew it.  And she didn't want it anymore.  Better to run than face
whatever was going on between them.  Running was safer.

Sure enough, they'd hardly made two decelerating revolutions when the
ride halted, and she and Mulder were perched atop the giant ferris
wheel with a view to end all views.  

Nothing happened.  They both looked straight out at the lights and
the general excitement and commotion.  Scully decided that since they
were here and it was unlikely Mulder wouldn't collect, it would be
better to get it over with than have to deal any longer with the
tension that was so thick that she could actually feel Mulder's hands
clenching and unclenching on the safety bar.  She took a deep breath.

"Well, Mulder, he's not going to leave us up here all night.  What
are you waiting for?"  She turned toward him with a challenge in her
eyes.  "We wouldn't want to thwart luck.  We need all we can get!" 
God, did she have to be so obnoxious about it?  Maybe Mulder had just
been teasing her.  Maybe he really didn't want to do this.  

Mulder looked at her and laughed, but his eyes were serious.  Scully
knew at that moment that this was not going to be a simple kiss.  Of
course, she was the one who had started it all with that cotton candy
thing, so she had no one else to blame.  Not even the ferris wheel
guy.

Mulder slid closer to her and Scully thought that she would die with
anticipation.  She was certain the ferris wheel man had run the ride
longer than usual just to drive her into this frenzy.  She could
taste the anticipation, smell it, feel it.  Mulder looked at her so
tenderly, and what she saw in his eyes ran through her--burning hot,
yet reassuring.  She had seen that look before on occasion--when
Mulder had given her his gun before he went to face down Robert
Patrick Modell, after he had rescued her from the cannibals in Chaco,
in the hospital in Allentown after Penny's death--but this time there
was something different about it, something new, something that lit
up the night brighter than all the carnival lights.  Mulder reached
up and gently placed his fingers under her chin to raise her face to
his.  No, this was definitely not going to be a friendly kiss.  She
could see it in his eyes.  That was Scully's last thought before
Mulder's lips finally touched hers after five long years that had
seemed an eternity.  

It was beautiful.  So sweet.  Gentle, exciting, everything
imaginable.  She could still taste the sugary sweetness of his
earlier kiss, but now it was mixed with something else--longing,
desire, passion.  His lips gently probed and parted hers, but stopped
there, letting their lips hover over each other's, experimenting, but
not pushing. 

The ferris wheel started up again slowly, and their kiss finished
with the motion of falling down the back side of the ferris wheel and
then rising back up again.  Scully felt dizzy but wasn't sure if it
was the kiss or the motion of the ride.  She preferred to think it
was the ride, but the pounding in her veins and fluttering in her
stomach told her that it was Mulder that made her dizzy, not some
stupid ferris wheel.  

Their car was close to the last one to be emptied, allowing the
moment afterwards to linger.  Neither of them spoke after the kiss,
but Mulder kept his eyes trained on Scully, seemingly not wanting to
let go of their connection.  Scully willed her body to stop shaking. 
She was trembling violently.  She had never had that kind of physical
reaction to just a kiss before.  Actually, she'd never had that kind
of extreme reaction to *anything* a man had ever done to her before. 
That was bad news.  

"Are you cold, Scully?" Mulder queried, using the question as an
excuse to drape his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. 
Scully smiled to herself at this glimpse of teenaged Mulder using all
his slick moves on the girls he brought to the fair.  She hesitated
answering his question.  If she said no, he'd know the truth--that he
had done that to her--so she lied and said yes.  Mulder tightened his
arms around her and Scully sank into them as if they were her entire
existence.

Finally the ferris wheel spun them to the bottom, and the attendant
lifted the safety bar.  As they stepped out, he flashed Mulder a
grin.  Scully pretended not to notice that Mulder slipped the ferris
wheel man what looked like a ten dollar bill as they stepped off the
platform. 

They walked the midway in silence, but Mulder had been right earlier
about silence at a fair, it wasn't uncomfortable.  Scully's mind was
racing in every direction.  They had gotten themselves into some kind
of mess, and she wasn't sure how they were going to get out of it. 
The fair had cast some kind of spell over them, she was sure of it. 
It was the headiness of the rides, the lights and sounds, the sugar
rush of the cotton candy.  Anything, any excuse would do.  This
couldn't happen to them.  It couldn't happen again.  She wouldn't be
able to handle it.  It resembled too closely everything she could
possibly want in the world.

Without a word on either of their parts, they headed toward the
parking lot.  Somehow, they both knew that the evening was over. 
There was nowhere else to go but home.

**********

Mulder pulled the car in front of Scully's building, then cut the
engine.  He turned toward her, probably worried about the long
silence they'd had on the ride back.  Hardly a word had passed
between them.

"Are we okay, Scully?"

Scully thought about it.  It was a serious question and deserved an
honest answer.  She knew the question was not about them in general,
but rather about what had happened that night.  Either way, her
answer was the same.

"I'm okay, Mulder.  You?"

He didn't answer but instead reached out and stroked her cheek
gently.  In a weird way, this evening had been exactly what they
needed.  How Mulder had known that, she wasn't sure, but it had done
something to them, fixed what was broken.  Somehow, Mulder had
managed to reassure her that no matter what happened with the X-Files
and his quest, he would always be there, always be a part of her
life.  She didn't need to fear losing him just because a bunch of
liars and manipulators had taken away his dreams.  Likewise, she
suspected that her behavior that evening had reminded Mulder how
totally she trusted him, how much confidence in him she had, so he
didn't need to obsess about betraying her or not being deserving of
her.  

"So, the fair is your idea of counseling, Mulder?" she questioned. 
He had told her that the evening was just about having fun, but she
knew that he had hoped it would help ease some of the tension that
had been building between them recently.

"Well, yes.  You won't have that nightmare again.  I guarantee you." 
He flashed her a beautiful, comforting smile.

"Or my money back?"

"Or we'll just have to go out and have mindless fun again."

"Threat or promise?" she teased.

Mulder threw back his head and laughed loudly.  His happiness brought
a smile to Scully's face.  "Oh, that's a promise, Agent Scully."  He
smiled and grasped her hand in his.  "A promise."  Scully squeezed
back.  

"And what about your nightmare, Mulder?  Do you think we've cured
that problem?"  She laced her fingers through his and flashed him a
sincere smile.

Mulder hesitated, then looked at her seriously.  "I pick you, Scully.
 I pick you."  Scully felt the wind rush out of her with the power of
Mulder's words--so simple, yet full of so much that had gone unspoken
between them for so long.  She looked at him for an endless moment,
knowing that her eyes would tell him what she wasn't able to say.

"I did have fun tonight, Mulder.  Really."

"I knew you would," he said seriously, then his face brightened with
humor.  "At least one of us enjoyed those deathtraps!"  Scully smiled
at him and could feel tears welling up in her eyes for some reason
she couldn't yet comprehend.  Mulder raised her hand to his lips and
kissed the back of it.  Again, so gently, so tenderly.  It took her
breath away and she could feel that uncontrollable trembling return.

She left the car.  She was tempted to ask him up, to continue the
evening, but it felt like they had had enough for now.  For tonight.

**********

Scully climbed into bed after grabbing her dream journal off the
nightstand.  She hunted through the nightstand drawer for the thick
black magic marker she knew was there.

Scully opened the journal to where her spot was marked.  She popped
open the marker top and drew a thick black line below the last entry,
the last nightmare she'd had of chasing Mulder through the tunnel. 
Then, she drew another thick line below the first.  She would not
have that dream again.


THE END
___________

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