From: "starbuck22" <jbowne@top.monad.net>

Fletcher2:Rollercoaster by Dana Starbuck
Feedback: dks_starbuck@yahoo.com
Disclaimers: See Chapter 1
Thank yous:  Thanks to Athos & Selena for stepping in and "pitch hitting"
when I 'lost' 2 beta readers.  They seem to joined the starting lineup.
And a special thank you to deejay, who's done more than his share of
hand-holding, and not just over the beta reads.  He's worked his way from
the bullpen to the starting lineup, and now he's number one in the
rotation.  (Sorry, I'm a baseball fan, folks <G>)


<<Chapter 12>>


Wednesday, November 25th, 10:30 AM


"Hungry yet, Mulder?" Fletcher asked.

"Yeah.  I didn't have much of a breakfast."

"Look in the backseat, in the white bag."

Mulder unbuckled his seatbelt in order to reach the bag.  Once he snagged
it, he turned around and buckled himself in again.  A little-boy smile
sprang onto his face when he saw the bag's contents.   "Donuts?" he said,
surprise in his voice.  "I thought you weren't going to buy any."  He
pulled out a cinnamon sugar covered donut and began to devour it.

"You know I can't stay mad at you."  She grinned, then grimaced at his
abysmal-as-usual table manners.  "And Mulder, try not to make a mess,
okay?"

"Can't help it," he replied, the donut topping sticking to his lips and
chin.  "Do you want one?"

"Give me a bagel.  I don't care what kind."  

He stuffed his donut into his mouth as he searched the bag for a bagel. 
"Here,  pumpernickel," he mumbled through his full mouth.

"Thanks," she said, her eyes never leaving the road as she took the bagel
from him.  "Think you can manage getting me a bottle of water out of the
cooler?"

"Sure."  He finished his donut before returning his attention to the
backseat once more.  He grabbed a bottle for himself as well.  "Do you
think we'll make the ferry?"

"The last one is at ten o'clock.  We damn well better make it to Woods Hole
before that.  I'm aiming for the eight forty-five ferry."  

He put the water bottles in the cup holder between the seats before
reaching in the bag for another donut.  <Mmmm.  Mmmm.  I just _love_ fresh
donuts.>  "Have a good time last night?" he asked between bites, a small
smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, we did, as a matter of fact."  Fletcher refused to be baited.

"Sounded like it."

"Bullshit.  There's no way you could have heard us in your room."

"I didn't hear you _there_.  I was on my way down to the kitchen for a
little late night snack and, well...you know..."

"No, I _don't_ know.  Tell me."  <I'm not gonna let him get away with silly
little comments and innuendo.  He's gonna have to say what he heard.>

"I wasn't spying or anything," he said, suddenly defensive, and
embarrassed.  "I just happened to overhear you two as I was walking by your
room.  That's all."

"Guess we'd better get you a little apartment refrigerator for your room."

"Well, the way things have been going between you two, that probably
wouldn't be a bad idea."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Scully's in love with you, you know," he said brusquely, almost
challenging her.

"Did she tell you that?"

"No, but I can tell."

"Oh, and just how can you _tell_?"

"Fletcher, I've been with Scully for almost seven years.  I've never seen
her look at anyone they way she looks at you, never seen her act the way
she does whenever you're near her.  and it's not just a, uh, a physical
look, either."

"Do you mean, she doesn't just 'have the hots' for me?"

"Yes...No...I mean, she's...it's not just a physical attraction for you,"
he stammered.

"Mulder, your detective powers haven't slipped one bit," Fletcher said
wryly.

"Huh?"

"I know how Scully feels.  I know she's in love with me."

<Uh oh. I know what _that_ means.>  "And what are you gonna do about it?"

"What do you mean - 'what am _I_ gonna do about it'?"

"How long are you gonna leave her hanging?  Don't you think the holidays
are a lousy time to dump someone?"

"Who said I was going to dump her?"

"Aren't you?  I'd almost rather you did dump her instead of stringing her
along," he added.

"Mulder, I wonder about you sometimes," she sighed, not really angry with
him.  "You can be so off-base."

"Why's that?"

"I'm in love with your partner," she said quietly.

"What?  You?"  Mulder was glad he was sitting down.  <_She's_ in love with
Scully?  No way.  Fletcher swore she'd never fall again.>  It was the
_last_ thing he thought he'd hear Fletcher say.  

"Yeah, I know," she confessed. "It surprised me, too." 



Wednesday, 2:30 PM

Scully had stopped at her apartment to pack before going to her mother's
house.  She wasn't really in any hurry to get there.  <I can't wait until
Fletcher stops traveling so much.  It would be so nice to be able to have
more than a night or two together.  I don't think we've ever spent more
than two or three consecutive nights together.>  She changed lanes in the
ever increasing holiday traffic.  
<Sleeping alone is getting to be tougher and tougher.  Huh.>  She smiled. 
<Never thought I'd be thinking _that_.>

As she pulled into the driveway, she saw her brother Charlie and his sons
in the side yard, kicking a soccer ball.  She beeped her car horn and
waved.  They stopped playing and came running over to her.

"Aunt Dana!" the boys called out.

"Hi, JR, Kevin," she greeted them, getting out of her car.

She didn't have to bend over too far to get her hugs hello from the boys. 
<My God, they're growing like _weeds_!>  Charlie waited until she'd said
hello to his sons before approaching her.

"Take your Aunt's bags to the house, boys."

"Okay," Kevin said.

Scully took her bag out of the backseat.  "It's not too heavy for you?" she
asked them.

"No," JR assured her. "We'll both carry it."

The two boys, nine and seven years old, each grabbed an end of the bag, and
carried it into the house.  It wasn't heavy, just awkward.

"Hey, sis," Charlie said, hugging his sister.

"Charlie."  She gave him a long, hard hug, then kissed his cheek.  He was
surprised at the intensity of her hug, but kept his thoughts to himself. 

"Everyone else inside?" she asked.

"Bill and Tara are visiting Jack Dylan, his old C.O. on the 'Osborne'.
They'll be back in time for dinner," he explained, picking up her other
bag.

"When did you get here?" 

"Last night."  The two redheads walked to the house together, each with arm
around the other's waist.  "It's good to see you, Dana.  We're all glad you
could join us."

"Getting the time off was easier this year.  I'm going on a new assignment
next week, so my boss didn't want us on any new cases."

"Where are you going?  Wait, never mind.  You can tell all of us at once
instead of repeating your story."

"Thanks."

"You won't believe how big Katie is now."

"Is her hair still red?"

"Three kids, and she's the only redhead.  It's more your color than mine." 
He grinned and ruffled her hairdo, eliciting a laugh. "And she's got the
temper to go with the hair, too."

All Scullys were quick with a raised eyebrow. "Are you insinuating
something, Lieutenant Scully?"

"Moi?"  He put his free hand to his chest. "I know nothing of insinuation.
I am just a simple Search and Rescue deity..."

"Emphasis on 'simple'," she cracked.  He laughed, eyeing her hairdo. 
<She's wearing it shorter,> he mused.  <And I've never seen her wear it
over her eyes. It's actually kind of sexy.>  He wondered why that was so
unsettling.  

Maggie was waiting for them at the front door.  Scully gave her mother the
same hug she gave her brother.  Startled by the strength of her daughter's
hug, Maggie looked over Scully's shoulder at Charlie.  He looked back at
her and shrugged his shoulders.  Scully threw in a peck on the cheek. "Good
to see you, Mom."

"We were worried you'd get caught in the traffic," Maggie said, leading
them through the hall and into the living room. 

"Just missed it," Scully said, shucking out of her trenchcoat. "My timing
was good, for once."

"I put you in your old room."

"Great."

A sturdy four-year old girl came running into the room, braids flying, her
mother bringing up the rear.  Katie Scully was dressed like her brothers,
in jeans and a NAVY sweatshirt.  Already she was showing signs of being a
tomboy, constantly tagging along after her brothers.

"Aunt Dana!" she shouted, flying into Scully's arms.

"And how's my goddaughter?" Scully asked, picking her up and hugging her.
<Charlie wasn't kidding! She's not just big for her age, she's solid, too! 
She's built more like Charlie than either of the boys.> 

"Gramma said I could help smash the 'tatoes tomorrow," the young girl
exclaimed.

"Oh, really?"  Scully looked at her mother, one eyebrow raised.  Maggie
smiled and nodded.  Scully set her niece down and greeted her sister-in-law
with a warm hug.  "Hey, Jill."

"It's been way too long," Jill said, giving Scully a squeeze.

"What are you feeding this one?" Scully asked, nodding at Katie.

"Frosted flakes and steroids," Jill deadpanned. "Gives 'em that rosy glow
in their cheeks."

"Good healthy Navy diet," Charlie put in, adding to the laughter. Katie
didn't know what they were laughing about, so she hugged her father as an
alternative. He tugged on a braid and held her close with one hand.

"Can I do anything to help now?" Scully asked her mother and Jill.

"Between Jill, Tara and I, we've pretty much got everything done for
tomorrow."

"If you're smart, sis, you'll just stay out of the way," He winked at
Scully.  "I'm surprised Mom allows anyone else in her kitchen.  You know
how territorial she is," he said, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Charles Scully," Maggie said sternly, but her mouth twitched with a
badly-hidden smile.



Wednesday, 11:00 PM

After saying goodnight to the others, Scully headed upstairs to her old
room.  It hadn't changed much since she'd moved out.  The walls were still
an off-white, the matching bedspread and curtains still the same green and
blue patterns.  <That's new,> she thought, spying the framed print her
mother had 
put up.  Scully had never been one to put up posters when she was a
teenager, unlike most of the girls she'd known; the exception had been the
human anatomy poster she'd put up when she'd finally decided that she
wanted to be a doctor.  <Mom took it down as soon as I left for college. 
Guess she thought it was too graphic or offensive.>  

She smiled as lifted her bag up and set it on one of the twin beds.  She
opened her purse and dug out her cell phone.  She sat down on the other
twin bed and pressed the speed dial. 

- - - - -

Fletcher had left her cell phone on the dresser so she could find it
quickly.  She was reaching into the cooler for a beer when it began
ringing.  <If this is work, I'm gonna be _pissed_!>

"Buchanan," she answered.

"It's me."

<Thank you, Goddess, I owe you one.>  "Hey, Red."

"Are you there yet?"

"Yup.  We checked in about half an hour ago.  What time did you get to your
mom's?"

"Just after two.  How was the drive for you?"

"Not too bad until we got into Connecticut.  We picked up a lot of traffic
coming out of New York City.  How about you?"

"Okay.  I was ahead of most of the holiday traffic coming out of the city."
 Scully laid back on the bed.  "Are you alone?" she asked.

"Yeah.  Mulder went to see if he could find some hot food.  He should be
back soon."  She heard the silence at the other end.  "Something wrong,
Red?"

Scully paused, then asked, "you're sharing a room?"

"Yeah.  Is that a problem?" Fletcher replied, sitting down on her bed.  She
tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she unscrewed the cap
off a bottle of beer.

"No.  It just surprises me, that's all."

"We're only sharing a _room_, not a bed.  We always have.  I like to keep
an eye on Mulder while we're in Chilmark.  I don't like leaving him alone
when he's like this."

"How is he?"

Fletcher shrugged, even though no one was there to see it. "Quiet, moody. 
He'll be okay by the time we leave."

Scully still worried, but she accepted the reassurance.  <I miss you like
fire, Fletcher, but I'm glad you're there for him.>  "What're you doing
tomorrow?"

"After breakfast, we'll drive around, walk the beaches.  And if we can find
an open restaurant, have a nice dinner.  Either way, we'll be back in our
room for a few beers and to watch the football games."  She took a long
swallow from her bottle.  "What time is dinner for you?"

"Same time it is every year when my brothers are here - between the
football games."

"That's late."

"Oh, we won't starve.  We have breakfast together, then munchies when the
first game kicks off - mostly vegetables, crackers, cheese.  Nothing too
heavy."

"How's it going there?"  <And even though Mulder needs me, I wish I could
see for myself.>

Scully had her shoes off and had her back against the headboard.  "Okay. 
It's pretty hectic with four young kids under foot."

"I bet."

"I wish you were here, Fletcher," Scully said, lowering her voice.  "I
really want to feel you beside me tonight."

"Anyplace _else_ you want me?" Fletcher said, her voice light, almost
teasing.

"On top of me," she whispered.  "In me..." Scully's hand automatically
dropped into her lap.  She squeezed her legs together, trapping her hand.  

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, Scully?"

<I do, Fletcher.  It's the same thing that happens to me when you talk to
me in that deep, husky voice of yours.>  "No, tell me," she said
suggestively.

"I...don't think so.  That wouldn't be a very good idea."

"Why not?"

"Red, the last thing I need is to have Mulder come back to the room and
find me with my hand down my pants, having phone sex with you."

Scully laughed softly.  "It's going to be a long four nights, isn't it?"

"Yup," Fletcher laughed along with Scully.  "Good thing it's only four
nights.  Any more than that and Mulder might even start looking good," she
cracked.

"Very funny.  I suppose you're going to be staying up late and watching the
porno channels."

"Not at this hotel.  We're lucky we get the network channels and ESPN."

"I'm surprised you two didn't pack a VCR and some of his tapes."

"Not this trip.  Besides, he's not into watching them while we're here." 
She looked up at the sound of the key in the door.  "He's back."  Mulder
walked into the room, a bag in each hand.  "Looks like he was successful." 
She covered the phone.  "What'd you get?"

"Hi, Scully," he called out. "I sweet-talked the waitress at the local
diner to stay open long enough to fix us clam chowder and BLTs," he said in
response to Fletcher's question.

"Surprise, surprise," she said into the phone. "He did okay with the food,
Red."

"I'll let you go, then," she said.

"Pleasant dreams, Scully."

"Nighty-night, Scully," Mulder added.

"Goodnight, Fletcher.  I love you." 

"Me, too," Fletcher said.

"Oh, tell her you love her, will you?" Mulder complained, as he flopped
down on his bed.  "Your food's getting cold."  

"Mulder says I should tell you 'I love you'," Fletcher said.

"Really?"  Scully was surprised.  "Did you tell him?"

"Sort of."

"Oh," was all Scully could manage to say, her grip tightening on the phone.

<Uh oh.>  "We'll talk more tomorrow.  Love you.  Sleep well."

"You too, Fletcher."

Fletcher set her phone down on the bedstand.  <She's not pleased.  She
wanted to tell him herself.  Shit.>  "You can be such an ass, Mulder."

"Not me."  He handed her a large styrofoam cup containing the soup.  "It's
pretty good," he commented.  "Your sandwich is in the other bag.  Whole
wheat, toasted, no mayo, right?"

"Very good, Wonder Boy.  There's hope for you yet."

"Any more beer?" he asked, turning on the TV.

"There's a six pack on ice in the cooler."

"I love a responsible roommate," he said, getting up from his bed.



Thursday, November 26th, Thanksgiving, 7:15 AM

Scully lay in bed.  She could smell breakfast cooking, hear the kids
noisily trying to stay quiet as they made their way up and down the stairs.
 <I don't know what's different this year, but something is,> she thought. 
<I had a really fun time last night, reminiscing with everyone.  I don't
think I've seen Mom smile that much in years.  Even Bill's more relaxed
than I've ever seen him.  Maybe fatherhood is mellowing him out.>  

She pulled the covers up around her neck.  It never once occurred to her
that maybe _she_ was the one that had changed.

There was a tiny knock at her door.

"Come in," she said, sitting up.

Katie Scully opened the door, then ran in and jumped on Scully's bed.  She
was still in her pajamas - her brother Kevin's hand-me-downs. "Are you
ready to get up yet, Aunt Dana?"

She couldn't help smiling at her goddaughter's enthusiasm.  <A hundred
miles an hour, and it's not even eight o'clock yet. It's Jill that needs
steroids.>  "Are you?"

"No.  Can I get in with you?"

"Sure, but only for a few minutes," Scully said, folding back the covers. 
"I don't want us to miss breakfast."

Katie quickly scooted under the covers with her Aunt.  She laid her head on
her pillow as Scully snuggled with her. "Gramma said she was going to make
chocklit chip waffles for us."

<Oh yes.  Breakfast of my dreams.>  Scully smiled to herself.  <Sorry,
Fletcher, but even your omelettes can't top my mother's waffles.>  "She
used to make them for your daddy on very special occasions."

"Do you like them?"

"I might eat one or two."  Scully smiled.

"I can't eat as many as Kevin and JR," she said, her face in a frown. 
"Someday I will."

"I'm sure you will, too."

"We might get a dog," she said suddenly.  "Daddy said we could.  Mommy
doesn't want one.  She said she'll have to take care of it all the time
when Daddy goes back to his ship.  Did you ever have a pet?"

"We had a few.  Your daddy even had a pet rat when he was a boy."

Katie's eyes doubled in size.  "A rat?  Coooool!"

"Gramma didn't like it very much."

"Did you?"

"It was a white rat with a big brown spot.  He was very nice."

"What was his name?"

"Fred," Scully laughed, surprised she remembered.

"That's a silly name for a rat," Katie giggled.  She hopped out of bed and
tugged on Scully's hand.  "Let's go eat breakfast."

"Okay.  I'm hungry, too."

Scully put her robe on over her pajamas.  Katie held her hand all the way
down the stairs. Upon seeing the others around the dining room table,
Scully was struck once again by the difference in her brothers and their
families.  Bill and Tara were dressed and sitting at the dining room table.
 Mathew was sitting in his high chair, fussing over his breakfast.  Charlie
and his family were still in their pajamas.  The boys' plates were covered
with half-eaten waffles and a puddle of syrup.

"Daddy, what happened to Fred?" Katie asked her father as she sat down in
front of plate with a fresh waffle on it.



Thursday, 10:45 AM

"Where to?" Fletcher asked, getting behind the wheel of her Cherokee.

"Just drive.  I don't care where," Mulder said morosely.

"Aye, aye, sir."

Fletcher pulled out of the motel parking lot.  She knew where he _really_
wanted to go and it didn't take her long to get them on the road to the
Mulder house.  She'd driven there enough times over the past nine years
that she knew how to get there without asking Mulder for directions.

She parked in front of the house and cut the engine.  Mulder didn't move,
simply staring out the window at the forbidding structure.  <Say it.  You
think it every year.  This time, say it.>  "You really should do something
with the house, Mulder," she said softly.

That seemed to set him in motion.  "What do you mean?" he asked, getting
out of the car and heading up the front walk.

"Either sell it or rent it.  It shouldn't just sit here empty.  It's time
to let go of it.  It doesn't hold any good memories for you."

She didn't have to mention Samantha or his father.  He turned and stared at
her, his eyes both dark and blank.  <Shit,> Fletcher swore to herself. 
<It's a bad one this year.  Maybe 'cause it's the twenty-fifth anniversary
of Samantha disappearing,> she mused.  She turned up the collar to her
coat.  <Damn, that wind just goes right through me.>

"What do you know?" he asked, his back to her once more.

"Enough."  Fletcher paused, then continued, "there was nothing you could do
then, and there's nothing you can do now, Mulder.  You were just a kid, for
chrissakes.  What were you supposed to do?"

"I was supposed to be the one," he said angrily, starting to walk around
the house.

She cut him off before he could get away.  "Well, it didn't happen that
way, bud," she said harshly, stepping in front of him.  "It wasn't your
choice, anyway.  And no matter how much you beat yourself up, it won't
change one damn thing."

"Stop trying to psychoanalyze me," he snapped back.  "You sound like one of
those radio-shrinks."

Fletcher grabbed the back of his head.  For a split second, Mulder thought
she was going to head-butt him, then just as crazily thought she was going
to kiss him.  He stared into her eyes, which were quickly growing dark.  He
put his hand on her arm as if to knock it away, but he stopped himself.

"Mulder, listen to me," she said calmly, her eyes no longer dark.  "I hate
to see you like this.  It tears me up inside to see you do this to
yourself, year after year."

"It...it was my fault..it's all my fault..." There were tears in his eyes
and he looked down at the ground.

"No, none of it was your fault.  Not really.  Not even what happened to
Scully.  You've been a victim, Spooky.  You've been a pawn in a sick
fucking chess game.  Nothing more.  And there wasn't - isn't - anything you
can do about it."

Fletcher hugged Mulder close to her body as if trying to absorb the pain he
felt.  He sighed once and allowed Fletcher to hold him.  He nodded his
thanks and hugged Fletcher back.

"Mulder, you're all the family I really have.  You're a brother to me, even
if you have a dopey first name," she said, trying to coax a smile from him.

Mulder stepped back, his small smile almost looking like a grimace.  "Who
says _I_ have a dopey name, 'Eudora'?"

"I might have to get mad at you, Mulder.  You _know_ first names are
off-limits."

"I wasn't the one who made the crack about first names," he answered.

<Good,> Fletcher thought.  <He seems to be coming back.  I'll just have to
keep teasing him for the rest of our stay here.  The sooner we leave, the
better off he'll be.>

"What do you say we try to find a place for dinner and then catch the Lions
game?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.  They walked away from the house without
looking back.



Thursday, 3:45 PM

"Charlie, Bill, Dana, boys, dinner's ready," Maggie announced.

"The game's gone into overtime." Bill complained.

"The turkey needs to be carved, William Scully," Maggie said, her voice a
little sterner.

"Let Dana do it," Charlie suggested, a twinkle in his eye.  "She's good
with a knife."

"No way," Bill said, immediately getting up from his chair.  "That's my
job, not hers."

Charlie looked at his sister and winked.  Once Bill had left the room,
Scully moved next to her younger brother.

"Once a chauvinist, always a chauvinist," he whispered to his sister.  

"He's just playing Daddy's role," Scully chided him. 

"Maybe," Charlie allowed. "Still, I feel sorry for any women serving on his
ship.  He's probably a real pr - er - jerk."

"No doubt," Scully said dryly, a slight smile crossing her face.

Katie came into the room in a blur, like she always did.  She climbed up
onto her father's lap.

"I helped with dinner.  I smashed the 'tatoes."  She turned around and
looked at the TV.  "Who's the good guys - the blue shirts or the white
shirts?"

"Well, Daddy likes the Lions."

"Which ones are they?"

"The blue shirts."  Charlie looked up at the doorway.  "Did Bill talk to
you about tomorrow yet?" he said in a lower voice.

"No.  What about it?"

"Katie, go wash up.  You too, boys."  

"Aww, Dad," JR whined.

"_Now_, sailor," Charlie said firmly.  The boys sighed and trudged off
after their sister.  He waited until his kids were out of earshot before he
continued.  "We've set up an appointment with a photographer.  We're going
to have a family portrait taken of all of us as a Christmas present for
Mom.  We're all supposed to leave at different times and meet at one
o'clock so Mom won't get 
suspicious."

Scully mentally reviewed her on-hand wardrobe. She was not pleased with the
results.  "How formal?"

"Well, Bill and I will be in our dress blues.  And you know Tara will be
wearing some getup.  Jill won't be so formal."

"You'll have to put me in the back.  I don't have any skirts or dresses
with me."

"How about a sweater and slacks, like you're wearing now?  That'll work."

"Are you sure?"  <I think I'm wearing my best outfit now. It'll be wrinkled
by tomorrow. I'll borrow Tara's iron. She always carries one...or maybe I
could pick up a blouse and sweater at the mall beforehand.>

"It'll be fine."

"Charlie, Dana, time for dinner," Jill said from the doorway.



Thursday, 5:40 PM

"I still can't believe they screwed up the coin toss," Mulder said, his
mind still on the previous game.

"It was pretty strange," Fletcher agreed.  "Get me one, too, wouldya?"

Mulder grabbed them both another beer out of the cooler, then sat back down
on the bed beside her.  "I think the Cowboys are gonna get beat bad in this
game."

"Would you like to make a little bet on how much?" Fletcher asked, a gleam
in her eye.

"Nah, I know better than to bet a _spread_ with you."

"As long as you're talking football, Mulder," she warned.

"What else would I be talking about?" he asked, his attempt at wide-eyed
innocence failing.

"Well, with your pornographic mind..."

"Not me, never."

"Uh huh.  Right.  Whatever you say, Spooky.  Hand me the bag of chips,
wouldya?"

He set the bag of chips on the bed between them, grabbing a handful for
himself.
<I can't believe neither of us is drunk yet,> Fletcher thought as she
reached into the bag of chips. <How many beers have we had since dinner?  I
know we've split a six pack, maybe two.>  She looked over at Mulder.  <He's
okay now, has been since we got back to the room, but I don't know how long
that'll last.  I wish we could leave tomorrow instead of Saturday.>

"So, tell me, Fletcher," Mulder said trying to sound casual, "are you
really in love with Scully?"

"Do you think that's something I'd kid about?"

"No.  I just have trouble believing it."

"Believing what?  That anyone could be in love with Scully?"  He remained
silent.  "Mulder, are _you_ in love with Scully?"  Fletcher was curious.

"No...not _in_ love with her."  He drank deeply from his bottle, his eyes
still on the TV.  "I thought I could be once, but I think it was more guilt
over what has happened to her.  I guess I feel protective of her,
responsible."  He looked at Fletcher.  "And that means I want to protect
her from getting hurt..."

"By people like me," Fletcher finished for him.  Mulder's silence spoke for
him.  "Mulder, I don't know what I can say to convince you of my feelings
for her.  I love her, I'm _in_ love with her.  She's the best thing that's
ever happened to me.  I don't know how I lived without her."

Now it was Mulder who was curious. "What makes it different for you?"

Fletcher looked at the TV now, but she wasn't watching the game. "Scully's
a remarkable woman. I felt a connection with her the first time we met.  I
mean, sure, I was attracted to her. Who wouldn't be?  But..."  She shook
her head. "I can't explain it. I'm not sure I want to, to tell the truth." 
She took a decent pull on her beer.  "And it constantly amazes me that
_she_ loves _me_."

"Why?" he smirked as he leaned back on the bed. "You're not so bad..."

Fletcher snorted. "Says the guy who thinks I'm gonna cut and run now that
I've lured her into my web."

"A good handicapper goes on past performance," Mulder offered, trying to
make a joke out of it. 

"Yeah, well, you got this old nag down pat," Fletcher muttered, looking at
her beer bottle like there was something unknown inside it.  She began to
scratch at the label with her thumbnail.

<Great. Nice job, Flash,> Mulder thought, guilt gnawing at his collarbone.
<Jesus, if I'd known it was this serious, I'd have shut my big fat mouth.>
"You've had a history," he finally said.  "That doesn't mean you're not
good enough for her."

"'Not good enough' isn't the point," she snapped, a little heat rising
through the gloom.

He didn't want to say it.  <But she's brought it up.  Kind of, anyway.> 
"Is Clarice the point?"

Fletcher closed her eyes. "Nothing gets past you, does it, Wonder Boy?"

Mulder sat up again. "Fletcher," he said haltingly.  "You don't need me to
tell you whose fault it was.  You _know_ what went wrong there.  It's no
mystery.  You remember that old saw they had above the door to one of the
classrooms at Quantico? 'Those who do not remember the past...'"

"'...are doomed to repeat it,'" she finished it for him.  The maxim didn't
seem to help her mood.

"Some things are more true than others.  Don't let the past stop you, but
don't _forget it_, either.  Don't...make that same mistake..."  He put his
hand on the small of her back.  "And keep being as good for Scully as you
have been..."  That got a small smile.  He kept going. "...and you can't go
wrong."

She never took her eyes off the bottle.  "I'm good for her, huh?"

"She glows," he said seriously. "I've seen her in almost every possible
situation, every possible mood.  But I've never seen her glow.  _Never_.
It's great to see.  You get the credit for that one, Fletcher."

Fletcher's eyes glistened.  "I guess miracles do happen."

"Hey," Mulder chuckled, "fairy tales can come true."

She squinted at him. "Who you callin' a fairy?"  She punched him lightly on
the shoulder.  They laughed and then they cheered.  The Vikings had scored
again.



Thursday, 11:05 PM

Fletcher woke up with a start - her phone was ringing.  The TV was still on
and provided the only light in the room.  She reached out in the nearly
dark room and groped for the phone only to get a handful of hair.  <Mulder?
 What the hell is he doing on _my_ bed?>  He hardly moved.  <Shit, we never
should've done those shots of Schnapps,> she silently groaned, rubbing her
forehead.  
 
"Buchanan," she said hoarsely, struggling to sit up straight.

"Hi, it's me.  Did I wake you?"

"Uh, sort of."  Fletcher cleared her throat, then turned to the sleeping
body beside her.  "Goddamnit, Mulder get in your own bed," she said,
nudging him.

"Excuse me?" Scully said, not really sure of what she had just heard.

"Sorry.  I was just telling Mulder to get off of my bed."  She pushed him
with her foot until he mumbled something.

"Um, Fletcher, what's Mulder doing in your bed, or shouldn't I ask?"

"He's not _in_ it.  He's _on_ it.  And he's getting off of it _right now_,"
Fletcher said more to Mulder than Scully.  

"Okay, okay," he grumbled, rolling off the bed and stumbling over to his
own.  He crawled onto his bed and immediately fell back asleep.

"We fell asleep watching some movie," Fletcher explained.  "We were
drinking and never got around to having any dinner.  Guess we passed out."

Fletcher looked around the room.  The dresser next to the TV was covered
with empty beer bottles.  The half-empty bottle of Peppermint Schnapps sat
beside two plastic cups.  <Well, at least with the lights off I don't have
to look at that ugly green wallpaper,> she thought.

"I once thought you two were like the Hardy Boys," Scully commented.  "Not
anymore.  You're more like a couple of the 'Lost Boys'."

"We're not _that_ bad," Fletcher protested.

"Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that you two have done a lot worse
than just getting drunk and passing it out."  Scully sounded serious, but
she couldn't keep the smile off her face or out of her voice.

"We've...uh...we've had our share of...um...'fun'," Fletcher stammered.

"I'm sure you have.  I think it explains those few Mondays over the past
several years when I wondered what Mulder had been up to over the weekend. 
All this time I thought he was trespassing on secret military installations
or watching the skies for flying saucers.  I know better now.  I'd even bet
a week's pay he was with you."

"All work and no play makes Mulder a dull, uptight G-man," Fletcher
cracked.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"All work and no play makes you..."

"I'm sure you can fill in the blank yourself, Red,"  Fletcher grinned.  She
reached back and rearranged her pillows.  "How was your dinner?"

"Good.  My mother's a great cook.  I'm still full."

"I bet I can think of another way to fill you," Fletcher leered into the
phone.

"Fletcher!" Scully almost sounded embarrassed.

"Relax, Red.  Mulder's asleep."

"It's not just that..." Scully's voice trailed off.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't want to be thinking about...you know..."  Scully resisted the urge
to slide her hand down inside her pajama bottoms.  <Not now.  I can't think
about it _now_.  Absolutely not.  I've just got to stop thinking about how
much I wish Fletcher was here...kissing me...touching me...>  She stifled
the groan that threatened to escape from her lips.  <This isn't working.>

"Tell me, Scully," Fletcher urged, her voice lower.  "Thinking about what?"

"Fletcher, I'd rather just go take one of your prescribed cold showers than
think about spending another night without you."  She slid under the
covers, hoping the cool sheets would help.  <I really don't want to take a
cold shower now.  There's no way I could explain _that_ to my family.  'Oh,
yes, Mom, that was me in the shower last night.  I just _had_ to take a
cold shower.  Why?  My lover's miles away and I'm going crazy without her
and her touch.'>  She smiled.  <Definitely _not_ a scenario I want to play
out with my mom.>  She swallowed hard then shook her head once to clear her
thoughts.  "I _miss_ you," she said.

"I miss you, too, love."

"It's different this time, not like when we're apart because of work."

"I know, I know."  Fletcher stretched, then covered her mouth, muffling her
yawn.  "Just two more nights."

"Two _long_ nights."

"Red." Fletcher's voice became serious.

"What?"

"Are you upset that Mulder knows about us?"

"He's known about 'us' since the beginning, Fletcher."  Scully was
confused.

"I don't mean him knowing that we're sleeping together."

"Oh, you mean, Mulder knowing how we feel."

"Yeah.  You sounded a little upset last night."

"Not upset, just surprised.  I didn't think you'd tell him."

"I didn't have any choice.  It just kind of came up out of the blue."

Knowing Mulder the way she did, Scully knew he must've sprung it on
Fletcher.  <She probably felt like she was being ambushed,> she thought, a
small smile on her face.  "How is he with it?"

"It wasn't anything new to him.  He'd already figured it out."

"And you?  How do you feel with him knowing?"

"I'm okay with it.  How 'bout you?"

"All right, I guess.  It sort of makes sense that he's the first to know. 
He _was_ the one that introduced us after all," Scully smiled.  She heard
Fletcher yawn.  "It's getting late.  I'll call you again tomorrow night."

"Love you, Red."

"I love you, too."

"Good night.  Have a good sleep."

"You, too."

Fletcher set her phone down.  She went over to Mulder and saw that he was
still out cold.  She sighed, sat down on his bed and took his shoes off. 
She pulled the covers down and rolled him under the blankets.  <This is the
last year we do this, Spooky,> she thought, tucking him in.  <I'm getting
too old for this.>

She took off her shoes and got into her own bed.  She watched the TV for a
few minutes, then flicked it off.  <Damn, I wish it was Scully that was
here with me.  Oh, well, if wishes were horses...>

<<End Chapter 12>>