Part 1 of 2

F.B.I Special Agent Fox Mulder slid a final pile of
papers into his brief case and reached for his jacket. Almost five and time to hit the road. He couldn't wait to get home. It was, he admitted to himself ruefully, a far cry from the days when he worked the X-Files. Then, he and Scully would often burn the midnight oil in their basement office. He'd developed a reputation as a workaholic back in those days but, to be honest, he was really more of a Scullyholic. It wasn't that he enjoyed working so much as he enjoyed spending time with her.

Now the object of his addiction was at home. Along
with the second object of his affection, their infant
daughter Melissa. Since money wasn't a problem, Scully had opted to take the full six months of allowable maternity leave. Mulder knew she really enjoyed the time she spent with the baby. But he also knew that, after an entire day as an at-home mother, she was usually eager for conversation with another adult by the day's end.

"Agent Mulder? Can I talk to you about something?"

Mulder looked up to see Special Agent Andrew Chan
standing in the doorway, holding several files. The
young Asian-American man was Mulder's personal
favorite among the agents on his serial killers task
force.

"Will it take long?" Mulder asked.

"It might," Chan admitted. "But it's kind of an
offbeat case - if it even is a case - and I'd like
your advice on it."

"Would you be willing to come home with me, so we can
look it over there? That way we'd have Scully's input, too."

"If it wouldn't be an imposition," Chan replied.

Mulder shook his head. "No problem."

After a quick call to Scully to announce he was
bringing Chan home with him - Mulder figured that all
three of them would be terminally embarrassed if
Scully chose this evening to greet him in a negligee
or something - and a promise to pick up some takeout
food for dinner, Mulder and Chan left.

"Can I ask you a really stupid question?" Mulder asked as he and Chan walked out to the parking garage.

"What?"

"Do you like Chinese food?"

Chan chuckled. "Actually, that question isn't as
stupid as you might think. A lot of Chinese-Americans
don't like what passed for "Chinese" food in most
take-out restaurants. As it so happens, I like it
okay."

"We'll pick some up, then head out to the house,"
Mulder replied. "If you lose sight of me in the
Beltway traffic, buzz my cell phone."

Within less than an hour, both cars pulled up in front of Mulder and Scully's home. Mulder practically leaped out of the car. From the time he left in the morning 'til the time he returned in the evenings, he was away from Scully ten hours every day. Too damned long, in his opinion.

Scully, holding Melissa in her arms, opened the door
and smiled at him as he walked up the driveway. Mulder had to admit that some heretofore buried part of his psyche really enjoyed this ritual. It could have been a scene from his own childhood or even from his father's childhood. Mommy and baby waiting in the
doorway to greet Daddy when he returned home from a
hard day's work.

Mulder kissed Scully - on the mouth, but only briefly, since Chan was right behind him - and took Melissa from her. "Hi, pumpkin," he said, kissing his
daughter's downy soft cheek. He was rewarded with a
toothless smile.

"Hi, Dr. Scully," Chan said as he entered the house
behind Mulder.

"Hello, Chan," she replied. "Please don't feel you
have to call me Dr. Scully all evening. Either Scully
or Dana is fine."

The four of them went into the dining room and Mulder
secured Melissa in her infant seat while Scully dished up the food Mulder had brought home and poured glasses of iced tea. By mutual, unspoken consent, they didn't discuss the case during dinner. Once the table had been cleared and Melissa resituated on a play quilt in the living room, Chan opened his briefcase and took out a pile of folders.

"So, tell us about this case that might not even be a
crime," Mulder said.

"Well, there's no doubt that a crime - several crimes, actually - took place," Chan said. "What's doubtful is whether or not there's any connection between them or anything that would make them a matter for the bureau to investigate."

"Why don't you start at the beginning," suggested
Scully. "With where and when the crimes happened and
how they came to your attention."

"The crimes - two murders and an assault - took place
in New York City during the past two months. All three in or very near Chinatown. They came to my attention because a private investigator named Lydia Chin, who's a personal friend of mine, asked me to see if there might not be a link between the three of them."

"Is Lydia a girlfriend or ex-girlfriend of yours?"
Mulder asked.

"No, but not from lack of trying on the part of
would-be matchmakers in both our families," Chan said.

"Lydia's brother is married to my cousin. We met at
their wedding and have seen each other at a couple of
other family parties since then. Both her mother and
my aunt thought that, since we're both vaguely in what could be termed law enforcement, the two of us would make a perfect couple. Lydia and I realized early on there just wasn't any attraction of that nature between us, but getting that message through to our respective families has been difficult. Still, I'm the only person she knows who works for the F.B.I. and when she asked me to look into this case, I didn't want to turn her down."

"Let's see the files," Mulder suggested.

Mulder and Scully, sitting beside each other on the
couch, skimmed over each of the three files while Chan remained quiet.

"Well," he said, when they put the third file down.

Mulder spoke slowly, "On the surface, there doesn't
seem to be any connection to the three crimes. The
first victim was a 34-year-old married white male who
was killed two months ago in Chinatown by blunt force
trauma to the head. M.E.'s report says most likely a
baseball bat, but no weapon was found at the scene.
Second victim was a 26-year-old unmarried black male
who was killed five weeks ago a block or so away from
Chinatown. M.O. is similar, but this time around it
looks like the weapon was more likely a rock or brick; again, no weapon was found. Most recent victim, who was beaten but not killed, is a 45-year- old divorced white male. The location of this one, which occurred just last week, is also in Chinatown."

"There are some similarities," Scully said. "But in a
city the size of New York there's a lot of violent
crime. I'm not sure any three assaults or murders
selected at random wouldn't show a certain number of
points in common."

"If you - or your friend Lydia - is thinking this is
the work of a serial killer, I seriously doubt it,"
Mulder said.  "Serial killers rarely cross racial
lines and, interestingly enough, the killer and his
victims are almost always of the same race. They also
tend to target people who are fairly similar in age
and marital status - say, young single men or
middle-aged married women."

"Other than the fact that all three victims were male
and that all were residents of New York City, rather
than visitors, I don't really see any similarities
between the three victims," Scully said.

"There's a link, but it's a tenuous one," Chan said.
"But the most recent victim - the only one who
survived - is a business associate of Lydia's. More
than that really; closer to a business partner, I
suppose, and a personal friend as well."

"So, are you going to tell us what this. . .Bill
Smith," Mulder said, glancing at the file again, "has
in common with, um, Rick Kirkland and Delroy Jackson?"

"As I said, Bill and Lydia are business partners and
friends. They're both private detectives. A
Chinese-American woman and a white man. Rick
Kirkland's wife was Chinese-American. For the last few months of his life, Delroy Jackson was dating a
Chinese-American woman."

Mulder and Scully were silent for a moment, their eyes meeting in a glance of unspoken communication. Could be, they both agreed. It's a lot less weird than some of the cases we've investigated over the years.

"So your theory - or Lydia's theory, maybe - is that
these are hate crimes? Some whacko with bizarre ideas
of racial purity meting out punishment on those who
dare to cross ethnic lines in their relationships?"
Mulder asked.

"I see a glitch with that theory," Scully said. "We're dealing with different kinds of relationships.
Kirkland and Jackson had personal relationships,
intimate relationships with the Chinese-American women in their lives. But you say Bill and Lydia have a business relationship."

Chan shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure it's strictly a
business relationship. Lydia was very upset when she
called me. More upset than, I'd think, most people
would be if something bad happened to someone who was
merely a professional acquaintance. I didn't really
question her about the details of her relationship
with Bill. It started out as a business relationship,
I know that. But you two, of all people, should now
that relationships which begin as professional
partnerships can sometimes grow more personal over the years."

Mulder and Scully smiled at each other over that last
remark. It was true that they had done exactly what
the F.B.I. most strongly encouraged male and female
agents who were partnered together *NOT* to do: fallen in love with each other and gotten married. Even had a child which, judging by the reactions of some of the bureau brass to the news of Melissa's arrival, had simply been adding insult to injury.

Melissa chose that moment to let out a wail. "She's
probably ready for a diaper change and then to be fed
and go to sleep," Scully said. "I'll be back down with her in a few minutes."

"You stay here and go over the reports," Mulder
suggested. "I'll get her ready for bed and bring her
back down to you."

Mulder scooped his daughter up in his arms, making
goofy faces at her while he carried her upstairs. She
was such a delight!

Scully put the three reports side by side. Bill
Smith's injuries had been similar to, but less severe
than, the ones that led to death for the other men.

"Does Lydia have any ideas as to why her. . .partner
survived while the other two men didn't? Especially as he was older, it would be likely that his injuries
would be more severe, not less so?"

"Lydia chalked it up to Bill being street smart; you
know, tough and savvy. Unlike the other two who were,
by profession, an engineer and an insurance agent,
Bill's been in dangerous situations before. He
probably realized the danger before the attack
actually began and so was able to defend himself to a
certain extent," Chan said.

Mulder soon returned with Melissa, who was now wearing a nightgown. She opened her mouth and made gulping noises when she saw her mother.

"Will it bother you if I feed her while we talk?"
Scully asked. "I know some single men feel uneasy
around nursing mothers."

"I don't mind," Chan said. "I appreciate you - both of you - giving up an evening of your personal time to look into this for me."

"Actually," Scully said, smiling at both her husband
and Chan while getting her daughter situated, "I'm
enjoying it. Mulder shares the information from some
of his cases with me, of course, but this is the first time since Melissa was born that I've been in on the ground floor of an investigation."

Mulder glanced at his wife. He supposed the picture
she made ought to look faintly absurd. She had Melissa in the crook of one arm and was holding an autopsy report in the opposite hand. Rather than amusing him, however, he found that looking at her evoked feelings that were a mixture of pride, tenderness and desire. One of the things he'd always loved most about Scully was her multi-faceted personality. Her ability to nurse their daughter while assimilating the facts of a homicide was only further proof of that.

Scully looked up to see Mulder smiling at her and
smiled back. She'd been telling the truth when she
said she was glad to be included in the case, and she
really enjoyed Chan's company, but she was beginning
to wish the younger agent would leave now. She wanted
to touch her husband some more. Usually, from the
moment he arrived home, they were in contact. He'd
nuzzle her, hold her in his lap, run his fingers along her arm. . .but, she supposed that Mulder felt such behavior, even in the privacy of their own home, would be inappropriate in front of another agent. Except for the brief kiss when he first arrived, he'd maintained his distance. She took advantage of switching Melissa to the opposite breast to brush her fingertips lightly along Mulder's forearm and was rewarded by seeing his smile grow even brighter and a "Wanna play?" twinkle in his eyes.

"So. . .what do you two think?" Chan asked. "Is there
a connection here? Or are Lydia and I just making
mountains out of molehills?"

"I don't know," Mulder said slowly. "The Ku Klux Klan
or a similar white supremacist type group might want
to "punish" white men for becoming involved with Asian women. But I don't really think they would care about blacks and Asians becoming involved with each other; to their mindset it would probably just be two
"inferior" races co-mingling."

Chan sighed and said, "You're looking at it from the
opposite angle that Lydia and I were, but maybe that's a good thing."

Scully grasped the impact of Chan's words before her
husband did. "You and Lydia think that Chinese- American men are responsible for these
crimes?"

Chan nodded. "Asian-Americans aren't always quite the
"model minority" we're touted as being.  And these
particular crimes. . .they go right to the heart of
what is currently one of *THE* biggest concerns in the Asian-American community. Asian-American women marry outside their own ethnic group at a much higher rate than any other portion of American society. Think about it. I'm sure you've both seen couples composed of a white or black man and an Asian woman. It's so common that, except in truly backwater places, nobody even gives such couples a second glance. But the opposite rarely holds true, which puts Asian-American men - like myself - in something of a bind. You know, how I told you earlier about Lydia's brother being married to my cousin and everybody trying to set us up?"

Mulder and Scully nodded.

"Well, there was a similar situation involving a
family wedding that went just the opposite way. My
sister got married last summer. Nice guy. White guy.
I met one of my brand new brother-in-law's cousins at
the wedding. She and I spent the whole rehearsal
dinner and reception talking; really seemed to hit it
off. She wasn't prejudiced, generally speaking, about
the idea of Asian-white romances. I mean, she thought
it was just great that her cousin was marrying my
sister. Turns out the woman - her name was Christy -
lives in Philadelphia. Not too far away, so I figured
fate was smiling on me. I suggested that maybe I could come up one Saturday, she and I could do dinner and a movie. She looked stunned. Said, "You mean like a *DATE*?" Then she started stammering about how she
didn't really think, how I was a really nice guy and
everything but she just couldn't consider. . .Well, I
got the picture. It's not like it hasn't  happened to
me before. Lots of white women are perfectly fine with the idea of being "just friends" with Asian guys, but the idea that we might have some sort of romantic or sexual interest in them simply freaks them out."

"Are you bitter about that?" Mulder asked.

Chan sighed. "Oh, hell, how do I answer that? Am I,
personally, pissed off about it enough to beat the
crap out of some white or black guy just because he's
dating an Asian-American woman? Of course not! I
wouldn't do that in any case, but for me there are
really tangled personal circumstances. I've told you
about my maternal grandfather, right?"

Scully nodded. "Irish-American cop.  Brought your
grandmother back from Korea as a war bride. Your role
model the whole time you were growing up; the main
reason you joined the F.B.I."

"Right," said Chan. "It's kind of hard for me to hate
white men who marry Asian women when the man I loved
most in the world did exactly that! Not to mention the minor fact that if Grandpa hadn't married Grandma, I wouldn't be here. But it still rankles sometimes."

Mulder met Scully's eyes for a moment before
answering. "I think there is, at least, ground for
suspicion. A series of killings - well, two killings
and an attempted murder - which could justify a couple of agents from the F.B.I.'s serial killers task force going up and at least talking to Lydia Chin and Bill Smith. Maybe talking to Mrs. Kirkland, too."

"And Delroy Jackson's girlfriend, if we can find out
her name," added Scully.

"When?" Chan asked.

"Tomorrow, I suppose," Mulder said.

"Am I coming, too?" Scully asked.

"Sure," Mulder said. "We'll have to take Melissa with
us, since you're still nursing, so it will have to be
unofficial. But I don't think Chan will tell on us.
And since you'll be sharing my hotel room and riding
up with me, there won't be any extra expenses."

After arrangements were made among the agents - it was agreed that Chan would fly up first thing, Mulder and Scully would drive and meet him later that day - Chan left. Melissa was asleep by this time, so Scully
carried her up and laid her gently in the crib then
tiptoed into the master bedroom across the hall.

Mulder spent a few minutes locking doors, gathering up files and turning off lights downstairs, then walked quietly upstairs. Scully was already in bed, naked, when he reached their room. Mulder gave a grin and sat down to take off his shoes and socks, then reached for his tie.

"Fox?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Go slow?"

Mulder's ears turned slightly red at the request. "You want me to STRIP for you?"

"Why not? I do it for you."

"Um. . .okay," he muttered, unknotting his tie and
drawing it slowly off his neck. Then he began to undo
the buttons to his shirt. When it was loose, he
shrugged out of it and flexed his muscles as it
dropped to the floor. Scully rewarded him with a
wolf-whistle.

Mulder let his hands drift to his belt buckle and drew it off in the same lazy manner he'd used for his tie. Then he slid his slacks down his long legs. He was now standing in front of Scully wearing nothing more than his heather gray boxer-briefs and she was staring directly at the now-prominent bulge they barely covered.

"Go on," Scully encouraged, "don't stop the show
before the main event."

Mulder quickly divested himself of his shorts and
leaped on the bed with a growl, pinning a giggling
Scully beneath him. "The main event hasn't even
started yet, honey."

They kissed deeply and lingeringly, giving into the
pent-up passion that had built over the course of the
evening. Scully groaned softly when Mulder moved his
mouth from her lips to her breast. His fingertips drew teasing circles on the soft skin of her belly.

"Mmm! I like that," she said.

"You were flirting with me tonight, Dana," he murmured as he moved his lips to the opposite breast.

"Yeah, I. . .OH!, yeah, like that, Fox!" she said as
his fingers moved lower and his tongue teased her
nipple.

"It turns me on to see you nursing Melissa. Do you
think that's. . .um. . .kinky?" he asked when he moved his mouth back to her ear.

"No, lover. I think it's very nice."

"You want on top tonight?"

"Please," she murmured as they shifted positions so
that he was on his back and she was on her side next
to him. Wet though she was, Scully was in no hurry to
mount him. She let her hands and mouth glide up and
down his chest, belly and biceps. Finally she took him in hand and began to stroke him. He was so hard, so hot. So throbbing and full of life. Finally, when they were both about to snap from their arousal, she
straddled his hips and slid him inside her body.

"God, Scully! That feels so incredible. Every time
it's better than the time before."

Scully stretched on top of him, practically purring
with satisfaction. He was so big, he filled her so
completely. She wiggled and flexed, riding him until
she could feel her orgasm beginning to peak, then
going still and sighing his name as it flowed over
her.

Once she had finished, Mulder rolled her under him and began to thrust into her. His strokes were deep and powerful, but even in his daze of passion he never moved so forcefully as to hurt her. Soon he, too, had climaxed. After a few moments, he slid off her and she snuggled her head down against his chest.
 
I love you," they murmured simultaneously before
drifting off to sleep.

***

By late afternoon the next day, Mulder and Scully -
along with Melissa - had checked into a New York City
hotel room. There had been a message from Chan
awaiting them upon arrival. He had been there since
mid-morning and had spent most of the day in
Chinatown, talking with Lydia and Bill. He suggested
that Mulder and Scully meet them for dinner at a
restuarant in Chinatown and gave the address.

Mulder and Scully sat down to discuss the case while
Scully nursed Melissa.

"This is almost like being on the X-Files again,"
Scully said with a smile. "Travelling together to
another city, investigating a case which may not
actually be a case."

"I'll do my best to try to produce a body for you to
autopsy, Scully, but I make no promises," Mulder
replied.

"Mulder, do you remember, right after we got married,
when I said I couldn't stand the thought of you ever
having another partner if I went back to Quantico and
you remained an active field agent? That another woman would be horrible, but even hearing another man
referred to as you partner would be hard for me?"

At his answering nod, she continued, "Well, if it was
Chan. . .I think I could handle it. He's. . .I mean,
he. . ."

Mulder nodded again. "He respects our relationship. He understands that any major decisions I make, I'm going to run them by you first.

"So what do you think, really, about this case?" she
inquired. "Do you think the same person or group of
persons might be responsible for all three crimes or
are you just trying to humor Chan?"

"I honestly don't have a theory at this point, Scully. As I told Chan last night, I do think there's at least a possibility that the cases could be connected. But there must be thousands of non-Asian men in New York City who have relationships of some kind - be it business, personal or a combination of both - with Chinese-American women. If you're involved in a relationship, of any kind, with a Chinese-American, the odds are that you're going to spend a fair amount of time in or near Chinatown. So it could be nothing but a coincidence. I just think it's worthy of investigation, that's all."

"As someone told me years ago, that's why they put the "I" in F.B.I.," she said with a smile.

***

When they arrived at the restaurant at the appointed
time, Chan was there to meet them with a Chinese- American woman in her late 20s. She was about
Scully's height and exuded the same air of a woman who had fought - and succeeded - to make it in a man's world.

"Agents Mulder and Scully, this is Lydia Chin, the
private investigator I told you about. Lydia, this is
Special Agent Fox Mulder and Special Agent Dana Scully and their daughter, Melissa Mulder."

Scully suppressed a smile at formal way Chan had
included the baby in his introductions.

"The F.B.I. allows you to bring your baby with you on
investigations?" Lydia asked as they settled at a
table near the back of the restaurant.

"Actually, I'm here kind of unofficially," Scully
admitted. "I'm still on maternity leave, but I enjoy
travelling with Mulder when I get the chance."

"Not to mention she's a qualified pathologist and
often notices clues at crime scenes that other
investigators miss," Mulder added.

Once they had ordered, Chan said, "I think we have an
even stronger link to suggest these crimes may be
connected. Tell them what you told me, Lydia."

"Bill and I were investigating Delroy Jackson's death
at the time Bill was attacked. Bill was the one who
made the connection between Delroy and Rick Kirkland.
Neither of us considered the possibility of Bill
himself becoming the next victim," Lydia replied.

"Where is your partner, Lydia?" Mulder asked. "Is he
able to speak or to identify his attackers?"

"He's out of the hospital and home resting," Lydia
said. "At least he's supposed to be resting. If I know Bill - and I do - he's working the phone or deep in thought trying to figure out who put him in the
hospital in the first place."

"He couldn't identify his attackers?" Mulder repeated.

"A group of Chinese-American men in their 20s," Lydia
replied. "He wasn't sure if there were three or four.
He said one looked vaguely familiar, as if he might
have encountered him in a restaurant or store
recently, but he couldn't put a name to any of their
faces. Bill could probably identify them in a line-up, though; he's got a good memory for faces and, unlike a lot of whites, he doesn't think all Chinese-Americans look alike."

"How did you come to be investigating Mr. Jackson's
death?" Scully inquired.

"Vivian Li is a personal friend of mine; we grew up
together. When, after several weeks, the police didn't seem to be making any head way in their investigation of her fiance's death, she came to me and asked me to look into it for her," Lydia answered.