Value & Honor
by Forte
(Forte1354@aol.com)

Please see Chapter 1 for rating, summary, disclaimer, etc.

Looking for prior chapters?  They're available at
http://www.fortunecity.com/lavender/diaz/705/forte.html.


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- Chapter 9c -

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Along the Potomac River
Washington, DC
Saturday, 1:18 p.m.


"Scully, have I told you lately that you're amazing?"

Scully came close to chuckling; it was the second time Mulder had
made such a comment in less than twenty-four hours.  If their
conversation weren't so serious she might have given him a rare dose
of her laughter.  But their topics =were= serious, deadly serious. 
So she gave him another small smile instead, to show she recognized
his attempt at tension-breaking humor.  She replaced the smile after
a moment with a somber countenance, re-focusing on their
conversation.

"Mulder, I know I said yesterday that I don't have hope.  Maybe I
don't have hope of ever having children, but I do have hope about
other things.  We have Kurt's messages, and that's a place to start.
 That's where my hope starts."

She watched the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile. 
"Yeah, we do, Scully.  We have a place to start."

Hope, and a place to start.  That reminded Scully of her mother
describing, to a very young Dana, how she would feel after going to
confession for the first time.  Funny how her current conversation
with Mulder felt so... well, confessional.  <"It didn't bother me to
be around Tara when she was pregnant with Matthew.  But sometimes I
see..."> -- she'd gestured down the path that the dark-haired Emily
and her mother had taken -- <"and I get... jealous, I guess.">

When was the last time she had confessed an emotion as strong as
jealousy to him?  < Bless me, Mulder, for I have sinned. >

In their case, though, perhaps another version would have to be
added: < Bless me, Mulder, for I have been sinned against. >

Scully straightened her back, keeping her gaze on her partner. 
"They took away a part of my life, of my future, Mulder -- a
significant part, but not all of it.  I refuse to crawl in a corner
and die because of what they've taken away from me.  If I do that,
they win."

She glanced at the ground and breathed deeply again.    She returned her gaze
to her partner.  "We can beat them, Mulder.  I'm sure of it."

"I want to believe that, Scully.  You know that."

Even through his earnest tone, Scully recognized the self-doubt --
the unspoken "You =do= know it, don't you, Scully?" -- in Mulder's
last three words.  That same self-doubt had led him to seek her
reassurance at lunch the previous day, asking whether she felt her
loyalty to him was misplaced.  As she'd done at that lunch, as she'd
done again as she drove home that evening, she asked herself: 


And, again, she gave herself the same answer:

< For God's sakes, tell him! >

Scully pressed her hand over Mulder's, looking him in the eye as
though she were in a staring-down contest with his insecurities. 
"Mulder, I decided a long time ago that I couldn't stop doing this. 
Couldn't stop fighting.  Like I told you this morning, my strength
gets run down sometimes.  But I've been re-energized, and I'm ready
to keep going.  As long as I -- we -- need to.  I can think of far
worse ways to spend a lifetime, Mulder."

She watched Mulder blink as he tried to process what she'd said.  It
was almost amusing; it wasn't often that she left him speechless. 
Maybe she should do it again.

< Tellhimtellhimtellhim >

 her memory scolded, once again replaying her thoughts from
Friday's lunch.  < Just telling him isn't enough.  Show him -- you
have the irrefutable proof. >

Scully stood.  To ensure she had Mulder's attention, she brushed her
fingertips across his shoulder.  "Let's go.  There's something I
need to show you."

He looked up at her, face blank, head tilted at a slight angle.  He
blinked again.  "Show me what?  Did you find something else about
the Morse case?"

"No, nothing like that.  It's not related to a case."  Realizing
what his next question would be, she added, "It's not related to our
visit from Kurt, either."

Mulder's brow furrowed as he pushed himself up from the bench,
snatching up the bag of food at his side.  "What is it, then?"

Scully shook her head to indicate that she wouldn't explain. 
"Where's your car?"

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Georgetown
Washington, DC
Saturday, 1:55 p.m.


"So much for getting outside for some fresh air.  But thanks to the
bumper to bumper traffic, we certainly got our minimum daily
requirement of carbon monoxide."  Mulder deposited the bag with
their lunches on Scully's kitchen table with a *thud*.  He made a
face at the noise and placed the laptop on the table with a far more
gentle touch.  "We could have walked here a lot faster, Scully, and
it would have been much healthier."

Scully slid her briefcase onto the table as well.  "Without a car,
what would we do when the Gunmen deciphered the messages from Kurt? 
Besides, we don't need the attention we'd get if our cars were left
at the Hoover Building on a weekend."

Mulder fingered the top of the lunch bag, his face relaxing.  "I'm
glad you had such sound reasoning, Scully.  It's the second time
today you've insisted we take separate cars.  I was about to become
very self-conscious about my personal hygiene."

He stripped off his jacket and heaved it toward the grey and white
striped couch; it landed on the edge of the arm.  The jacket slid
down the arm and fell to the floor, dragged by the weight of the
cash and ID's he'd gotten from Frohike, the CD and hard copies of
the airline passenger manifests, and his cell phone.

Mulder scowled at his poor lob.  "Short shot," he muttered.  He
stalked over to the couch and scooped up the jacket.  He paused to
pull out the ID's from the inside pocket before dumping the jacket
on the couch, then returned to the table, where Scully stood
watching him.

His mood brightened considerably as he shuffled through the ID's. 
He handed the two sets of driver's licenses, credit cards, and
passports to Scully, a gleam in his eye.  "Take a look, Scully. 
Like I said, Frohike really outdid himself."

Scully inspected them, nodding her approval, and handed them back to
Mulder.  "I'm impressed.  I just hope we put them to use soon."

Mulder sifted through the documents again and imitated Scully's nod.
 "It should be soon, Scully."  He laid the ID's on the table and
looked at his partner.  "So."

She raised an eyebrow.  "So?"

"So I've shown you mine, Scully.  How 'bout you showing me yours?"

She arched the eyebrow higher, saying nothing, but Mulder detected a
twinkle in her eye.

"Come on, Scully, enough with the Secret Squirrel stuff.  You
haven't told me a thing.  What is it that you want to show me?"

She hesitated a moment, then turned and walked to the coat closet. 
Mulder watched as she opened the door, pulled out a roll of wrapping
paper that was leaning against the wall inside, and shut the door
again with a quiet *click*.  She crossed the room back to Mulder and
offered the roll of paper as though she were presenting a sword:
arms extended, hands palm up.

Mulder tried not to look confused as he gazed at her offering.  The
paper wasn't particularly memorable:  wide stripes of dark green,
navy blue, and burgundy that reminded him of a rugby shirt.  Why was
she showing him =this=?

"I'm a trained investigator, Scully.  And that's a roll of wrapping
paper."

Scully seemed to fight back a smile.  "On the outside, yes."  She
pivoted her wrists downward; the tube rolled to the edges of her
fingers.

Mulder turned his gaze to her and recognized the confident, resolved
look she'd had when she'd been studying the Jefferson Memorial.  He
looked back down at the roll of paper and took the proffered gift in
both hands.  He knew his attempt at looking unconfused was failing. 
"If this is my birthday present, you're a few weeks late."

As she dropped her arms, an enigmatic smile broke through on
Scully's face, but she made no comment.

Brow furrowed, Mulder turned the tube over end-to-end in his hands. 
It was then that he understood his partner's last comment.

There was something rolled up inside the cardboard tube.  Had she
gotten another message from Kurt?  No, she'd said this had nothing
to do with Kurt.  "Secret Squirrel" was right.  What the hell was
she hiding in a roll of wrapping paper...?

Mulder placed his middle and index fingers inside the tube and slid
out the paper cautiously to avoid ripping it.  He unrolled it with
equal care, feeling Scully's eyes on him.

And then he stared, mouth agape; he would have shouted his delight
if his stunned brain could have formed coherent words.  The muscles
of his hands twitched in shock as he stared at the familiar sky, the
familiar craft, and the familiar words.

I WANT TO BELIEVE.

It took Mulder several seconds to get his vocal cords to function. 
"Scully?" he croaked.  He looked up at his partner.  By the pleased
look on her face, he knew that his own delight was coming through in
his wide-eyed, dazed expression.  "Where did you get this?"

Her smile opened up wider.  Oh yes, she was pleased with herself. 
"Right where you told me it would be, Mulder.  Head shop on M
Street."

Mulder remembered the brief conversation, months earlier, after
Scully's pseudo-vacation in Maine.  He'd been so focused on Scully's
mention of another man that that concern had overshadowed both her
question about the poster and his answer.  He swallowed, turning his
awed gaze back to the symbol of his life's work.

After several seconds, Scully's quiet voice pulled Mulder from his
reverie.  "I have my own version of 'I want to believe', Mulder." 
He looked up at her again, meeting her determined blue eyes.  "I've
thought a lot about our work and our partnership since we were
refused re-assignment to the X-Files.  It's occurred to me that,
while our different perspectives are valuable in solving cases, our
stubbornness can get in the way.  We tend to look at our opposing
viewpoints as being mutually exclusive, and it shouldn't have to be
that way.  We complement each other -- as I said yesterday, we work
better together than we ever could separately."  She paused,
gesturing with her eyes at the poster.  "I want to believe that the
truth is out there, Mulder... and that we'll find answers that we
can both be satisfied with.  However long it takes us to find it,
and regardless of whether we get the X-Files back officially.  The
answers are out there -- we just have to figure out where they've
been buried."

Well, didn't that sound familiar?  He grinned.  "That's why they put
the 'I' in FBI, Scully."

She smiled in return.  "I'm not saying that I'm going to subscribe
to The Alien Abduction Journal, but..."  Eyes still locked on his,
Scully reached up and wrapped her fingers around his right forearm. 
Mulder felt a surge of energy run toward his fingers, as though the
poster served as a lightning rod.  "Mulder, this quest that we share
now... I can't imagine doing anything else.  I can't imagine doing
anything else =with= anyone else.  I've always demanded proof from
you, some physical evidence to support your theories.  I know you
don't need this, but I thought you deserved something tangible from
me, something more than words or actions.  Proof of my commitment to
our work."

Mulder's eyes flicked to the poster and then back to his partner. 
"Scully... this is..."  He stared at her, momentarily speechless. 
How the hell could he respond to such heartfelt sentiments from his
usually staid partner?  His jaw opened and closed a few times, no
words coming out.  Finally he shook his head.  "I don't know what to
say."

"Well..."  She paused, tilting her head at him.  "'Thank you' might
be appropriate."  The mock reproach was complemented by one arched
Scully eyebrow and another enigmatic smile.

Without taking his eyes from her, Mulder brought his hands together,
slowly, reverently, letting the poster roll up like a window shade. 
He laid the poster across the kitchen table with his free left hand.
 Grinning, he rotated his right arm slowly, Scully's grasp
loosening, until he was able to envelop her arm with his own
fingers.  He gave a gentle tug.  Still smiling, Scully released his
arm and stepped toward him.  She slipped her arms around his waist
as he ran his hand up her arm, sliding it around her shoulder as his
other arm came up to complete the embrace.

Mulder sighed, absorbing her warmth as he rested his cheek against
the silky crown of her head.  Then, softly, "Thank you, Scully." 
His eyes slid closed as he held her to him tightly, reveling in the
rare openness she was sharing with him as she returned his fierce
grip.  After a few seconds he repeated, "Thank you."

He inhaled deeply, breathing in pure, natural, unperfumed Scully. 
It was so, so rare that he experienced this heady rush from being so
close to her.  In fact, it had been months since... since before
Antarctica.  Since the hallway.  Not identical circumstances, but
both were embraces of warmth, of deepest affection; not because one
of them was sick, or injured, or just rescued from some horrific
danger.  Part of Mulder felt surprised, part felt delighted, but
mostly, as he had when they'd held each other in that hallway, he
just felt... right.  Comfortable.  Like he was where he was supposed
to be.

Like everything would turn out okay as long as she was nearby.

< Lifetime... > his memory echoed.

Wow -- maybe opportunity was presenting itself on that silver
platter a lot sooner than he'd expected.  Maybe this was one of
those "inevitable moments" that he and Scully had talked about as
they sat on the bench by the Potomac.

<"You should tell her, Mulder.  And soon.  What the hell are you
waiting for?">

Mulder tightened his embrace for a moment; Scully made a sound
between a sigh and a hum, returning the gesture.  Well, if he was
going to tell her how he felt about her, this would be a good time,
wouldn't it?  Or would it ruin the moment?  And just what should he
say to break the ice, anyway?  <"Hey, Scully, the Gunmen were asking
about you and me...">

No.

<"Nice back muscles, Scully.  You been working out?">

NO.

<"Hey, Scully, wanna --">

=NO!=

Try something simple, Mulder.  Something honest.

<"This is nice, Scully.  We ought to do this more often.">

Yeah.  That'll work.

But then... what would =she= say?

Well, she could tell you she likes it too, couldn't she?  You'll
never know unless... you just say it.

Mulder suddenly realized that he was moving one of his hands in
small circles on Scully's back, was gently nuzzling her hair with
the side of his face.  When had he started doing that?  And when had
Scully tightened her hold around his waist?

Stop thinking, Mulder.  Just say it!

"Scully?"

There was a pause before a very relaxed Scully sound came back to
him.  "Hmm?"

Justsayitjustsayitjustsayit...

Deep breath.  "This -- "

*RIIIIIIING*

A muffled trilling came from the direction of the couch, startling
Mulder from his short speech and stilling his body.  FUCK -- the
sound came from his jacket, damn it!  Mulder squeezed his eyes, and
his arms around her, tighter.  Maybe if he just ignored it...

"That's you," Scully murmured into his chest.

He exhaled his words into her soft hair.  "I didn't hear anything."

Scully pulled away from him gently; as he opened his eyes to look
down at her he was elated to see reluctance in her eyes.  He kept
his hands gripped loosely at her shoulders.  Scully looked toward
his jacket, then back at him, but she didn't move away.  Voice low,
she stated, "Mulder, it could be the Gunmen."

Mulder sighed, then released her reluctantly, trailing his hands
down her arms, feeling like a starving man being dragged from a
sumptuous feast.  He moved to his jacket and pulled out his cell
phone, feeling irritated, resigned, and relieved at the same time:
at least it was just a phone call and not a bee sting.

< Okay.  Could be the Gunmen.  Be nice. >  He thumbed the phone on and
forced his voice to be neutral.  "Mulder."

At the sound of the caller's voice Mulder scowled, his body
stiffening.  He turned and took a few brisk steps away from Scully,
gripping the cell phone as though he intended to crush it.  When he
spoke, his tone was clipped, barely civil.

"What do you want, Diana?"


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- end Chapter 9c -

Next: Chapter 10

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Feedback is cherished at Forte1354@aol.com or bjm1352@aol.com.