Title: The Way I Saw It
Author: Jaime Lyn
Email: Leiaj@bellsouth.net
Rated: R, for bad language.  My belief is that people have "potty mouth minds" 
when they're angry.  
Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance (actually UST first)
Spoilers: If you haven't watched "The End" then you will have no clue who 
Diana Fowley is.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.  Please don't sue.  Thank you.
Summary: Scully has had an awful day, Mulder is drunk, and Diana Fowley thinks 
its all Scully's fault. Who is right? Who is wrong?  And what the heck happened? 

::Author's note::  Ok, this story is told as if the characters are the ones 
telling it, to you, to the audience, or to whoever, and the present time it takes 
place is around 2 am in Kansas.  The "flashback" parts are told from the point 
of view of whichever character has current control of the storytelling, and are 
meant to be looked at as if they are happening in the present time. (Even though 
we can see that they have already happened in the past, but then, I guess that's 
the point of a flashback right?) Ok, that 
wasn't so hard right? *smile*

((((((ALL FEEDBACK LOVED, CHERISHED, AND REPLIED TO---HINT HINT (grin.) )))))

Ok, so on with the show.  

For Jen: My best bud. I was going to call this "How Scully Got Her Groove Back," 
but I decided against it.  LOL. 

The Way I Saw It (part 1: Assumptions and Ruminations)
By Jaime Lyn
 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Corcoran Motel, 
Witchita Kansas,
2:14 am, Early August 14th.

SCULLY STARTS HER STORY:
   ~^~^~^~^^~^~~^~

Ok. Little known fact: Visiting Kansas in August is like visiting Hell itself, 
only Kansas is less pleasant and hotter than Hell, and at least in Hell you're 
already dead, so life can't get much worse. 

Sigh.   

Unfortunately, I've learned throughout my years that life can and usually DOES 
get worse before it gets any better, but I mean, come on now. I honestly think 
that I've had my fill of "worse" for the day, so where the hell's the "better"?  
I certainly haven't seen it.  And as for Mulder... well, let me just say that 
he is going to get a taste of just how bad life can and DOES get as soon as I 
get my hands on him.  The second I see him, as a matter of fact.  

I'm going to kill him, I swear to god, the second he walks into this room.  

Why?  

Because Mulder's ditched me... again... AGAIN, goddamn it, and "again" must 
be the gigantic understatement of the year.  I mean, how many times does this 
make it?  Oh, I dunno, A BILLION?

And not only that, but he left me with all the paperwork.  ALL of it.  

And you know, I hate doing case write- ups.  I do. 

No, I mean I really, REALLY hate them.

Really fucking hate them with a really big fucking passion---please excuse the 
expletive.  Sorry. He just MAKES me want to curse.  I usually... I never... I mean 
I don't curse but...

Well this is HIS goddamn fucking paperwork!

He should be the one doing these stupid write ups instead of me... instead of me 
covering for him again. Doing his paperwork AGAIN.  

God, I hate these fucking things.  

I especially hate doing them after spending 12 fucking hours in a makeshift fucking 
autopsy bay out in the "middle of fucking nowhere," Kansas...or wherever it is that 
we are right now.  And I really hate forgoing both breakfast and lunch to spend 6 
fucking hours on a fucking airplane---a crowded and small fucking airplane---sitting 
next to Mr. "Dan-I-can't-stay-out-of-your-personal-space-how-are-you-beautiful?" 
Webster, computer salesman and LOSER extrordinaire ... And even THAT was after nearly 
12 fucking hours the night before, of covering for HIS fucking paperwork... AGAIN!!

But no, I'm not bitter...Really I'm not.  Really. Truly. 

I'm not...

I'm just enraged.  Completely enraged.  

See, there's a BIG fucking difference.
 
Oh, and did I mention when it was that I slept last? Well, I'd like to think 
it was sometime during the middle of last March, but I can't be positive about that.  
I really don't know.  I don't know because I don't sleep. I don't sleep because I'm 
never home.  I'm never home because of Mulder.  Sensing a pattern here? 

The fucking bastard.  I have criteria for that.  

But where was I again?

Oh yeah.  My story. So anyway, Mulder calls and wakes me up at 6 o clock this morning.  6 O CLOCK For god sakes!

"Scully, get up," he says.  "16 decapitated humans in Kansas with no discernable 
suspect," he says.  "All have been drained of blood and we have an 8 o clock flight" 
he says.

"Go away Mulder, it's Saturday" I say.

I wanted to kill him.  

As a matter of fact, I still do.   

Oh, and did I mention that I'd already been up all night trying to make a dent 
in the expense reports that he so "casually left on my desk" the evening before?---
that bastard.  Well I had.  And I was pissed---to say the least.  And tired.  And 
annoyed.  And so very NOT in the mood for him at the moment it wasn't even funny.  
But did he care??  No, why the hell would he? 

So anyhow, he repeats "8 o clock Scully" and of course, he doesn't understand how 
in the world I wouldn't want to go with him.  Decapitated bodies at 8 o clock in 
the morning?  Autopsies galore?  Being up to my neck in blood and guts on a Saturday?? 
Oh yeah, that's certainly MY idea of fun.  Of course, I'll go.  It'd be an absolute 
honor Mulder.  A real fucking field day.  Wait---Lemme go get my party hat.  

You know,it's amazing. The man can be a relative genius when it comes to profiling 
and behavioral models, but when it comes to tact, he's about as thick as lead.  
And when it comes to ME, he's about as observant and considerate as an empty fish 
bowl sometimes. 

So OF COURSE he doesn't hear that I'm tired, and repeats "Scully" into my ear 
twice more while I groan, wishing that there were some way to successfully point 
and shoot a gun into the receiver.  There wasn't, unfortunately, and with THAT 
option obviously being out, I distinctly remember telling him to "Go away."

To which he succinctly replied "Wake up." 

To which I deftly replied "No," and then to which, of course, was answered with a 
"Get dressed." 

So being as chipper as I was at 6 am, I took a moment to angrily flip off the phone 
and realize that I should've just hung up when I had the chance.  I should've just 
let him suffer.  But I didn't, and if only I knew then what I know now, I would have 
hung up.  I really would have.  

But he prodded me with "Oh come on Scully," and of course, I let him win. Why? 
Because I always let him win.  Why?  Because I am just inherently STUPID. I just AM.  
That's why. 

And when I failed to respond this first "Scully" he repeated "Scully" again and I 
swear to you, I was ready to kill. 

Maim, stab, shoot, ANYTHING. 

Oh Jesus Christ Mulder just let me sleep for THE LOVE OF GOD, I wanted to scream 
at him, I really did.  

But I didn't say a word and he took this as acceptance. 

"I'll be there in an hour," he says.  "We'll eat along the way," he says.  
"I swear, you can sleep on the plane," he says.  

Yeah, right; whatever Mulder.  You want to know what I ate today?? Huh??  Coffee.  
And a peanut--I think.  And you wanna know what else? I would've just loved to 
have slept on the plane, I really would have... if only I hadn't been packed into 
it like a sardine... And relegated to conversation with "Dan-Mr Wonderful-prozac-
poster boy."  Oh yeah, that was fun too.  A regular barrel of laughs let me tell you.  

But now I digress.

So Mulder told me to get going and I of course responded the best way I could.   

"You know something Mulder? Fuck---"

But unfortunately, he hung up on me.  Right in the middle of my sentence, and 
right before I got to finish my expletive too--Damn it.  He knows I never curse 
and I had really wanted him to hear it.  But I'm sure he was, no doubt, so giddy 
and worked up over a bunch of mutilated, insanguinated tourists, that he decided 
to jump up and dance around his apartment before he came to pick me up and interrupt 
my Saturday. 

Of course, if I had known then that he was really on his car phone, that he was 
already on his way to picking HER up, I DEFINETLY would not have come.  I wouldn't 
have even gotten dressed. I wouldn't have bothered.   I would've hung up on his sorry 
ass and gone right back to bed. I would've slept all day. I could've slept all day.  
Damn him.  And damn that Diana Fowley too. 

He thinks she's really on our side but I know better.  I see her. 
I see what she wants and I can see through her games. I know that she can't be 
trusted. I see it and I SENSE it, but he doesn't and that bothers the living hell 
out of me. He sees her through rose colored glasses with blinders on. 

Oh yeah.  Because Diana would never do that Scully, no NEVER.  Not Diana.     

God, I hate her.  That nuisance.  That LEACH. I mean, just who exactly does 
she think she is?  And where the hell does she come off anyway, just plastering 
herself to MY Mulder's side(and he is MY Mulder, by the way), acting like she's 
just the newly appointed goddess of everything X File?  

Well, you know what?  She's not. She's just not and she never will be.  
I don't care who she is or where she came from.  =I= am the only X Files 
Goddess(or whatever ridiculous name you wanna give it)around here.   =I= 
earned that damn title god damn it. I spent 6 YEARS earning it, 6 YEARS, 
and I do NOT plan on beseeching it any time soon. I've been knee deep in monsters, 
alien abductions, conspiracies, and blood and guts for far too long to have her 
come along and take away what's rightfully mine.  

I've been through TOO much with the X Files and more importantly, too much with 
MULDER just to have her come along and try to undermine me with her "little miss 
sweet and innocent oh I believe you Mulder" cutsey FBI agent act and take it all away.  I won't let her.  

There is very little that I find is stable for me in this life, and being 
the lone woman in Mulder's is my one true thing.  And if she thinks she's 
going to upsurp me.... 

Well, now I'm just getting away from the point here.  Where was I again?  
Let me think... phone call... Kansas... dead tourists... OH YEAH! Ok, I remember 
now.  So after he picked me up...

           ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
                   SCULLY:
                  FLASHBACK
             MUCH earlier that day...
          7: 45 am, outside Scully's Apt.  


"Hey Scully, Rise and shine!"

The first thing I notice is that Mulder is just way too chipper for 7 o clock 
in the morning.  It's just sick.  For some reason, he's like a fucking pop tart, 
and it's probably because of this ridiculous case.  Uck. God, he reminds me of a 
hummingbird on speed, but in actuality, I think that the hummingbird would be less 
irritating. 

With a slightly raised eyebrow, I flip down my sunglasses and drop my suitcase 
into the trunk, shoving his own into the back carelessly.  Good.  I hope I broke 
something.  

I slam the trunk lid down hard, angrily, and he widens his eyes slightly.  
He looks so godammned stunned it's ridiculous.  

"Yikes Scully," he comments lightly.  "Someone not have their v-8 yet?" 

I turn to look at him witheringly.  

Oh shut up Mulder.  Just shut up before I deck you.  

He eyes me speculatively and I eye him back.  We are so busy playing "optical 
showdown" that I fail to notice the extra duffel bag and I fail to see the extra 
passenger.   

FLASHBACK INTERRUPTION
SCULLY NARRATES:

<<>>>

FLASHBACK TO THE MORNING.
STILL SCULLY:

So SHE is here.  Great.  I should've known.    

Wonderful.  Terrfic.  Life just doesn't get any better, thank you very much for 
letting me know in advance Mulder.  

"Diana wanted to assist in this particular assignment," Mulder explains poorly, 
and I don't even bother ASKING him how she found out about the case in the first 
place.  I'm sure it's something I just don't want to know. Something that will no 
doubt make me hate her more, and right now, I don't need the added stress.  

"Fine.  Whatever Mulder," I mutter, cursing whatever god has decided to hate 
me today, and grudgingly, I get into the back seat.  

I HATE the backseat. It sounds so petty, but I do.  I hate sitting in the back, 
and I HATE the idea of her sitting in the front.  With him.  So close to him.  
Where =I= always sit.  It just makes me want to throw up.  

"Scully?" he questions, "Are you ok?" 

Now I think I really WILL throw up.

Oh yeah, I'm just peachy Mulder.  

I stare at him pointedly, and then closely observe as he shares a 
little furtive "glance" with Diana.  I quickly decide that I don't like 
that little "look" AT ALL, and I grit my teeth to control my anger.  No, I 
don't like that. Not one bit.  Mulder and I are the only ones who are allowed 
to do the "slient look" thing, and she is most certainly NOT.  So that alone, 
pisses me off.  But then she shrugs and he looks back at me as if to say, "What, 
are you mad about the seating arrangement deal?  That's kind of petty Scully" 
and I just want to choke the life out of them both.  

"I'm fine," I manage lowly, and he accepts it, closing the door and moving 
around to the driver's side to get in.  Diana turns her head around again and 
smiles at Mulder.  He closes his door and smiles back.  All in all, it's a very 
disturbing scene at 7 am on a Saturday.  Actually, it's a very disturbing scene 
for ANY time on ANY day really.  

"So Fox, you think I can handle a little Elvis today?" she asks him and then 
proceeds to laugh, as if what she's just said is the funniest thing in the world.  

Oh please.

Mulder starts up the car and then steals a glance at her, nodding as if it's 
some stupid inside joke---which it probably IS---and then he begins to laugh as well.  
Oh ha ha, yeah I'm sure it's hilarious, whatever it means.   God, I think I've just 
lost my appetite for the week.  The year.  The decade.  I hate her.  

                      ~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^~^~^~~^ 

Keep going...there's more...



Title: The Way I Saw It
Author: Jaime Lyn
Email: Leiaj@bellsouth.net
Disclaimer and all that fun stuff in the first part.  Read on!!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
2:14 am, Early August 14th,
Ford Taurus Rental,
Somewhere 5 minutes from the motel
DIANA TELLS HER STORY:

God, I hate her.  

I just really, REALLY do.

This is all Agent Scully's fault, ALL of it, this whole day, and you 
know what? I hate her. Well ok, no, that's not completely true. Some of 
this is Mulder's fault, and maybe a TEENSY bit of it is mine, but 
mostly, it's hers.  Her fault. All her fault.  

Because you know, if it wasn't for that damn woman, then none of this 
would be happening.  NONE of it.  I'm almost positive of it.  If it 
wasn't for Dana Scully, then Mulder and I would be here, alone 
together---WITHOUT her or her god damned "expertise", happily 
investigating a case that we most DEFINETLY do NOT need her help on... 
But instead, here I am, driving a rented Taurus, while watching him 
look so sick I'm afraid for the upholstery's safety.  

Damn Dana Scully.  

So what happened, you ask?  Well... EVERYTHING!!  I just... I mean... 
EVERYTHING happened!  Starting with the beginning of today, up until 
now, as I sit in this stupid rental, driving an intoxicated Mulder back 
to the hotel while he just sits here and whines something incoherent 
about disappointing his wonderful, precious "Scully."

Did I mention that I hate her yet?

Well I do.  

God, I mean where the HELL was she anyhow? And why didn't she turn her 
fucking cell phone on??  You know, I never thought I'd say this, but 
I'm starting to really wish that she HAD remembered to turn it on.  If 
she'd had the brains to do so, then I wouldn't have been the one to be 
woken from a sound sleep just to go pick up his sorry drunken ass.  

And for that matter, what in the hell was Mulder THINKING when he 
downed 4 shots of bourbon anyhow?  That it would somehow ENDEAR him to 
her?  That Ms. Ice Queen herself would just come and get him and then 
take pity on his stupid ass?  Well you know what, =I'M= not stupid and 
I know that for whatever reason, he went and drank because of her, but 
honestly, I don't know WHAT made him think that she would want to take 
pity on him because of it. And that only makes me angrier because I'M 
the one stuck picking him up.  DAMN IT!!  

I'm going to kill Dana Scully.  

But now I've strayed from the story here.  

So anyhow, Mulder and I were talking on the phone this morning about a 
case involving dead tourists when OF COURSE, he realized that he just 
couldn't do ANYTHING without his wonderful little red headed partner, 
and so he just HAD to call her and tell her.  

Nevermind that it wasn't his place to do so, but then, being 
essentially "Mulder", he went ahead and did it anyhow. Then, about 15 
minutes later, he called me from his car and told me that he had 
already made plane reservations for three people to Kansas. Of course, 
I didn't even have to ASK him why, or who the third person was going to 
be, because I already knew.  

So, trying just to be civil, I told him "ok. Sounds fine Mulder," and 
gritted my teeth the whole time, wishing that she would somehow be 
deathly ill and unable to come.  But then he was at my doorstep, not 
even 5 minutes after that, throwing my stuff into the car, and my 
futile notion was beginning to fade fast.  

"Come on," he said.  "We have to get to Scully's. I told her I'd only 
be an hour."

At the mention of her name, I really felt like pounding my fists and 
screaming but I was good and so I didn't.  Instead, I asked "So how 
long ago was that," like I really cared what time he had called her, 
and so he looked at his watch.  

"Damn---nearly 50 minutes ago" he replied and ordered me in.  

So then we got to Scully's place and she got in the car as icily as 
always, snapping at Mulder and acting like a complete Spoiled princess, 
I'm assuming, just because we woke her poor self up on a saturday. Like 
god forbid she should ever wake up early on a weekend right?

Well anyways, she didn't say a word the whole car ride, not a single 
word to either of us, and just stared out the window like a petulant 
child, irritated and ignoring whatever it was we were talking about.  

See what I mean about her being irritating?  I'm telling you, if you 
had met her, you'd hate her too.  

At any rate, about 20 minutes later, we pulled into the airport where 
of COURSE, Mulder felt so guilty about disturbing her precious "beauty 
sleep" that he just COULDN'T do enough for her... 

              ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~~^


   DIANA
 FLASHBACK: 
A little later but STILL earlier that day...
Close to 8 am. 
DC International Airport


God, they are just so sickeningly attached to each other that I think I 
may just throw up right here.  Really, I just may.  If I have to take 
another of his "knowing glances" or "concerned gazes" pointed in HER 
direction, I really, really may.   

I mean, it's bad enough that every time I tried to engage him in 
conversation while on the way here, he had to look up at the rearview 
mirror every 5 fucking minutes just to see what she was doing.  Or to 
see if she was listening.  Or to see if she was looking back at him.  
Or maybe even just to see whether or not she would decide to take her 
stupid sunglasses off.  Which she didn't---by the way.  

But now everything is all "Scully I'll get that.   Scully, let me take 
that for you.  Scully, let me get you coffee.  Scully, let me follow 
you around on a leash..." and it's making me want to bang my head up 
against a brick wall.  

Well ok, no he didn't TECHNICALLY say that last one, but he might as 
well have. It was written all over his face.  

And you know, I wonder if she even notices the way he constantly looks 
at her when he doesn't think she sees him. Like the way he's blatantly 
staring at her from behind the coffee shop counter right now.  Just 
patently gazing at her like some ridiculous lovesick puppy in heat.  
Does that ever bother her at all?  Does she know about it, or does she 
just not care? Sometimes I think it's the latter but then other times 
it's hard to tell. Because even though she's about as emotionally 
charged as a piece of bark, I can see that she is fiercely protective 
of him.  Insanely, ridiculously so, and if I didn't know better, 
sometimes, I'd even say she was jealous----of any woman who even talks 
to him. 

But you know what really irritates me?  What really irks me?  The fact 
that even though this was MY case, MY assignment, and I JUST SO 
HAPPENED to let him in on it, he just HAD to call up his precious 
Scully anyhow.  "Yeah" he said,  "That sounds interesting Diana." He 
said.   "Haven't had an interesting case in 
awhile." He said.  And then of course, the inevitable "I'll call Scully 
and tell her.  She's really good with stuff like this."

Yeah right, I'm sure she is Mulder.  I'm sure she's WONDERFUL with 
stuff like this. I'm sure she's just INCREDIBLE with stuff like this. 
Yeah, sure.  Go right on ahead and tell her Mulder, I can't wait, 
really.  And I'm sure she can't either.  I'm sure she just LOVES being 
waken up at 6 o clock in the morning on a 
Saturday for stuff like this. I'm sure she relishes it. I'm sure she 
WAITS for it.  I mean come on!! Scully is, after all, the end all to 
EVERYTHING, isn't she Mulder?  Scully is perfect.  Scully is God.  

Whatever.  Please. Just kill me now.  

And THEN, to top of it all off, he goes and tells her that the case is 
HIS, and that I'm only "assissting" him---just so that she doesn't get 
mad at him-or at least mad-DER, in her case, or whatever.  Well you 
know what? I'm going to make her SEE just whose case this is.  Like I 
would really need HER help anyhow.  

Well, at least I can take comfort in the fact that I got that one 
little dig at her in the car. ---Our little Elvis joke from about a 
zillion years ago. The one that I KNEW she wouldn't get, it's sole 
purpose just to annoy her.  It had been one of those little "inside 
jokes" that she hadn't been around for.  One that he laughed at while 
she gritted her teeth in anger and irritation and didn't think I saw 
her.  Well I did, and I really hope that it made her good and mad.  

But now I'm losing my train of thought here.  Calm down Diana.  

So anyway, there's about 10 more minutes before we have to board, and I 
spy her, over by the gift shop's magazine rack. And being the glutton 
for punishment that I am, I casually decide to walk over to where she's 
standing and retrieve a pack of strawberry bubble yum.  It's dumb, and 
I know I could probably just as easily get one over at the other shop, 
but I really want to get a good look at her.  I want to find out what 
the hell is so damn wonderful that Mulder thinks the sun rises and sets 
around her.  I want to try and figure out what the hell is so special 
about her.  

She notices me notice her and looks up briefly, almost disdainfully, 
and then raises an eyebrow, as if to say "what do YOU want" before she 
bows her head again and returns to whatever it is she's perusing 
through to pass time.  It's almost as if her distaste for me is 
radiating off her in waves.  

INTERRUPT FLASHBACK:
DIANA NARRATES

<<<>>>

CONTINUE FLASHBACK
STILL DIANA:

I glance up at her and watch as she shifts her weight from one foot to 
the other, obviously pretending not to recognize my presence.  So 
involved in this task is she, that she jumps ever so slightly when she 
hears someone come up behind her.  

"Hey Scully, coffee?"

It's Mulder's voice and Mulder's feet approaching from behind and she 
realizes this quickly, her body apparently relaxing with the knowledge. 
I watch as he touches her shoulder, offering his hand out to her in 
what looks like a delicately ridiculous peace offering.  It is the 
aforementioned scalding cup of coffee, and he somehow manages to make 
it look like he's handing her jewelry. She looks up from her paper and 
sighs, taking the cup from him like she's doing him a favor. 

Oh please. I just feel so bad for poor Scully, woken up at dawn this 
morning. My heart BREAKS for you, really it does.   

"It's decaf Scully," he declares proudly.  "And uh, there's no cream 
because I know you don't um, like it and----"

"Yes I can see that Mulder, thank you."  

He shuffles his feet and doesn't look at me at all. No surprise there. 
I wonder if he sees that I'm even around.  Probably not, knowing him.  
After all, the light that is Dana Scully shine-th so bright that I may 
need sunglasses. 
----Maybe she'll even let me borrow hers. 

Oh whatever. 

"Look Scully," he says.  "I didn't mean to ahh... I mean I didn't want 
for...."

"Me to be mad at you for waking me up." She finishes smoothly, blowing 
gently onto the surface of her coffee nonchalantly, as if she just 
ALWAYS finishes his sentences like a psychic friend.  

God, I think I may forgo the air sick bag and just be sick right here.  
How wonderfully cute.  How incredibly adorable. God, I hate her.    

"Well I was" she answers pointedly, looking up from her drink, "but 
then I suppose I would've been even angrier if you'd have gone off half 
assed without me."

For some reason that seems to make him smile although I don't see how 
it can possibly be construed as a compliment.  Like I said, I just 
don't understand it.  

"So then I saved you the trouble of coming to save me?" he quips 
jokingly at her, and she just returns it with a withering, "Been there, 
done that" look.  By god, I don't think the woman even KNOWS how to 
smile. 

"I wouldn't go that far Mulder," she answers him wryly, and that just 
makes his smile even wider. Damn it. This is really starting to piss me 
off. I just KNOW I must be missing something here.  

He gives her another goofy half grin and tips her chin gently up to 
look at him.  The fact that he's touching her at all makes me want to 
dry heave, but the idea that he'd doing it as if he thinks she's going 
to break in half makes me want to regurgitate my entire breakfast.  

I really, REALLY hate her.  

"Hey there," he says gently.  "Are we ok?" 

I'm only assuming that she takes that as his way of asking forgiveness, 
because she, to the surprise of myself, god, and the rest of the world, 
actually smiles back at him.  

"Yeah, we're ok." She replies, and then returns his gaze, as if they're 
talking in some secret code or something.  It's so strangely cute it's 
repulsive.  

Then they look up, finally noticing they have company, I'm assuming, 
from the way that Mulder abruptly removes his fingers from Scully's 
chin as if he's embarrassed, and the way that Scully simply stares at 
me, like "Hel-LO?  And you're here because??" It's almost like they've 
just all of a sudden realized that I was still alive, still HERE, which 
is probably the case, and as such, wanted to know why in the hell I was 
eavesdropping on them.  Yeah, like I'd really care what they had to say 
to each other in an airport gift shop.  

Irritated, I force them a smile and offer my gum to the cashier, trying 
to keep my temper in check.  Mulder mumbles something about going to 
check on the boarding and then silently disappears, leaving myself and 
the wonderful agent Scully alone together.  

Oh great. Thank you God.  

The gum now paid for, Scully and I regard each other quietly, 
uncomfortably. 

"So, how's the coffee?" I ask lightly. 

A pause.   

"Fine." 

We look away from each other.  Thankfully though, our not-quite-
conversation is interrupted when I hear the boarding announcement for 
our plane, a voice signaling the continuation of my descent into hell.  
                                                         
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
 2:16 am,
Corcoran Motel.
SCULLY CONTINUES HER STORY:

<<<>>>>

          ~^~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^~^~^~
SCULLY:
FLASHBACK
Around 8 am
flight 742, 
Nonstop to Kansas

Where is Mulder goddamn it?  Just where the FUCK is he?  Why is it I 
can't turn my back on him for a second?  Just one fucking second?  WHY?  
GOD, I'm going to KILL him!!

"Excuse me," someone calls from behind, and I try to move sideways for 
them, to let them pass, but I only manage to succeed in wedging my 
carry-on between two nearby seats.

Oh shit. 

"Wonderful," I mutter irritated, and the man behind me begins to tap 
his foot impatiently, like oh yeah, I'm just getting a BIG kick out of 
fighting the seat for my luggage, and so my temper starts to rise.  He 
taps his foot even louder and I wish to god that I could turn around 
and pummel the guy. Yeah Mister, Sure.  I do this every time I get on 
an airplane--- just to piss other people off.  Christ. 

Finally, I manage to pry it free with a low grunt, and Mr. asshole 
behind me mutters something like "Well it's about time," and I SWEAR, I 
am SO ready to just get out my gun and start firing at will.  

Where the FUCK is Mulder? 

Unable to figure out where the hell I'm supposed to be, I look down at 
my boarding pass and let out a miserable sigh.  Oh god, I don't believe 
this.  Coach it says.  COACH!!  I work for one of the most prominent 
federal agencies in the entire United States, and they won't even fork 
out the money for buisness class.  Oh for the love of god.

The cheap bastards.  

And then I hear it, an annoying alto voice from somewhere close by.  

"Oh just set it down there Fox, you don't have to carry it ALL over the 
plane." 

It's coming from across the aisle, and when I look up, I begin to wish 
that I hadn't. For Low and behold, there they are. My oh so wonderful 
partner and his oh so wonderful ex girlfriend slash federal agent are 
having an oh so wonderful conversation as he carries her oh so 
wonderful stuff while I'm stuck struggling with mine.  

Gee, thanx Mulder. No I'm fine---I have it---really.  So much for 
chivalry.

"Oh Good, 34 A and B.  I guess we can discuss the case then," I hear 
her from across the aisle, and I stop to watch him nod.  She then 
whispers and he's laughing at whatever it is she's just said.  It's a 
scene that just makes my skin crawl all over. 

Oh yeah, she's just great isn't she Mulder?  She's just the best.  Why 
don't you go fuss all over her while I attempt to find my seat on the 
wing of the fucking plane.  

Then he stops and looks around, as if suddenly aware of missing 
something.  

Gee, did you LOSE something Mulder?  Forget anything??  Did you perhaps 
misplace oh say...I dunno... your PARTNER?!?!

"Where'd Scully go?" he queries, as if reading my mind, and I suddenly 
get the urge to transmit a telepathic message that says "fuck you."  I 
watch as he then starts to crane his neck over people's heads to look 
for me. Yeah I'm sure it's great being 6 feet tall Mulder but 
Unfortunately, I can't keep tabs on YOU like that. 

 "I thought she was right behind us," he frowns and Diana shrugs.  

"So did I," she offers and that makes me want to laugh out loud.  

Oh yeah Diana, I'm SO sure that you were paying SO close attention to 
whether I was "right behind you".  I mean, you just SEEMED so 
enraptured with the idea of finding me and knowing where I was.  

I roll my eyes skyward.  

"I'm over here Mulder," I call dryly from across the aisle, struggling 
to get my bag under my seat, and he finally catches my eye, smiling in 
acknowledgement.  

"Hey!" he calls from the other row of seats, and sidesteps several 
people to get to me, eyeing my eminent struggle with my gray duffel.  

"Need any help?" he asks, and for the second time today, I feel like 
strangling him. 

No Mulder, why don't you go back to Ms "X-Queen" over there and try to 
see if you can get to second base before we hit Wichita?  

Oh god,  where did THAT come from?  Jesus, I really am immature about 
all this.

I need to stop it.    

"No," I grumble irritated.  "No, I'm fine."

He raises an eyebrow and nods an "ok" before moving to try and get back 
across the traffic to his seat.  His seat on the OTHER side of the 
aisle.  His seat next to HER... with HER!!  

Damn it, things just can't get any worse. They can't.  

"Hi. Excuse me, Miss?" 

The voice is from behind me, and I slowly turn to try and smile at 
whoever is attempting pleasantries on this hellhole of a plane.  At 
this point, even an ATTEMPT to be nice deserves some sort of 
acknowledgement in my book.

To my not so wild surprise, it's a man. Nicely dressed and also 
carrying a gray duffel similar to mine.    

He's of average height and build, nothing special, nothing arousing, 
and he's smiling widely at me, gesturing towards the window seat.  
"That one's mine," he says, and I gently move to the side to let him 
through.  

Whatever, I don't care. Just move so that I can get myself seated soon 
and fall asleep.

Finally, we sit and he extends a hand, as if I would want to get to 
know him or something, and I weakly take it.  He seems to be genuinely 
pleased by this and grins wider, as if to say "yeah, getting to know 
strangers on airplanes is a passion of mine.  Did I not mention that?"   
and I groan inwardly.  I am just not in the mood for this at all.  

The "fasten seatbelt sign" then starts to blink on and off and I soon 
find, to complete this picture of idiocy, that mine is stuck.  STUCK.  
My fucking seatbelt is stuck. Of course, how fitting.    

I groan and Mr. "Airplane friendly" next to me glances over and 
notices, frowning with a surprised, "So it's stuck huh?" and I just 
can't get over this.  I can't.  This just SOO figures.  

Yes, I silently hiss to myself.  Yes it IS stuck, and thank you for 
noticing Captain Obvious...  

Ok, so I guess maybe THAT was a little uncalled for...  I mean he IS 
just TRYING to be nice.   I can't just go off on everyone because I'm 
mad at Mulder.  None of this is HIS fault...

I try to smile and then manage a "Yeah, it is."

Captain Obvious smiles back and says "Well let me see it," as if I'm 
going to automatically let him, and then without warning or permission, 
he places his hands over mine to undo the knot that has it stuck.  

What the---

"See," he murmurs to me.  "Not so hard to fix."  He's still smiling. 
It's really unnerving. 

"So..." he pauses and flashes me what must be his "go get em'" smile.  
Oh god help me.  "What's a beautiful woman like you going to Kansas 
for?" 

I surpress a groan of distaste and sneak a glance over at Mulder to see 
if he notices this at all.  To see if he even cares.  To see if it 
bothers him that some indiscriminate man is hitting on me... With 
horrible pick up lines, nonetheless. 

But of course, Mulder is so deep in conversation with Diana, he is just 
apparently oblivious to all reality, including airplane crowdedness, 
tiny seats, and not at all to my surprise, me as well.  He seems 
perfectly content over there, across the aisle, gazing into HER eyes 
and sharing HER thoughts on the case... Oh god I hate her.  I hate her.  

No.  NOT this again.

Oh GOD DAMN IT!!  I. Will. NOT. Be. Jealous. Of.  Diana.   I will not. 
I have no reason to be.  

Slowly, I turn back to "Mr, Airline friendly" next to me and try to 
force a smile.  

"Oh, I'm sorry," he babbles, "That was way too forward of me. Let me 
introduce myself first.  My name's Dan."

He extends a hand to me and flashes another smile.  Oh great.  

"Dana Scully," I reply in a non-commital tone, and then shake back 
firmly.  

His hand lingers over mine for just a little longer than I feel is 
necessary, and I'm seriously starting to consider telling him that I 
pack heat.  That I am trained in hand to hand combat.  Or maybe I'll 
just knee him in the groin instead and be done with it.      

I force out another tiny amicable smile, turning my head to look out 
the window, and I hope to god that by some miniscule chance, he'll "get 
the hint" and leave me be.  But of course, because being Dana Scully 
means that I can't EVER win, It doesn't work.

I'm not a fool and I can sense him looking me over, raking his eyes 
over my body like I'm a pork chop or some other main dish, and I'm 
starting to wish that the plane would just catch on fire.  

So, you like what you see buddy? Cause I can arrange it so that you 
don't EVER see ANYTHING again.

"So, Dana," he says, interrupting the silence like I knew he would 
eventually.  "You never answered my question.  What's a pretty woman 
like yourself going to Kansas for?" 


The plane is starting to pull away from the gate.  6 more hours of 
this.  Oh Jesus Christ, someone let me blow my brains out.  This is SOO 
Mulder's fault. 
                     ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~~^^~^~^~ 

Coming soon to a theatre near you: MULDER'S SIDE OF THE STORY.  Send me 
feedback and tell me what you think.  Anxious to see what happens?  
What Mulder thinks of all this?  Send feedback.   Feedback gets 
you many stories and happy author!!! 


Title: The Way I Saw It
Author: Jaime Lyn
Email: Leiaj@bellsouth.net
Rated: "R" I guess, just because of the language.
Category: S, R, H
Spoilers: Diana Fowley from "The End."  
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance (but UST first)
Disclaimer: I don't own em'. Really, I don't.  So please don't sue me, 
I beg of you. 
Summary:  Mulder tells his side of the story on the way back to the motel.

~^~Author's note:  If you haven't read parts 1 "a" and "b" please do so now. 
Otherwise, you'll be confused. Also, the next part I post should be the 
conclusion, so fear not.  This one won't drag on forever.  Ok, on with the show.

Still for Jen. I hope you like it.  

The Way I Saw it Part 2: What he said
By Jaime Lyn 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Back to the Car:
2:17 am, early August 14th
MULDER TELLS HIS OWN STORY:
                                   ~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

Oh god, my head really hurts.  It really, REALLY does.  It's like this 
endless non-stop pounding and it's going to crack my skull in two---I just 
know it.

Now mind you, I'm not usually a weak drinker. I'm really not.   On good days, 
if you can even call them that, I could probably inhale a good 5, no---a good 6 
bourbons  without even  flinching.   Without even batting an eyelash.  I can 
---really I can.  

You think I'm kidding you?  

You think I can't hold my liquor?

Well you're wrong.  I can... really.  Truly.  

Really, I can...

Ok, so I'm just bullshitting you now.  I don't---I mean I never....I mean, 
well, I uh, I don't drink and right now I'm suffering from what has to be the 
world's most miserable hangover... Not to mention what has to be THE biggest 
blow to my ego yet.  And I've had quite a few, trust me.  

Head...Pounding...Bump in the road... oh god...

Did you know that the male ego is a very fragile thing?  Well it is, and I think 
I'm just now discovering that.  I mean, one minute I'm all macho and sucking 
down shots along with several police officers from the local PD like a "REAL MAN",
and the next...

Well, let's just say that sitting slumped on the floor, drunk as anything and 
whining about how much I need Scully, and how I always screw things up is just 
NOT the most conducive excersize in manly activities.   Not that watching Diana 
drive me home with this miserable scowl on her face proves my manhood either, 
but then, at least I don't have a dozen or so law enforcement officers here in 
this car, laughing at me while I try to squeeze my eyes shut and keep my dinner 
from coming back up...

Oh god, dinner....

Oh...god...I'm going to be ugh, sick....ugh...

Bump in the road...pothole...

Diana's pissed and doing about 80 down a dirt road.  Wonderful.  I think she's 
PURPOSELY trying to kill me.  

"Diana... Pull over..."

a groan comes from next to me, and also what sounds like a hand angrily slapping 
against the steering wheel. 

"Fox, we are 30 damn seconds from the motel.  Do you think you could just----"

Diana stops in mid sentence as she turns to look at me.  Or at least, I think 
that's what she's doing.  I dunno.  I dunno anymore.  She's kinda hazy...Like 
she's bobbing up and down and... Damn it Diana, stop that...Just stop...stop 
spinning like that.  I can barely see you. And why in the hell are there 3 of 
you 
anyways??

She's doing this on purpose.  I just know it. 

"Stop that," I manage to rasp out, and she roughly yanks the car over to 
the shoulder of the road. 

Lurch, bump, lurch.

Oh christ....

"What are you talking about?  Stop what?"

Sick...sick...I'm going to be sick...

I should've thought about this before hand. I should've stayed at the motel.  
I should've...

Ugh...My stomach...

I shouldn't have gotten so mad at Scully.  

I yank open the door and sprint outside, Diana edging slowly behind me.

I acted like a complete and total asshole towards her today, and then I went and 
yelled at her for something so...god I don't even know what anymore.  But it was 
something stupid I'm sure.

The point is, I acted like a jerk and she yelled back, and then things got out 
of hand, and I left and she stayed and oh god my stomach...

I need to apologize to her. I really do.  I really owe her one.  Well actually, 
I owe her about a million, but for tonight I can only apologize for so much.

She's mad at me you know.  Insanely, homicidally mad at me and I deserve all 
of it.  I'm just such an ass.  After all, I was the idiot who woke her up this 
morning, demanding that she come with me when she didn't need to; when she 
could've slept.   When she should've slept, especially after a night that I 
just KNOW she didn't spend sleeping because I accidentally left her all my 
paperwork the night before that.   (Ok, now before you say ANYTHING, let me 
just mention that it was piled up so high on my desk that I put some of it on 
hers just to make sure that it wouldn't fall...  Seriously---that's the ONLY 
reason, I SWEAR!!  Now, how was I supposed to know she'd take it home with her??)  
Ok I know. I get it.  I'm an ass.  I mentioned that before.  So I guess I could've 
called her and told her not to do all of it but...  

But you see, it was free HBO weekend and then Diana called and asked me out to 
get something to eat...

And yeah, yeah, I know.  I'm an ass.  I know.  

But then, I'm allowed to have a life, am I not?  I mean, it's not like I was 
cheating on Scully or anything by going somewhere with Diana. It's not like I 
should have felt guilty about it.  After all, there's no reason FOR me to feel 
guilty.  Scully and I aren't involved.  We're not. She's my partner, my best 
friend, my...

Well, to be honest, she's the person that... well to use a totally UN macho 
like term... she's the person that completes me. Totally.  Wholly. I just...
I know I could be content just to spend the rest of my life with her... even if 
we never kissed once. I could be happy just being around her.  Seeing her everyday.  
Hearing her voice.  Going on assignment with her.  Being the only man in her life.
Even if she never lets me hold her, it doesn't matter to me...  

Ok, so maybe that's a lie.  Maybe it matters a little...

Or a lot...

So then why did I go out with Diana when she was at home doing the paperwork?

I dunno.  It's compicated. I just...

I guess just I wanted someone who I knew wanted me back...

Not that anything happened or anything because it DIDN'T...And don't think that 
I believe that that excuse excuses my inexcusable behavior , or that it means 
that I want Scully any less than I do...

Because it doesn't.  I know that. 

But... well, wanting Scully is just not as cut and dry as "wanting Scully."  
It's a complicated, multi-leveled feeling, and it involves so much more that 
just me wanting her.  It involves knowing that she may want me back, and that 
the idea of such an occurance is terrifying to me.  It involves commitment 
and major repurcussions at work.  It involves letting her inside and then giving 
her something I don't know I'll ever be able give... 

So of course, I can't ever tell her. I can't ever let her know.  I guess that 
for me it's just easier to live denial, and whenever in doubt, I can just fall 
back on old tactics.  Act like an Ass to save her from me.  Ditch 
her when she gets too deeply inside, and thus save her from getting sucked in 
and then leaving me because it gets to be too much for her. Just like Diana did.  
Something I promised never to let happen to me again...  I figure that if I can 
save her, then I can also save myself from getting hurt.  

It's just that I'd rather have Scully here with me and not actually HAVE her, 
than have Scully hate me and leave me.  

But tonight, I think I went too far.  I really pissed her off.  I shouldn't have 
done it but... Well I guess I must have a real penchant for trouble sometimes...

I'll tell you what happened but just give me a second to get my head to stop 
throbbing...

Ok.

Well, I guess you could say that it was my phone call to her this morning 
that really started all this, but then that's going way too far back as far 
as I'm concerned. Right now my head hurts way too much to even remember 
something from that early on today.    

Alright...think... Where could I...Oh, nevermind I know where to begin...

Ok.   I suppose I could just start with the plane ride... yeah, the plane ride.  
And that guy...whatever his name was.  That idiotic guy I would have just loved 
to throttle halfway across Coach and out the plane for looking at her...for 
being near her...

Not that I let her notice me notice him notice her of course...

But then again, I tend to get rather stupid when it comes to Scully, and 
REALLY stupid when it comes to Scully admirers sooo...  Well, let me just say 
that me and my stupid mouth only made a bad situation worse.  The bad situation 
was that I was sitting all the way across the aisle from her on a ridiculously 
crowded plane full of irritating people.  I had also become quite aware, from 
watching the icy way that they spoke and regarded each other, that my old 
partner and my present partner had absolutely no love lost for each other.  
So what was the WORST part?  Well, like I said.  Me and my stupid mouth...

                             ~^~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^
MULDER:
Flight 742 Nonstop to Kansas,
Right after boarding the plane
Somewhere around 8 am.

"Yeah Fox, I remember reading that.  See that's what I was thinking..."

Ok, sometimes it really IS nice having a conversation with someone who 
actually thinks the way that you do.  Someone who doesn't tear apart everything 
you say like a vulture moving in for the kill...

Not that I mind Scully ripping into my theories but...

Well sometimes I just miss having conversations with a person who doesn't 
have a perpetually raised eyebrow.  

"Oh--- here they are... I think... What do the boarding passes say again?"

My brow furrows and I look up. Huh? What'd she say? Something about 
boarding passes? Oh great.  I'm not even paying attention anymore.  

Diana looks at me and then glances up at the sign over the row of seats.  
The look on her face clearly says "Hello?  You're holding the tickets stupid," 
and my eyes finally begin to register.  

Oh yeah, I am aren't I?

"Umm..." I try to look down and suddenly realize that I'm dangerously close to 
dropping her carryon.  Why am I carrying this thing for her again?  

"Yeah, I think this is it..."

She smiles and nods.  

"Yeah---this is it."

Oh thank god almighty, we've found the seats.  Praise Allah. Do you have ANY 
idea how hard it is to carry two heavy bags through a throng of the most angry, 
annoying people in the history of airplanes?  Well I can tell you, it's 
certainly not fun.  

"Oh, just set it down there Fox.  You don't have to carry it ALL over the plane."

Oh, whatever Diana. I shouldn't have had to carry it at ALL. What, did you just 
conveniently forget to take back your luggage after you asked me to hold it for 
you for "just a second?"  "Oh Fox, just hold this for a second so I can put my 
gum away..."  Oh yeah, no problem Diana. I don't mind. No-not at all...  I don't 
mind holding your bags... for 10 fucking thankless minutes, nearly falling over 
because I can't fit through the aisle... Gee-did you finish putting your gum 
away yet? God, I hope not because I just LOVE dragging your shit all over tiny 
crowded airplanes.  I live for it. I relish it.  Oh yeah.  But then, that just 
proves that some things never change doesn't it Diana? After all these years, 
I'm still your own personal concierge aren't I?  Still your muse. You know that 
I hate carrying my own stuff, let alone your bags and your boarding pass.  
You know that--- I know you do.  But then of course, you wouldn't be the same 
old Diana if you didn't act selfishly, like you could just do anything or say 
anything because you were just ALWAYS right.  Just dragging me around like I'm 
your pet rock.  

Well you know something, I'm not that guy anymore Diana.  I'm not.  Scully knows 
that. Scully knows that I hate carrying my stuff onto these dammned airplanes. 
That's why Scully never asks me to carry hers... 

Oh crap...

Where IS Scully?

Shit.   

Shit. I did it again.  I went and fucking did it again. I was so involved with 
discussing the case with Diana that I completely lost my partner.  My very, 
very ANGRY partner. My very, very angry and very, very TIRED partner. The one 
I seriously pissed off this morning.  

Oh god. This is so NOT good.  My very, very angry Scully is wandering around 
somewhere on this plane with a loaded gun and not a clue as to where I am.
Oh god.  

"Oh good. 34 A and B, I guess we can discuss the case then," I hear from 
behind me.  

I furrow my brows and turn back to Diana nodding, trying to convince myself 
that Scully just lagged behind. She's right behind us.  Right in back of us.  
Or, at least... She WAS... Just great stupid.  You did it again.  You fucking 
did it again Mulder. You went and fucked up again.  

I shake my head but I can't wear off the feeling.  Scully somewhere on this 
plane, cursing my name and unable to figure out where the hell her seat is. 
I can just see it---No.  This is not my fault. The plane is just too crowded, 
that's all.

I'm rationalzing and it's not working...

Diana leans into my ear and whispers, apparently unaware that we're missing 
our third party.  

"Hey---I think that guy just tried to check me out.  You think I should kick 
his ass?"  

Oh yeah, same old Diana.  Same old sense of humor. 

Was that what attracted me to her in the first place? Oh god, that was so long 
ago...

I can't help but laugh at our old inside joke and she laughs too, a pleased 
grin covering her face.  It doesn't surprise me at all that she hasn't inquired 
about where my partner is.  After all, she seems perfectly content to be sharing 
a seat with me; to be sharing a row with me instead of the way it usually goes---
with me and Scully sitting together, and it's not like I don't know that's what 
she's thinking.  I know that she's glad Scully's not the one sitting here, that 
Scully's not exactly a happy camper right now, and I wonder if she thinks I'm 
stupid or just blind.  It's not like I can't see the way she looks at Scully---
with this high and mighty attitude as if she believes Scully's just some third 
wheel, or some little annoyance, and actually, it IS kind of flattering... in a 
weird sort of way but... Well, Scully's not a third wheel.  And she's not an 
annoyance either. Not by any stretch of the imagination. So I can't help but 
feel guilty that I don't know where Scully is.  I should really try to look for 
her. 

Behind us.  She was right behind us.  I know it.  I swear she was.  

"Where'd Scully go?" I finally ask and feel a strange wave of something.  

You know, sometimes I would swear that my partner knows how to empathically 
imprint herself on my brain, making me FEEL her anger.  

Because right now, Scully's mad.  I know it.  I can feel it. She's pissed off, 
wherever she is, and I can sense it. I can always feel it when she's mad or 
upset, even when I'm not right next to her, and it's weird.  I don't know why 
it happens but it does.  

Damn it, I thought she was right behind us.

"I thought she was right behind us..."

Oh yeah, that was intelligent buddy.  Real smart.  She's obviously NOT right 
behind you moron.  

"Yeah, so did I..."

Oh please.  That's a lie Diana and you know it. You did NOT think that.  
If you HAD known she was right behind, then I'm sure you would have made some 
condescending remark and thrown it her way.  I know you Diana.  I know what 
you do with other people who threaten your territory.  I know how you get.  

I know that you think this is still your territory. I know what you want, 
and I know that you want it back; my trust, my loyalty... You want this to 
be your terrain again... 

I just don't know how to tell you that I can't give it to you.  It's just 
not mine to give... Not anymore anyways...

I crane my neck and try to spot Scully's red hair amongst the masses.  
The flash of that seldom found color that always alerts me to her prescence.  
It's probably the best way to spot her in ANY crowd. No one has hair the color 
of my Scully's...

Ooohhh... you know, if she ever found out that I thought of her as "my" Scully 
she'd probably shoot me on the spot. She's certainly capable--she HAS done it 
before...

Damn it, where is she?

"I'm over here Mulder," sounds from somewhere close by, and it's as if she's 
reading my mind.

You know, sometimes I think that either Scully must be one of those psychic 
friends or that she just has "Mulder radar." Either way, somehow, she almost 
always manages to track me down even when there's a gazillion people blocking 
her way. It's unbelievable.  Really, it is.    

Ok, so where close by could she---OH! there she is.  She was right across the 
aisle this whole time?  Ok, so maybe I =AM= blind...

Oh... Now THERE'S a sight...

Scully's struggling to get her bag under the seat and I have to admit, 
it is really, REALLY cute. Well, ok, not cute in a "condescending 5 year old" 
sort of way, but cute in a "My partner who can shoot a dime off a can from 50 
feet away can't get her bag under the seat" kind of way.

I smile (mostly because I can't help but smile at the sight) and call "Hey," 
before tripping over several people just to get to her.  

Ok, now I really need to calm down.  I'm just crossing the aisle after all, 
not the fucking Mississippi. 

Several people hurl some not so nice comments my way but I don't care. 

Sometimes I act like a lovesick teenager when it comes to Scully, and one of 
these days I am just going to end up falling out of the emergency exit while 
tripping over some really agitated passenger, just because I want to get to her 
fast enough. 

Shit. 

I am not even within arms reach of her and I can already tell that she's 
NOT happy to see me.   Ok, so maybe she's relieved to have finally FOUND me, 
but then, being relieved to see my presence and actually WANTING it there are 
two TOTALLY different things entirely.

Ok.  Now I have to say something intelligent that won't get my head chopped off.

"Need any help?"

Damn, is that the best I can come up with?

Her reaction tells me that this was OBVIOUSLY the wrong thing to say.  
Alright, strike one.  

She chances a quick glance over to Diana, I guess, because she thinks I 
won't notice, and a brief, almost imperceptible grimmace covers her face.  
It is gone almost as soon as it appeared though, And I'm supposing that she'd 
rather me not have seen that side of her. I can tell that she doesn't want 
me to know that Diana makes her feel threatened. 

What am do you think, that I'm blind Scully?  Of course I see what's going on 
here.  I know what's been bothering you...

When she looks up, her expression is clear.

'Fuck off Mulder.'

But of course, she doesn't say that. 

"No," she mutters through clenched teeth. "No, I'm fine."

Her eyes are still saying 'Fuck off.'

Alright, Warning.  Red alert.  I know Scully well enough to know that she is 
NOT fine, but I also know her well enough to know when to not press an issue... 
Even if I'm annoyed that she's annoyed with me.

Ok, fine.  I can play that game too. 

I nod and then move back to my seat, hoping to exchange some conversation 
with a person who would actually LISTEN to me. A person who isn't going to 
get pissed off at me every five fucking seconds.  

You know, I think I'm getting just a little sick of that 'Fuck off Mulder,' look.
It's all I see these days...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Keep going--there's more to read.   

The Way I Saw It By Jaime Lyn
All disclaimers and such in the beginning of this part. Read on.  :o)

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
INTERRUPT FLASHBACK,
MULDER NARRATES:

<<<<<<>>>>>

CONTINUE FLASHBACK
Flight 742
Sometime close to 9 am.
STILL MULDER:

He's flirting with her. Relentlessly. That bastard is flirting with her!  My 
Scully!  MY SCULLY!!  I'll kill him.  

"Fox, did you hear what I said?"

Diana's speaking.  She's saying something but I'm not really listening.  
I'm not even thinking in the same neighborhood as her anymore. 

Alright, mission: intercept Scully's little chat with whatever his name is 
before makes a move on MY partner. MY partner.  

Bastard. 

"Can I see that for a sec," I ask and Diana nods, handing me the folder.  

Examining the photos again, I risk another glance over towards Scully and spy 
her still talking to her wonderful seatmate.  

I'll break every bone in his body.  I will. If he so much as TRIES anything… Ok, 
so I know Scully can handle herself just fine but…

God, I hate him.  

I'll kill him.

"I need to show this to Scully," I mumble, and I don't even know what it is that 
I'm looking at. I don't even know what the picture is of, or why I need to show 
it to her.  

Diana raises a speculative eyebrow but nods, and I rise from my seat to talk to 
Scully, grabbing a photo and some indiscriminate data sheet along the way. 

It takes me a little while and a lot of patience, but I somehow manage to weed 
through the aisle as dirty looks and "Excuse YOU's" are shot in my direction.  
One woman glares at me and mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like 
"asshole," but I don't care.  I'm too concerned with breaking in between Scully 
and Mr. Seatmate friendly over there to care whether I've just been given the 
finger by… god, how old was that little girl? Like, 8?  My god, where are the 
parents?

Oh well, that's not the important thing here.  The important thing is here is 
getting hit on my some asshole who I am just going to have to kill one way or 
the other.  

I cross from the aisle and kneel next to Scully, tapping her on the shoulder.

"And so then he says to me---"

Mr. "Prozac Airline happy" stops in mid-sentence as he spots me, and Scully 
turns, almost looking relieved for a quarter of a second, before that not so 
happy scowl re-affixes itself to her face.  The 'Fuck you' look is still quite 
firmly planted there.  Oh good god, she can't STILL be mad can she?

She raises an eyebrow at me.

"What?"

Ok, so maybe she can. 

"I uh, need you to look at this."

Another scowl, and she yanks it out of my hands.  I really hope that she can't 
see through this pathetic reason to come over and talk to her… 

My god, am I really THAT pathetic?  Am I?    

Well, it IS a good excuse right?  And why shouldn't I come over to ask something 
like that.  I mean, I always do.  I'm always saying, "Look at this Scully.  I 
need your expertise on this Scully.  Help me with this Scully.  Stop looking at 
me as if you want me to fall off the airplane Scully."

Well no, I don't really ever say that LAST one, but maybe I should.  

She drops the data paper into her lap and examines the picture, turning it 
carefully; upside down and then right-side up; clockwise and then 
counterclockwise; sideways and back. She hands the photo back to me and stares 
at me in distaste.

"So?"

Great.  She's still as pissed as ever and I've not helped it by coming over 
here.

"So?  That's it? Just 'so'?" 

I don't even know why I'm saying that or why I'm so surprised at her reaction, 
because in actuality, I don't even know what that photo was a picture of, but 
still… I feel the need to try and make a point here. Ok, so I don't know what 
that point is, but I still can't help but be stubborn about it.

She sighs like I'm some sort of giant burden on her soul.

Oh just excuse the FUCK out of me Scully.  So sorry to have bothered you.  

"Can't this wait till we land Mulder?"  

She rubs hard at her temples, as if to say "You really are a shit Mulder," and I 
can't help but get the sudden urge to hit her; to just shake her. I hardly ever 
feel that; the urge to just up and smack her, but right now, I really, really 
want to.  Now, of course I would never do that, but sometimes she just 
frustrates me so much, infuriates me so deeply, that I just want to shake her 
and scream "God Damn it Scully!  I'm just SO SORRY that you hate me so much!!" I 
mean, what does she want me to do?  Apologize every 30 fucking seconds for 
ruining her life?  

God, I don't know why I even bother anymore. 

Mr. Airline friendly chooses that exact moment to poke his head into the 
conversation and now I just KNOW I'm going to have to hit SOMETHING.  

"You two know each other?" he asks dully, and I can't help but push back a 
groan. 

Yes we do, and THANK YOU for noticing Captain Obvious.  Was that the best you 
could come up with?

"We're partners," Scully grits out through her teeth, and then folds her arms 
across her chest.  She doesn't take her eyes off of me and I don't take my eyes 
off of her. She's still angry and piercing me with that 'come on, say something—
-I dare you' look on her face, and so I stare back, un-moved.  

You wanna play hard ball agent Scully?  Is that it? 

She raises a challenging eyebrow at me.

"No, it can't wait," I tell her indignantly.  

It can't wait because I have the most immature urge to keep that guy from 
carrying on a conversation with you and this is the only way I know how to do 
it…

"Why Mulder?" she demands.  "What is so damned important that it can't wait a 
few hours?"

Oh I dunno Scully…the fact that this guy's hitting on you… my own petty 
jealousy… The fact that I'm as stubborn as anything…

"It's… It's…"

She looks at me with folded arms and that expectant, irritated posture that she 
adopts when she's mad.  I really don't know what to say.

"Just… would you just read through this Scully?"

She blinks and shakes her head in an "I can't believe him" kind of way. 

"Would you just let me sleep Mulder?" 

Oh please Scully.  Give me a break. You certainly didn't LOOK like you were 
sleeping. 

"Oh, so now you sleep with your eyes open WHILE carrying on a conversation? You 
know that's quite a feat Scully.  That's… that's---"

She shoves the photo into my chest, hard. 

Ow.  Damn it.

The other paper I handed to her along with the photo is still sitting in her 
lap.  

"This conversation is OVER Mulder."

Oh is it?  Is it really Scully?  

I rest my arms on my knees and lean in closer, knowing that she won't be 
intimidated but feeling the need to piss her off.  My breath falls onto her 
hands and I lean up even higher, making eye contact before looking past her to 
her little airline friend in the adjoining seat. 

Maybe he'll get the hint and take a bathroom break.  Or maybe I can just kill 
him and get it over with. 

He looks confused and starts to mumble something.  Oh god, you can't POSSIBLY be 
interested in this idiot Scully. Tell me you're not interested in him… please 
tell me you're not…  

"Partners," he murmurs out loud.  "Oh... OH! Oh my god, I'm sorry Dana, I had no 
idea.  I didn't know you two were----"

"Not a couple," we both blurt out, so in unison that it's sick, and Scully turns 
to glare at me again.  I glare back. 

"Whatever," I mutter.  "I'm going back ok?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

Damn, this is fucking mature as anything isn't it?  What am I? In the fifth 
grade?  Yeah Scully, maybe you hate me but I hate you more and you're a poopy 
head anyhow so it doesn't matter.  Yeah, we're real grown-up aren't we?  Why 
don't I just steal her sand bucket and pull on her pig-tails too while I'm at 
it? 

God.  SO STUPID!  

I stare across the aisle and grimmace.  Shit.  She's always fucking mad at me.  
Damn you Scully...

INTERRUPT FLASHBACK: 
MULDER NARRATES:

Ok so I was mad.  VERY mad.  But of course I went away when she asked because 
ultimately, I ALWAYS end up going away when she asks.  I always say "Yes scully, 
no Scully" like I'm saying "Yes dear, no dear" and it's pathetic.  I have 
absolutely NO backbone.  

But whatever.  Anyhow, after THAT unproductive conversation, I was still pissed.  
As a matter of fact, I was even MORE pissed AFTER I had spoken to her than I had 
been before hand.  And this time it wasn't just directed at "Prozac Boy" either.  
I was pissed off at her.  I was pissed off at myself.  I was angry with the 
whole situation in general. 

But then it got even worse.  

When I got back to my seat, Diana asked me where the coroner's report was and I 
said I didn't know, not really caring and still angry from having an argument 
with Scully in front of that Don Juan wannabe.  

So then she said, "Well that means that agent Scully must have it and I suggest 
you get it back from her quickly." And that confused the hell out of me and so I 
asked her "Why shouldn't she see it?"   

Truth to be told, I hadn't read through the case report as thuoughly as I should 
have.  I mean, I knew the bare facts---the ones that had pequed my interest, but 
I never took the time to read everything.

I really should have.  

Because that's when Diana told me "Well, I didn't want to just spring it on her 
until we landed but... Well, no autopsies have been done yet." My mouth dropped 
open. Somehow I managed to get out "16 bodies were found four days ago and no 
autopsies had been done?"  She merely shrugged…

Oh god—-my stomach again… I can't think about dead bodies and…oh no…Hold on a 
second…  I think I'm going to be sick…

"Fox?"

That's Diana.

"Fox, let's GO!"

Alright, I need to go and get back to the car before Diana pops a blood vessel, 
but I'll hurry and tell you what happened next... before my stomach erupts all 
over the pavement… 

You see, Scully and I had both assumed that all the bodies had been examined----
that all they would need were once overs---since the homicidal nature of the 
crime would have required an immediate autopsy, but then neither one of us had 
really gone through the report.  At the very least, I figured that Diana would 
have TOLD me if the bodies needed to be examined...  She would have said, "If 
you're going to bring Agent Scully, tell her that autopsies need to be done," 
but she didn't.  Just why she didn't, I don't know.  Maybe it was to piss Scully 
off.  Maybe it was to piss me off.  Maybe it was even to get Scully mad at me, 
but who knows. All I know is that not even 5 minutes after I made THAT 
revelation, Scully must have read through the paper I had left with her and 
discovered it too.  Because that's when she made her way through the coach 
traffic... with a very purposeful stride and a really pissed off look on her 
face...

CONTINUE FLASHBACK:
Flight 742,
Now 9:21 am
STILL MULDER:

"Why didn't you tell me about this Mulder?"

Her voice is louder than I'm sure a lot of people around us would appreciate 
right now, and so I take a second to regard the passengers sitting across from 
us.  Sure enough, the people in the center aisle are staring pointedly at me.  

And just what do YOU want?  Christ! Go back to your magazine or something.  God, 
some people are nosy.  Stop staring! Don't you people have BETTER things to do?  

"Mulder?"

Ok, don't look at her, don't look at her…  If I look at her, I know I'm going to 
squirm... and I REALLY don't want to squirm.  Not now.  Not when I'm so 
mad...Not when I KNOW I'm the wrong one this time.  I really HATE admitting that 
I' wrong. Especially to Scully. 

She likes to goad it over me until doom cracks.  

"Look at me Mulder," she snaps, and I finally stare at her, trying to keep my 
poker face straight. 

God, I suck at poker.  

"Why did you neglect to tell me that I was going to have to do all these 
autopsies?"

Now the people in the center aisle are staring at us as if we're circus freaks, 
and I have to stifle the urge to tell my normally reserved partner to lower her 
voice.  

I look over at Diana and she shrugs again, her expression clearly saying "sorry 
buddy---not my partner, not my problem" and I think I'm going to strangle the 
both of them. GOD! I don't know how I'm ever going to survive this case. 

Why the hell did I tell Diana I'd help her?  Why on earth did I call Scully and 
tell her to come?  Why oh why doesn't the floor ever open up and swallow you 
when you need it to?

And you know what the REALLY funny thing is? I've faced monsters and ghosts, 
gunshot wounds and aliens, but going on a case with my less that forgiving ex 
partner and my less than forgiving Scully will end up being be the death of me. 
I just know it.   This is unbelievable.  

And very much my fault. 

Great. I really stuck my foot in my mouth this time.

My god, from the look on her face, I'd say Diana was almost pleased with all 
this. 

But no.  Diana wouldn't act like that... Would she?  I know she's territorial 
but…

"Well Mulder?" 

Scully, Diana, and passengers dumb and dumber in the center aisle are still 
staring at me. I don't know what to say. 

"Ok look," I try to reason, not even knowing what to do with myself anymore, "I 
only found out about this now myself.  If I had known---"

"If you had known then what Mulder?  What?  You would've let me sleep this 
morning?"

Ok, that's not fair. 

"Scully I---"

"What Mulder?  What now? What else are you going to spring on me?"

Diana is staring at me.  Scully is staring at me.  Half the center aisle is 
staring at me.  Oh jesus christ this is a conspiracy.  I don't know what to say 
anymore. I look down.  I need to refocus my attention.  I need to focus on 
something, I need... Ohmygod... How could I not have noticed...

"Mulder?"  Scully stares at me pointedly, expectantly, but I'm too busy staring 
at the corner of her shirt---near the hemline. Her jacket had been covering it 
up before, but now I can see more of the blouse underneath it and…

Oh god.  That's funny.  That's really...wow that's just... That's so...

Without warning I let out a chuckle and both women stare at me confused.  

Oh my god Scully.  That's just too funny that's...

"What's so funny?" she asks, piercing my gaze again.  

Ok. This is obviously NOT the time to alert her to this.  This is NOT what I 
need to tell her. NOT what I need to be thinking... She's only going to get 
angrier if I mention it…

"What?  What are you laughing at? Say something Mulder," she warns. 

Yeah Mulder, say something...

Say something.  

Say ANYTHING. By god, say something SOMEWHAT intelligent.  But what do I say?

Scully I'm sorry.

Scully I need you. 

Scully I love you. 

"Scully your blouse is on inside-out."

Shit.  

Oh Shit. 

WHY DID I SAY THAT?!

Next to me, Diana stifles a chuckle and Scully looks down at her blouse in 
confusion, her cheeks turning a shade of crimson I've rarely seen on her. 

SHIT!

She looks up and rolls her tongue inside of her cheek angrily, deftly proving 
that if looks could kill, I'd be dead and buried.

Someone in the center aisle clears their throat and stifles their own chuckle. 
Oh great, go ahead.  Laugh. Go on.  Make this worse for me.  

Scully leans in close and I can feel her breath tickling my cheek.  

So this must be what trapped flies feel like...

She gently takes my right hand from my lap, intently gazing at me through thin 
slits of narrowed eyes.  Slowly, she grips my fingers and starts to squeeze...

HOLY FUCK!!  GODDAMN IT ALL TO HELL!!  JESUS SCULLY THAT HURTS!!!

I let out a painful hiss through my teeth and flinch, having not before realized 
just how strong a grip she's got.  

SHIT!  OW!

She leans in closer and I can feel her breath upon my ear now. 

Oh god oh god oh god...

"I would have said this before but you hung up on me before I got the chance. 
Fuck You Mulder.  And also, don't talk to me for the rest of this flight." She 
whispers it as if it's a sensual promise and not an angry retort, and now my 
cheeks are turning red.  

I open my mouth to say something but she is already up and away, apparently 
heading towards the bathroom to fix her blouse, and angry. VERY ANGRY, by the 
way I can see her tiny fists, balled up so tight that they're as white as the 
airsick bags. 

FUCK!  

It is confirmed. I am an idiot. 

"Well that must be embarrassing," I hear Diana mumble from beside me, either 
still engrossed in the case file or just not really interested in my helping 
with my dilemna, and I irritatedly bite my lip.  I raise a weary hand to my head 
and rub my temples.  

Oh god, I'm in hell.  I really am in hell. 

When do we land again?

BACK TO THE RENTAL CAR:
Early August 14th
Around 2:24 am.
30 seconds from the motel
MULDER NARRATES:

<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
                                 ~^~^~^^~^~^~^~^~^~^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^
Coming soon:  "Scully and Diana finish the story."  So, you like?  Think maybe you 
know where it's headed or just want to tell me what you think?  All feedback is 
GREATLY appreciated, cherished and replied to.  :o)  Please send me yours.  *grin.  

Title: The Way I Saw It,Part 4: Simple Immaturity
Author:Jaime Lyn
Rated: "R"  (Once again, people's brains tend to have potty mouths.) Mulder
also says one dirty word out loud.  *grin*
Spoilers: Well, the first 2 parts of course, and season 5 in general.
Disclaimer: If I owned them I'd be VERY happy (and rich)right now. But I don't. 
Nuff said.
Summary:  An angry Scully, an immature Mulder, and one VERY heated confrontation,
as our story continues.  

Author's note* Thank you to all who have read this. (and sent feedback)I love you guys. 
Also, I added a little something for all the "Simple Kiss" fans who have been waiting 
for that ONE THING to happen, that ONE THING that Mulder and Scully haven't gotten
to yet in the other story...  And I AM getting to the end here, slowly but surely. The
next part should be it (if all goes according to plan...hmmm...)  And please read parts
1 and 2 before you read this, if you haven't already. If you don't, you're going to be
scratching your head through this whole story going, "What??"  

Still for Jen, my best friend in the world. You always inspire me, even if
you don't know it.  (poignantly touching, isn't it? ...whatever. ha ha.) 

               "The Way I Saw It, Part 3:  Simple Immaturity
                               By Jaime Lyn

                       ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^~^~^~
Around 2:20 am,
Early August 14th,
Corocoran Motel
SCULLY'S STORY:
                       ~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Alright, that's it. I give up.  I just fucking give up.  

I mean, there's irony and then there's IRONY. 

Ok, first of all, the heat index outside is about a gazillion degrees---
give or take a few hundred--- and the air conditioner's broken in my room--- 
NOT FUN, let me tell you.  SECOND of all, it's about 4 o clock in the morning-4 
O CLOCK, godamn it, and Mulder's STILL not back... That inconsiderate asshole... 

But even that's not really not what's eating at me right now. That's actually 
almost ok, really.  That I can handle.  That I'm almost USED to. After 7 years of 
nothing but miserable weather and his ridiculous cases out in the middle of nowhere, 
horrible working and sleeping arrangements I've learned to handle.   Shitty hotel rooms 
I can handle.

But here's something that very few people know about me. Here's something that 
I absolutely CANNOT handle---especially at this hour.  Something that makes me want 
to run and hide and crawl under the bed...

The theme music for "Hawaii Five-0".  

It just eats at my eardrums and makes me want to smother my face with a pillow. 
Really, it does.  

And you'd think, I mean seriously, you'd really think, that a town with 
absolutely NOTHING to do...whatsoever...at any time...at all... would want to or 
at least TRY to invest in more than 5 goddamn channels on the television.  You'd think 
they would WANT cable.  Right? Am I right?

And you'd also think, maybe just because there are about a ZILLION different 
television shows to choose from, that at least SOMETHING different would be programmed 
to air on each of these 5 measly channels.

You'd think so, wouldn't you? 

Well, sorry to say there's not, and I think I've somehow become trapped in 
the middle of "The Twilight Zone," South Kansas, USA.  

Once again, the gods of sadistic irony have laughed upon Dana Katherine Scully.

Frowning, I turn the remote upside down, sideways, backwards, and then right-side up. 
I stab at the buttons and frown again.  For those of you who don't know, this is the 
universal, completely un-practical but frustrated sign of the dis-pleased television 
viewer. It's the irrational idea that the approximate position and angle of the 
remote is somehow directly related to the quality of television programming.  

Unfortunately it never works, and so the uncaring remote is tossed to the bed with a 
grunt of disgust.  

Damn it! Where the hell IS HE?!

Ok, now I'm just losing it completely and I'm sorry. I apologize.  I know I just 
need to... to breath and then relax and then get a grip. I need to get back my 
self-control and pray to god that I can find the strength to keep my head from 
exploding the second Mulder walks through that door.  I need... I need a cigarette.  
I really need a cigarette. God, I don't even smoke and I really need one.  

Ok, before you say anything, I'm not crazy---really I'm not.  I'm also not a chain 
smoker either.  I swear. I never smoke---I don't... Well, hardly ever anyhow. Or at 
least I try not to...

Oh shut up.  If you were in my place, you'd want to smoke too.  I mean, considering 
that some people have cracked after working only one DAY with Mulder, you'd think that 
after 5 years I'd get some sort of promotion to sainthood or something...  

Alright, fine.  So I'm no saint. I know that, but still. A lesser person would have 
lost their mind by now. A lesser person would have pulled all their hair out by now.  

But then, all of the lesser people I know are snug and warm in their beds, right now, 
sleeping peacefully and looking forward to their lazy Sunday...

Well screw them. I hate them.  I hate Mulder and as immature as it sounds, 
I hate that Fowley woman too.  

And more than anything, I HATE "Hawaii Five-0"    

And I don't just mean "hate" as a slight term.  I mean I HATE it...HATE with a 
glorified passion.  I think it's the dumbest, most ridiculous show ever, right 
up there next to "Suddenly Susan" and "Dharma and Greg", and so OF COURSE, it's on 
every single goddamn fucking channel.

But where was I before I turned the TV on?

Oh yeah. Plane ride.  

Ok, so anyhow, much to my ultimate surprise, Mulder did just as I asked of him--for 
once in this life or any other--- and he stayed away from me for the rest of the plane 
ride.  He didn't look at me, talk to me, or even so much as lean in my 
direction once. It was refreshing and nice---almost as if he ACTUALLY listened to me 
this time, and that's something he hardly EVER does.  But what would have otherwise been 
a very pleasant turn of events actually, ended up being a curse of my own making.    

It's amazing how Mulder chooses to heed my words at the most INAPPROPRIATE moments.

Because, as I had quickly discovered, "no Mulder" meant that I had no defense for 
being anti-social without being downright rude. "No Mulder", as it turned out, did 
NOT make for a quiet, non stressful plane ride.  No. Rather, it was quite the opposite.  
"No Mulder", meant 4 more straight hours of wonderfully boring, incredibly innate "chit 
chat" with Mr. Prozac Webster, who just happened to think that computer sales were the 
most fascinating thing next to "must see TV" and my "blue as chlorine" eyes--which---I 
think, is exactly the way that he put it.  

At one point, the guy even leaned over to me and said--in what I think he believed 
to be his most sexy voice---and no, I am NOT kidding, "Hows about you and me go for 
a little coffee after the flight touches down.  I mean, I like you and you like me and 
we can go as slow as you want...or as fast as you want---if 
you know what I mean,"---Wink wink, nudge nudge. 

I thought I was going to throw up.  

And now that I think about it, well... I think that maybe I should've just shot 
the idiot and been done with it.  Well, no, I guess I couldn't have done that---not 
without getting arrested anyhow---but I COULD have told him that I was a lesbian or 
something.  I have a feeling that THAT would have shut him up GOOD.  

But alas, no, I didn't say it. I, being the glutton for punishment that I am, 
just couldn't bring myself to say anything rude.  I SHOULD'VE said it but I didn't.   
I instead, politely told him "I'm sorry, but I just don't think that's a good idea," 
and left it at that.  He was still talkative and immensely irritating afterwards, 
but I think I managed to get my point across pretty well.  

Even if he DID hand me his number on the way off the plane.  

I think I let Diana use it as a wrapper to spit her gum out on. 

But anyhow, thankfully, before I was forced to rip all of my hair out due to 
sheer irritation, the plane ride finally ended, uneventfully, thank god, a few 
miserable hours later.  Suffice to say, all three of us got off relatively unharmed, 
but no better for the wear.  And as I dragged my stuff out into the terminal, Diana 
proceeded to plod along, short-handedly debriefing Mulder and I on the case.  (Which, 
I might add, had never really been Mulder's case at all, but Diana's, and so it turned 
out that I had been woken up on a Saturday for HER, and that, for some reason, 
REALLY ticked me off.)  But out of resignation, and I what I guess was just sheer 
exhaustion, I decided to keep my mouth shut. I mean, what was I going to say? What 
could I say? There was just no way to rectify the matter, at least not after I'd already 
spent a million hours on a plane getting here, and so I didn't say anything about it.   
And if Mulder ever realized I had figured out that he had lied to me this morning, he 
certainly never made any apologies about it.  

But whatever.  Back to the terminal. 

So this time around, Diana was carrying her own useless stuff, I was carrying 
mine, Mulder was carrying his, and we were all equally miserable as we shuffled 
through the crowded terminal.  That idea, for some reason, just made me feel better. 
I don't know why.  

And then, to my ultimate relief, we all managed to make our way to the motel 
uncharacteristically silent.  Diana seemed to be engrossed in the scenery, Mulder 
seemed to be enthralled with the way his hands looked on the 
steering wheel as he drove, and I was too annoyed with the idea of having to autopsy 
16 dead tourists to care about either of them. Needless to say, none of us were exactly 
in a "talking" mood.  

But then, I guess I realized in the back of my mind that, at some point, this 
relative quiet would HAVE to be broken somehow, because nature just seemed to 
dictate my life that way.  And so, of course, after we made it to the motel, 
Mulder decided that, for reasons known only to him and god, it would be a good 
time to pick a fight with me.  

Ok, ok.  Before I go any further, I'll admit that I know that's not really 
fair-of me to say.  --I know he didn't pick a fight on purpose, even if he 
DID act like a COMPLETE ass, and even if he DID piss me off.  He didn't really 
MEAN to start a fight I suppose, but he just kind of happened upon one.  Well, 
no that's not the complete truth either I suppose, because he didn't really just 
stumble into the fight blindly, seeing as how we were BOTH involved in the arguing 
process... But then, it's not like he was innocent one in this either. Rather, he 
DID contribute to the fight/argument/exchange of harsh words, and he DID piss me off, 
but alright, I'll admit that he's not the ONLY one at fault... I know I'm to blame 
here too but... man oh MAN did he piss me off...

~^~^~~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^~^~^~
Around 2:12 pm, give or take the time difference
August 13th,
Corcoran Motel, room 23-A
SCULLY'S STORY:

Rap rap, knock knock.  POUND!

I open an eye to glare at the door, as if it's the door's fault that 
someone is knocking on it.  

Rap rap.  

Ok, I summon all of my psychic and telekinetic powers, all the forces of the 
gods and the universe. I summon all that is true and holy... I summon thee and will 
you away, whoever you are.  I will you to go.  Go away.  Please, PLEASE go away.

Rap, knock, POUND! 

Alright, this is precisely why I don't believe in any of that nonsense that Mulder 
does.  It NEVER works.  NEVER.  

Damn it.  This REALLY sucks.  I SWEAR to god, I just sat down like, not even 30 seconds 
ago, and now someone's knocking on my door, bothering me.  I just took my shoes off.  
I just took a deep breath. I just now finally decided to sit and try and relax for 
FIVE FUCKING SECONDS and someone's knocking on my door. 

It has to be Mulder. It just HAS to be.  

"WHAT?" I finally call annoyed, and the door is opened a crack. The hum from 
the bed's massage mechanism is thick and loud in the air, and it makes my voice waver 
slightly. 

Mulder's familiar face pops into my room and his hands curl around the outside of the 
door.  He glances at me hesitantly before speaking.  

"Um, Scully?"

I close my eyes.  

"What Mulder?"

He lets out a breath.  

"Does this mean I'm allowed to talk to you now?"

I open my eyes to look at him, and I can't decide whether he's being serious or 
sarcastic.  His expression is impassive, unexpressive and it's really annoying. 

It's amazing that how in the span of a single morning, ALL of Mulder has suddenly 
become really annoying.  I am going to reach up a hand and smack him. 

Go away, just go away and leave me alone, please Mulder. 

"What do you want?" I manage, and my tone is undeniably sharp.  He grits his teeth.  

We glare at each other through tense air.  

"Always a bundle of sunshine, aren't you Scully?" he throws sarcastically. 

Once again, my under-developed telekinetic powers fail me, because the end-table 
I have summoned forth has not picked itself up the way I have willed it, and thrown 
itself atop him.

I don't know what else to say except...

"Shut up Mulder."

He walks ever so slowly into the room and folds his arms in a defensive gesture 
at my response.  

"Get up," he orders simply.  

I glare at him.  Does he really think he can just ORDER me around?

"No," I spit. 

No way in hell Mulder. I'm tired.  You can wait five goddamn minutes until my quarter 
in the bed's "magic fingers" thingie runs out.  

"So you're just going to lay there?"

God, he sounds so wounded, so irritated, as if the mere action of my lying down for 
a moment has somehow had a direct effect on his injured psyche.  God forbid I should 
ever get a seconds peace or rest in his presence.  

Sigh.  

"What do you want that can't wait a few minutes Mulder?"

He furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side. 

"funny how that's all you've said this entire trip," he hurls at me, as if 
he's trying to mask a derogatory remark in an air of indifference. 

"And I meant it every time I said it," I reply coldly.  "Now, what is it this 
time, and why can't it wait five more minutes?" 

He's annoyed, I'm annoyed, and I can almost feel the tension bouncing off the 
both of our bodies like a sick ping pong match. 

The only sound for a moment is that of the bed's shaky humming rhythm under me.     

"Well Scully," he begins nonchalantly,  "I really didn't want to disturb your 
impressive display of doing nothing with this pesky little case, but you know, 
since we're in the neighborhood anyways, I thought hey.  What the heck."
  
I blink impassively at him.  Oh you had BETTER run Mulder.  You'll be lucky if 
I give you a head start...

I narrow my eyes and clench my fists, pulling myself into a more upright position on 
the bed.  Mulder's arms are folded across his chest, his face chastising, and I am 
raising my always useful "Mulder, I'm angry" eyebrow.  My knuckles are nearly white 
from being balled up too far and too much, and I'm going to kill him.  If it's a fight 
you want, Mulder, then I can play that game just as well as you can. 

I take a deep breath and stare at him as if he's nuts.

He IS nuts...

"First of all," I start evenly, trying to keep my anger in check, "YOU are the 
one who dragged ME out here, on MY Saturday, giving me little to no choice in the matter.  
Because if you'll recall correctly Mulder, I was perfectly content to be spending the 
morning sleeping,in my OWN bed and NOT in some motel out in the middle of---"  

I pause. Where the FUCK are we anyhow?

"Witchita," Mulder deftly answers my silent question.

Okkkaaayyyy... I'm just going to pretend that I didn't hear his perfectly 
synchronized response.  I'm going to imagine that it wasn't really creepy.  
I'm just going to ignore the fact that Mulder just basically read my mind---for what, 
I think, was the second or third time today.  It never happened, it never WILL happen, 
and... ok so I'm kidding myself.  

I just don't like the idea of Mulder being able to know what I'm thinking. It bugs me.  
Sometimes I think he does, that he somehow reads my mind, and I don't like that.  
The idea of him being able to read me like that is...god, it's just weird.  
If he knows what I'm thinking, if he can see into me like that then what if he sees...

No Dana.  DON'T go there...

I try not to look so unnerved and continue.  

"Well whatever," I manage quickly, waving my arms purposely in front of me. I guess 
I do that because, for some reason, arm waving is important in getting your point across. 
I don't know why. It just is. "The point is, Mulder, that I DON'T want to be here. I DON'T 
need to be spending MY Saturday doing 16 autopsies for a case that isn't even assigned to 
me. The only, and I do stress ONLY reason that I AM here, is because I'm doing you, my 
apparently ungrateful and inconsiderate partner, a favor." 

Ha!  You're wrong Mulder. You KNOW you're wrong.  You KNOW it!!  Admit it!!  Admit it 
already, goddamn it!! 

Mulder rolls his tongue against his cheek slowly, in an "I'm going to get back control 
of this situation" type of way and I fold my arms to match his.  

"Gee, thanks a bunch Scully," he replies dryly.   

Oh whatever, you inconsiderate ingrate of a partner.  

"Gee thanks is right," I mutter back, irritated, and allow myself to fall gently 
backwards onto the bed.  I close my eyes and sigh, hoping that this simple movement 
will be enough for him to get the message, to take the hint, to get the fact that 
all I want is for him to just go the fuck away before I'm forced to throw his lifeless 
body into a ditch. 

I don't hear him move.  I don't even hear him breathe.  

Now, I know that Mulder can read my body language and I know that he knows what 
I'm silently telling him.  He knows EXACTLY what I'm trying to get across to him 
right now, but if he doesn't move within the next 30 seconds, I am just going to 
have to get out my sig and shoot him.  

We'll do this my way Mulder, or we won't do it at all, and if you REALLY want, you can 
get Miss Wonderful Diana Fowley to try and do the autopsy for me because I'm not moving yet.  

I lean back for a moment... There's still no noise.  Nothing to break the ominous silence.  
It means that he knows he's wrong.  He knows it, and I can feel he does. 

Yeah, that's what I THOUGHT you'd say Mulder....
That's what I---

OW!

Suddenly there is movement and the feeling of large hands forcefully ripping something 
out from underneath me. I nearly roll off the bed in surprise. 

What the HELL?!

My fingers quickly grab the sheets for leverage and I nearly gasp out, opening my 
eyes wide enough to see Mulder clasping the case file I had been sitting on, dangling 
it just slightly above me.  

"Then why don't you go home Scully?" he challenges, and raises an eyebrow of his own.  

Excuse me?

"Excuse me?"

Ok, so it's not the most creative of comebacks, but hey, I can't think of 
anything else to say to him.  

His mouth twists upwards and then back in the slightest of grins.  

"I said Go.  Home.  Scully.  Which part did you not understand? The 'go' the 'home' or the---"

I purse my lips.  

"Just give me the file Mulder."

"No."

"Why?"

"You don't really want it anyhow."

Oh, so you're going to be like THAT, are you?  

Fine. I can play your game too.

"Mulder, give it to me NOW!"

He shakes his head.

Now I am rising to my feet and my voice is warning.  I am going to kill him where he 
stands. I am going to kick his ass across this miserably hot and worthless state.  
How dare he drag me all the way out here on a case that 
isn't even mine, and then insinuate that I'm somehow not doing my job because 
I want to rest for five goddamn minutes??  How dare he act like I should live and 
breathe in orbit around his little egotistical "Mulder" bubble?? 

You know, bubbles break Mulder...

Frustrated beyond belief, I reach for the folder. 

But of COURSE, nothing with Mulder is EVER that easy, and in what has to be the 
most immature and patently ridiculous gesture I've seen out of him thus far, he raises 
the case file over his head and out of my reach.

Asshole.  

"Why don't you make me Scully," he retaliates.

I raise an eyebrow of disbelief at him and then I scrunch my face.  

Make me?!?! Did he say "Make me?"

I should "Make him" give me the folder?

Oh, you really are a jackass Mulder, you really are. And I think that this time you've 
even sunk to a new low. A low even lower than the low you had sunk to when you carried 
princess Fowley's luggage through Coach.  And that's pretty low Mulder.  I mean come ON! 
I should "Make you?" What are we, five years old?  

"Make you?" I retort in sheer disbelief.  

He grins demonically and nods.  

Oh god, I'm in hell and Mulder in the devil.  

"Yeah," he replies smugly. "Make me."

INTERRUPTION,
SCULLY NARRATES:

<<<<< Well at this point, things had obviously gotten out of hand.  Ridiculously out of 
hand, as a matter of fact.  It was just that... well... you see, Mulder was angry, I 
was angry, it was hot, the moons were aligned, the planets, and the...

So ok, I'm making bullshit excuses now.  

The point is that I wasn't thinking straight.  Or maybe I really was, but I just 
wasn't thinking in the kind of "straight" that I should have been.  Well actually, 
my straight was kind of crooked at that point and both mine and Mulder's logic became 
skewered and...well...

I did what anyone would have done in that situation...

I shoved Mulder... Hard.>>>>>>

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

CONTINUE STORY,
around 2:17 now,
Scully's room
STILL SCULLY:

"I said GIVE IT TO ME!"  

I am practically screaming now, irrational, and I'm sure that the trailer trash- 
inbred morons who took our money at the front desk when we checked in, are probably 
taking bets right now on who will get the black eye.  

"Oh yeah? Well I said leave," Mulder retorts, and we are now both officially on an 
elementary school level.  

Well beyond angry, my hands move of their own accord to reach up and shove hard at 
Mulder's chest, pushing, smacking, and basically not succeeding.  

Mulder is still in front of me, still dangling a case folder about a foot above my head, 
but now he's laughing at me as well...

Hysterically.

Oh now you're really going to get it you son of a bitch...

"I said give it to me Mulder."

He snorts.  

"No."

"Give it!"

"Come and GET it!"

God, does he think this is cute??

"Mulder---"

He leans his head down so that it's only inches away from mine.

Oh god oh god oh god...

"I SAID, Come and get it Scully," he breathes almost menacingly, and I stare 
back at him with barely controlled rage. 

If I thought I wanted to kill him before, then the urge has CERTAINLY amplified 
about 15 times at this moment.  If he thinks he's going to make me jump for that folder, 
then he's severely mistaken.  And if he thinks he's going to to win this one--then 
he's even more severely mistaken than Custard was at his last stand.   The only 
difference here between Custard and Mulder, is that Mulder's going to WISH he'd 
been scalped by indians when I get through with him.  Because what I'M going to do to him...

Our breathing is heavy and the air feels thick.  

What AM I going to do to him?

Suddenly it's as if he's all around me and I can feel him everywhere.  
Oh god, I'm suffocating.  I am.  I can feel it.  I'm hyperventilating in his 
presence, his scent... He's too close to me and yet at the same time not close 
enough and a world away...  

Oh god, Mulder's face is only an inch from mine.  

An INCH!  HOLY SHIT!

Oh GOD, what do I do?  

Think, think, think...

NO! I shouldn't HAVE to think! Damn it!!

Stop this Dana! Just STOP!! I know how I feel.  I do.  I hate him right now... 
I'm going to kill him... I am...

Suddenly, his expression changes and he grins his masochistic smug little grin 
at me.  It's the insane grin of the damned when they know that things just can't 
get any worse and they're ok with it.  He does that when he thinks he's beaten me.

I hate that grin.  

God, I'm just going to wipe that smug little smirk off your face Fox Mulder, 
I swear to god, if just  one more WORD comes out of your mouth.  Just one.  
That's all it's going to take.  

"So what's it going to be Scully?"

My fists clench and my jaw tightens. 

Oh that's IT Mulder.  That is IT!!!

INTERRUPTION, 
SCULLY NARRATES:

<<<<<< Ok, it's like I said before; we were having an argument.  It was heated, 
it was stupid, I'll admit that, but it was also way past overdue.  Mulder and I 
had been short and annoyed with each other all week. We had been leading to this 
culmination for awhile, had been gradually heading towards it...

But I didn't imagine that it would happen like this.  I mean, the whole thing was 
immature.  It was stupid and it was uncalled for and it was also WAY out of control.  
Mulder and I were treading on very thin ice and we knew it.  

But even still, I guess that doesn't excuse what I did next.  It doesn't excuse 
reacting to Mulder like some sort of freaked out crazy woman on crack----by doing 
what I did... 

But well...It's like I told you before. Everything was just so out of control.  
It was just something I NEVER should have done in my right mind---because I WASN'T 
in my right mind at the time, I couldn't have been---and it only snowballed the 
situation even further---even if it DID get me the folder back.  And even if I 
DID end up getting the last word... 

It only made a bad situation worse.  It only caused what has to be one of the 
most angry confrontations I've ever had with my partner to date...

It's half the reason I'm angry with him now...>>>>>>>

CONTINUE STORY,
Now 2:19
Scully's room still.
STILL SCULLY:

"What's it going to be Scully?"

A surge of an idea pops into me and I don't know where the hell it came from.  
It's completely crazy and I also don't know how to control it. I'm just so angry, 
so seethingly mad at him, and I am DETERMINED to beat him at his own game.  

My eyes narrow slightly.  

So what IS it going to be?  

I repeat the words again and run over them slowly.  Say something Dana. Do something. 

"I don't know Mulder," I reply, half surprisingly nonchalant and half almost 
seductive.  I don't know where it's coming from but I can't stop it.  
"Why don't you tell me?"

He stares at me in utter confusion and opens his mouth to respond. 

Oh no.  Not this time Mulder.  I am NOT going to let you win this one.

"What is it you WANT me to do Mulder?"

He opens his mouth again, clearly lost but determined to get the last word---like 
always, but I am NOT going to let him.  Oh no you don't.  You're not getting the last 
word this time Mulder.  

DO IT DANA...

Call it temporary insanity. Call it an out of body experience.  Call it whatever 
you want, but whatever you call it, one thing's crystal clear.  It's definitely 
NOT something that a sane person would do in this predicament.

DO IT DO IT DO IT... 

It IS, unfortunately, what my apparently scrambled brain has decided upon in 
this precarious moment.  

Something in me just snaps.  

And so, yanking as hard as I can on his flagrantly ridiculous tie, I pull his head 
down with an angry forcefulness.  I manuever his face to meet mine with a very-unladylike, 
very un-Scully like, "just shut up you stupid man" grunt, and I feel his nose smack into 
my cheek as his hands flailingly reach out to grab onto my shoulders.  

It's not a very romantic looking sight, believe me.  It's just not the stuff of 
"Danielle Steel" novels.  

But soon that doesn't even matter. Because in an unspoken instant, lips are 
covering lips, hands are flying confusedly, and a very surprised, very un-macho- 
like leg curls around the back of mine before it lets go and falls back to a reasonable 
standing position. 

I can handle this I can handle this I can...

I can't handle this.  

I...I... Can't...think... Oh... GOD!  OH. MY. GOD!!!

Light.  Bright light.  

Blnding...Flashing...surging....ohhh...

My lips, his lips,tugging, hard, fast, soft, longing, needing, quickly, 
slowly, no, there, yes, more, again, again, tongue, lips, rough, stubble, 
hands, reaching, needing, touching, roughly, now, yes, yes, oh god, I'm dying, 
I'm suffocating, please, oh, MORE, mmm, arms, fingers, in my hair, give, take, 
give, take, salty, sweet, Mulder, mmm, oh...

He breaks away first and I am, needless to say, undone by my own actions.  
He gasps for air and I look down to spy the folder on the floor, lying at 
a heap at our feet.  Mulder's face is flushed and he is still gasping for air.  
My eyes are wide and my lips feel as if they've been hit by a paperweight.   

And for some reason, one unbeknownst to even myself, I am somehow able to 
find the strength in between deep breaths to grab the folder and yank it off the carpet. 
I dangle it in front of his face and plaster a triumphant grin on my own.  
The pit of my stomach is doing world class gymnastics and my ears are pounding 
with the sound of my own heartbeat, but somehow, I am still able to grin at him coldly.

"Now who's holding the folder? " I ask icily.  

His expression changes from one of pleasant surprise and wonder to anger 
in a matter of seconds.  

We are still angry as hell and in a fit of insanity I have managed to make it 
ten times worse. 

Oh shit.  I shoudn't have done that.  I shouldn't have.  I couldn't have.  
I didn't.  OH GOD.  Oh god, please tell me I didn't do what I think I just did.  
Please tell me that it was just a figment of my imagination...please...

But it wasn't.  I know that it wasn't, that I didn't just hallucinate all of it, 
and now Mulder is still standing in front of me, looking for all the world, as 
if I've stabbed him in the chest. 

Oh shit!!

SHIT SHIT SHIT!!  What the hell was wrong with me?!  What came over me?  Am I insane?! 
Am I nuts?!  Jesus Christ Dana!! What were you THINKING?!?!

Mulder's eyes have hardened and he's using them like weapons to drill into me.  

"So then tell me something Scully," he remarks coldly.  "If I had held a file 
cabinet over my head, would you have fucked me for it?"

WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?!?!

I blink in disbelief.

"What?!" I breathe horrified.

"You heard me," he retorts.  

I don't believe him.  I don't believe me.  I don't believe any of this. This 
is all too unbelievable. 

"You know, you really are an ass Mulder," I manage, forcing words through angry 
clenched teeth. 

I want to kill him and scream until my lungs hurt.  Truth be told, I'm terrified of 
what I just did.  Of the feelings I've just revealed.   I'm scared and angry and I 
don't know where to direct any of it.  

I'm also starting to wonder where the hell Diana's been this entire time we've 
been arguing.  Surely she must've heard SOMETHING.  I mean, we weren't exactly 
whispering and these walls are so paper thin anyhow that...  Wait a minute.  
Has she been listening this whole time?  Was she eavesdropping on us, planning this, 
hoping for it? 

God, listen to yourself Dana. 

I'm being irrationally, ridiculously paraniod now.  I'm thinking crazy things.  
I'm DOING crazy things.  I just french kissed my partner with serious intent. 
Good lord, what's wrong with me??

I need to get out of here.   I'm going to suffocate in here.  I think I already have. 
I dunno. I dunno anymore...  

I'm walking away from him but he's following me.  

"Sure, just go ahead Scully," he growls, causing me to turn around. 
"Walk away.  Avoid what you can't handle, just like you always do.  Why don't 
you throw in an 'I'm fine' for good measure as well?"

I glare horrified at him.  Mulder's the only person in this entire world who 
manages to get to me every single time.  He's the only one who knows just what 
to say to press every single one of my buttons and it's infuriating. Just about 
everything about him is infuriating.  Half the time I want to be with him, to let 
him know me as well as he does, to let him be the only one with that knowledge...and 
then the other half it scares me.  The fact that he sees me so wholly and completely, 
that he knows me better than anyone else in this entire world--even my own mother...  
It scares the shit out of me.  

It also makes me so angry that I want to scream and shake.  I honestly don't know 
what's keeping me from doing either one right now.  

"I don't walk away," I counter with quiet rage.  "That's your job."

His back straightens as if I have really stung him with that last part. 

Good.  

"And I don't hide from my emotions," he spits out as if its bile.  "That's your job."

I let my eyes close for a moment to take that one in.

My old nickname from the academy comes back to haunt me with the force of his words.  
Words that hurt. 

"Ice Queen Scully."  

At med school, at the academy, or at work, it made no difference. I was always the 
"ice queen", no matter where I was and what I did, and then for years and years and 
even afterwards, when other agents still didn't think I capable of overhearing them 
in bathroom stalls or from around the corner.  "You'll never score with the ice queen" 
the men would joke to each other in huddled groups in the hallways and laugh. First 
at the academy dorms, and then at work.  "She's too hard, no emotions---I swear, 
have you seen her?"  "Bet she's never been laid," the women would callously joke, 
my peers, my supposed colleages, and of course I would pretend not to hear them. 
I'd outright ignore them or I'd just  leave, even though I always thought that 
they said it specifically in my presence, and for my benefit.  But then sometimes 
they didn't stop at just me either.  They had to poke fun at Mulder too, calling me 
"Spooky's ice queen," and "Spooky's icy match" with sneers so cruel, it made me wonder 
how they ever passed the bureau's psych screening.   

But Mulder was always different.  He was the one who saw through me.  
He was the one who knew me and never once thought of me as some unemotional "Ice queen."   

It hurts me that Mulder would say that now.  It really hurts... More than anything. 
He was always the only one who never made me feel that way.  Who never saw me as unfeeling.  

Or did I only want to think that he didn't?

Well you're wrong Mulder.  You're wrong. They're all wrong.  There's nothing inside 
that I'm hiding from.  You're just...you're just SO....WRONG!!!

I'm not afraid... Oh god, I'm not.  Not really...

I need to better him, I need to one-up that, I need to get him back.  
I want to hurt him back.  I mean, how dare he?  How dare he imply that I can't 
handle myself?  That I don't know how to face my feelings?

I whirl on him in a blind rage. 

 "Yeah, well you hide behind your truth," I sneer, satisfied with the remark.  
"You hide behind your cause and your damned search.  You block out reality and 
create your own so that you don't have to face what really could have happened 
to your sister!  What the truth might really mean!"

He glares at my retort and we are both in an angry, fast paced rollercoaster, 
careening downwards at a ridiculous speed, and there's no way to stop it now. 

"So?" he snorts back disgusted.  "You hide behind your science. You hide behind 
the clinical detachment of it so that you don't have to face what's really going on.  
You can't handle it Scully.  You can't face it.  Just like your abduction.  Just like 
your daughter's death!  You block it out in a different way but you block it out just 
the same. What's the fucking difference?!"  

My mouth drops open.  

Pain like that of an almost physical nature shoots through my spine 
and I am deadened by his words.  Completely floored and totally stunned.  
How the hell dare he mention Emily like that?!  How DARE he?! That goddmned son 
of a bitch!  

You knew that would hurt Mulder!  You KNEW that would make me feel like shit 
and you just said it anyhow.  You always do that and I always let you.  Goddamn it!!

My body stiffens and I shove my way roughly past Mulder, clutching the case 
file and heading towards the door.  

There is nothing left to say to make this better and I need to get away from him. 

"I have autopsies to do," I manage on my way out, not knowing what else to say, 
but needing to say something.  

Mulder is completely silent.  


SCULLY NARRATES:
Around 2:25 am,
Early August 14th.
Scully's hotel room

      ~^~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^~^^~^~^~
<<<<< I thought that I could make it 
to the end with the third installment but, alas, it doesn't seem to be working out that way.  
I'm hoping that the next part will be the conclusion, but I'll have to see how long it gets.  
I may have to break it up again.  At any rate, drop me a line and tell me what you think.  
Do you like it so far?  Tell me how you'd like to see it end.  I DO sometimes incorporate 
other people's ideas into my stories if I think they fit, and if I get some ideas from 
you guys, I just may include them (and of course give the credit where credit is due  ) 
So please, those who have written before know that I love feedback and that it is always 
replied to.  I cherish it!  If you like what you see, then send me yours.  

Title: The Way I Saw It, Part 4a : Humiliation and Interrogations
Author: Jaime Lyn            
Email: Leiaj@bellsouth.net
Category: S, R, H (and  a teensy bit of "A" I guess)
Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance
Spoilers: Well, obviously the first 3 parts. (duh) and Season 5 in general.
Rated: Um, "R" only because of a bunch of swear words 
Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully, or Diana.  I wish I did.  I'd be rich 
then.  
Summary:  Mulder confronts Scully, and an angry Diana sees something she wishes 
she hadn't. 

Authors Note : Well, this is the first part of the end (which is really just one 
conclusion chopped up in a few parts.) I hope you like it, and I'm glad you made 
it this far.  Let's see if you can make it all the way to the end.  *grin *.  
This one pretty much takes place without any flashbacks, so it's a straight 
through deal.  Thank you so very much to EVERYONE who has sent me feedback for 
this, and also to everyone who has sent well wishes for when I was ill. Your 
support was, and still is, no short of incredible.  

For: The one who brought me brownies just because. She always makes me 
laugh when I'm sad,  and always manages to "save me from myself."  She knows who 
she is.  
It goes without saying.  :o)

Words can't say and I can't do enough to prove that it's all for you.--------
Sister Hazel.

                  The Way I Saw It, Part 4a: Humiliation and Interrogations 
                                                By Jaime Lyn
                   ~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^~^~^~^~^~
Around 2:39 am, 
early August 14th,
Diana Fowley's Motel Room,
INSOMNIA, AND DIANA'S STORY:
             
                       ~^~^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^^~^~

Alright, that's just sooooo it. I can't take this anymore.  I give up.  
I wave my little white flag.  

Note to self: Never take this man on another case ever again. 

It's good advice, trust me.  

Don't ever ask him what's wrong unless in a sadistic mood, and don't ever pick 
him up when he's so drunk that he can't even stand.  Never.  Not ever----not on 
a bet, not on a dare, and not even with the promise of money. 

It's just so not worth it, there aren't even words to describe it.   To 
illustrate: Picking his drunk