TITLE: Will You Still Love Me? II: Never Tear Us Apart (1/5)

AUTHORS: Diadem and Isahunter

RATING: NC17

CATEGORY: S, MSR

SPOILERS: (Anasazi, The Blessing Way, Emily) up to Triangle, S6

ARCHIVE: Yes, with names and all headers attached

FEEDBACK: Diadem@cwcom.net / Isahunter@aol.com

DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to us, they are the property of

Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen, and Fox. Starlight Express, and the song "Only

He," are property of The Really Useful Group and Polydor Ltd. No infringement

intended. No money will be earned from this story.

SUMMARY: How far are you willing to go, and how much will you have to

sacrifice, just to learn the truth?

NOTES: This is a sequel to "Will You Still Love Me?" and it is necessary to

have read that story first. It is available on our web site, eXpositions:

http://www.aliens.mcmail.com/isadiadem/

For BoriJ, world's best editor, encourager, and divine angel.

(NC17! If you are under age, read no further!)

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She was angry. A short, angry, redheaded whirlwind, not in the least impeded

by her strapped up shoulder and sling, was glaring at him from across the

room.

"Scully, you've had a tough day. Maybe you should get some sleep." Mulder

sank onto the sofa, and rubbed his eyes. He really didn't want to discuss the

matter any further.

"Oh no! You're not getting away with it that easily, mister!" She was on

the move again, this time moving round to her armchair. "You wanted to talk

about this, and talk about it we will! And preferably before work tomorrow!"

He should have seen that one coming. "Scully," he tried reasoning with her,

"you were shot in the shoulder yesterday morning. You only just got home.

You are taking some time off."

"I am not!" Why couldn't she just sit still? "Mulder, we investigate people

who blow things up with manure, for Christ's sake! I hardly think I'm going

to be over-exerting myself!"

"You know full well that's not what I mean." He rubbed his eyes again: he

sure was tired, and he hadn't even been hospitalized. He felt a hand gently

covering his fist.

"I know." She seemed to have run out of steam, as she dropped onto the sofa

beside him. "And I know you're just looking out for me. But that wasn't what

we were discussing anyway." She was right. She took a hold of his chin, and

tugged until he was looking at her. "I know you don't like the idea, Mulder,

but I think it's the best way. Besides, it was your idea in the first place."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it now." He put his arm around her, being

careful not to jar her shoulder. "I'm sure there must be another way."

"Well, as soon as you think of this amazing plan, be sure to let me know,

OK?" She ruffled his hair affectionately, but then became serious again. "To

be perfectly honest, Mulder, I don't like the idea much either..."

"Then leave it. We'll think of something else. Something you are happy

with."

"That's not what I was saying." She stood, and wandered over to the window,

staring out at the city lights. Mulder vaguely wondered about the chances of

convincing her to take one of the sedatives she'd been given at the hospital,

in case she couldn't sleep. The chances were pretty slim, he concluded, after

carefully regarding the woman who stood before him. He couldn't help but

smile a little at the thought.

"What I'm saying," she continued, "is that I really think, short of tying

Spender down and fixing electrodes to his head, this is the only way. And

anyway..."

She was interrupted by the ringing of her telephone. "Probably my Mom," she

told him as she crossed the room to answer it. As she picked it up, however,

it was evident it was not Mrs. Scully on the other end of the line. Her eyes

went wide as she silenced him with a wave of her hand.

"Oh, hi!" 'Spender,' she mouthed at him. His own eyes widened in response.

"Yeah, I'm fine now...Oh, I'm sorry...You didn't have to call...Yeah...Well,

of course it aches a little, but the bullet went straight through...Tomorrow,

I hope...Oh no, you don't need to, Mulder's here...Just keeping me

company...Oh...Well, yes, that would be lovely...Eight o'clock?...OK, see you

tomorrow." She waited for a moment, grimaced, and then hung up the receiver.

She took a couple of seconds, collecting herself, before she turned back to

Mulder.

He had that look in his eyes, telling her she was in trouble. So she spoke

before he had a chance. "That was Spender."

"No kidding."

"He was just checking to see how I was."

"You were shot in the shoulder."

"Well, jeez Mulder, thanks for reminding me." She returned to staring out of

the window. She was silent for a few seconds. "Still no change in Diana."

"What did you just arrange with him, Scully?" There was anger, hurt, and

jealousy in his voice.

"He's taking me out for a drink tomorrow." As if he hadn't guessed it was

something of the like. "Mulder, we discussed this. If we want any

information on Diana, and on Spender, we need to do something about it as soon

as possible." She moved over to the couch, and sat down again, curling up by

his side, as best as her injury would allow. "It's the best way, Mulder, you

have to trust me on this one. I know how badly Diana hurt you, but at least

you know I won't be hurt by Spender running off without me."

Mulder sighed, and resumed his earlier position with his arm around her good

shoulder. "It's not that I'm worried about," he told her, squeezing her

gently. "What worries me is that he might run off with you."

"I could kick his ass any day!" She grinned up at him. "But seriously

Mulder, it would still be you I come home to at the end of the day, most days,

at least." She leaned in and kissed him lightly.

He returned the kiss, but his expression was still serious. "I just worry

about you, you know? And especially with that shoulder..."

"Remember when I shot you?" He nodded. "Did that stop you from doing

anything at all?"

"Driving was pretty tough."

"Then I promise I won't drive! Trust me, Mulder." Those words: she knew he

couldn't say no.

"I know, I know, it's the only way." He looked pained. "But I won't be able

to drop round as much, and we certainly can't do anything at work. I was

kinda looking forward to that."

"Mulder!" She punched him in the chest as she stood up. "I'm glad you

agree, though. And now, I think I'm going to listen to your advice, for once,

and get some sleep."

"In that case, I'd better be going." Mulder stood, and reached for his coat

which he had slung over the back of the couch. "Are you sure you'll be OK?"

"I'm sure." She walked him to the door, but before she opened it, she turned

and looked into his eyes. "The next few weeks are going to be difficult, but

I need you to remember I do love you." There were tears blurring her vision,

but she didn't let them fall. Mulder pulled her into a warm embrace. Make

the most of it while you can, the little voice in his head told him.

"Be careful, OK?" he whispered into her hair. "Just make sure you remember I

love you, too." Damn, now his eyes were filling up. "At least I don't have

to remember to call you Dana for a while." He pulled away, smoothing her hair

as he did so.

"Mulder, you haven't called me Dana since we got home from the hospital."

She turned and opened the door, surreptitiously wiping her eyes as she did so.

He placed his hand on her arm, silently letting her know that everything would

be all right.

"See you in the morning." And with that, he was gone.

"How's you shoulder?"

"Mulder, for the twentieth time, I'm fine."

He grumbled silently to himself, wanting to drag her over his own shoulder

and carry her home, where she belonged. Monday morning had come far too soon.

Standing in the elevator, seconds away from their crowded office, he was more

jittery than a man facing a firing squad. He should've refused to pick her up

for work...but she probably would have just called a cab. Then he really

would've had a guilty conscience. But even now, he couldn't help but think

this was all his fault. She never would've been shot if he hadn't been such

an idiot.

She caught him staring at her and narrowed her eyes. She nodded towards the

closed steel doors, silently reminding him they were about to be joined by

dozens of Federal Agents...and not one of them was supposed to know just what

their relationship was. They were supposed to be mere partners. If they

played it safe, and kept up a deliberate front, no one would guess they were

really lovers.

Oh, who the hell were they kidding? Half the Bureau already guessed they

were sleeping together, long before they actually had. They didn't call her

Mrs. Spooky for nothing.

The little number over the doors lit up, announcing that they'd reached their

destination. In the brief two seconds before the doors opened, Scully stood

on tip-toe and kissed him on the mouth. God, how he wanted to grab her and

beg for more. But, with much reluctance, he let her slip away. She stepped

out into the hallway, passing a group of agents waiting for the elevator, and

gave him a little smirk over her shoulder.

Damn. This was going to kill him.

He didn't have to try very hard to look irritated, but he still didn't know

if he could pull this off. Arguing with Scully over science and rationality

was one thing, but fighting with her in front of a room full of agents--over

Diana--was quite another. Even if the fight was staged for Spender's benefit.

Following her into the office, his hands fisted at his sides, he stopped just

short of her desk. She had sat down, facing him, looking more than just a

little bit vulnerable with her sling covering her torso. She glared up at

him, playing her part perfectly. A little too well, for his tastes.

"I'm not through talking to you," he said, through clenched teeth, just loud

enough for other nearby agents to hear.

"Well, I'm through talking to you. God, Mulder, you never listen to reason.

You're like a brick wall."

He could feel the gaze of several eyes upon him. He knew they were clearly

wondering what had happened to Agent Scully's arm. But if he knew anything

from the six years he'd worked with this woman, it was that no one paid

attention to their arguments for long. They bickered so often in the past

that it was like normal conversation. Sexual tension. And he knew he had to

up the stakes...to let them know, this time, the anger was real.

"A brick wall?" He leaned right over the desk, and pushed his face to within

an inch of hers. Bad idea. All he wanted to do was...Enough! You're mad at

her, remember? "A brick wall?" he repeated, backing off a little. "Well I'd

rather be a brick wall than corrugated iron!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Her teeth were gritted, and she stood up

slowly. Fellow agents shrank back, correctly guessing an injured Scully could

be lethal.

"I mean, at least I can see things other than those right in front of my

nose!" he sneered. God, she was sexy when she was angry.

"Yeah?" Her voice rose a tone: he knew she had come up with a good retort.

"Then what about Diana?"

"Don't you dare talk about Diana!"

"Mulder, she shot me!"

A ripple of murmurs ran round the office. Good one, Scully. Now to hit her

hard. "So?"

"Mulder." She choked. He never would have imagined she could be this good.

"She tried to shoot you. You need to accept she's not the woman you knew!"

"She thought you were someone else."

"She had a gun to your head!"

"It was nowhere near my head!"

"Mulder, listen to yourself! You need to accept this, but you're just too

stubborn to do it!"

He leaned in close again. "There is nothing to accept! And if you can't

accept that, well then--" He gagged as his collar was dragged backwards.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice was angry, but it

still held its characteristic whine. Spender. "How could you do that to

her?"

Mulder whirled round, fully intent on letting his fist finally make contact

with the weasel's jaw, but stopped short when he caught sight of Scully. She

was small, and with tears running down her face she looked so vulnerable it

shook him to his heart. The same heart that nearly broke as he hissed his

final words: "Let her fight her own battles, you interfering bastard!"

With that he strode out of the office, leaving behind the soul-wrenching

gasps of his lover and best friend.

"Oh, Dana." Oh God, could things not get any worse. Scully sniffled once

again, for effect, and turned to face Spender. The female agent who had

rushed to her aid as soon as Mulder had left placed a hand on her arm, and

looked at her, questioningly. Scully nodded, and the agent moved away, urging

the rest of the onlookers to do the same.

Seeing the crowd begin to dissipate, Spender crouched by her chair and took

her hand in his. It was cold and clammy, and Scully had to physically

restrain herself from flinching. She couldn't look at him: she had a feeling

she might start to giggle, for some absurd reason.

"He had no right to say those things." Oh dear Lord, he was rubbing her hand

with his thumb. She was going to be sick. "What really happened, Dana?"

How insensitive could he get? "In the warehouse?"

"Yeah. You don't have to tell me, but it sure sent Mulder weird."

"Mulder was weird already," she reminded him. "I don't mind telling you."

She stopped for a moment, and hoped to God it looked like she was collecting

herself. In reality, she was trying to remember as best she could the details

of the story she and Mulder had concocted the night before.

"Mulder called me and said he'd received a call, asking us to go to the

warehouse. They said it was about the Cheyenne case we'd been working on."

"The terrorists from Wyoming?"

"Yeah. Well, I had reason to believe it might be their next bombing target,

but after consideration...I knew there was something wrong. I tried to call

Mulder, to warn him, but he'd already left..."

Spender suddenly dropped her hand. "What did you try to warn him about?"

"Diana." She gave him a puzzled look. "I knew there was something not right

about her, but I couldn't tell what it was."

"Did you tell anyone else about this?" He was sounding desperate, but trying

to hide it. Good, she was making him squirm!

"Of course not." Damn. That could have been fun. "But I need to know who

she was working for."

"What happened when you got to the warehouse?" Oh, subtle, Spender. Great

secret agent you'd make, she thought.

"Oh, um," She rubbed her eyes. "Well, I arrived in time to hear Diana

making some kind of confession. I thought that once he'd heard it from her,

he'd believe, but he still wouldn't. That man can be so stubborn..."

"Dana?" He took her hand again, but this time his grip was tighter. "I know

this is difficult, but I need to know. What happened?"

"She thought I had some kind of relationship with Mulder: she shot me out of

jealousy. So I returned fire. Mulder just...he still wouldn't believe me.

He just left me there on the floor. He went to Diana, and left me..."

"Shhh, it's OK." He pulled her into an embrace that was anything but warm.

She shuddered before she could stop herself, and pulled away.

"Thanks. Look, I'm sorry about all this. I know you got annoyed when I

asked you questions about Diana, but, well, now you know why I did."

"Yes. I'm sorry too." He looked at his watch. "Are you going to be OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You go. I'm sorry I kept you." It can be hard, she

reflected, to keep sarcasm on a firm tether.

"OK." He rose, and started to leave, followed by the stares of the other

agents in the office. He stopped short, however, when he saw Mulder standing

a few feet away. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you'll be

OK?"

She merely nodded, staring at Mulder, silently communicating her apology,

only to see his reflected a thousand times deeper. It was enough to bring

fresh tears to her eyes.

"Well, OK." She barely heard Spender's response as he left, shooting an evil

glare in Mulder's direction. She felt her breath catch as he came nearer.

"I needed a file." He didn't stop, but moved round behind her chair, bending

down to reach her lower desk drawer. "Well done!" he whispered, as he pulled

open the drawer. "Have you ever considered Hollywood as a career?"

"Yeah, right!" she answered. "A short redhead trying to make a break into

acting? I don't think so."

"You know I didn't mean any of that, right?" She shivered again as he

touched her lightly on the leg, but this time it was a delightful shiver.

"Of course," she replied, covering his hand with her own. "I'm just sorry

you ended up as the bad guy."

"Makes a change from being the spooky guy," he quipped as he slid the drawer

shut. He gave her thigh a gentle squeeze before straightening up and stalking

towards his own desk, his mask firmly back in place.

God, he felt guilty. Even though Scully knew he hadn't meant it, he couldn't

believe some of the things he'd said. Although he was quite enjoying his

stint as the baddie of the FBI: he kept having to fight the urge to stand up

and shout "Oh no it isn't!" or something equally pantomime-esque.

Unfortunately that was just a shortcut to psychiatric evaluation, and he could

do without that particular problem right now.

All afternoon he had been sneaking glances at his partner, and had made as

many trips to her desk drawer as was humanly possible. She had calmed down a

lot, and although her eyes were still a little red, she had been smiling when

she came back from her lunch with her mother. It was good to know no

permanent damage had been done.

Resigned, he tore his eyes away from her and back to his computer. He had

only managed to type a line or so before the monitor blipped, alerting him to

a new message in his mail folder. Logging on, he checked the message.

**Sp. def. NOT OK. V. twitchy when I asked Q's.**

**S.**

Glancing back at her, he saw that she was studiously typing, seemingly

oblivious to him. Hitting the "reply" icon, he responded.

**Need to talk. Tonight?**

**M.**

He hit "send" and pulled up "Solitaire" to pass the time until he got another

message. He did not have to wait long.

**No. Date with Sp. I'll phone.**

**S.**

Not hesitating, he replied.

**You'd better.**

**M.**

He waited, but instead of another message, he heard the blip from Scully's

laptop that signaled her signing off. Sighing, he closed down his own

program, and picked up another file that could be argued into Scully's desk

drawer. Rumors were going to start flying, he speculated: Fox Mulder has a

tidy desk! Come and see! Heading for her desk, he saw Scully slip her

computer into her bag and stand up.

"I'm going home, Mulder." She declared, in a voice that could in no way be

considered too loud, but was definitely within the hearing range of the rest

of the office. The background noise level considerably lessened.

"Have you finished the expense reports?" he asked, although he was pretty

certain there were no expense reports to finish.

"I'll finish up tomorrow. I'm tired, Mulder."

"Tomorrow?"

"I'm going, Mulder." She headed for the hallway, leaving Mulder surrounded

by disapproving faces. The files could wait until tomorrow, he decided, and

set about shutting down his computer.

If someone had told Scully she'd be going on a second date with Spender, let

alone a first, she would've laughed in their face. Unfortunately, it didn't

seem so funny anymore.

The bar was small and dingy, although the atmosphere was warm and welcoming,

and Scully was glad she hadn't dressed herself up too much. The black jeans,

electric blue blouse and ankle boots seemed to blend in perfectly with her

surroundings.

Next to her, Spender shrugged his coat off, and then turned to help her with

her own. As his hand brushed her shoulder, she winced, and then quickly wiped

the expression off her face as she realized it wasn't her injured shoulder

he'd touched. "Sorry," he muttered as he disappeared with their coats.

Left on her own, Scully wandered over to the bar, and ordered a diet Coke.

Unsure as to what to order for Spender, she managed to hoist herself onto a

bar stool to wait for him.

It was a strange place, she mused, as she looked around the room. Although

one probably would've designated it a meeting place for Hell's Angels and the

like, on account of the lack of light and abundance of smoke and alcohol, it

appeared, on closer inspection, to be dedicated to Broadway shows. Framed

prints adorned the walls, and although she was no fan of musicals, Scully

thought she could pick out scenes from "West Side Story," "Cats" and "A Chorus

Line." Behind the bar, in between the rows of bottles, there was what

appeared to be a signed photograph of Leonard Bernstein, a couple of guitars,

and a pair of roller-skates. She could hear the strains of the title song to

"Fame" from the adjoining room.

Returning her gaze to the bar, she picked up her Coke and took a swallow.

She could've done with something stronger, given the circumstances, but she

wasn't allowed alcohol with the medication she'd been given at the hospital.

Resigned to the fact that she'd have to rely on caffeine and sugar to get her

through the evening, she glanced towards the door.

She had only a second to wait before it opened. Instead of admitting Spender

to the bar, though, it was Mulder who drifted through the entrance. After

glancing at her, affirming she was all right, he took a seat at the opposite

end of the bar, and was soon nursing a pint of lager. She knew from

experience it would be his only drink of the evening.

But what was he doing here? Although touched by his concern, it irritated

her that he evidently didn't think she could look after herself. They had no

evidence Spender was working for the Consortium, although she had a strong

suspicion that if Diana had been involved, he must've known something. Mulder

was somewhat more certain about Spender's shadowy connections, but was

reluctantly waiting until they had hard evidence. He was only looking out for

her, and although it was sweet of him, Scully wished that sometimes he

wouldn't.

"Fame" faded away, and was replaced by another song, one that Scully didn't

recognize, as Spender finally pushed his way through the door. Smiling, he

took the stool next to hers.

"So, what do you think?" He gestured vaguely to their surroundings.

"I don't think I've ever been anywhere like this," she answered truthfully.

"I love Broadway, though." To hell with the truth. She took another sip of

her Coke.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" He gestured to the Coke. "I never thought. You should

have said...we could have gone somewhere else..."

"It's fine, Jeffrey," she interrupted him. "I don't usually drink much

anyway." Chance would be a fine thing.

"Well, if you're sure." He turned suddenly to the bartender, and Scully held

her breath, waiting for the moment he would spot Mulder. Fortunately, he

didn't, and she relaxed as he turned back to face her. When he didn't say

anything, she seized her chance.

"So, I hear you solved the Maslow case." Start small, work up to the big

stuff.

"Yeah." He accepted the pint glass the bartender offered him. "It was

tough, but we caught the bad guys in the end!" She smiled at his attempted

joke. "But let's not talk about work. I'd much rather talk about you."

"Not much to say, to be honest." She placed her Coke back on the bar. "The

truth is, work is just about all I've done these last six years or so." And

my father died, my sister was shot, and my baby girl was killed, she added,

silently. Three generations. One quest.

"What about Mulder?" he asked, trying to make it sound like an innocent

question.

"What about Mulder?" Two can play at that game.

"Surely you must have done stuff with him."

She sighed. "Spender, I told you just a couple of days ago there's nothing

going on between me and Mulder. I was telling the truth." Well, I was then.

"We are partners, and good friends. You have to be when you've been partners

for six years." She winced as Spender's face hardened at her mention of

partners. "I'm sorry." She placed her hand over his, glancing over his

shoulder at Mulder as she did so. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and went

back to his drink. "Has there been any change?"

He shook his head. "I was there this afternoon. I could only stay with her

a minute, though."

"Is that what the nurses told you?" she asked, sympathetic. "Because if you

tell them you're FBI..."

"No. Some other people arrived."

"Who?" His face closed even further on hearing her simple question. "Did

you recognize them?"

"No." He bowed his head for a second, before raising it again. "Look,

enough of that. I wanted you to have fun tonight. Do you want to dance?"

So that was where the music was coming from. She glanced at Mulder again,

but he had turned his attention to the small black and white television

mounted above the bar. "Sure." She hopped down from the bar stool, and

swallowed the last of her Coke. "Let's go."

The music changed again as they stepped onto the dance floor. She'd hoped

for a quicker song, one that wouldn't require her to be quite so close to him,

but the faster she gained his trust, the sooner she could get back to Mulder.

She rested her hands on his shoulders, carefully avoiding any contact with

her own, and started to sway with the music. But although she didn't know the

song, she soon found herself caught up in the words.

"Look at me, a woman,

Calm and in control

No silly girl whose head's always turning.

Nobody would guess that

Deep inside my soul,

A brand new flame is burning."

She felt as though someone had managed to write down her exact feelings on her

relationship with Mulder. She felt Spender lean closer to her, and he began

to whisper something, but she quieted him as the chorus began.

"Only he

Has the power to move me,

And together we'd make

The whole world move in sympathy.

You and me we'd be sublime.

Only he

Has the power to move me,

Take me, hold me, mold me,

Change me and improve me,

Only he has the power to move me."

It was perfect. It WAS Mulder. How could anyone else have captured her

feelings so perfectly?

"All the nights I've wasted

Dreaming of the time

When I discovered the one to guide me.

Searching the horizons,

Didn't realize

That all the time he was beside me."

As the chorus began again, Scully wondered at the female voice. She sounded

so genuine, she had to sympathize with whatever it was she had gone through.

"Only he could stay with me that long,

Stand by me when everything's going wrong."

She started as she saw Mulder standing in the doorway, watching them. At

first she was angry with him: why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"What if he couldn't wait

Have I left it too late?"

Have I? she asked herself. As she looked towards Mulder once again, any anger

she may have felt vanished. He wore an expression of such pain and sorrow on

his face, she almost left Spender's arms and went running into Mulder's, but

she knew she mustn't do that. Instead, she blew him a silent kiss, as Spender

whirled her around, wrenching Mulder from her sight.

"Can he feel, will he never guess?

That next time I'm gonna answer yes.

Does he know, if he comes back today,

This time I'm gonna make him stay?

He, only he, only he has the power to move me."

The music faded away, and the couples on the dance floor broke away from each

other, only to cheer enthusiastically when it was replaced by the opening

chords of "Timewarp." Scully, however, did not move back to Spender.

Instead, she wandered back into the bar, subconsciously searching for her

partner.

"Dana?" The voice was concerned, and Scully suddenly came out of her trance-

like state, realizing for the first time she'd left the dance floor without a

word.

"Oh, I, er, I'm sorry," she stammered. "It's just my shoulder."

"Of course." He led her to a table, and sat her down. "You wait there, I'll

go fetch the coats."

"Oh no, you don't have to..." She trailed off, as she realized that Spender

had already gone. Way to go, Dana. Ruin two dates in a row, why don't you?

Well, it's not as if I don't have a good excuse, she reasoned, as Spender

returned.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to ruin your evening."

"It wasn't ruined." He pulled his coat on, after helping her into her own.

"I shouldn't have asked you so soon after...well, you know."

"Oh, no. This was exactly what I needed. Better than another night at home

with Mulder, anyway!" It got the smile she'd been aiming for, but it had to

be worth a couple of Hail Mary's at least. "I am sorry, though. You're going

to be getting sick of me spoiling your evenings."

"Never." He held the door open for her, and she stepped out of the bar into

the chilly night air.

END (1/5)