WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME? II: NEVER TEAR US APART (3/5)

by Diadem and Isahunter

(Disclaimers in part one. NC 17!)

Sitting in the passenger's seat of the sedan, watching the scenery fly by as

they rolled down the road, Scully glimpsed the reflection of her grin in the

window. She'd have to remember to wipe that satisfied smirk off her face

before they returned to the Hoover building. It wouldn't do for everyone to

see her jubilant expression when she was supposed to be angry at her partner.

Glancing over at Mulder, watching his long legs move as he accelerated down

the street, she had to bite her lip. How many years had she wanted him? How

many times had she dreamt of a clandestine love affair, of the romance and

intrigue of it all? It was dangerous and risky, could very well get them

fired...or killed, if the wrong people found out. But she wouldn't have

changed a second. No matter what lay ahead, this time she had with him was

more precious than words could say.

He turned to look at her, giving her a little grin that told her he knew

exactly what she was thinking. It didn't surprise her. He always seemed to

know, whether she wanted him to or not.

He slipped his hand over her knee. "I was thinking--"

"Uh-oh."

"Funny. When this is all over, we should go away for the weekend. Take a

little break from all this."

"To where?"

"Well, I was going to leave the details up to you."

"I see. You want me to do all the planning, so you don't have to worry about

it."

"Something like that."

"Mulder, it's a wonder you were able to stay alive all those years, without

me to do your work for you."

"Hey...I resent that."

"But you don't deny it."

"Well, not really."

Her grin returned, full-force.

Minutes later he pulled the car to a stop in the hospital parking garage.

She stepped out of the car, not bothering to wait for him to open the door.

Just because they were lovers now didn't mean things had changed. They were

still equals in this partnership, and she wasn't about to let him baby

her...even if she did have an injured shoulder.

She didn't mind, however, his hand resting on the small of her back as they

made their way to the intensive care unit.

"Did I ever tell you I hate hospitals?" he murmured, as they reached the

nurse's station.

"Considering that we both practically own stock in the area hospitals, I'm

not surprised." Turning to the nurse before them, she flipped out her badge

and saw Mulder do the same. "My name is Special Agent Dana Scully, and this

is my partner Agent Mulder. We're with the FBI...we'd like to talk to you

about taking a look at your surveillance tapes for Monday afternoon."

The nurse, a young blond who was having a hard time taking her eyes off

Mulder, turned to Scully with a blank look. "I think you'll have to go

downstairs and talk to security about that sort of thing, ma'am."

She abruptly returned her gaze to Mulder, causing Scully to grit her teeth.

He merely smirked at her.

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the counter, shamelessly flirting.

"You'll have to excuse my partner. You see, we were told the recent

surveillance videos would be available for us to view here...you could arrange

that for us, couldn't you?"

The nurse blushed. "Well--don't you need some sort of court order or

something?"

"We aren't interested in invading the privacy of your patients, Nurse--" he

looked at her name tag, "Howard. We'd just like to see the tapes from the

corridor outside rooms 425 through room 432. It won't take but a second. And

I can promise I'll take full responsibility with your supervisor."

Scully was having a hard time keeping from gagging. Tapping her heel on the

floor, she watched the nurse hastily disappear into a back room and return

with a marked videotape. Mulder's smug grin was nearly enough to make her

smile herself.

Shaking her head, she stepped around the desk and stood before the monitor.

Nurse Howard popped the cassette into its slot and showed her how to move

through the tape. Scully could feel Mulder's gaze over her shoulder as she

scanned through hours of visitors coming and going. When she finally saw

Spender entering Diana's room, she slowed the tape. She heard Mulder snort in

disgust at the flowers in Spender's hand.

Mulder stepped away from the nurse's station, wandering towards Diana's

hospital room. Scully could see him, out of the corner of her eye, peering

through the glass separating them. She had to bite her lip and concentrate

just to focus on the tape before her. She had no idea what he was going

through, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. But she couldn't help but

feel saddened at his loss. Despite what she'd done, Mulder had loved that

woman. And she betrayed him. It hurt Scully nearly as badly to know just how

hard it was for him to trust her, because of what Diana had done.

Tearing her gaze away from his reflection in the glass, she looked down at

the tape and spotted what she'd been dreading to see...but what she'd always

known to be true. Walking down that fuzzy corridor, on a tape that wavered

from being taped over so many times, was the Cigarette Smoking Man.

Striding into Diana's hospital room as if he owned the place.

"Mulder, I think you'd better take a look at this."

When she looked up to meet his gaze, her partner was nowhere to be

found...until she noticed his dark shadow hovering like a mourner on the other

side of Diana's bed.

He hadn't meant to leave Scully. He hadn't realized he had, until he found

himself staring down at the features of his former wife. He didn't want to be

there: it was a kind of morbid curiosity that had drawn him towards her.

Raising his head, he saw Scully start and turn respectfully away, waiting for

him, allowing him to take the time he needed.

That was so like Scully, he reflected. Always letting him do things in his

own time, whether it was to rush through, or work methodically for days, she

would always be there to pick up the pieces, or straighten him out.

With Diana it had been so different. They'd been almost ten years younger,

both so much more naive, and when he had chosen to rush, she rushed with him.

When he had selected the slower approach, she had left him to it, not

encouraged him, or even been there to offer a cup of coffee and a smile.

He glanced down once more at the comatose body in the bed before him. She

was pale and lifeless, and brought back horrific memories of all the times he

had seen his partner in the same condition. At those times, he had sat beside

her, whispering when she was asleep or unconscious, talking softly when she

was awake, always holding her hand, not able to let her slip away. And

somehow she had always held on. They both had.

But staring at Diana, he could not bring himself to take her hand. It was

irrational, and he hated himself for it: she had been his wife, for God's

sake. Had been. Past tense. That chapter of his life was over. There was a

part of him that ached to give some kind of sympathy, some kind of support, to

the woman before him, but he simply could not make any movement in her

direction. Diana was the past. The woman across the hall was his future.

He sighed, and thrust his hands into his pockets. There would be no

whispered words of trust and love this time. Once more, he gazed through the

two windows to where Scully was sitting on one of the desks in the nurse's

station, just in time to catch her looking at her watch. She was still pretty

tired from her own stay in the hospital, and Mulder realized she was where his

responsibilities now lay, not with the lifeless form of an ex-partner.

He made for the door, stopping briefly at the foot of the bed. He didn't

really know what to say, didn't even know if she could hear him, although he

firmly believed Scully had been able to during each of the far too many times

she had been in a frighteningly similar position.

"I'm sorry." He knew he didn't mean it. "How could you have done that to

her?" The memories of their confrontation in the warehouse would haunt him

forever. "How could you do that to me? Why, Diana? Who put you up to this?

Was it Them?"

He stared at her for a moment, although he certainly didn't expect an answer.

But, wait...had her eyelids fluttered? He stared for a further minute, but

nothing happened. He knew he should alert a doctor or a nurse, but it could

very well have been a product of a very tired and over-stressed imagination.

Shooting one last look in her direction, he reached for the door handle.

Scully was waiting for him in the hallway, and she hugged him, as best she

could. "No change?"

He smiled down at her, and then glanced over his shoulder towards Diana's

room. "No. No change." He pulled away from her embrace, and linked his arm

with hers, leading her away.

"Did you want to talk about it?"

"Hmm?" Mulder shifted his gaze from the road for a second, and stopped

chewing on his lip, but it wasn't long before he'd resumed both.

"Diana. Do you feel like talking about what happened?"

Scully watched his brow furrow before he reached over and turned on the

radio, effectively cutting that conversation short before it even started.

Trent Reznor's voice surrounded her, when Mulder's should have. Shaking her

head, she sighed heavily.

"You could have just said 'no.'"

His grip on the steering wheel loosened a bit. "What did you find out from

the surveillance tape?"

She felt like ignoring his question, just as he had hers, but she supposed he

had a right to privacy. She just wished he wouldn't keep things from her.

Yeah, if wishes were horses...

"It was just as we suspected."

"So, Old Smoky was visiting Diana's hospital room?"

"Yes." She glanced at his hands again, noting his white-knuckled grip on the

steering wheel. He didn't like having his suspicions confirmed. Not in this

instance, anyway. "Diana told you herself that she was involved with them.

Were you really surprised?"

"Hell yes, I was surprised! She lied to me, made me think all this time I

was the one who drove her away. How do you think that made me feel?"

Her silence made him turn and look at her. She could only stare at him,

trying to hide the hurt expression on her face he caused when he lashed out at

her. His angry countenance immediately softened, and he pressed his hand over

her knee.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you." He glanced back at the road once

more, eyeing the car in front of him. "I just--When she left, I thought it

was because of something I'd done wrong. I beat myself up for years

afterwards. Good old Fox Mulder fucked up again."

Scully placed her good hand over his, giving him a gentle squeeze and feeling

his fingers wrap around hers.

She knew what he was saying, even if he didn't say it out loud. Everyone

he'd ever loved had left him, and he'd blamed himself for it. He'd gotten so

used to being abandoned that instead of waiting for those around him to leave,

he pushed them away, kept them at a distance, never letting anyone too close.

Until her. She tightened her grip on his hand, silently thanking God that

she'd been able to sneak past the walls he'd been guarding while his back was

turned. For all the damage Diana had done with her betrayal, it was a miracle

they'd gotten this far.

"She used you, Mulder. She took your trust and slapped you in the face with

it. You have every right to be angry with her."

He focused back on the road, moving into the left lane in preparation to turn

down the street where she lived. "What she did to me isn't the issue here.

Hell, I could've forgiven her for betraying me, if that had been where it

ended. But when she shot you, she made it personal."

The sudden turn their conversation had taken gave her the chills. Trying to

lighten the mood, she changed the subject. Unfortunately, the first thing

that popped out of her mouth was about the last thing he needed to hear. "I

know you won't be thrilled, but I consented to let Spender take me out to a

movie."

He gave her a sideways glance, before shaking his head. "And just when did

you agree to this?"

"This morning, after talking to Kersh." When he pulled his hand away, she

loosened her grip and let him go. "I'm not exactly pleased with the idea,

either. But I swear this is the last time. If I don't learn what I need to

know about him tonight, we'll try something else. I promise."

"Cross your heart?"

"And hope to die."

Pulling up to the curb, he put the car in park and turned to look at her.

"What movie are you seeing?"

"A Bug's Life."

"Great. I wanted to see that one."

She rolled her eyes. "You'll just have to wait 'til it comes out on video."

"When will you be home?"

"Early, I hope. I'm not staying out with him any longer than I have to."

"You're not going to let him feel you up in the back seats, are you?"

"Only if he buys me popcorn."

"Good girl. Never give it away for free."

She smirked at him, reaching for the door handle. He stopped her with a hand

on her thigh, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her. But he wouldn't

dare in broad daylight, in front of her building. Quirking her eyebrow, she

waited.

"Be careful."

"I always am. Especially with you."

"I mean it, Scully. And call me as soon as you walk in the door."

She groaned. "Yes, Ahab."

She almost missed his frown as she closed the door. Giggling softly to

herself, she walked to her apartment, resisting the urge to blow a kiss over

her shoulder.

The office was dark, which wasn't particularly surprising at such a late

hour. Any self-respecting agent would have left long ago. But the reason he

was here at all was his suspicion that Agent Spender was anything but

respectable.

Holding his breath, Mulder flicked the light switch. No explosions or

sirens, just the light turning on, buzzing faintly. He smiled, remembering

how it had irritated the hell out of him when he worked down here twelve or

thirteen hours a day.

No time for nostalgia, he reminded himself as he took in the office. There

were no "I Want To Believe" posters or newspaper cuttings now. "Skinner,

3:00" was scrawled across a wipe board in red marker pen. God, that brought

back memories.

Creeping around to the other side of the desk, Mulder was faced with an

ailing plant and a picture of the President. Personally Mulder preferred his

Flukeman snapshot. Taking a moment to ponder this thought, he grinned in

spite of himself. And why was he creeping anyway? No one was likely to

discover him at this hour, and even if they did, he would somehow manage to

sweet-talk his way out of it. He always had before. Although the black

outfit he had changed into in honor of the occasion was only likely to

incriminate him further.

Getting down to business, Mulder suddenly understood the purpose of a tidy

office: when people are trying to spy on you, it makes their job a whole lot

easier. He made a mental note never to clear his desk again.

The top drawer of the desk contained nothing but neatly ordered files:

nothing out of the ordinary, or at least, not as far as the X-files were

concerned.

The next drawer contained a box of ball-point pens, half of them black and

half of them blue, a box of neatly sharpened pencils he had to resist the urge

to toss at the ceiling, an electric sharpener, and a small bag of paperclips.

The third drawer was empty, except for a marble and a packet of breath mints.

No wonder no one could stand being near Spender.

Mulder was on the verge of disbelief. How could anyone possibly have such

boring desk drawers? Even Scully kept interesting stuff in her desk: sweets,

usually used for bribery purposes, and occasionally a cool little medical toy

of some sort. But the contents of these drawers was pathetic by anyone's

standards.

Giving the desk up as a lost cause, Mulder turned his attention to the

remainder of the office. The file cabinets were, of course, locked, which

could have been a fortunate turn of events. If he had had access to the

files, he could well have spent the whole night in the office.

The only other possibility seemed to be the three shelves on the opposite

wall. The top two were occupied by neatly ordered books, and on closer

inspection Mulder found his suspicions confirmed. They were arranged in

alphabetical order. Wincing, he turned his attention to the third shelf,

which appeared to be the only area of the office where clutter was permitted.

Files were the main cause of the mess. They had evidently been stacked

neatly at one point, but had slid to one side, covering most of the shelf's

surface. Apart from the files, there were one or two high tech gadgets which

Mulder would have needed Scully in order to identify, a wooden box, and a

couple of envelopes, and it was these that drew Mulder's attention. The

stamps were Canadian, and the handwriting unfamiliar. The letters had been

removed, but if he squinted, Mulder could just identify a Quebec postmark.

Losing interest, he transferred his investigation to the wooden box.

Intricately carved, it looked as though it may have been Indian in origin.

Although it was pretty to look at, it appeared to serve no purpose, and when

Mulder carefully prized the lid open it revealed nothing but an unfinished

interior.

Replacing the lid, Mulder returned the box to its former position on the

shelf, making sure he did not disturb any of the other items in the process.

Resigning himself to the fact that there was no evidence to be found here,

Mulder was about to leave the office, when a gleam of steel caught his eye

from under one of the folders on the shelf.

Lifting the folders, Mulder slid the ashtray out from its hiding place. As

he had suspected, the cigarette butt was there. He wasn't surprised to find

that it bore the all too familiar "Morleys" legend. He wasn't even surprised

to find it still slightly warm.

Sliding the offending article back into place, Mulder flipped the light

switch and left the office.

How on earth did I get into this situation, Scully asked herself.

Spender was sitting on her couch, in her home, his gaze moving around the

room as if taking silent inventory. Looking like he was getting ready to move

right in. She had to fight the urge to gag. This had really gotten out of

hand. Too much time had passed with too little learned, and she'd gotten so

desperate for information she'd resorted to desperate tactics. Pretending to

date Spender was one thing, but inviting him in to her apartment--she had to

have lost her mind somewhere along the road.

She silently tried to convince herself this was the best way to earn his

confidence and trust, but a very big part of her wasn't buying it. Get him

out of here! her head shouted. But she chose to ignore it. This was only one

night out of her life. They would just sit here, drink some iced tea, tell a

few stories, and then he would go home. And she'd never have to see him

again. Oh, God, she hoped.

"So, Jeffrey," she called from the kitchen, "do you take sugar in your iced

tea?"

"Do you have any artificial sweetener?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, sorry."

"I'll just take it straight then."

She stepped into the living room, carrying two tall glasses, and handed him

his drink before sitting down across from him. He looked at her bound arm and

frowned, as if suddenly remembering her injury.

"I'm sorry, I should have helped you with that."

"It's all right. These glasses aren't that heavy." Settling back against

the couch, as far from him as she could get, she met his gaze. "So..."

"So--"

"This is...nice, don't you think? No distractions."

"Yeah."

That went well. She took a drink of her tea, hoping his was every bit as

bitter as hers was sweet. "Did you have a nice day at work?"

"Same old stuff."

"Oh? Like what?"

"I don't want to bore you--"

"No, really, I want to know."

"Well, in Diana's absence, I took over most of her duties. It's been hard,

but I'm hanging in there."

"So what exactly are Diana's duties?"

He suddenly got this blank look on his face, like a mask falling over his

features. "She, uh, you know...running traces and following up on leads."

"But you make it sound like these are things she does by herself...surely

you're involved with her business?"

She held her breath, hoping she didn't sound as blunt as she felt. For a

moment he just held her gaze, a little wrinkle of concentration marring the

space between his eyes.

"Diana does a lot of things on her own. She's very independent that way.

But, yes, we are partners, and I'm very much involved in the work she does."

Did he mean that the way she thought he did? She could feel herself getting

sick to her stomach. She wanted to tell him to get out, to never come near

her again. But she was so close...

"I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I always had this nagging

feeling Diana wasn't working with the right kind of people."

This time, she didn't imagine the change in his demeanor. "And just who are

you suggesting are the right kind of people? Your Agent Mulder?"

"No, I--I didn't mean that. And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Dana, but we're FBI agents. Don't we all work for

the same people?"

She thought about A.D. Kersh, and the literal shit jobs he'd given them

lately, and she had to wonder. Did they all work for the same people? It

wouldn't surprise her. She had once seen the Cigarette-Smoking Man in the

Assistant Director's office. As if he owned the place. Jesus, was anyone on

their side anymore?

"Yeah, I guess maybe we do."

"If I thought my own partner was doing something wrong, don't you think I'd

report it?"

She nodded quietly, her mind in turmoil. Spender and Diana reported directly

to Assistant Director Skinner...but she had no guarantee that Skinner was any

less involved with the Consortium than Kersh was. How can you report

nefarious activities if your own superior had been the one to instigate them

in the first place? Just how high did this deception reach? To the Attorney

General? The President? The United Nations?

Suddenly, she wasn't thirsty anymore. She set her iced tea down on the

coffee table with a shaking hand, barely aware of the clatter as glass clinked

against glass.

There were things she refused to believe in this world, lies and truths that

mingled into one frightening picture. But there were some things she could no

longer deny. Bees that carried frightening illnesses, men who would kill to

keep secrets, people with strange agendas who recruited once honest men into

their folds. Whether or not this deception was to hide an alien virus, the

conclusion was evident. These men were dangerous, all-powerful,

merciless...and she was pretty damned sure she was sitting with one of them in

her living room.

She tried to smile, to assure him everything was all right, but she knew she

failed pathetically. "I know you're a good man, Jeffrey. You don't have to

prove it to me."

He smiled, reaching across the couch to cover her hand with his, and she

couldn't help but flinch. If he noticed, he didn't mention it. "You can

trust me, Dana."

About as far as she could throw him.

"I--I just...thank you. You know, I have this thing about trusting people--"

"I know."

"I've never really let anyone close to me."

"Not even your partner?"

Was it her imagination, or was he leaning closer? "Well, it took a long time

for me to trust Mulder."

"And he abused that trust. He lied to you."

Yes, definitely leaning closer. "He--he tried to protect me."

"I would never lie to you, Dana."

Oh, God, was he trying to kiss her? She pushed herself even harder into the

cushions at her back, ignoring the fresh stabbing of pain in her shoulder as

she desperately tried to evade him. Yet he just kept descending...like a

nightmare. Like those worms her brother used to chase her with as a kid.

Well, she'd gotten quite used to picking up worms herself and throwing them

right back...she was more than tempted to do the same thing now.

Seconds before his mouth made contact with hers, she stopped him with a

finger to his lips. Even that much contact made her ill. "Jeffrey,

please--don't."

He looked taken aback. "Still too soon?"

She nodded.

With much reluctance, he settled back onto his own side of the couch and

sipped his tea. Before she could even bother moving from her cringing

position, she was startled by loud banging on her door. Grateful for the

distraction, she smoothed down her sweater and excused herself to the door.

She could feel Spender's gaze boring into her back, watching her flee. She

was in such a hurry to get away from him, she didn't even bother to ask who

her visitor was.

Flinging open the door, she caught only a blur of motion before she was swept

up into a strong pair of arms and kissed soundly on the mouth. She was so

startled, she ceased to move. The instant clarity of thought came to her, she

pushed away from her attacker.

**Oh, God, Mulder, what have you done?** She looked up into his face,

horrified at the situation. She knew Spender had just seen everything. Had

just seen her partner grab her and kiss her like a long-starved lover. And

she knew she had to do something. Had to do anything, just to throw him off

the trail. **Forgive me, Mulder.**

She slapped him. Hard. Right across the face. Watching his whole head

shake with the intensity of the blow. His hand came up to his face, and he

narrowed his eyes in confused accusation...before his gaze shifted. And she

knew he finally saw Spender over her shoulder.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mulder?" Spender asked, in outrage.

She could hear him starting forward, as if coming to her rescue.

Moving quickly, she stopped him with a hand to his chest. "I'll handle

this." Whirling to face her lover, she begged him with her eyes to

understand. "What's gotten into you, Mulder?"

His gaze shifted from hers to Spender, and back again. He stuttered for a

moment, and blinked as if to clear his head. "I--I just came from seeing

Diana...I guess it was too much."

"So--what? You sought comfort from the nearest warm body?" Spender asked.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Spender put a hand on her shoulder, making her wince, catching Mulder's

attention. She hoped Spender couldn't see the ticking of his jaw. Like an

unwanted bodyguard, Spender continued to defend her. "You bastard. Maybe you

should've just found yourself a prostitute instead of harassing helpless

victims."

Helpless? She was about to respond to that little remark, when Mulder

interrupted. "I wasn't thinking. You're right, I'm sorry."

"You should be."

Scully pried Spender's fingers from her shoulder and opened the door.

"Mulder, I think you just need to go home and get some rest. It doesn't look

like you've slept in days."

He nodded, his face an unreadable mask, but his eyes glittered with an anger

she could easily detect. "Yeah. I think I'll do that."

"Maybe you should take the day off tomorrow."

"No--no, I'll be fine. You're right. I just need to rest for a while."

He stepped out into the hallway, visibly aware that Spender was still

watching, and slowly made his way down the hall and out of sight. Scully

swallowed heavily as she closed the door and reluctantly turned to face

Spender.

"I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He's been so stressed out over

Diana's condition."

"Somebody should make him take a vacation."

She panicked. That was just what she needed--Spender telling Kersh to

enforce Mulder's absence from the Bureau. "Uh, no--I'm sure he's right.

He'll be better tomorrow."

"How can you say that after what he did? Who knows what he might've done if

I hadn't been here."

She knew exactly what he would've done, and she had to bite her tongue to

keep from thinking about it. "Contrary to what you said, Agent Spender," she

said, making her displeasure clear, "I am not helpless. I know perfectly well

how to defend myself, and Agent Mulder knows that as well. I've shot him

before, I could do it again."

He had the grace to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, you're right."

She let out a shaky breath. Her heart was pounding like mad in her chest.

God, did Spender believe the lie? Was he really that gullible?

Licking her lips, she pushed her free hand into her pocket. "Sometimes I

think Mulder worries about Diana every bit as much as you do."

He merely snorted. "He has no business visiting her in the hospital. The

farther away from her he is, the better."

"I can see this is upsetting you. Maybe we should talk about something else

for a while." Taking his arm, she led him back to the couch. It was time for

some major damage control. She had to rebuild every shaky little connection

she made with this man, that Mulder had unknowingly damaged with his

unannounced visit. Somehow, she had to convince Spender she was only

interested in him. She just prayed Mulder understood--that he would wait for

her explanation. It was her only hope. "So, Jeffrey...where were we before

we were so rudely interrupted?"

"Well--I was about to kiss you, and you turned me down."

"Oh." She chewed on her lip. "Well--Did you happen to catch the Broncos

game last night?"

END (3/5)