Date sent: Wed, 8 Apr 1998 22:29:10 -0400 From: Dan McBride Subject: Man's Best Friend Title: Man's Best Friend Author: Porthos E-mail addy: porthos1121@juno.com Archive: OK for Gossamer, but ask first for others. Rating:G or PG Category: S, H, a little A Spoilers: Nothing really. A tiny bit of "Small Potatoes" and "War of the Coprophages", but that's all. Keywords: MSR (I feel sorry for you non-shippers, but I couldn't resist!) Summary: Mulder gets a new pet, which leads to some interesting situations. . . Disclaimer: It pains me to say this, but these characters aren't mine. They belong to the Almighty God of T.V. (aka Chris Carter) and his cronies. We're not worthy!! They also belong to Fox Studios, 1013 Productions, etc. (The bulldog, however, is mine. ;-P ) There is also a mention of Turner and Hooch and The Wonder Years, and I don't own them either. I mean no infringement, so please don't sue! (Not that you'd get much out of me anyway-I have about $5 and that's for lunch this week!) Author's notes: I've been reading X-Files fanfic for several months now, but in a recent stroke of radiant brilliance that I often have, I thought, "Hey, why not *write* a fanfic?" Needless to say, with a little rearrangement of my priorities. . . Voila! My first ever fanfic. I know it might seem a little rough around the edges, but I tried! BTW-I've resurrected Queequeg for this story. Acknowledgements: This is dedicated to my best friend for teaching me to be obsessive, my brother for allowing me to turn him into an X-Phile, and especially my parents for their *incredible* tolerance and patience with me. I know, you probably skipped all that, but it's your loss! Now, on with the show! ================ Man's Best Friend By Porthos ================ Mulder's apartment 3:26 a.m. Thursday, April 9, 1998 * * * * * * * * * * * Fox Mulder awoke to hear a knock at his front door. He rose from the couch where he had been enjoying the rare occurance of falling asleep and got his Sig Sauer off the table, slipping off the holster. He crept to the door silently in his bare feet, his gun held ready by his ear. He opened the door, prepared for anything: an alien, a government conspirator, a human mutated into a giant worm. . . but not what he saw. There, soaked to the skin from the pouring rain, was Scully. "Scully, what are you-" but before he could finish asking her what she was doing at his apartment at this time of night, she was pulled into the room by the leash of her furry, four-footed companion. But it wasn't Queequeg. It was an English bulldog. Scully let out an exasperated sigh. "Mulder, I can't take it anymore!" He answered her with a puzzled look. "Those dogs are driving me crazy! He and Queequeg have been making a racket all night. I haven't gotten any sleep, I'm getting calls from the neighbors. . ." Mulder smiled, despite his sleepiness. Scully had volunteered to take care ot the dog that belonged to the recent murder victim of the case they were working on. ". . . so you're going to take care of him," she finished. "WHAT?" he exclaimed, his smile instantly vanishing. "Why me?" "Mulder, my dog sitter's out of town, and you know how I feel about kennels." "But," he fumbled for an excuse, "I can't even take care of my fish. I have to buy new ones every month, and that's usually after they've been dead for two weeks. What makes you think I can take care of a dog?" "Mulder, look at him. He's a perfect angel. Besides, it'll only be for a little while, until we can find him a good home." The bulldog chose that moment to shake the water off himself. His folds of skin trembled, and his lips and ears flapped back and forth. "Aaaack!" Mulder said, his bare legs getting the greater amount of the flying water. "I'm suddenly reminded of the movie 'Turner and Hooch'." He headed towards the kitchen, setting his gun down. "Although I don't think you'd pass for a very convincing Turner," Scully commented, eyeing his pigsty of an apartment. She removed the leash, and the dog headed for the couch and sat in the warm spot that Mulder had previously occupied. Mulder came back from the kitchen, drying his legs with a towel. "Here," he said, tossing the towel at her. She caught it just before it hit her face. "I think you could use that." He turned to see the wet dog looking quite content in his spot on the couch. "Ah, c'mon," he addressed the dog. "I've got to sleep there. Come on, get up." Mulder tried to pull the dog off the couch, but he only half-heartedly growled at Mulder, angry at having been disturbed. Scully couldn't help smiling. "Will you stop smirking and help me?" he asked. Scully finished wiping her face with the towel and answered in a teasing voice, "Why do you care? You never sleep anyway." Mulder made a face of mock amusement. "Ha,ha," he added in a not-so-light-hearted tone of voice. Scully could tell that the early morning hours combined with the enforced care of a dog, not his favorite animal, were taking their toll on him. "Mulder, I'm going to go home and get some sleep. I set the dog food I brought by the door. I'll see you at the office tomorrow." "Sure. Fine. Whatever," Mulder answered absentmindedly, still trying to devise a way to get the invading animal off his couch. He didn't even hear her leave. * * * * * Half an hour later, Mulder gave up. The stupid thing was there to stay, so he just decided to lay his feet on top of it. The little monster was a medium-sized dog with a large head, broad shoulders and narrow hips. He was fat and wrinkly with brown and white coloring. One eye was surrounded by a brown patch and he had an underbite that revealed a few of his bottom teeth. Altogether, Mulder decided it was pretty ugly. While Mulder was studying the dog, the dog was studying the t.v. There was a cheesy old sci-fi film from the fifties on. Mulder and the dog soon fell asleep to the sounds of a giant praying mantis eating what was left of New York. * * * * * * * * * * * * J. Edgar Hoover Building 8:19 a.m. Friday, April 10, 1998 * * * * * * * * * * * * Mulder sat pouring over some files when Scully came into the office, a coffee cup in each hand. "Good morning, Mulder," she greeted him, handing him a cup. "How was your night?" "Actually, I slept really well, event with that little monster hogging my couch." 'Or maybe it was because of him that you slept so well,' Scully thought. It had been her opinion for some time that Mulder needed a dog. He was so alone in that cramped little apartment, she knew it would be good for him to have a companion. Of course, she would prefer for the companion to be her, but a dog was the next best thing. At that moment, she resolved to make sure Mulder kept that dog. She couldn't think of a better home to put him in. "Scully, I was thinking," Mulder said, "would your mom mind taking care of the dog?" "Um, she can't," Scully thought fast, "because, um, she's allergic to dogs." Mulder looked up from the files. He didn't think he liked where this was going. "So that means he's yours until we find a home for him." Silently she added, I already have. "No way, Scully! Dogs and I don't mix!" "Why not? Mulder, didn't you ever have any pets as a kid?" "Once, but I don't like them. They smell bad, they make a mess, they require constant care and supervision-" "Gee, Mulder," Scully interrupted, "except for the part about smelling bad, that sounds a lot like you." Mulder decided he should just give up. When Scully got an idea in her head, it could be very hard to dissuade her. "Alright, he can stay. But we better find a home for him fast." * * * * * * * * * Mulder's apartment 10:13 p.m. The same day * * * * * * * * * Mulder wearily walked up the stairs to his apartment. It hade been a long day. Their suspect had been caught and captured, but as usual there were loose ends to tie up. Mulder unlocked his door and walked inside to find the bulldog with one of his socks in it's mouth and his trash can turned over, its contents scattered on the floor. "Oh,no," he groaned, hanging up his coat. "Give me that," he demanded, reaching for the sock. The dog let out a bark muffled by the sock in its mouth and jumped up energetically, running to the other side of the room. "I'm not kidding," Mulder said, headed toward the dog again. "Drop it!" The dog proceeded to run to the other side of the room, giving another muffled bark. Mulder sighed. * * * * * * * * * * Mulder's apartment 7:25 a.m. Saturday, April 11, 1998 * * * * * * * * * * Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Mulder got the box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs out of his cupboard and poured the last of the cereal into a bowl. He poured the milk in, then the phone rang. He answered it. "Hello?" "Is this Fox Mulder?" "Yes." "Sir, are you interested in buying a new vacuum cleaner? Our new model is-" "No, thank you," Mulder cut him off in an irritated tone. He turned around to see the bulldog standing up on the table with his face buried in Mulder's bowl of cereal. "HEY! Get out of there!" Mulder tried to shove him off of the table, but was interupted by a knock on the door. He started to cross the room to answer it. On his way, he stepped in something wet. "Damn it!" he yelled. Scully's voice came from the other side of his door. "Mulder, is everything alright?" He opened the door, wearing a white t-shirt and boxers. 'Uh,oh,' Scully thought. 'I probably just woke him up. He's *not* going to be in a good mood.' "Everything's great," he replied sarcastically. "The little monster peed again, and I just stepped in it. I had to share the couch with him again last night. And he just ate my breakfast! Things couldn't be better!" He emerged from the kitchen carrying a large wad of papertowels. "Mulder, he's paper trained. All you needed to do was put some old newspapers on the floor." Mulder looked up from his crouching position on the floor and glared at her. "You couldn't have told me that two days ago?" "Sorry." She shrugged, barely containing a smile. "I thought you'd figured that out." Secretly, she kind of enjoyed watching Mulder suffer like this. It was so . . . cute. "I brought some toys for our little friend," she said, taking them out of the plastic bag she'd brought. She walked over to where the dog sat, watching Mulder clean up the mess. "Those could have come in handy last night," Mulder replied, standing to throw away the paper towels. "Last night we played tug-of-war with my sock." Mulder bent and picked up what Scully assumed had once been a dark brown sock, but was now so ripped up that it was unrecognizable as anything at all. The dog was engrossed in his new rawhide bone. He tried to wag his small corkscrew tail, but it was so short he could only wag his rear end back and forth. Scully smiled broadly at the sight and rubbed his fur. She took a treat from the box she had brought and gave it to him. Mulder silently watched Scully as she settled more comfortably on the floor next to the dog. She was wearing jeans and a form fitting green V-neck shirt, her copper-fire hair falling loose around her face. 'She is so pretty,' Mulder thought. Sometimes he wondered it they had assigned him such a beautiful partner in a effort to slowly drive him insane. He snapped from his thoughts when he realized what he was wearing. He quickly turned and headed back into the living room to change. When he returned wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, and a spark lit up her bright blue eyes, then disappeared. "What did you name him?" she asked. "Huh?" "The dog, what's his name?" "I don't know. I thought his new owners could give him one." "Well, we can't just call him 'dog' forever. Haven't you called him anything?" "Well, yes, but whatever I've called him has usually been associated with four-letter words." Giving the dog one last pat on the head, Scully rose from her position on the floor. "We'll think of something," she said, then headed for his kitchen to make coffee and a new breakfastfor Mulder. Finding nothing edible in his cupboards except a couple of bags of sunflowerseeds and a can of Spaghetti O's, she decided to settle for coffee only. When she came back to the living room, she was amused to find Mulder and the dog on opposite ends of the couch. She sat between them and handed Mulder a cup of coffee, then started petting the obviously attention deprived animal. "You're so cute!" she told it in a baby voice. "Just look at all those wrinkles!" "Oh, please, Scully! That's got to be the ugliest mutt I've ever seen! He looks like he chased a parked car." "Mulder, stop. You'll hurt his feelings." Then turning again to the dog, and said, "Don't listen to him. I like your little pug nose. And I love those big brown eyes!" She continued to pet him and he licked her hand. After a minute, a thought entered her head, and she turned towards Mulder, pulling one foot up under her. "Mulder," she asked, "why don't you like dogs?" His amused expression darkened, and she knew she'd hit a sensitive spot. "I used to love them. When I was twelve, I had a golden retreiver named Bopper." He smiled at the memory, but a haunted expression remained on his face. "He was my best friend, and I spent countless hours with him. But then one day, I left the gate open, and he got out. He was hit by a car and died." He looked at Scully, and she read the pain in his eyes. "That was three days before Samantha was taken." Now Scully understood. The guilt he felt for the death of his dog combined with the painful association of the memory made dogs an unwelcome presence for him. She laid her hand on his knee, and their eyes met. 'I'm sorry,' she told him without words. Mulder's darkened expressioon seemed to lighten a bit, and he took her hand from his knee and held it between both of his. 'Thank you,' he conveyed back to her. They stayed that way for several minutes, Mulder gently rubbing her fingers. When they finally parted, Scully reluctantly withdrew her hand. "I have to go, Mulder. I have some errands to run," she said, rising to leave. Mulder followed her to the door, but she turned before opening it. "Mulder, I'm supposed to meet my mom for dinner tomorrow night, and I know she'd love it if you came." Mulder's mood considerably brightened at the thought of seeing Mrs. Scully. "Great. Pick you up at 6:00?" he asked, knowing the Scullys always ate at 7:00. "Sounds good. See you then." * * * * * * * * * * Scully home Sunday, April 12, 1998 6:24 p.m. * * * * * * * * * * Mrs. Scully opened the door and smiled. "Dana, Fox, come in. Dinner's almost ready. You're a little earlier than I thought you'd be." Scully hugged her mother. "Traffic was lighter than we expected." "Hello Fox." Mrs. Scully gave Mulder a hug, surprised that he didn't resist as much as usual. "How are you?" "I'm fine, Mrs. Scully," Mulder said, inhaling. "What smells so good?" "I'm making lasagna." Mrs. Scully knew how much Fox loved her lasagna, so she made it especially for him. As she headed into the kitchen she said, "Make yourselves at home. It'll be ready in a minute." Scully sat on the couch, while Mulder looked at the pictures sitting on the mantel above the fireplace. As she watched his eyes trace the history of her family, she wondered what he must be thinking. Scully had had a happy home life and childhood, unlike her partner. Mulder picked up a picture of Scully when she was about seven or eight years old. Her curly red hair was pulled back into pigtails, and she was wearing overalls. Her face and clothes were all muddy. She had her thumbs in her ears, her nose was all wrinkled, and she was sticking out her tongue out at the camera. Mulder's eyes twinkled with mischief as he turned to Scully. Pointing to the picture, he asked, "Who's this cute kid?" Before Scully could answer, her mother came into the room. "That was Dana on her eighth birthday." Mulder handed her the picture. "Her brothers took her down to a pond to hunt for frogs. They didn't catch too many, but they had fun." She smiled and placed the picture back on the mantel. Mulder was reminded of all the times Mrs. Scully had told him similar stories, shown him similar pictures. It had been so long ago, yet it still haunted him. Scully's abduction. He had felt so helpless, ineffectual, guilty. He couldn't save her. Mrs. Scully's cheerful voice pulled him from his reverie. "The lasagna's ready. Who's hungry?" After Mulder had finished the best lasagna even Mrs. Scully had ever made, it was time for dessert. "Cheesecake!" Scully exclaimed. "Mom, you really outdid yourself tonight." "I haven't seen you in a long time sweetheart, and I know cheesecake is your favorite," she said, setting a slice in front of her daughter and Fox. As she sat down, she said, "So Fox, Dana tells me your dog has been giving you problems." Mulder looked up from his plate. "Actually, uh, it's not mine. I'm just taking care of it until we can find it a home. But yes, he has been a bit of a troublemaker." Mrs. Scully asked, "What sort of things has he done?" When Mulder proceeded to list a variety of events, such as stealing socks, somehow getting into the refrigerator and eating what little food he had, and making a mess of his trash cans, he began to smile. He didn't seem annoyed at all. Mrs. Scully noticed and said, "That doesn't sound too terrible. Dogs are supposed to do things like that. It makes them fun to have around. The last dog we had, Rusty, used to get into all sorts of trouble! One time he-" "I thought you were allergic to dogs," Mulder interrupted. Scully thought. She had called her mother earlier that day to tell her about her plan to persuade Mulder to keep the dog, and Mrs. Scully agreed that a dog would be good for Mulder. "I am, and I suffered miserably so these kids could have a dog. Thats why Rusty was our last one." Scully thought. The rest of the night passed rather uneventfully, and around 10:30 Mulder drove Scully home. * * * * * * * * * * Mulder's apartment 11:03 p.m. Sunday, April 12, 1998 (The same night) * * * * * * * * * * Mulder found the apartment as he had left it: a mess. But it was a different mess. The little monster had emptied another trash can and then found a sock. "You have all these toys, and yet you still prefer my socks. Why?" The dog's only response was to plant his rear firmly on the floor, the sock hanging loosely from it's lips, daring Mulder to try to take it. After about twenty minutes of playing tug-of-war with the sock, Mulder realised he was enjoying himself. Abandoning any hope that the shredded sock could be salvaged, he started playing fetch with it. The dog was so funny looking when he ran on those stubby little legs and carrying the sock back in his mashed-in face, that Mulder found himself laughing out of genuine amusement. It was the first time he had really laughed in a long time. * * * * * * * * * Mulder's apartment 12:27 a.m. Same night * * * * * * * * * Later that night, the dog lay snoring loudly on the floor because Mulder had managed to snag the couch first. When the video he was watcing was over and he had put it away with the rest of his collection, he changed the channel to a monster movie. The dog immediately snapped awake and looked at the t.v. "You want to watch this?" Mulder asked. At the sound of Mulder's voice, the dog stood up sleepily and walked over to the couch. He crawled up and stepped on Mulder's stomach. "Oh, geez!" Mulder groaned, "What do you weigh, 300 pounds?" In response, the dog flopped himself down on Mulder's chest, nearly knocking the wind out of him, and let out a contented sigh. When Mulder had shifted so he could breathe again, he said, "All right, you can stay. But just for tonight." Of course, Mulder knew that the dog would be prefering this comfy spot for many nights to come. * * * * * * * * * * * * J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington D.C. Thursday, April 16,1998 7:08 a.m. * * * * * * * * * * * * It had been a week since Mulder had taken the bulldog in, and already Scully noticed a change. He was more relaxed, almost calm. He was still as obsessive and paranoid as ever, but he seemed almost,-dare she say it?- happier. He walked into the basement office wearing a smile and carrying two cups of coffee. "Morning, Scully," he said as he handed her a steaming cup. "What's on the agenda for today?" "More paperwork," she replied flatly. "More?" he asked, picking up a file from the desk. "I think half the taxpayers' money just goes to the cost of paper for government files." "Must be a conspiracy," she said sarcastically. Mulder smiled, then realised where she was sitting. "Hey, that's my chair. Why are you sitting there?" "Well, I never did get a desk, so I thought I'd borrow yours." She stood, and Mulder quickly sat in the chair and leaned back, putting his feet up on the desk. Scully still stood by his desk, engrossed in another file. She gradually became aware that Mulder was watching her, and hazarded a glance in his direction. "Mulder, are you okay?" "Yeah, I was just wondering why you've stuck around for so long. After. . .ya know, everything." Scully smiled, closing the folder. "Because if I didn't you'd either go crazy, get fired, or get killed, and none of those are what I'd consider happy endings." Mulder reached out and took her hand, gently squeezing it. "What would I do without you?" he said softly. After a moment, Scully reluctantly withdrew her hand. "So, how's that dog of your's?" she asked, leaning against the side of his desk. "You mean Godzilla?" he asked, eyes sparkling. Scully visibly struggled to hold down the laughter that threatened to burst out. Unable to hide at least the broad grin, she said, "You named him Godzilla?! And you thought Queequeg was wierd!" Now it was Mulder's turn to smile. "Actually, he kind of chose the name. He kept me up last night watching an all night monster movie marathon, and payed particular attention to Godzilla movies." Scully was still smiling. "Well, you have been calling him 'little monster' a lot lately," she cracked. * * * * * * * * * * * Scully's apartment Saturday, April 18, 1998 6:24 p.m. * * * * * * * * * * * Scully sighed, flipping through the channels once more. Disappointed to find nothing on, she turned the t.v. off and tossed the remote on the coffee table in front of her. 'Since when do I spend weekends watching reruns of 'The Wonder Years?' ' she thought. 'Since I started working with Mulder,' she answered herself. 'It's not his fault, though. I'm the one who's stuck around for so long. I could have left at any time, but I didn't, because I love him. I love the way he looks. I love the way he walks. I love the way he'll purposely argue just because he likes to see me pissed off. I love the way he'll launch headfirst into some insane theory in front of a roomful of people he knows won't believe him. . . I wonder if he loves me just as much.' A knock on the door broke her from her thoughts. She opened the door, surprised at who she saw standing there. 'He must be psychic,' she thought. "Mulder, what are you doing here?" Mulder stepped through the door with the bulldog in tow. "I was walking Godzilla when it started raining. I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd drop in and wait out the storm. Do you mind?" "No, not at all. Come in." Scully was confused. What was Mulder doing walking his dog near *her* apartment? She wasn't allowed to ponder that question any further because Queequeg came bounding into the room, barking wildly at Godzilla. Mulder picked up the orange fluffball and greeted it, rubbed its fur, and set him down happily. Scully's jaw dropped. Was this an alien clone? Another Eddie Van Blundht? Because it sure as hell wasn't Mulder! Mulder saw her gaping stare and said, "I know what you're thinking, they'll both cause an uproar. But trust me, put an old monster movie in the VCR, and he'll be quiet as a mouse." He was already looking through her tape collection. Finding what he wanted, he put in "Giant Mutant Killer Radioactive Cockroaches from Outer Space." Recovering from her initial shock, she walked over to hoin Mulder on the couch. Glancing out the window, she said, "It's coming down pretty hard. You could be here a while." "That's okay with me," he said. She didn't know the *real* reason he had come by. * * * * * * * * * Scully's apartment Same night 7:25 p.m. * * * * * * * * * Both Mulder and Scully lost interest in the movie early, but Godzilla remained enthralled. As they talked, Scully sipped her root beer. She didn't really hear what he was saying (something about The Lone Gunmen's latest paranoia that electronic surveillance was being put in their pizza) because she was too busy wondering what it would be like if she and Mulder persued a romantic relationship. There was a loud explosion in the movie, and Mulder turned to look at the t.v. He smiled at the cheesiness of the special effects. Turning to Scully he said, "I can't believe *you* have something like this!" Scully smiled. "Mulder, you gave it to me. Remember? It was after that cockroach case and you were trying to get me to stop teasing you about *Dr. Bambi*." "Oh yeah, now I remember. You were pretty hung up on that." "Not any more than you were about Eddie Van Blundht!" she said defensively. "That's different, Scully." "What do you mean?" Mulder leaned over and said quietly, "Because you thought Eddie was me." As his eyes stared intensely into hers, Scully swallowed hard. Where exactly was he going with this conversation? Then all at once the look she'd seen in his eyes a moment ago vanished and was replaced by something else. Fear? Before she could try to analyze it, he stood up and headed for the kitchen. "I'm going to go get some more iced tea." Scully simply stayed on the couch, puzzled. Mulder stuck his head in the frige. 'What the hell was I thinking? That she wants me? That she's even remotely attracted to me? How could I think she would care about someone like me?' His mind was racing with a thousand excuses for why he shouldn't follow through with this. 'I'm a self-absorbed pig who's done nothing but desert her, hurt her, dragged her into things she doesn't want to do. Her sister is dead because of me. She nearly died too many times because of my insane search for the truth. . .' He felt a light tap on his shoulder and spun around to face Scully, nearly spilling his drink. Scully's face looked concerned. "Mulder, are you okay?" "Yeah," he answered quickly. "I was just . . . thinking." "About what?" she asked, leading him back to the couch. "Oh, just stuff," he answered, taking a drink. "Mulder, don't try to pull that on me. I know you too well. What's wrong?" They sat cown on the couch, and after a long pause Mulder answered slowly, "I was just thinking about all the pain I've caused you over the past five years." Scully sighed,"Mulder, I-" "Scully, there isn't a day that goes by when I don't think about it. I'm the psychologist and *I* can't even figure out why you've stuck around this long." A faint smile crossed her lips. 'If only you knew. . .' she thought. "Mulder," she said, "do you remember what I said to you that night in front of Tooms' house?" The characteristic Mulder grin spread across his face. "That you'd brought root beer, and I was heartbroken!" "No," she said, smiling, "before that." As she spoke, she reached out and took his hand. Mulder's smile faded at the memory, and he looked at her tiny hand in his, so fragile yet so strong. "That you wouldn't put yourself on the line for anyone but me." Scully squeezed his hand gently. "And I know you feel the same." He looked up, meeting her eyes. And suddenly, what he'd come to do seemed so natural. He reached out and put one hand to Scully's cheek. As he pulled her face towards his, she didn't pull away like he'd feared. Their lips touched, sending out electric sparks. After a few moments, a large dog wormed it's way between them, forcing the kiss to end. Mulder looked down, annoyed at first and then amused. He smiled as he said, "I think Godzilla's a little jealous of all the attention I'm giving you." "He seems to have grown rather attached to you. Now that you've given him a name, are you going to keep him?" "Oh, I don't know," he said, petting Godzilla behind one ear. "He's a bit of a pain in the ass, but so am I," he said, shooting her a sideways glance. Then his expression turned serious and he said, "Scully, I know your mom isn't allergic to dogs." Her eyes widened in surprise. "How did you-" "I know almost as much about your mom as you do. Why are you so intent on me keeping Godzilla?" Scully smiled. "I guess I didn't want you to be alone." Mulder smiled back at her. "I'm not," he said, then leaned in and kissed her again. THE END X X X X X X X X X X X X So, what do you think? All feedback is welcome, but remember that I'm new at this,so please be constructive. My e-mail address is porthos1121@juno.com, so write me!! For those who would like to send me flames (which won't be read, so don't bother), here's some quotes to ponder: "If you can't excel with talent, triumph with effort." -Dave Weinbaum "Incompetents invariably make trouble for people other than themselves." -Larry McCurty