Title:  Light from Shadows
Author:  writergal2000@aol.com

Rated:  [MA]

X-File, M/S friendship (hints of more).  "Not everything dies."  You'll find 
a character back to life; in my world he never died.  Also, a character who 
turned out to be bad, is not bad in my story.  Deal with it.

This is a little in the future where everything has happened BUT REQUIEM -- 
sorry, not ready to call it quits yet.  The X-Files goes on.

Disclaimer:    Respects to Chris and all the gang who gave us these great 
characters.  While you may not see this on TV, you certainly would in real 
life, where there are no censors!

Summary:  Waking up in a deserted park in the middle of the night, Mulder's 
mind is a blank.  As he and Scully struggle to put the pieces of his memory 
together, evidence builds into a criminal case against Agent Mulder.  While 
the partners search for the truth, Mulder begins to doubt his own innocence.  
(I know, reminiscent of Demons, but too great an episode not to parallel.  
This is different in its own right -- trust me.)

* * *
LIGHT FROM SHADOWS (1 of 19)

January, 2001
Dana Scully's Apartment
9:25 p.m.

The two agents sat at the kitchen table, papers and receipts spread out 
before them.  Dana Scully punched in a series of numbers on a hand-held 
calculator then announced the read-out to her partner.  

"Two-fifty-seven, twenty-nine," she said casually, tucking a strand of hair 
behind her ear.

Fox Mulder eyed her suspiciously.  "For three meals?"
     
"Do you remember dinner?"

"Nnnnnn... not exactly."

Scully snorted, "Now *that's* got to be a first!  Okay, you decided we would 
-- in your words -- 'blow this joint in style.'  So we went to a popular 
seafood restaurant where you ordered the catch of the day, for both of us, 
which happened to be lobster."

"Don't they catch that *every* day?" he asked sheepishly.

"Yes, they do," she answered matter-of-factly.  "A fact you were not willing 
to acknowledge at the time.  Then you proceeded to order me a birthday cake 
-- even though we weren't even in the right month -- which, you explained, 
was simply to emphasize how *each* day should be a celebration of life.  The 
ice cream cake was $30, by the way ..."

Mulder cringed as his partner went on.  "But you didn't stop there.  You also 
ordered a cake for a couple of senior citizens sitting at a table across the 
restaurant, making sure the waitress expressed the same sentiment to them 
about celebrating life and all that ... crap."

Mulder heard the edge sharpening in Scully's voice, realizing that she had 
been waiting for just this opportunity to fire her cannon.

"But let me continue," she said with exaggerated sweetness.  "Even the 
waitress was not immune to your happy-to-be-alive public declaration."

"I didn't ...?"

"No.  Fortunately, before she could be the benefactor of yet another cake, I 
whisked you out of your chair and out the door, leaving behind a roomful of 
applause."

Mulder closed his eyes and let his forehead sink to the table.  But Scully 
wasn't through.

"And aren't you the least bit curious as to how this very *un*characteristic 
behavior of yours came about?"

Without lifting his head, he shook it, but Scully wasn't about to let him off 
the hook yet.

"Well, this is just a wild guess, but in my professional opinion, I think the 
two $29 bottles of wine during dinner and your *three* 
'must-have-cognac-with-dessert' drinks after dinner, might have had something 
to do with it."

Scully waited, but there was no response or reaction from her partner.  

"Mulder ..."

Realizing she expected an answer from him, he slowly raised his head.  He 
squinted his eyes as if it were painful to look at her, anticipating the 
verbal assault he knew was coming.  Instead, he was met with an expression of 
barely contained amusement.

"Mulder, we received a complimentary breakfast at the hotel.  Detective 
Harmon paid for lunch.  Dinner was ..."  She dramatically looked at the 
calculator again.  "Two-fifty-seven, twenty-nine.  Including tip."  She gave 
him a brilliant smile.

Mulder moaned, and his head once again dropped to the table.  He heard Scully 
chuckle.  "But all was not lost, partner.  I made a profound scientific 
discovery."

"Mmmm?" he asked, his disinterest clearly apparent.

"Two bottles of expensive Cabernet completely negate the effects of an 
eidetic memory."

"Hooray for science," he mumbled into the table.

Scully touched his arm, causing him to reluctantly sit up again.  She 
shrugged and clicked off the calculator, tossing it on top of the papers.  

"Well, we used our frequent flyer miles to get a free rental car.  Maybe 
Skinner will write off an even deal," she remarked, trying to be encouraging.

"Yeah, and maybe I'll  be selling Kirby vacuums next week.  Scully, is there 
anything else I should know about that night that I don't remember?  Cause 
you've really caught me off guard here."

"Hmmm," she said, her eyes narrowing in thought.  "Well, there was ..."  She 
stopped abruptly.

"What?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

She sighed heavily.  "Nothing.  Just that ..."  She cleared her throat.  
"We're partners, right?"

"Uh-huh," he answered fixedly.

"Well, without going into description, let's just say that when I told you 
I'd still respect you in the morning, I kept my promise," she stated bluntly.

Scully wished she could have frozen that rare moment in time as she witnessed 
Fox Mulder speechless and mentally disoriented.  But she couldn't hold back 
any longer.  She began to laugh uncontrollably, and although Mulder tried to 
be stern for being the brunt of her joke, her laughter was contagious and he 
began to chuckle with her.  After several minutes, they settled back 
comfortably, both feeling the reinforcement of the bond between them.

Mulder shook a finger at her.  "I'm starting to rub off on you and it's not a 
pretty sight.  Now I know why I don't have any friends like me."

A flash of lightning through the curtains followed by a crack of thunder 
momentarily drew their attention.

"It's going to storm," Scully remarked.

"We need it.  I better get going if I'm going to beat the rain," Mulder said, 
 standing and taking his jacket off the back of the chair. "We can finish 
this expense report tomorrow after I log on to Monster-dot-com to find out 
what jobs are available."

She snickered. "I'll cover your ass.  I always do."

Mulder surprised her by affectionately touching the end of her nose.  "I 
know," he said softly.

"Get out of here," she said with a warm smile.  "I'll see you at the office 
tomorrow."

"I'll bring cappuccino if you promise to hold that report for one more day, 
let me get my will in order."

"Deal.  Two-percent milk, no whipped cream, drive safely."

He nodded and winked, and then went through the door.

*   *   *

Dana Scully's Apartment
3:05 a.m.

She awoke abruptly, wondering for only a split second what had disturbed her 
sound sleep, when a flash of lightning filled the dark room followed by 
booming thunder.  But as she settled back on the pillow, her phone rang and 
she realized that's what had awakened her.  Fumbling for the lamp switch, she 
squinted against the sudden light, then picked up the phone on the next ring.

"Hello," she said hoarsely.
                                                       
There was a pause on the other end, but she could hear rapid breathing.

"Who is this?"  she asked, sitting up in the bed.

"Scully, it's m-m-me."

Even though the voice was barely a whisper, she could recognize panic in her 
partner's voice.

"Mulder.  What's wrong?"

"Scully ... oh, Scully," his voice trained off, and she could hear the fear.

Fear started to grip her as well, as her mind quickened with alarm. "Mulder, 
what's happened?  Where are you?  Are you hurt?"

Those words rushed back at her from another time, another phone call in the 
early morning hours, and she brushed off the feeling of deja vu as another 
series of lightning flashes and thunder resounded through the apartment.

"Scully, c-c-can you ... come g-g-get me?"

Now she knew his tremulous voice was due to the cold.  It sounded like he was 
shivering.  She talked to him even as she tossed the covers off, jumped out 
of bed, and  threw open her closet doors.

"I'm getting dressed as we speak.  Where are you?"

"Patriots P-P-Park.  Near the ... the entrance."

His words were barely discernible due to his shivering.  

<The park?>  

She wanted to ask questions, but there was no time now.  Balancing the phone 
between her ear and shoulder, she yanked a sweats outfit off the hanger.

"Mulder, don't hang up.  Keep your cell phone on."

"I d-d-don't ... have my c-c-cell."

<He must be in a phone booth!>

"Okay.  I'm grabbing my cell phone.  Can you call me back on it?"

"Scully, I d-d-don't like s-s-standing here in t-t-the light.  Not in an 
e-e-empty p-p-park.  I don't h-h-have my g-g-gun."

"Okay.  I'm on my way.  Hold on."  There was no response.  "Mulder?"

"H-Hurry, Scully."

She threw the cordless phone on the bed and grabbed underwear from a drawer.  
Dressing quickly, she picked up her gun and cell phone from the nightstand 
then ran into the living room where she retrieved her coat from the closet.  
As she slipped one arm in the sleeve, she reached up on the shelf and pulled 
down a blanket.  Within one minute she was out the door.

* * *
Fortunately, the drive to the park was a short one, but in that time she 
contemplated dozens of possible scenarios.  The temperature had dipped to the 
low 30's and it was beginning to sleet.  

<If he's in a phone booth, he's out in the weather.  Where is his car?  Why 
doesn't he have his cell phone?  What the hell is he doing there at three 
o'clock in the morning!>

Scully peered through the windshield as the icy rain pelted the glass and the 
windshield wipers worked to remove the slush. Her hands tightened on the 
steering wheel as gusts of wind shook the car.  It took all her willpower to 
keep her foot from flooring the accelerator, but the roadway was too slick.  

Ahead, she saw the entrance to the park and she slowed the car.  Right away 
she spotted her partner.  He was sitting on a bench, barely illuminated by a 
streetlight.  As she pulled closer, he stood up and jogged to the car.  She 
noticed he had no coat -- only a thin long-sleeved turtleneck, and his arms 
hugged his chest for warmth.  She reached over to help him open the door and 
he slid in the front passenger seat.  

Instantly she began to assess his condition, both as a doctor, and as a 
concerned friend.  He was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his head, his 
face pale.  He was shaking uncontrollably.  Scully pulled him toward her.  
She was surprised to discover the smell of alcohol on him.

"Lay down, Mulder.  Put your head on my leg."

He responded automatically, laying his head on her thigh as she spread the 
blanket over him, then turned up the heater, directing the vents downward.  
As she drove back through the storm, she rubbed up and down his arm, trying 
desperately to warm him.  Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, with the 
other hand she moved up from his arm to brush his wet hair off his forehead.

"It's okay, partner.  I'll have you in a warm bed in no time."

No comeback from the Innuendo King.  Not a good sign.  With the back of her 
hand, she felt his forehead, his cheek.  He was ice cold.  It took all of her 
concentration to focus both on the slippery highway and her shivering 
partner.  His body was desperately trying to create inner friction to ward 
off hypothermia.  

"Mulder, how long have you been out in the rain?"

"Hmmm ...." he mumbled.

"How long were you in the park?  Think, partner.  An hour, two hours?"

"D-D-Don't ... know."

His answers increased her ever-growing apprehension.  She heard him gasp and 
both his arms wrapped around her knee, as if trying to get as close to her as 
possible.  

<He's going into shock.>  

She rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that until she could get him inside 
and out of his wet clothes, her ministrations were ineffective.

Finally, she reached her apartment.  Getting Mulder out of the car took all 
her strength, and she also got soaked in the process.  The minute his warming 
body hit the cold, wet air again, his muscles constricted and he doubled 
over.  Scully had covered his head with the blanket.  She held it closed 
under his chin, her other arm wrapped around his waist, as she led him to the 
door.  

It seemed like an eternity before they got inside, where she headed straight 
for the bathroom with him, shutting the door behind them.  Leaning Mulder 
against the sink, she reached over and turned on the shower.  As the bathroom 
started to steam, Scully threw the blanket aside, and began to pull his 
soaked shirt over his head.  When his head came up, she got a quick look at 
his eyes.  They were glassy, his lids drooping.

Then she noticed something else.  Reflected in the mirror above the sink she 
saw several long, thin scratch marks down his back.  She didn't question him 
on it right then.

"Mulder, can you slip your shoes off?"

He didn't seem to understand the question, so Scully quickly bent down to 
untie his tennis shoes.  He had leaned forward slightly, resting one hand 
gently on her shoulder for support.

"You're not helping out here much, partner.  And I thought you were like this 
only when you were drunk," she jested, trying to downplay her anxiety.

Briefly, Scully recalled their discussion just hours ago and recognized the 
irony of the situation.  

Now that his shoes and socks were off, Scully didn't even hesitate unsnapping 
his jeans and unzipping them.  With some effort, she pulled the heavy, wet 
denim, along with his boxers, over his hips and down his legs.  She reached 
back and checked the temperature of the water. Glancing briefly at her 
partner leaning unsteadily against the sink, she heeled off her shoes at the 
same time she pulled her sweatshirt over her head.  In two more seconds, she 
had shed her sweat pants as well.  She stood in front of her partner wearing 
only yellow lace panties and bra, but he was only slightly aware of what 
planet he was on.

"Come on, Iceman, time to thaw out."

He offered no resistance as she pulled him into the shower with her and 
closed the curtain.  Placing him under the stream of warm water, facing her, 
Scully used her hands to rub vigorously from his shoulders down to his 
wrists.  The violent tremors continued, and Mulder's head sank onto Scully's 
shoulder, his arms wrapping around her waist.  She gave in to him, putting 
her hands behind his neck, holding him close as his body spasms ran their 
course.  

Although worried about her partner, she was fully aware of her own sensations 
as she held a very wet, naked Mulder.  The minutes passed, as she spoke 
softly in his ear, trying to get him to relax.  Gradually, the shaking began 
to subside as his body began to respond to the warmth -- and to the 
almost-nude woman in his arms.  



Finally, Mulder lifted his head, gazing into intense and questioning blue 
eyes.  He blinked and managed a weak smile.  "Hi there."

Scully watched as his eyes took in every inch of her, down to her toes and 
back up. 

"Hey, no fair," he said, his eyes again falling to the parts of her body that 
were scantily covered by her thin, wet underwear.

"Welcome back," she said, dropping her arms to her sides.  "Show's over, 
partner."

Reaching behind him, she turned off the water.  In one smooth motion, she 
slid the curtain back and took a thick cotton towel off the towel rack 

"Put this around you.  I'll be right back," she said, tossing him the towel.

Mulder watched her retreat from the bathroom, and his body released a 
shudder, but not just from the chilly air.  When she came back in, she was 
wearing a soft blue terrycloth robe and had another blanket.  Draping it 
around his shoulder, she led him out of the bathroom and into the living 
room, pushing him gently down on the sofa.  She disappeared again, but he 
caught a glimpse of her carrying his clothes in a bundle as she headed for 
the laundry room. 

Mulder's mind began to sink again into that unknown place, the place where 
the last few hours of his life lay buried in a deep, dark hole.  He was so 
caught up in trying to put the pieces together, he didn't even notice Scully 
standing near the couch until she spoke to him. 

"Mulder ..." she hesitated, waiting for him to look at her.  "There's blood 
on your boxers."

He wet his lips.  "I know," he answered, the tone of dread in his voice.

"Come on, stand up.  It's too late to be modest.  Let me examine you."

"I already did.  It's not my blood," he whispered, a look of terror in his 
eyes.

<God, are we destined to repeat fate?>

"Are you sure? What caused you to find the blood in the first place?"

"When I woke up, I was on the ground.  My pants were unbuttoned and unzipped. 
 And I was ..." He stopped, his face a mask of embarrassment and perhaps 
apology.  " ... sore," he finished, looking away from her and down at the 
floor.

Gently, she eased herself down on the sofa next to him.  She could see him 
beginning to shiver again, and she too felt a chill suddenly in the room.

"Mulder, there are scratches on your back also.  Do you know how they got 
there?"

His look of surprise turned to a shake of his head.

"Did you fall?"

He didn't answer, but his expression indicated he didn't have an answer.  

Scully patted his knee.  "I'm going to make a fire.  I want you to go back to 
the beginning, where you think this started.  Okay?"

He nodded and she could see that his mind was already busy with the task.

Scully not only built a fire, but made each of them a mug of tea.  She knew 
Mulder preferred coffee, but she was out of decaf, and the thought had 
crossed her mind that he might have been drugged.  The less stimulant in his 
body, the better.  He seemed to appreciate the hot drink, regardless, as she 
again sat next to him, reaching over and pulling the blanket closed a little 
tighter.  Her silence was his cue to begin.

"After I left here last night, I went to the store for a couple of things.  
It was about a quarter to eleven when I got home.  When I listened to my 
phone messages, there was a call from Skinner. He was meeting someone at the 
Blue Den at 11:30, and he thought I might be interested in the information.  
He was adamant about not bothering you with it until we had some clear 
picture whether we wanted to pursue this lead or not."

"Did he order you there?"

"No.  It sounded purely FYI.  But you know, I figured if Skinner asked me to 
come in on it, it must be something.  I had to hurry, so I looked up the 
address, and drove over there. I was a few minutes late, but he wasn't there 
when I arrived.  I waited until about 12:15 then I tried to call him.  He 
didn't answer at home, his cell, or at the office.  I waited about another 
half hour, then I started feeling a little sick."

"Were you drinking during that time?"

"Only Club Soda."  Mulder snickered.  "You know what alcohol does to me.  
After all, I expected Skinner to come through the door at any minute."

His answer was not what she expected, considering that she had detected the 
odor of alcohol when he got in the car.  But now was not the time to question 
him to any length, so she only nodded.  "Then what?"

"I paid my bill, and went outside to drive home.  But ... I ... didn't get in 
my car.  I took a cab."  

He acted surprised at his own admission.

"Why would you take a cab if you weren't drinking?"

He shot her a look as if she were doubting part of his story.  Then he 
realized she was just trying to help him fill in the gaps.  "I don't know.  
Like I said, I wasn't feeling well."

Scully saw him face the fireplace, the flames dancing in the black of his 
eyes.  She was patient, but he seemed to have drifted off.  She put her hand 
on his arm to draw him back to their conversation.

"Mulder ..."

This time when he looked at her, the confusion and apprehension were raw, 
etched in his face like the cracks in a parched desert.  "That's all I 
remember before I woke up in the park, Scully.  I don't even remember the 
drive there."

"What's the very last image you have?"

"I pulled open the door of the cab, and it stuck a little, so I had to pull 
harder.  That's the last thing I remember."

Scully pursed her lips, a question still tugging at her.  "Are you sure you 
weren't drinking?"

Mulder knew she was recalling their conversation just hours ago, when it 
became apparent that large amounts of alcohol affected his memory.  

"I'm positive.  I was still reeling a little bit from what you told me about 
the night I had too much to drink.  As I sat in the bar, it was on my mind, 
Scully."

"So you didn't order any cakes for anybody?"

He recognized her attempts to humor him, to lighten his burden somewhat, and 
he managed a wry smile as he shook his head.

She nodded, believing him completely.  When Mulder picked up his mug, his 
hand was shaking so he wrapped both hands around it.  Scully watched him 
sipping the tea, a million questions popping into her head, but she forced 
herself to keep a pace Mulder was comfortable with.

"You had no coat, and no phone when I picked you up.  Did you take your 
weapon with you?"

"Of course," he answered, a little cocky.

"So your coat, your phone and your weapon are missing."

"And my ID and my wallet."

There was a glance between the agents.  Both realized the risk to the public 
of someone having possession of a federal badge and identification, along 
with a powerful firearm.

"What happened when you woke up in the park?"

Before Mulder could answer, the firewood shifted in the grate, sending off a 
shower of sparks.  It was a momentary reprieve for him, but then he pulled 
the blanket tighter and shifted more toward Scully on the sofa.

"I was completely disoriented.  At first, all I could remember was leaving 
your apartment.  But then things started to come back.  But only to the point 
I just explained to you.  I spotted the pay phone just outside the gate, and 
that's when I called you."

Mulder could see the facts being added up in his partner's head.  A few times 
in the past he had been forced to completely rely on her judgment and 
expertise in getting him out of trouble.  Now he knew he had to do it again.  

<When will her patience with me run out?>

"Mulder, we need to find out which cab company picked you up?"

"I did that.  I found the cab driver."

"How?"

"I called from the park, when I was waiting for you.  I charged both calls to 
my home phone.  Anyway, the cab company only got a few calls in that area at 
that time of night, and they located the driver that picked me up at the Blue 
Den.  According to his log, I got in the cab at 1:10 a.m. ... with a woman 
...."

END OF PART 1 (Cont. in part 2)



LIGHT FROM SHADOWS (2 of 19)

"You got in the cab with a woman?"

Mulder nodded, trying not to react to Scully's shock.  

"And you told the cab driver to drop you off at the park?" she asked.

Mulder found it hard to look Scully in the eye.  "He made a notation that we 
were both drunk.  I guess that was to cover his ass since he was leaving us 
at a deserted park in the middle of the night."

"Did he relate any conversation that you supposedly had with the woman?"

"Well, I didn't speak to the driver directly.  It was through the dispatcher 
who had called him."

Mulder saw Scully look over at the fire, her face troubled.  He was afraid to 
ask what she was thinking.  When she looked back at him, her mouth was tight, 
her eyes penetrating.

"Mulder, you need to tell me the truth about the woman."

"Scully!" he blurted incredulously.  "There was no woman with me!  I don't 
know how you could even --"  

He stood from the couch, still clenching the blanket tightly, his anxiety 
beginning to get the best of him.  He closed his eyes and his head dropped 
back, his face toward the ceiling.

Seeing his reaction, Scully went to him.  "Listen, let's start at the 
beginning again."

He saw her pick up the cordless phone from the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Calling Skinner."

She was startled when he quickly took it from her hand, hanging it up.  He 
shook his head at her.

"Mulder, we need to find out if he's okay, since he never showed up at the 
bar."

She watched him shift awkwardly from one foot to the other, as if not sure 
what to say to her.  When he did speak, he stammered.  "I'm . . . I think . . 
. I'm pretty sure he's probably okay."

Scully was too confused to answer him.  But then she understood what he was 
implying.

"Let's go back to my apartment first and confirm the message again.  I didn't 
delete the voice message.  And I need to find out if my car is still at the 
bar."

"All right.  But sit back down and finish your tea while your clothes are 
drying."

As Scully turned to walk away, Mulder took her by the shoulders and turned 
her around.  He brought his face close to hers, bending slightly to lessen 
his height advantage.

"I didn't do anything.  I swear."

"I know you didn't.  I just thought maybe you left there with a woman and --"

He was shaking his head, but for just an instant Scully thought she detected 
a flash of something else darken his expression, a flicker of painful 
realization that was too vague to even question him about.  

Mulder reacted angrily to her assumption.  "Is that what you think of me!  Of 
our relationship?  That I pick up women in bars?  You think I left here last 
night and -- !"

"No, of course not.  I was just trying to ... what I was trying to say is 
that you can tell me anything."

"Yeah, well, I sure as hell wouldn't want to hear that from you."

*   *   *

There was no conversation between the two agents as they drove carefully in 
the storm.  The swish/click of the windshield wipers was somewhat soothing, a 
welcome object to focus on when Mulder found it becoming increasingly more 
difficult to look his partner in the eye.  Scully respected his silence, 
hoping that maybe his eidetic memory could be nudged a bit by the calm she 
tried to project.

When they got to Mulder's apartment, Mulder realized that along with 
everything else he'd lost that night, he didn't have his keys either.  Scully 
used her key to his apartment to unlock the door.  Then they both hesitated 
before opening it, recognizing the danger they had faced before when 
circumstances were spiraling out of control.  When Mulder glanced at her hip, 
she drew her gun, nudging him aside, out of the doorway, as she pushed the 
door open and peered inside.  

The lights were on, and nothing seemed amiss.  Mulder instantly went to his 
answering machine and hit the rewind button.  Scully felt his tension as well 
as her own as the tape began playing the last message.  It was a call placed 
by his dry cleaners reminding him he had two suits to pick up.  The time was 
5:40 p.m.  Scully bit her lip as she watched Mulder stab at the rewind button 
again, and then replay the same message.

"DAMMIT!" he shouted.

Scully saw his fingers trembling as he again tried to find the message on the 
tape.  There was no message from Skinner.  She saw his shoulders sag.  

<We've been here before.>  

Slowly Mulder dragged his eyes up to hers.  "Scully, I swear there was a 
message here from Skinner."

"I believe you.  Let's go back to the bar and pick up your car.  Maybe 
someone is still there that we can talk to."

"It's an all-night cafe."

"Then maybe the bartender is still working."

Mulder nodded, but had a sinking feeling that something was being 
orchestrated and tracks were being covered.  As they drove in the car once 
again, she glanced over at her partner.  His eyes were riveted to the 
passenger side window glass.  His focus seemed to be on the fat water 
droplets that defied gravity, traveling upward on the glass by the wind 
whipping around the car.  But Scully knew he was desperately searching his 
extraordinary memory for a clue.  And he was scared.

"Mulder, you said you were feeling sick, dizzy at the bar.  Do you think it's 
possible someone slipped something in your drink?"

"Anything's possible, but why would someone do that?"

Scully raised her eyebrows at the question.  "You have to ask?  You're the 
key figure in a global conspiracy and you think it's questionable that 
someone would set you up?"

All she got from him was a sigh.  They had reached the bar and Scully pulled 
into the back parking lot where Mulder said he parked his car.  It was 
sitting right where he left it.  They both exited Scully's car and she tried 
the driver's door.  To her surprise, it was unlocked, and she opened the 
door.  Immediately she detected the strong odor of perfume.  The keys were in 
the ignition and she tossed them to Mulder.  

"Not my brand of perfume, Mulder," Scully said, not meaning for her words to 
sound as harsh as they came out.

Mulder's head dropped and he sagged against the car.  He felt Scully's hand 
briefly on his neck and her voice was reassuringly strong.  "Let's go see if 
anyone is still working."

As Mulder turned to exit down the alley, she grabbed his arm.  "No, let's go 
in this way," she said, indicating the door facing the alley.  

Scully's actions signified that she was in charge, and it was exactly what 
Mulder needed right now.  He nodded and she knocked loudly on the back door.  
After the second round of knocks, they heard a voice.

"Go around to the front!"

"FBI, sir.  Please open the door," Scully said, holding her ID up to the 
peephole.

There was a brief hesitation, then it opened.  An older, balding man peered 
closely at Scully's ID, but gave only a cursory glance at Mulder before 
stepping back to allow them to enter.  

Scully turned to Mulder and spoke softly, "Is this the man who served you?"

"No."

Scully turned to the bald man.  "Is your bartender still here?"

"Yes.  Come on back."

They were pointed toward the front of the bar where cleaning up was going on. 
 Only a few patrons sat quietly at tables near the far wall.  Mulder spotted 
the bartender and they approached him.  Scully refrained from showing her ID 
yet, as Mulder addressed the man.
 
"Excuse me.  I was in here earlier tonight."

"Yeah," the man chuckled, " and I see you've sobered up quite a bit."

"No, you've got me confused with someone else.  I wasn't even drinking 
alcohol."

The bartender looked at Scully, but she was silent.  He immediately 
misinterpreted their relationship. 

"Oh, I see," the older man said, "trouble with the missus, huh?  Hey, if you 
want me to say you were drinking lemonade, then so be it  Fresh squeezed," he 
said humorously.

Scully, making it obvious that she was not amused, reached in her coat pocket 
and pulled out her ID, holding it up in front of his face.  "Sir, I'm with 
the FBI."

He looked surprised.  "Whoa.  So now drinking's a federal crime?"

She ignored him, turning to face her partner when she felt his hand on her 
arm.  

"I paid cash for the drinks.  There won't be any --"

The bartender cut in. "No, you ran a tab on your credit card ... for both you 
and the lady." 

"What!" Mulder exclaimed.

The man went to the register and took out a wad of rubber-banded credit card 
receipts.  "What's your name?" he asked Mulder.

"Fox Mulder," he answered softly, realizing that everything was falling 
apart, and sensing that he was about to see one more disturbing piece of the 
puzzle.

The man looked through the receipts, then pulled out one and handed it to 
Mulder.  Scully turned it slightly to look at it.  The receipt totaled almost 
$70 and consisted of 12 drinks -- vodka Collins and whiskey and soda.  
Mulder's signature was at the bottom.

Mulder shook his head.  "No, there's some mistake.  I didn't drink any of 
these.  I never even showed you my credit card."

Scully saw the man look to her for help in answering this obviously 
bewildered man.  She picked up the questioning.  

"Sir, was there a woman sitting with this man tonight?"

"Boy, you must have really been out of it, buddy."

"Please answer the question," Scully said tersely.

"He was buying her drinks, then he joined her at her table.  Then they left 
together.  That's all I know.  If I've gotten choir boy here in trouble, well 
sue me."

Scully was disgusted by his sarcasm.  "I think we're finished here."  She 
took Mulder by the arm.

"No, wait --" he protested.

"Mulder, come on."

He wanted to try to clear up the misunderstanding, but Scully was right, it 
seemed useless.  They walked back outside and Mulder leaned against the 
building, putting his head in his hands.  Scully put her hand on his 
shoulder, tugging slightly.  

"Come on, get in my car.  We'll get your car later.  I don't want you driving 
yet."

As if in a trance, he did what she asked.  They both sat there in her car, 
silent for several minutes, trying to analyze what was happening, and more 
frighteningly, where it was headed.  Although the pieces of this puzzle were 
new, the puzzle itself was just another variation of the lies and 
manipulations that the two agents had become so accustomed to in their work 
with the X-Files.  And that's what scared them.  For right now, their fears 
were unspoken -- there were too many loose ends that couldn't be tied 
together to form any coherent picture.  But they knew all too well that it 
was only a matter of time before the lights were turned on, and the nightmare 
would begin.

"Scully, can you drop me back at my place?"

"Mulder, maybe you shouldn't be there tonight, not alone anyway."

"You're offering to be my alibi?  I think it's too late for that."

"Something is happening here, Mulder.  It wouldn't hurt.  Let's get your 
things and you can come back to my place.  We'll figure out what to do later 
this morning, after you've gotten a little more sleep, when we call Skinner."

"I ... no, Scully.  I shouldn't be involving you in this."

"I'm already involved.  I think it started with someone assigning me to the 
basement office," she said with a weak, but encouraging smile.

Mulder's return smile was brief when he saw Scully look up into the rearview 
mirror.  He turned in the seat as a police car pulled up behind their car.  
Scully put the car in gear, but just as she released the brake, the police 
car turned on its top lights.  She put the car back in park.

"Mulder, stay here for a minute."

She took out her ID and with hands in the air, exited the car, cautiously 
approaching the two police officers.  

"I'm with the FBI, Special Agent Dana Scully.  Is there a problem?"

They ignored her and walked to the passenger side of the car.  Mulder, who 
had seen them approaching, started to get out.  To Scully's alarm, she saw 
both officers put a hand on their holstered gun.  Trained to react to such 
actions, Mulder stopped, putting his hands out in front of him to show that 
he had no weapons.

The younger officer addressed Mulder.  "Sir, put your hands in the air."

Puzzled, Mulder did as ordered.  The older officer stepped closer.  "Are you 
Fox Mulder?"

"Yes, I am."

Suddenly, the older cop grabbed Mulder by the shoulder and spun him around, 
twisting his right arm behind his back and slamming him hard into the wall.  
Scully heard him gasp as his head bounced off the brick.

"Wait a minute!" she yelled. 

She grabbed the arm of the older cop, but the younger one gently, but firmly, 
pulled her away from him.  Not only had their sudden actions surprised them, 
but the officer's tactics were bordering on brutality as she saw her 
partner's hands being roughly handcuffed behind his back.  Blood was running 
down the side of his face from a cut over his eyebrow.  

Furious she turned to the two officers.  "What the hell are you doing!  He's 
an FBI agent!"

The older officer standing behind Mulder, yanked upwards on the handcuffs, 
causing Mulder to bend over to avoid his shoulders being dislocated as he let 
out a hiss of pain.  The officer turned to Scully, rage apparent on his face 
as he screamed at her.  

"FBI AGENT OR NOT, IT DOESN'T GIVE HIM THE RIGHT TO COMMIT RAPE!" he spit 
vehemently.

Shocked, Scully looked to see Mulder's reaction and she saw him go so pale 
she thought he would pass out.  He was jerked by the collar of his shirt and 
thrown into the side of the police car, the force of the impact almost 
knocking him off his feet.

"You touch him again," yelled Scully, " and I'll arrest you myself for 
brutality!"

"BRUTALITY!  YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT HE DID TO THAT YOUNG GIRL!" the older officer 
screamed.

The younger officer stepped up and with a look, settled the older man down.

Mulder turned to both officers.  "I didn't do this."

The younger officer took a small card from his breast pocket.  "You have the 
right to remain silent.  Anything you say ..."

Mulder closed his eyes and his head dropped.  He didn't hear another word of 
his Miranda rights until the older officer got right in his face and he 
opened his eyes to see fury glaring back at him in the form of bulging 
eyeballs and veins.

"He said 'do you understand these rights as they've been read to you!'  
ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!"

Mulder nodded, then began shaking his head.  "I didn't do this," he repeated.

"Shut up and get in the car," the younger officer demanded.

Scully saw her partner look at her beseechingly, his eyes wide with fear and 
disbelief, and she felt helpless.  As he was shoved into the back seat, she 
leaned in the window of the front passenger seat.  "I'll find out what's 
going on."

She tried to give him a reassuring look, but was as scared as he was.  The 
two officers got in the car and drove away.  Scully got back in her car, 
slumping against the seat, feeling like her world had been turned upside down.

<Now what?>

*   *   *

8:45 a.m.
GEORGETOWN POLICE DEPARTMENT

Mulder had been booked on two felony counts -- rape and assault.  He had been 
physically examined, and it was humiliating as well as unbelievable. After 
his arraignment he was moved to a private cell because of his law enforcement 
position.  Not having slept all night and traumatized with shock, he was 
exhausted.

He heard his cell door being opened and looked up wearily.  He didn't expect 
who he saw.  Walter Skinner entered the cell, and the guard put a chair in 
for him, then re-locked the cell, leaving them alone.  Skinner took a hard 
look at his young agent.  He saw the swelling and discoloration around his 
eye.  But it was the haunted look, the look of sheer abomination on Mulder's 
face, which convinced him that either he didn't do what he was accused of, 
or, as Scully had reported, he couldn't remember it.  A man with that kind of 
look is not lying.  

Mulder dropped his head, ashamed to even look Skinner in the eye.

"Agent Mulder, did anyone take a look at that cut?"

Mulder hesitated, as if not understanding the relevance of the question.  
Then shook his head.

"Has anyone told you anything"  Skinner asked.

Again he shook his head, not looking up.  Skinner leaned forward, closer to 
him.  "Mulder, listen to me," he whispered.

Mulder looked up and blinked slowly.

"I spoke briefly with an attorney this morning."

"Someone you know?"

"Um, Scully arranged it.  Actually it's a close friend of her mother's."

Skinner stopped when he saw Mulder groan and roll his eyes.   "Her mother 
...?"

"Now is not the time to worry about that.  The attorney told me that because 
you weren't represented at the arraignment, he can schedule another one, and 
he's confident you'll be released on your own recognizance.  But it might be 
a few days."

Mulder nodded absently, as if what Skinner just told him was not high on the 
list of concerns.  Mulder's private thoughts were finally voiced.  "Why did 
Scully involve her mother?"

"You think she wasn't going to find out?  This is not going to be kept quiet. 
 You're an FBI agent."

Mulder's head fell back and he looked up at the ceiling, conceding that he 
had to allow decisions to be made for him.

"There's something else," Skinner said reluctantly.  "The girl you're accused 
of raping is the niece of the police officer who arrested you."

Mulder's head snapped forward and his expression was one of disbelief.  

"Be glad he didn't shoot you."

To Skinner's surprise, Mulder laughed, but it was humorless, the kind of 
laugh that says 

"I wish he had."

"Shot you?  So you've already given up?"

Mulder's voice was angry now.  "This is a set up!  And you and I both know 
who we're probably dealing with here!  They're very good at what they do!  If 
they want me out of the way, then I'm as good as gone!"

"No one can cover all the bases.  There will be holes, and we'll find them."

"Did Scully tell you that I was at the bar because you left a message for me 
to meet you there?"

"Yes.  I'm sure the voice sounded like mine, but I don't know how to explain 
it."

"Other than me being mistaken," he said sarcastically.

"You don't make mistakes like that.  Someone obviously got in your apartment 
and tampered with your phone.  Mulder, I was home all night."

"Sir, I called you several times.  There was no answer.  Nor on your cell 
phone."

"I didn't have my cell phone on because I was home.  I don't know what to 
tell you.  My phone never rang.  But that shouldn't surprise you."

Mulder rubbed his eyes.  "What's their motive this time?  What the hell did I 
stumble across that I'm so dangerous to them."

"Maybe it's preventative.  Something in the planning stages.  Who can explain 
any of what they do?  But you've got to have faith in us and in law 
enforcement to clear you."

"Sir, GPD isn't going to solve this case."  

"I agree.  Georgetown Police specialize in barking dog complaints.  But it 
doesn't  matter, because that's where your partner and I come in."

The remark by his AD was unexpected, and achieved the purpose of calming him 
down.  "Sir, this could be bad for both of you."

"So what do you expect us to do?  Leave you here at their mercy?  Is that 
what you would do?  No.  You've put your own job, and life, on the line for 
both of us.  They've gone too far this time, Mulder," he said, his voice 
harsh.

"And as the evidence builds, which I'm sure it will, you'll still swear this 
allegiance to my innocence?"

"As long as you swear you didn't do it," he said, seeking an affirmation.

Mulder's eyes locked with Skinner's and his voice was blunt, direct.  "I 
couldn't have done this, sir.  Even drugged out of my mind, I could not do 
something like this.  What are the facts?" 

"I read the police report.  Scully will fill you in when she gets here later."

"Has anyone talked to the girl?"

"She's going to try to see her, but, you know, it's touchy -- the questioning 
agent being the partner of the accused."

Skinner saw Mulder stiffen.  "Scully went to see her?"  The anxiety in his 
voice was unmistakable.

"It's okay.  She knows what she's doing."

As the AD watched his agent for a few seconds, he thought he was seeing a 
side of Fox Mulder that was rarely revealed:  panic.  But that seemed 
unlikely.  He knew Mulder trusted Scully explicitly and regarded her 
competence as an FBI agent to be unequalled.

Skinner decided to change the subject.  He pointed to the bandage on his arm. 
 "They took blood for what substance?"

"Alcohol, maybe drugs.  Want to wager a guess as to what will show up?  Sir, 
I know I passed out at some point.  What was done to me or anyone else during 
that time is virtually without limits.  I have no defense."

"We're your defense.  But you need to understand something, and this is the 
second reason I came here," he said, lowering his voice again.  "I can't 
rally in your corner without doing you harm.  If I'm to find evidence, then 
it has to be from the vantagepoint of appearing to distance myself from you.  
In other words, if I look too hard, and am too obvious, they'll be too 
careful."

"I do understand.  What about Scully?"

Skinner breathed deeply.  "I think she might cause suspicion if she *didn't* 
back you 100 percent.  But it's not going to be easy for her."

"I know.  But I need you to promise me something."

The AD waited expectantly.  Mulder wet his lips and took a deep breath.  
"Don't let Scully go too far.  If it looks like it's impossible to prove my 
innocence, then you have to persuade her to back away."

"Mulder ..." Skinner said, shaking his head.

"Sir, you *have* to.  You can't let her ruin her career over something she 
can't change.  I would never forgive myself.  So you see, you wouldn't only 
be saving her, but me, too."

"Your partner will quit the Bureau before she ever concedes or backs away 
from believing in you.  She will not compromise for the sake of her career, 
and you know that as well as I do.  Come on, Mulder, you know Scully.  You 
wouldn't do what you ask her to do, not in a million years.  She's in for the 
long haul, just like you are."

"Then to save both of us, you have to find the truth."

"I don't think this game has all the players you might suspect.  I have a 
hunch I can get some answers and some help somewhere."

"Then I give the same advice to you that you gave me once:  be careful where 
you get the answers."

Skinner nodded and stood.  He felt awkward walking out and leaving his agent. 
"There's something else you should know.  Scully's trying to get you out of 
here.  Your bail's pretty high for her, but not impossible."

"No," Mulder said gruffly.  "Don't let her do that.  Tell her what the 
attorney said."

"She's not going to leave you in here, even for a few days."

"Then talk to her.  Just . . . handle it," he said, irritated.

"Right.  Handle Scully.  Then I'll make it stop raining."

Mulder realized the improbability of the task and he nodded his 
understanding.  He knew Skinner would do his best.

"Try not to worry," Skinner reassured.  "Trust us."


"I do," he said simply.

Skinner smiled faintly, then yelled for the guard.  He turned to look once 
more at Mulder before leaving the cell.  "Agent Mulder, there's just one more 
thing.  Did you have any suspicion that *I* might be involved in this plot?"

Mulder stood up to face his Assistant Director, but he didn't take any steps 
toward him.  "I did, sir.  Briefly.  But only for the purpose of tapping into 
my instincts, for which I have the utmost confidence.  And my instincts were 
telling me we're on the same side."

Skinner nodded, knowing that no words were needed to convey his gratitude for 
that endorsement.  The iron door slid open and Mulder watched him step 
through it before it slammed shut again.  He saw Skinner's black coat 
flapping behind him as he took long, hurried strides down the corridor.

*   *   *
END OF PART 2 (Cont. in part 3)


Disclaimer in part 1  (THIS CHAPTER IS SEXUALLY DESCRIPTIVE)

LIGHT FROM SHADOWS (PART 3 OF 19)

2:15 p.m.
GEORGETOWN POLICE DEPARTMENT

Mulder was taken to a holding room.  The handcuffs were left on him and he 
was seated at a table.  He didn't know who he was waiting for.  He had 
already met and spoken to the lawyer earlier in the day.  He heard the door 
being unlocked and looked up.  Relief flooded him and was exuberantly 
apparent in his face as he watched his partner enter the room.  She smiled 
and the darkness seemed to lift with that one reassuring gesture.  

As Scully sat in the chair across the table, Mulder put his hands in the 
center of the table.  She covered his hands with hers and saw him close his 
eyes, savoring the comfort of her touch.

"I'm sorry it took so long," she said.  "You spoke with Jack Randolph?"

"Yes.  Tell your mother thank you very much.  I have all the confidence in 
him."

"Good."  She looked him over.  "Oh, Mulder.  You're exhausted."

"Comes with the territory.  You look pretty wiped out yourself."

Scully hesitated, looking down at their hands intertwined.  She ran her thumb 
over the back of his hand.

"I spoke with the girl."  

Mulder froze, instinctively clutching Scully's hand tighter.

"She was . . . well, cold and unresponsive would be an understatement.  And 
that was *before* Detective Bensima told her who I was.  She answered *his* 
questions, though.  She's not what I expected.  She goes to college, majoring 
in business.  She has a steady boyfriend, a part-time job at an accounting 
firm."

"This is the woman I supposedly picked up in a bar at one a.m.?"

Scully shrugged, puzzled by the facts as well.  "She's a . . . pretty girl," 
she admitted with difficulty.

"Looks can be deceiving," he said bitterly.  "How did she identify me?"

"Well, that was kind of secondary, considering she had your wallet and ID.  
No sign of your gun or cell phone.  But she was wearing your jacket when the 
police found her."  

Scully berated herself at the ludicrous idea of feeling jealous because 
Mulder gave another woman his coat.  "Anyway, she described you as very good 
looking and that's what initially attracted her."

Mulder took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  "What's her name?"

"Mandy Morrison."

Scully saw him close his eyes and swallow hard.  "So you find her story 
believable?" he asked softly, not looking at her.

"Of course not.  I just don't know how to explain it yet."

He opened his eyes and glared at her as if he expected to see doubt.  
"Scully, these people are good.  You know that.  She's not what she appears 
to be.  They could use one of their own and falsify school records, 
employment records, make her look like a model citizen when in fact she's 
part of the conspiracy."

"Mulder ..."

"We've seen it before, Scully!" he said harshly.  

Scully wondered who he was trying to convince, her or himself.  "Those kinds 
of things can and will be checked out.  Mulder, there will be some truth to 
the lies.  That's why it works so well, why it's hard to figure out.  We'll 
have to sift through the lies."

"She's not what she appears to be," he said softly, looking at their clasped 
hands.  

When there was silence from his partner, he met her eyes and saw that she was 
perplexed at his last statement, not knowing how to respond to it.  

Mulder shook his head.  "I just mean that she has to be part of this.  I ... 
believe that."

That nagging feeling in the pit of Scully's stomach was back, the feeling 
that she got when she thought Mulder was withholding from her.  But she shook 
it off.  This was no time to try and analyze her partner.  "We'll see, 
Mulder."

Scully saw his look of disappointment and knew he was feeling less secure 
about how she perceived all this.  She squeezed his hands.

"We'll find the answers.  Skinner is outraged that this is being done to you."

"Yeah, a bullet would have been more merciful."  Mulder sighed heavily and 
closed his hand tighter around hers.

"What is it, Mulder?"

He looked around at the cell, the locked door, the handcuffs on his wrists.  
Then he looked at Scully.  "I'm scared," he whispered.

She would have given anything to hold him, but all she could do was squeeze 
his hands in return.

"This is so humiliating, Scully.  And it could get so much worse."

"I know.  But you have to keep the faith."

"It's not that.  This is not going to be easy for you.  There will be 
questions -- maybe even about us."

"We have nothing to hide, Mulder."

He raised an eyebrow to her, but made no comment.

"Please don't fall into this hole.  Once I get you out of here, you'll feel 
more positive."

"My bond is $150,000.   I'm not going anywhere."

"You let me worry about that."

Scully's hand slid up his wrist, over the handcuff, and she tenderly rubbed 
his arm.  "I need to go," she said, dreading the anxiety that would bring 
him.  "I'm meeting Skinner.  Detective Bensima has agreed to let us interview 
the cab driver in exchange for some kind of Bureau favor.  We have to record 
the interview and give him the tape.  And there can be nothing off the 
record."

Scully felt him tense.  "I don't want you there," he said.

"Look --"

"No, Scully!  I'm asking you to please let Skinner handle it alone!"
    
"I can't help you if I don't know the facts!"

"Skinner can give you the main points later.  Please, honor this request."

As always, she could not refuse him, at least face-to-face, and she nodded 
reluctantly.  But then her gaze fell to the table because she was sure that 
if he looked into her eyes, he would see she had no intention of missing that 
interview.

"Thank you, Scully," he said, grabbing her hand again, holding it tightly and 
closing his eyes.  Scully knew how much he needed her with him, that he was 
in a deadly free-fall.  She hated more than anything to leave him.  

"I'll see you in the morning.  We're going to get you out of here.  By the 
way, is your head giving you any trouble?"

Mulder shook his head hardly hearing the question.  Scully raised her hand 
and gently placed her fingers on the cut, as if her touch alone could heal 
it.  Then she dropped her hand and stood up.  

"Please try and sleep.  Let us do all the work for a change."

Scully's eyes lingered on him a long time and then he watched her walk to the 
door where the guard waited for her to finish.  When Scully turned back to 
look at him, she saw him staring quietly at her as if he would never see her 
again.  Scully walked through the opening, then winced when she heard it slam 
shut behind her, locking her partner in.

*  *  *

She met Skinner across the street from the cab company.  He motioned her into 
his car and she hurried out of the rain.

"How is he?"

"Very low.  I'm worried about him."

"Then let's find something positive to report to him.  But first, what about 
the bond?  Have you decided what --"

"*I* didn't decide.  It was kind of taken out of my hands, if you recall," 
she said coolly.  "But yes, my mother accepts your offer of splitting the 
bond."

"That's good.  Let me make some phone calls so I can take care of that first."

"Yes.  I want to get him out of there."

*   *   *

CITY CAB COMPANY
3:00 p.m.

Assistant Director Skinner and Special Agent Dana Scully met the cab driver 
in a private office.  Skinner didn't even bother with introductions, other 
than to tell him they were with the FBI.  Both agents formed the same 
impression of the man -- low intelligence, as dedicated to his job as he was 
of his hygiene.  It had been decided that Skinner would direct all the 
questioning.  Scully pulled a chair away from the table and settled back 
against the wall, as if she were more of a passive observer.  She knew the 
questioning would call for blunt answers, and she wanted to appear as 
disinterested as possible so the witness would be forthright with the facts.

"Mr. Venetti, do you mind if I tape record this interview?" Skinner asked.

"I guess not."

"State your name, and how long you've worked at this particular cab company."

"Anthony Venetti, and I've worked here about 2 months."  Seeing the question 
in Skinner's eyes, he elaborated.  "Cab drivers usually move around a lot."

"Do you remember a call to pick up a customer at the Blue Den early this 
morning around 1:00 a.m.?"

"Yeah.  Turned out to be a man and a woman."

"Describe them please, sir."

"The man was about six foot, brown hair, long sideburns.  Good looking, for a 
guy ... I guess."

"And what was he wearing?"

"Clothes," he joked.  He sobered up when he saw Skinner was not amused.  "I 
really don't recall.  I remember a brown leather coat.  Seems he had on 
jeans."

"And what about the woman?"

"Ah ..." he said, a lurid smile on his lips.  "She had on a very short, very 
low cut dress.  Black."

"Describe her physical appearance."

The cab driver looked confused.  "Didn't I just do that?"

Skinner contained his impatience.  "What did she look like?  Height, hair 
color ...?"

"Oh.  Tall, about five foot nine, slender, long black hair.  Long legs."

"What age would you estimate her to be?"

"Maybe 25, 24."

Scully shuddered inwardly.  She had seen Mandy Morrison.  Just what *she* 
considered Mulder's type.  Skinner kept his eyes on the cab driver.  

"Who made the call to you?  A man or a woman?"

"The man."

"Do you know where he made the call from?"

"The bar."

"No, I mean was it a pay phone, a cell phone?"

"Wait.  No actually it was the bartender who made the call for them.  Now I 
remember."

Skinner shot Scully a quick glance.  "Did the man and woman come out of the 
bar together?"

"Yep."

"Tell me what you observed."

"Well ..."  The man looked pensively at Scully.  "When they approached the 
cab they were laughing, obviously drunk."

"How could you tell?"

"ESP," he said sarcastically.
 
"Did the woman appear to be going willfully?"

The driver laughed to himself.  "Oh yeah.  The man, uh ..."  The driver 
stopped, looking at Scully, obviously hesitant.

"Mr. Venetti, I need to know *exactly* what you saw and heard, no matter the 
content.  This isn't new to me."

<The hell it isn't!> Scully thought.  The expression on the driver's face 
made the agents realize that he wasn't uncomfortable talking about the 
subject matter, he was merely dramatizing it.  

"The guy had his arm around the girl's shoulder and his hand was ... inside 
her dress."

"Where inside?"  Skinner asked blandly.

"At her left breast."

"Did she appear to be objecting to it?"

"Hell no."

Skinner's voice inflected no emotion as he continued the questioning.  It was 
as if the suspect in question was unknown to him, when in fact he felt torn 
inside by the answers of the witness.  And he could only imagine what Scully 
must be going through as she sat silently in the chair across the room.  But 
her face appeared stoic, her demeanor detached as though she had no 
connection with the suspect either, as if Fox Mulder was just a name to her.  
Skinner admired her courage.

"Was the girl wearing a coat?"

"No.  Just as they started to get in the cab, he took his coat off and put it 
around her shoulders.  Then he told me to drive them to Patriots Park.  I 
said it would be closed and the guy laughed and said something like, 'That's 
the idea my man.'"

"In 25-degree weather?" Skinner asked skeptically.

"Hey, I'm not Mother Theresa.  I'm just the driver."

"Were they visible to you in the back seat?"

"I was curious, you know, so I kept glancing back in the mirror.  But I heard 
everything that was said."

"Tell me what you heard and saw."

The driver clasped his hands and leaned on the table.  The agents had no 
doubt that he had very little difficulty describing what he saw.  And he 
obviously didn't care who was in the room to hear it.

"I could hear them rustling around back there, laughing.  Then the guy says, 
'No underwear.  I like women who plan ahead.'  Then a few minutes later the 
woman is kind of moaning and he whispers to her, but I could hear."

"What did you hear," Skinner asked, his voice seemingly void of interest.

"He says she's wet.  Very wet."

Skinner avoided looking directly at Scully, but he saw her shift slightly in 
the chair.  He knew it wasn't the nature of the questioning that was 
bothering her, but that the subject in question was her partner.

"Is the woman objecting in any way?"

"Nope."

Skinner nodded for him to continue.

"It was kind of quiet back there.  They were whispering, or rather he was."

"What was he saying?"

"Just asking her if it felt good, if, you know, that was the right spot.  
Then ... well, she was pretty verbal when he made her come.  Want me to go 
on?"

<No.  I want to put my hands around your throat and squeeze until that 
shit-faced sneer is gone!>  

"Yes, go on," Skinner said calmly.

"I looked up and then only the guy was visible in my mirror.  From what he 
was saying, I knew the girl had gone down on him."

"So she was giving him a blow job?" Skinner asked matter-of-factly.

"Pretty obvious.  Yeah."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I heard his pants unzip for one.  Now he's the one moaning and plus, I 
can hear her sucking him."

Scully showed no reaction, her outward demeanor strictly professional, but on 
the inside she was feeling nauseous.  She caught Skinner glance at her once 
or twice, but how much he knew this was bothering her was only a guess.  
Scully knew that Skinner was keeping a tight restraint on his own emotions.  
Although she was churning inside, she was impressed at his cool.

The driver spoke again, eager to continue on.  "We had reached the park, but 
they weren't ready to get out of the cab yet.  The guy tells me to go around 
the block again.  So I did and I could hear the woman speeding up, talking to 
him a little bit, encouraging him.  Finally the guy jerks off."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yeah, when he jerked off, he called out her name.  Or I thought it was her 
name, a nickname."

"What name?  Skinner asked, suddenly more curious.

The driver thought a minute, then remembered.  "Scully.  Like that baseball 
announcer."

Skinner instinctively cut his eyes at Scully, whom he could tell was stunned, 
even though she tried to mask her expression from the witness.  Scully's eyes 
met Skinner's and they each saw the first real sign of fear there.

"Go on," Skinner said dully.

"The girl asked him who he was talking about and he kind of laughed and said 
it was just a sexual fantasy he was experiencing.  And then, you know, we got 
to the park.  The guy paid me and they got out and walked through the gates.  
That's all I know."

"She went with him willingly?"  Skinner asked pointedly.

Scully suddenly realized Skinner's direction of questioning.  She clenched 
her jaw, trying to hide her displeasure.  Her only question during the 
interview was directed to her boss.  

"Can I see you outside for a minute?"

Skinner shut off the recorder.  "Mr. Venetti, I think that's all we have for 
now.  If you think of anything else, please let us know," he said, handing 
him his card.

The two agents walked across the hall and into an empty room, shutting the 
door.  Skinner could see right away how frightened and confused Scully 
seemed.  He was soon to realize there was anger there as well.

"Sir, this interrogation sounds like you're headed in the direction of 
proving it wasn't a rape.  But you believe Mulder had sex with that girl!"

"Scully --"

"Whoever listens to that tape is going to realize that you have doubts!"

"I don't have doubts!  I'm --"

"And what if Mulder hears it!  He's already scared to death and worried that 
when all this evidence starts coming out against him, we'll back down.  
You're proving that now!"

"Listen to me and listen good!" he said harshly.  "The purpose is to poke 
holes in anything and everything we can.  If we start by weakening the rape 
accusation, then before you know it we'll have a confession that he's not 
even the right guy!"

"What's the purpose in proving consent!  Just because the driver claims the 
woman consented to sex in the car doesn't give any man the right to force 
himself on her later on.  It's not an invitation to rape."

"Come on, Scully.  Use common sense!  There's a huge discrepancy here.  What 
jury is going to believe that a woman allows a guy to go between her legs, 
then gives the guy a blow job in a taxi, then willingly goes with this 
stranger she just met to a deserted park, and ultimately decides she doesn't 
want intercourse!  Does that sound logical to you?  What I'm saying is that 
if this driver is telling the truth, how believable is the charge of rape?  
There is no rape."

"Then how do you explain that she was beaten?"

Skinner didn't answer yet, and it angered Scully all the more.

She snapped at him.  "I choose to believe that Mulder did not do any of those 
things!  And yet you seemed to ask the questions that led down that very 
path!"

"Then how do you frame the questioning, Scully?  Do I *not* point out that it 
didn't sound like she was being forced from the beginning?"

Scully sat wearily on the edge of a table.  What she had heard had put 
terrible pictures in her head.  She discovered that even lies could bring her 
immense pain.  Skinner took a deep breath and braced himself for what he was 
about to tell her.

"Scully, I believe Mulder was drugged.  It might have been cocaine, or crack, 
or any type of hallucinogen which *could* have caused *something* to happen."

He saw her shocked look, but he went on.  "Something that Mulder never would 
have done otherwise.  I told you that I absolutely believe he didn't rape 
that girl."

Now she understood what he was saying and she felt like someone was tying her 
stomach into a knot.

"But you think it's possible that Mulder *was* with her, that it got out of 
control, but that he shouldn't be held responsible for some kind of 
drug-induced psychosis?"

"I think it's possible, yes.  And I also believe 100 percent that he's 
telling the truth about what he remembers, or doesn't remember.  Even if he 
did this, he may never remember it."

"Sir, I think that with some kind of mind-altering drug, Mulder could make 
advances to a woman and have sex with her.  But I cannot believe for even one 
second that he would beat her up."

"I don't either.  Do you want to hear what I think?"

She nodded reluctantly, hating to see any relevance in what he was saying.  

<God, please wake me up from this nightmare.>

END OF PART 3


LIGHT FROM SHADOWS (Part 4-19)


Skinner tried to make his voice as soothing as possible.  "*If* Mulder was 
drugged, and *if* he had sex with that girl, then I think the setup continues 
with someone else beating her.  I think he was led up to a point where 
whoever did this *knew* he wouldn't go that far. For the sake of argument, 
let's say it happened.  He was drugged, maybe he drank some alcohol and can't 
remember.  Whatever, he wasn't himself. The girl, who is part of this, comes 
on to him."

"Mulder's not that easily manipulated.  I've seen women come on to him 
before."

"You've seen him react after he's been drugged?"

When Scully couldn't answer, he continued.  "She probably came on pretty 
strong, Dana.  But the question is, did 'she' even know what she was doing?  
There are two possibilities.  Either she had a job to do and probably was 
being paid a hell of a lot of money, or she was drugged and manipulated into 
making advances on your partner.  Either way, she picked him up and they had 
sex."

Hearing those words, Scully felt her heart being pierced.  Skinner saw that 
she was shaken and he felt for her, but they had to start somewhere in 
figuring out what happened.  

Skinner went on.  "According to the cab driver, it was mutual between the two 
of them.  But here's where your partner is taken out of the picture.  Mulder 
passes out, and maybe the girl does too.  It makes more sense that they're 
both drugged. Look at her background.  It seems out of character for her as 
well. But then someone else comes in and beats her.  When she wakes up, 
naturally she believes that the man she went to the park with was the one who 
assaulted her.  She's still got his ID, so it's not hard to find him.  She's 
pissed at the brutality, so she screams rape."

Scully rubbed her eyes.  Her mind refused to accept the visions she saw of 
Mulder and the girl.  But there was something she was holding back that she 
wasn't prepared to tell Skinner.  She couldn't reveal the effect that large 
amounts of alcohol had on Mulder's memory.  Scully had been witness to two 
separate occasions when Mulder's consumption of alcohol prevented him from 
even 'remembering' that he drank alcohol, let alone remembering what he did 
under the influence.  

So she wondered if maybe it was more the alcohol than the drug mixture that 
contributed to his memory loss.   Or perhaps the combination helped to create 
a completely different personality in Fox Mulder.  The possibilities were 
looking more and more dire.

Skinner saw the pain in her face.  "It's just one theory, Scully.  But if we 
exclude everything for the sake of *only* believing he had *nothing* to do 
with it at all, then we may help convict him."

"Sir, have you considered what will happen to Mulder if he has to admit that 
he may have done this?"

"Scully, as much as it hurts you -- and don't bullshit me, I know it does 
hurt -- we're only talking about consensual sex.  Regardless of whether he 
was drugged or not, or whether he remembers or not, it was still just 
consensual sex . . ."

<Just>

". . . because I totally agree with you that Mulder could not have hurt her.  
But there's another angle the police may have, especially with the theory 
we've just posed.  If Mulder is enticed by a drug to commit sex with a 
stranger, could another drug have been given him to induce violence?"

Scully pushed up hard from the table and started to brush by him.  "I can't 
believe you're saying this to me!"

Skinner caught her by the arm and spun her around more forcefully than he 
intended.  He saw her surprised look.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to do that.  But if you turn away from me instead 
of helping me anticipate the questions the police might ask, then you might 
as well kiss Mulder goodbye for good.  You're of no help to him then."

Skinner saw her eyes close slowly, having one more devastating possibility to 
consider, one she realized she had pushed out of her own mind.  She felt 
Skinner's hand lightly on her shoulder.  

"We *must* consider every possibility, no matter how difficult or revolting.  
It's what Mulder would expect us to do.  Dana, we have to show him that we're 
not afraid to uncover the truth, because at the base of that truth is the man 
we know as Fox Mulder."

He waited until Scully looked up into his eyes before he went on.  "There's 
more I need to say to you.  But not here.  Much of this discussion needs to 
be with Mulder present.  It's going to be hell, we know that, but more than 
ever, Dana, we all need to be totally open and honest."

"This is going to kill him, sir."

"That's why it's vital that we're standing next to him.  My initial belief 
has not changed.  Whatever happened, it is not his fault."

Scully's cell phone rang.  She hesitated, considering Skinner's words, then 
answered the phone.  "Scully."

"Scully, it's me.  I'll be through here in about 20 minutes.  Can you pick me 
up?"  His voice was strained.

"Yes, of course."

"And Scully ... who the hell put up this bond!"

"Mulder, I'm on my way," she said refusing to answer his question right then. 
 She put her phone back in her coat and turned to Skinner.  "Are you coming?"

"Yes.  The three of us need to talk.  The sooner the better."

Scully put her hand on his arm.  "Wait just a second, sir.  There's something 
I need to tell you," she said, her voice trailing off.

Skinner frowned.  "What is it, Scully?"

She hesitated, taking a deep breath.  "About how alcohol affects Agent 
Mulder."

*   *   *

GEORGETOWN POLICE DEPARTMENT
5:55 p.m.

The cold rain fell heavier.  Scully and Skinner were waiting in the lobby of 
the police department.  The door opened and Mulder walked in.  He had 
showered and shaved, but he still looked like hell.  He nodded to Skinner, 
then looked over at Scully, raising his eyebrows and questioning how she 
would confront him.  Scully instantly opened her arms and Mulder embraced 
her, shutting his eyes and pressing his cheek against her hair.  Scully felt 
his arms tighten and she pulled him even closer.  Skinner stood quietly, 
never having seen this kind of exchange between his agents, but knowing it 
existed.  Finally, when they broke away, both men saw Scully blink back 
tears.  Mulder faced both of them.

"How did I get out?" he asked.

Scully glanced at Skinner, who put his hands in his coat pocket.  "Mrs. 
Scully and I split the bond.  Mulder, don't look like that.  Unless you bolt, 
we'll get it back."

"You didn't need to do that."

"It's done," Skinner answered flatly. 

"Scully, how much does your mother know?"

"Do you think I had to talk her into this?  That it wasn't her idea?" Scully 
asked him, ending the question.

Mulder turned to Skinner.  "Thank you, sir.  I never expected --"

"I owe you more than this.  For all the times you've saved my ass."

Mulder forced a smile and they headed out of the building, quickening their 
pace as they stepped into the pouring rain.  They had started down the steps 
of the police building when suddenly a man came out of nowhere, charging into 
Mulder and knocking him hard into the iron railing.  His chest impacted with 
the metal bar, knocking the wind from him as he fought to stay on his feet.  
Before Skinner could get a firm grip on the man, he had hit Mulder again. His 
lip split open, spraying blood across the steps and he fell to the ground.  
Then Skinner had the stranger by the arm, twisting it behind him and pulling 
his handcuffs out of his waist.  Scully helped Mulder up, seeing that he was 
stunned and wheezing, still trying to get his breath.  

Finally Mulder took a gulp of air and saw who his attacker was. Scully also 
recognized who the man was before he started screaming at Mulder.  

"YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!  YOU THINK BEING A FEDERAL OFFICER IS GOING TO GET YOU 
OFF!"

Before Scully or Skinner realized what was happening, Mulder lunged for the 
man, but Skinner was between them.  As Mulder fought to get to the man, 
Skinner tried to push Mulder away with one arm while holding the stranger 
back with the other.  Scully grabbed Mulder's arm and the back of his shirt, 
also trying to pull him back.

Skinner was totally confused. "Who are you!" he demanded.

"I'm the uncle of the girl he destroyed!"  The man turned his rage on Mulder 
once again.  "HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF!" he yelled, his face red, his 
fists clenched and his whole body shaking with rage.

Mulder continued to struggle out of Scully's grasp.  "YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR!" 
Mulder screamed as more blood dripped from his mouth.  "YOU'RE PART OF THIS!"

"MULDER!" Scully yelled, pulling harder and still getting resistance.

Skinner turned awkwardly to Mulder.  "Back off, Agent Mulder!  NOW!"

Mulder hesitated only an instant.  He didn't back off, he just stopped 
struggling against Scully, which allowed her to jerk him away from Skinner 
and the man.  Seeing that Mulder had succumbed to the force of his partner, 
the officer tried once again to get past Skinner.  The AD shoved him roughly 
against the step railing.

"Swing at him again and I'll put you under arrest!"  Skinner threatened.

Scully hurried Mulder down the sidewalk, past onlookers who had stopped to 
see what was going on.  A few seconds later, Skinner was beside them, opening 
the car door.  Scully got in front with Skinner.  When they had quickly 
pulled away from the jail, Skinner looked up in the rear view mirror, making 
eye contact with Mulder.

"What the hell was that all about!"

Scully was watching her partner as he slumped against the back seat and shook 
his head.  When Skinner heard no answer, he looked over at Scully to see if 
she might have some clue.  But he could tell she was just as baffled.

Scully turned to Mulder, reaching over the seat to hand him a tissue for his 
mouth.  "Are you okay?  You're really bleeding."

"Just my lip.  It'll be okay," he lied in a muffled voice against the tissue. 
 His partner was concerned enough.  He didn't need to tell her that he had 
felt something crack in his chest when he hit the railing, and now he was in 
tremendous pain and short of breath.

Scully addressed Skinner.  "Let's just order Chinese from my place instead of 
stopping."

"Good idea," the AD answered.

Scully looked back at Mulder again to see him staring silently out the 
window.  She could tell he was a million miles away.  Words were an intrusion 
into his thoughts, and she could offer little comfort anyway, so she remained 
silent.

*   *   *

7:30 p.m.
Dana Scully's Apartment

The three agents carried on small talk while they ate dinner.  Both agents 
noticed that Mulder hardly touched his food.  His lip had swelled, and along 
with his black eye, he looked like he had picked a fight with George Foreman. 
 But the more serious injury to his rib he had been able to hide.  So far.

Scully went into the kitchen to make some coffee.  Mulder went to the 
fireplace and put another log on the fire.  Skinner didn't miss noticing how 
comfortable Mulder was in Scully's apartment.  

<Well, it has been seven years.>  

He often wondered many things about his two special agents and now he had the 
opportunity to see sides of them they only revealed to each other.  But they 
realized they needed to bring Skinner into their world, to make him 
understand how they worked together.  When Scully finally came back in with a 
tray holding the coffees, Mulder sat on the sofa next to her, Skinner in an 
armchair opposite both of them.

"Mulder, is there anything more you've remembered about the other night?" 
Skinner asked.

"No.  That's all I've thought about.  There's just nothing after I got in the 
cab."

"Let's go back a little, to the bar.  Do you recall a young woman sitting at 
the bar?"

He shook his head.  "There probably were several women at the bar, but I just 
don't recall any one of them specifically."

"Mulder...you're a pretty good looking guy."

"Thanks, sir, but I'm taken," he kidded lightly, winking at Scully who forced 
a smile.

Then Scully saw it again, that pensive look he gave without realizing she 
noticed, that caused him to look down at his hands and purse his lips.  
Scully watched him closely, wondering if there might be some spark of memory 
after all.  She didn't want to think about which parts he might be recalling.

She looked closely for the reaction to her question.  "I find it a little 
hard to believe that not one woman in that bar made any advances toward you."

Mulder thought a minute, then looked up.  But his expression was again 
unreadable.  "There was one woman who asked if she could buy me a drink.  I 
said no, and she left."

"What did she look like?" Skinner asked.

"She looked like ... I don't know.  A girl in a bar," he said shortly.

"Describe her," said Scully.

Her tone of voice surprised him and she saw it reflected on his face.  

"Well, tall, slender, long black hair, about mid-twenties, maybe.  Not 
exactly dressed for a cold night," he said with a shrug.

Mulder saw the two agents look at each other and he knew what they were 
thinking.

"That's her, isn't it?"  Mulder asked.  "That's the one I supposedly raped."

Mulder and Scully exchanged quick glances.  Skinner cleared his throat.  "You 
don't seem very surprised."

Mulder stood up and closed his eyes, letting his head roll back.

"Mulder ..." started Scully.

"Why would it be anyone else?  She's the only one I talked to."  Then he said 
softly, more to himself than his two friends, "I should have known."

Both Skinner and Scully shared the same confusion over Mulder's remark. They 
looked at each other, trying to gauge whether the other of them might have a 
clue as to what he meant by that.

Mulder sat back and took a deep quivering breath.  "What do you make of this, 
sir, Scully?" he asked, as if fearing their answers.

Skinner shot a glance at Scully.  "We have a theory.  Actually, there are a 
couple of possibilities."

"So you have some evidence?"

"Yes," Skinner answered.  "Have you been told what forensic evidence has been 
gathered?"

"Not yet.  The attorney was getting that today and said he'd call me 
tomorrow."

Skinner looked at Scully, relaying to her that this was her area of 
expertise.  She picked up the conversation.  "I was given a copy of your 
physical exam."  Scully caught Mulder's glance at Skinner, realizing that he 
was uncomfortable with what he expected from the findings.  

She again went into professional mode, which is what she knew her partner 
would expect from her.  "There were scratches on your back and some bruising 
on your left shoulder as well as the knuckles of your right hand.  There was 
also quite a bit of bruising in the area of your testicles, and the 
physician's evaluation concluded that you were probably kicked repeatedly."

Mulder showed no reaction but he didn't look away from his partner.  Scully 
went on.  

"I was also allowed access to the evidence they gathered both from you and 
the victim.  They took skin scrapings from under her nails and of course 
blood from both of you to see if it was her blood on your underwear.  It was. 
 Your blood alcohol was just over the legal limit." 

Hardly able to comprehend the words he was hearing, Mulder shook his head.

"Mulder, they also got semen from her underwear and inside her vagina."

Mulder found it hard to read Scully's expression, but her voice betrayed how 
difficult this was for her.  She was trying to be professional, detached.  

"The DNA test will take about ten days," she added.

"It's not mine," Mulder said flatly.

"There is only one way to explain how it got there if it is yours."

Mulder's eyes widened in surprise.  "How can you even say that to me!"

"Mulder," interrupted Skinner, "if this is a rape set up, the hardest 
evidence to plant would be semen residue, *yours.*  It would be virtually 
impossible.  Blood can be obtained anywhere by the slightest prick of a 
needle, but semen is totally different.  Knowing that, how could this set up 
possibly work without them somehow being able to provide *your* specimen?  
Why go to all this trouble to have it all be blown out of the water when the 
DNA comes back?"

Mulder narrowed his eyes and when he looked at Scully, she looked away.  
Skinner was staring at a spot on the table.

"What else?" Mulder asked.  "What is it you're not telling me?"

He saw his partner and his boss exchange glances, and somehow their silent 
communication determined that Scully would answer him.

"There weren't any drugs found in your body.  Only alcohol."

Mulder experienced a multitude of emotions in a brief instant:  shock, 
confusion, disbelief, anger.  Most disturbing of all was that the two people 
sitting at the table with him, the two friends he trusted most in the world, 
didn't know what to say.  They hadn't jumped in with explanations.

"Wait a minute," he said.  "Are you telling me you don't think this is a set 
up?  That I really raped that girl!"

"We believe it was definitely a set up," Skinner admitted.

"But ...? Mulder prompted.  He didn't miss the exchange of glances between 
his two friends.  

He began to search frantically for answers.  "Look, maybe they used some 
undetectable drug.  Something that . . . don't FUCKING look at me that way, 
Scully!  If your goddamn strict science won't allow for that possibility, 
then get the FUCK out of this investigation!"

She was startled speechless by his sudden rage.  Skinner, shaken as well, was 
able to react more quickly.

"Agent Scully and I *have* discussed the possibility of an undetectable drug. 
 It's not that she doesn't believe it," he said cutting his eyes at her to 
see if she had any objection to his speaking for her.  "We just don't know 
how we're going to prove it."

Scully tried to remain calm in the face of his outburst. "Mulder, do you 
remember a few years ago, when I came to get you at Ellens Air Force Base?  
Something had been done to you, to your memory.  I even found the IV site and 
puncture wounds to physically prove it.  But there was absolutely no trace of 
anything in your blood work."

Mulder scrubbed his face with both hands.  He was balancing on a tightrope.

Scully picked up her spoon and absently stirred her coffee.  "A lot is going 
to depend on how we explain the toxicology of your blood, if there are any 
drugs that might dissipate from the alcohol," Scully answered vaguely.

"I DIDN'T HAVE ANY ALCOHOL!" he snapped.

She forced her voice to be as smooth as silk.  "The blood work says you did.  
That's what they'll go on," she said evenly.  Then she took a long, 
deliberate breath, letting it out slowly, knowing there was no way to temper 
her next remark.  "Mulder, the night I picked you up in the park, I could 
smell alcohol on your breath."

He stared daggers into her eyes and Scully felt the piercing pain.  But 
confronting him with knowledge was the only way of obtaining answers.

"So, now I'm a liar," he said gruffly.

"Did I say that?  Have I ever called you a liar?  But we're not talking about 
alcohol that was spilled on your clothes to make it look like you'd been 
drinking.  It was in your bloodstream, Mulder.  Not a lot, but enough."

Her words hurt her as much as they did him.  She could almost see him flinch 
at the accusation.

Scully tried to soften her words.  "You know what alcohol does to you.  Maybe 
you did have a few drinks and maybe it's the combination of that and whatever 
drugs you were given that have caused the memory lapse."

"I see," Mulder said, containing his anger.  "In other words, what happened 
isn't my *fault*, but it happened none-the-less.  Both of you think I raped 
her."

In tandem, Scully and Skinner shook their heads and answered, "No." Skinner 
explained further.  "You may have had sex with her.  We don't believe it was 
rape."

Mulder was astonished.  He left his eyes on Scully until she finally looked 
up to meet his gaze.  "How can you think that?"

"Because you know as well as I do what certain drugs can make you do!  
Mulder, you almost shot Alex Krycek in cold blood one night."

"It's not the same, Scully, and you know it!" he snapped back.

"Mulder," she said quietly, trying to calm him down, "it was not *you* who 
got into that cab."

Mulder shook his head again.  "If I --" he stopped and looked at Skinner.

"Go on," Skinner said.

Mulder hesitated only an instant.  "If I was feeling the way you suggest, 
then I wouldn't have picked up a girl in a bar.  I would have come here."  He 
looked his partner in the eye.  "I would have come to you."

Skinner felt like he had walked in on something private and Scully didn't 
know quite how to react.  

She put her hand on his arm.  "But you weren't thinking like Fox Mulder.  
That's what we're trying to say."

"And what --?  She decided to resist so I beat her up and had sex with her 
anyway!  Is that what I did on some kind of drug!"

"No," Skinner said sharply.  "Whoever set you up in the first place was 
responsible for the assault.  We suspect that you probably passed out after 
having sex, and so did the girl.  Someone else beat her up to make it look 
like you.  It's perfect, Mulder.  If the forensics turns out to show you did 
have sex with her, then who in the world would believe the story we just 
suggested.  But *we* know who we're dealing with where the X-Files are 
concerned.  This is exactly something they'd do."  Skinner explained.

In a voice lowered to a mere whisper, Mulder leaned toward Skinner.  "And 
would you like to be the one to explain to such worldly sophisticates as the 
Georgetown Police Department about the tactics of government men whose aim is 
to conspire against those who threaten to expose the truth about alien 
colonization!"

Mulder looked at Scully, who was silent.  He saw the pain on her face and 
wished he could melt right into the floor.  

"I can't believe you think I might have had sex with that girl.  Have you 
even considered the possibility that she's lying?"

Mulder caught the furtive glance between Skinner and his partner.  Then 
neither of them made eye contact with him.  

"What else are you not telling me?"  he asked harshly.

Skinner took a non-verbal clue from Scully that it was his turn to answer 
him.  "Mulder, the girl described a scar on your leg, running from the top of 
your thigh to almost your groin."

Mulder's eyes went instantly to Scully, who looked like she could be knocked 
over with a feather.  Aside from the implications of the girl's statement, he 
knew the case in Raleigh had terrible memories for Scully.  Having just lost 
her father, she was more emotional and vulnerable than he had ever seen her.  
She never should have been on the case.  But if she hadn't, Mulder would 
probably have died.   She responded to the sound of gunfire that night to 
find her partner down, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to his upper 
femur.  Frantically, she applied pressure both to the gaping wound, and the 
pressure point in his groin, trying to slow the flow of blood, while hearing 
Mulder screaming in pain and begging Scully to stop.  It was one of the worst 
nights of her life.  The injury required the surgeons to cut open the wound 
from mid-thigh all the way up his leg in order to repair the shattered bone.  
Scully was the only one outside the medical personnel who had seen the extent 
of the damage to Mulder's leg.  After he was released, she continued to care 
for him, cleaning the wound and changing the dressing.  It had been a turning 
point in their relationship, considering they both had to get past the fact 
that the sutures extended into a very private area of his body.

Mulder seemed to read every thought in her head.  He shook his head in 
disgust, but offered no explanation.

"Who interviewed the cab driver?" he asked bluntly.

"Director Skinner," Scully said quickly, throwing a warning glance at her 
boss.

"I want to hear about it."

"Mulder ..." started Skinner.

"I have a right to hear one of my accusers.  I want to know what I did.  I 
*have* to know."

Skinner looked at Scully, who nodded reluctantly.

"All right," the AD said, "but let me make a copy of the tape and I'll give 
one to you tomorrow.  I'm going on home and make some notes, call some 
people.  I'll see both of you in the morning," he said, standing wearily.

Mulder walked him to the door, then stepped outside in the hall with him, 
closing the door behind him.

"Sir, how is Agent Scully dealing with all this?"

"She's scared for you."

"But ... what else?"

"It hurts, Mulder.  What do you think?  Very candid questions have to be 
asked.  The answers are not pretty.  But she is on your side 200 percent, and 
so am I."

Skinner watched him lean heavily against the door.  "Maybe hearing the 
interview with the cab driver will spark something in your memory."

"I don't want Scully hearing all this.  It makes this ten times harder.  The 
less she knows, the better."

Skinner started to admit that Scully was there, but then only nodded in 
agreement.  His agent had had enough for one night.  

Mulder touched him on the sleeve.  "Thank you again, sir.  I don't know what 
to say other than that."

"Nothing more needs to be said.  I'm sorry this is happening to you.  I'm 
sorry for a lot of things that have happened to you."

Mulder nodded and forced a smile to show his appreciation.  He saw Skinner 
hesitate, a gesture he recognized as a prelude to asking a difficult question.

"Mulder, I need to ask you one more thing.  And I don't want to explain right 
now why I'm asking it.  But I need you to tell me the truth," he said, 
looking hard into apprehensive hazel eyes.

"What's the question?"

"Are you and Scully having sex?"

Mulder was caught off guard, never expecting Skinner to question his 
relationship with his partner.  He expelled a deep breath and shook his head. 
 "No, sir."

"Have you had sex at any time since you've been partners?"

Mulder leveled his eyes at him.  "No."

"Foreplay?"

"Jesus ...."

"Mulder ...?"

"NO," he said sharply.

Hazel eyes locked with brown.  Skinner thought he knew Mulder well enough to 
detect whether he was telling the truth.  But there was nothing he could read 
in Mulder's expression. 

"No, sir.  We haven't had sex of any kind," he said softly, but distinctly.

Skinner was dismayed to discover he felt a hint of uncertainty in Mulder's 
denial.  

Mulder expected to see relief on his AD's face, but he was puzzled when he 
detected just the opposite.  Before he could question it, Skinner took two 
steps backwards.  

"We'll talk tomorrow.  You and Scully get some sleep."

As Skinner walked down the hallway, Mulder wondered if he realized the irony 
in his last statement.

<He knows I'm lying.>

END OF PART 4 (Cont. in part 5)



LIGHT FROM SHADOWS (Part 5 of 19)

8:25 p.m.

When Mulder walked back into Scully's apartment, he found her seated quietly 
on the sofa.  She had turned off all the lamps but one and lit two purple and 
white candles on the coffee table.  The bright fire crackled and popped, and 
the wind was beginning to howl outside the windows.  The darkened room was 
warm and cozy, and he wished he didn't feel the heavy burden of despair that 
practically consumed him.

He saw that Scully had poured him another cup of coffee.  He sat beside her, 
not knowing what to say next.  Finally, he felt her hand on his arm, her 
delicate fingers running lightly along his sensitive skin.

"Mulder, I want to talk to you about something."

He stiffened, hearing the tone in her voice.

"And where I'm coming from, partly, is a science background, experience."

He nodded, understanding, and she went on.  

"Ever since the bombing in Dallas, you and I have had our relationship 
redefined.  We've grown very close.  The first moment that ever expressed how 
we felt about each other was in your hallway, when we almost kissed."

Mulder groaned and shut his eyes, trying to block out the sudden horror of 
everything that transpired in the seconds after their lips brushed each other.

"Mulder, I know you can't talk about all that.  You have it all locked inside 
of you, eating away at you, and all I know is that the nightmares still 
haven't gone away.  But with all that's happened with us, we still maintain 
boundaries.  And I can't speak for you, but at times, I just ..." she stopped 
and Mulder saw her eyes tear up, her lip quivering.

"Scully ..." he said softly, putting his hand on her knee.

"There are times I need you in more ways than just a partner ... or a friend. 
 I am, after all, a woman," she said with a sad smile.

He realized what she was saying and he was surprised that she had admitted it 
to him.  He was speechless, and listened closely.

"We crossed the line, Mulder.  Just a few weeks ago --"  She stopped, not 
needing to remind him.

"Do you regret that?" he asked, anxiously.

"No, no.  But I'm scared to ruin what we have.  I've wondered whether you 
feel the same way."  She saw him shaking his head, and she continued.  "But 
then I *know* you feel that way.  You risked everything to find me.  So I 
know, Mulder.  And that means you must have the same frustration and needs 
that I have at times."  

Scully's finger traced up his arm, toying absently with a fold in his sleeve. 
 He was momentarily distracted until she started speaking again.  

"Awhile back, I started to wonder if maybe our denial of certain things might 
finally be hurting us instead of protecting us."

"Say what you mean," he said bluntly, suddenly sensing that he would not like 
where she was going with all this.

"It's human nature to need sexual contact.  When two people are together as 
much as we are, in compromising situations -- a lonely stakeout, a long, 
empty stretch of road, a deserted house, a hotel room -- and given the depth 
of our feelings, it is *unnatural* to adhere to limits.  Eventually it 
becomes unhealthy.  Do you see the paradox?  That in trying to be 'good' and 
go by the book, and pretend that we've got all our emotions under control, we 
are actually breaking down."

He was hearing the truth in everything she said.  How many times had he 
thought exactly the same things.

"Now listen carefully.  A hallucinogenic drug often exacerbates that trait in 
a person, which is lacking, or unfulfilled.  In other words, someone who's 
been on a diet for a long time, maybe they take a drug and go on an eating 
binge; or someone who is lonely and insecure will suddenly be dancing with 
everyone at the party."

Mulder broke in harshly.  "And someone who's sexually repressed will attack 
an innocent woman in the park?"

"No, not attack.  But maybe, with the help of the drug, his restraints, which 
he hates in the first place, are gone.  He is allowed to satisfy his desires 
without the benefit of guilt or even common sense.  It's a welcomed respite.  
A purely physical release."

"Is that how you describe 'rape' in scientific terms?  The third person 
narrative added a nice touch, too."  He saw her blink slowly at his brash 
sarcasm.  "Is that what you think happened to me?  My sexual drive was so 
bottled up that it just --"  He couldn't help but laugh dolefully.  "Excuse 
the pun -- blew?  You don't think that as I felt the change, I would have 
jumped in my car, or grabbed the first cab and come to the very source of 
that repression?  You.  But I didn't.  I went off with a stranger?"

"There is no absolute logic to this.  I'm not talking about you 
rationalizing.  I'm talking about an instinct that was motivated by drugs."

Mulder leveled his eyes at her.  "There *weren't* any drugs in my system.  
Remember, Scully?"  His voice was colder than she was used to.

"There were no drugs *detected* in your system," she emphasized.

"Oh cut the crap!" he shouted.  "Why don't you just admit that you and 
Skinner believe that I had a few drinks and when the opportunity presented 
itself, I grabbed it!  Or should I say, grabbed *her* ?"

"Because we don't believe that!  The voice mail from Skinner--"

"There is no proof of any phone call from Skinner that night!  You have to 
take my word for that!"

"Your word is good enough for me."

"Oh, really," he said sarcastically.  "Since when?"

Scully flinched as if he'd pinched her.  "Mulder, don't do this."

"Why don't you just be fucking honest with me!"

"I'm always fucking honest with you!" she threw back.  How many times have I 
openly disagreed with you!  More times than *you'd* like to admit, even 
though two seconds ago you did just that!"

Mulder wasn't used to being bested in an argument, even though he knew his 
partner was more than capable of it.  But it still made him angry.

Mulder stood up quickly from the sofa, gritting his teeth at the pain in his 
ribs from the sudden movement.  But he had his back to Scully, so she didn't 
notice.   He walked over to stand in front of the fireplace.  Suddenly he had 
never felt so tired in all his life.  He rubbed his eyes, put both arms up on 
the mantel and leaned against them, staring into the dancing flames.  

Scully felt her energy draining.  She felt like she had been holding Mulder 
up the last 24 hours -- trying to be positive and supportive.  But she 
couldn't take on his anger.  She didn't have the strength it took right now 
to settle him down.

They stayed in their own space for several minutes, not speaking.  Their 
thoughts were on each other, but they were too confused to verbalize.

After the long agonizing silence, Mulder turned again to face his partner.  
Flashes of memory assaulted him.  He had found this woman at the end of the 
world and brought her home -- brought her back to him.  Any other woman would 
not have survived.  But Scully was strong, determined.  Yet now, as he 
watched her, watching him, he saw her vulnerability like a tangible aura.  He 
realized he was taking his frustration out on her and he was truly sorry.

"Scully, if it were you telling this story, it would be tearing me up.  I 
can't even imagine what it's doing to you."

"It's hard," she said softly.  "I never realized it could be this hard."

He walked back over to her, sitting closer to her, putting his hand on her 
cheek.  But she pulled away.  

"Mulder, you need to go," she said, her voice unsteady.

"Your being with me now is only reminding you of me being with her isn't it?"

He saw the pain cross her face and he wanted to die.  "Scully, I have no 
memory of being with that girl.  The only person I've even kissed with any 
affection in years, is you.  If part of the reason you're hurting is that I 
*didn't* come to you the night I ended up in the park, then it's because, 
like you said, it wasn't Fox Mulder.  It was Mr. Hyde.  And if I was Mr. 
Hyde, then I did beat that girl.  And I never, *ever* want Mr. Hyde to be 
with you."

She blinked slowly and a tear slid down her cheek.  Again, Mulder slowly 
touched her hair, but she leaned away a second time.

"Scully, please, especially now, don't pull away from me."

"I just need some time alone.  I'm not pulling away from you.  I'm just very 
tired.  And you need to get some sleep."

He knew there was nothing he could say. He felt defeated, like he had just 
fallen overboard and the ship was sailing away, leaving him alone in a cold, 
dark sea.  He wanted so desperately to put things back where they had been.  
But it couldn't' be done.  Not tonight.  

Slowly he stood and picked up his coat.  "Is it okay if I call your mother?  
I want to thank her."

"Of course."

He walked to the door and Scully stayed on the couch.  He turned and looked 
at her for a long time, and she kept her gaze on him.  In the shadowed light 
of the fire, he could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes.

"Scully ... I love you," he whispered.  Then he opened the door and was gone.

She sank into the cushions of the sofa and began to cry.

*   *   *

MARGARET SCULLY'S RESIDENCE
10:10 p.m.

Margaret Scully answered her phone just as she was getting ready to get into 
bed.  

"Hello."

There was a brief pause.  "Mrs. Scully, it's Fox Mulder."

Mulder braced himself.  He wasn't sure what to expect.  He thought he heard a 
sigh of relief.

"Fox!  Thank god you called.  I've been so worried about you."

He was more relieved than he ever thought possible under the circumstances.  

"Mrs. Scully, I ... don't even know what to say.  I wanted to come by, but --"

"Where are you now?"

"I'm on my way home.  I just left Dana's."

"Why don't you come by now?  I'd like to talk to you."

"Are you sure?  I know it's late --"

"Fox, I know how uncomfortable you are with this.  I can hear it in your 
voice.  That's why I want to talk to you.  I have a feeling you *need* to 
talk."

She heard him pause again.  The reassurance in her voice almost made him 
break down.  

"Yes, ma'am, I do," he said softly.

"I'll put some tea on.  Drive carefully.  It's starting to snow."

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

*  *  *
10:25 p.m.

He was apprehensive all over again when he pulled into the driveway.  She 
opened the door almost immediately when he knocked, so he knew she heard him 
pull up.  She hadn't bothered to get dressed again, so she was wearing a 
thick burgundy-colored wool robe with matching slippers.  The minute she made 
eye contact with Mulder, she saw his apprehension.  Instantly, she pulled him 
into the warm house and put her arms around him.  He hadn't expected it, and 
he needed it so much.  He wished he could have felt that from his partner as 
he left her apartment.  Maggie felt his need, as he tightly wrapped his arms 
around her, and sagged just a little, succumbing to the comfort he so 
desperately needed, while trying to ignore the slicing pain in his chest.  
She let him stay that way for a long time before he finally stepped away from 
her.  She took him by the elbow and led him into the living room.

Let's go sit by the fire.  Your hands are cold.  Get comfortable and I'll get 
the tea."

He sat in a wingback chair in front of the fire.  When Maggie came in with 
the tray, he quickly rose and took it from her, setting it on a small table 
between his chair and another matching chair, which she sat in.  As she 
handed him the cup and saucer, she saw his hand trembling.  

<God, what he must be going through.>

Maggie stared into the fire, the closeness with Mulder stirring old memories. 
 She smiled.  "Dana's father and I used to sit here together when there were 
things to talk out, decisions to be made.  A crackling fire seemed to calm 
his mood."

Mulder knew she was opening the door for him.  When she sat back and gave him 
her full attention, he began.  "Mrs. Scully, I'm so sorry for all of this.  
When Skinner told me you helped put up the bond money, I was stunned.  I 
still am.  I don't know why you would do that."

"I had my reasons, just as Director Skinner did.  Besides, I can afford it 
more than Dana, and she was on her way to the bank."

She could tell by the expression on his face that he was struggling with his 
composure.

"I don't even know how to talk about this.  I'm so ashamed," he said softly.

"Did you do it, Fox?"

Her direct question was a hard blow and Maggie saw him instantly pale.  
Before he could answer, she leaned forward, putting her hand on his knee.  
"Of course you didn't," she answered for him.  "So why in the world should 
you be ashamed?"

"You've talked to Dana?"

"After you were released, yes.  And briefly this evening."

"Mrs. Scully, Dana and Director Skinner suspect that something happened.  I 
swear to you that I didn't rape that girl.  I barely remember seeing her in 
the bar."

"Fox --" 

"Hear me out, please.  They are convinced that I was drugged; that's why I 
can't remember anything.  But the drugs may have contributed to ... being 
with that girl and not being myself."  

"What are you saying, Fox?"

He looked over at the fire and she could see the cup and saucer still shaking 
slightly in his hand.  He looked back over at her when he heard her put her 
cup on the table.  He was surprised when she reached over and took his cup 
and saucer from him, also setting them on the table.  Then she took both of 
his hands in hers.

"Fox, honey, listen to me."

Her kind voice hit a nerve with him and he felt his control slipping even 
more.  She saw it instantly in his face and held his hands even tighter.  

"You need to be frank and honest with all of us who are close to you.  We 
need to know what you're thinking and feeling.  That's the only way we can 
all help each other with this terrible incident.  I'm a Navy wife," she said 
with a smile, "so I'm about as tough as they come.  I want you to speak 
candidly with me.  If you want to show your appreciation for helping you get 
out of jail, then open up to me, allow me to be there for you.  Trust me."

She knew those words were the link between him and her daughter.  Mulder bent 
his head, and the tears began to fall.  Too much had happened too quickly.  
He already felt alienated from the woman he needed most in the world, a woman 
he was hurting terribly.  Maggie knew all this.  She knew how overwhelmed he 
was.  He looked up at her and she saw him drowning in pain.

"Mrs. Scully, I may have been with that girl.  I may have done things.  I 
can't even explain *what* things.  But Dana and Skinner believe they will 
find proof that I was with her.  They don't believe I hurt her, that I 
probably passed out and whoever set me up, then hurt her.  But trying to 
prove that is going to be almost impossible.  I know this.  These people are 
too good at these things.  If they want me to go to prison for the rest of my 
life, then I probably will."

"You must have faith in your friends.  You and Dana have beaten almost 
impossible odds before."

"Yes, but this time I feel that her heart isn't in it.  She's devastated by 
all this.  And no matter what she says, she must be wondering if there is 
just some inkling of memory that I have.  I can tell you most definitely that 
there is not.  But it doesn't matter what I think."

"How Dana feels today, doesn't reflect how she'll feel tomorrow.  This has 
been a shock to both of you -- all of us.  You need time to step back and 
figure out where to go from here."

Mulder looked at her quietly for a minute.  "Did you talk to her after I left 
her apartment?"

"Yes.  She called me right after you left."

"She was upset."

"Yes, Fox.  She was very upset."

"Was she crying?" he asked, needing to know.

Margaret paused, then nodded.  She saw fresh pain cross Mulder's face.  He 
put his head in his hands.  "She doesn't deserve this."

"Neither of you do.  Fox, Dana called me because she was worried about you.  
She knew you felt her distancing herself and she felt miserable for it.  
She's confused, just as you are, but you're both in a different place with 
this."

He was shaking his head and she again put her hand over his. 

"She knew that if you stayed and saw her pain, it would be worse for you.  
She just needed to adjust, get stronger, so she could help you."

"I'm not sure I want Dana involved in this."

"Now wait a minute, Fox."

"If this situation were any different, I wouldn't feel this way.  But ..." he 
stopped, not knowing how to explain without bringing up personal feelings he 
had.  But Maggie was too attuned.

"If you and Dana were strictly partners, if you didn't feel the way you do 
about each other, then there wouldn't be these emotional complications, would 
there?"

He was silent.

"How are you going to stop her, Fox?"

He nodded, knowing she was right.  Maggie was direct with him.  "Tell me what 
you're thinking.  I asked you to be straight with me.  I can't help my 
daughter either if you hold things back."

He hadn't considered that aspect.  He had to agree with her, as difficult as 
it was to admit the truth.  

He took a deep breath.  "As part of this investigation, Dana is going to have 
access to all the sordid details.  I can't even admit or deny anything 
because I don't remember a thing.  Some of what's reported may be the truth.  
It would be different if I could tell Dana that I didn't do this, or that, 
but I can't.  So she'll wonder.  And it will be painful to hear these things. 
 I know how I'd feel if I heard them about her."

"Then maybe she shouldn't be helping you on this," she said, reversing roles 
with him.

"But if she doesn't, then people are going to ask why my own partner has 
deserted me.  They'll think one of two things:  either she thinks I'm guilty, 
or there are personal reasons that make it too difficult.  As you might 
guess, there's been talk for a long time about our relationship."

"Yes, I can imagine."

"Well, none of it is true.  Nothing has happened that would confirm any of 
those rumors.  No one can possibly know how we feel.  They can only 
speculate."

"You know that she would never do that, leave you over this."

He stood up and walked over to the fireplace.  Maggie let him think, and talk.

"Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it.  I look at what I've passed up for this 
crusade."  He turned to face her.  "Not long ago, Dana and I were driving 
somewhere.  It was dark, and as we drove through a neighborhood, she asked me 
something that struck me all of a sudden.  She pointed out that behind those 
lighted windows there were families who were raising kids and dogs, and 
didn't I ever think about that kind of life."

Maggie waited for him to answer his own question.

"I kind of brushed it off, skimmed past it and said something smart, like I 
usually do when I don't want to really think about something.  But I did 
think about it later, because I knew it must be on her mind more than she 
admits to me.  And so it's times like this that I question the struggle."

He sat back down and his expression took on a disposition of calm.  "When I 
think about another life, a normal job and normal routine, I picture it with 
Dana.  I can't see it with anyone else.  I think about my future, when I've 
retired, and I still see Dana in my life.  And ... it scares me, Mrs. Scully."

"Why, Fox?"

"Because I dare to hope and dream," he said with a slight smile.  "Because 
there has to be more for me, sometime and somewhere, than this.  I'm finding 
it more difficult to cope with the sacrifices I've made in my life.  And my 
greatest fear is that something will happen to change what Dana and I have.  
If that happens, I see no future for myself."

"Sometimes anticipating and fearing change can be the very catalyst for 
change.  Do you realize that?"

"Yes, I do."

"Have you ever talked to Dana about these feelings?"

"No."

"Do you know how she feels?"

"I think I do.  She's more demonstrative than I am.  I'm a jerk sometimes; a 
typical man."

Maggie smiled.  "Dana has talked to me about things, just as you are now.  
I'm not sure what she would want me to reveal, but I would guess that you'd 
rather me keep this conversation between us confidential.  So I won't divulge 
to you what she's told me.  But I can tell you that Dana's always been the 
independent one.  She's very kind, and sensitive, but she looks out for 
herself and if a decision is not in her best interest, no one can persuade 
her otherwise.  But I've seen a change in her where you're concerned.  I've 
seen her sacrifice more, question more, and allow herself to get hurt."

Maggie knew that would hit home with Mulder, but he needed to hear the truth. 

"But I've also seen her happier than she's ever been in her life.  She loves 
her job, and she has a friendship with you that is very rare.  It has given 
her hope for the future as well, Fox.  That's about all I can say to you, and 
I know it's not much.  I'm sure this is not exactly what you wanted to hear, 
but the fact that Dana is so hurt by this should tell you how she feels about 
you."

Mulder reached for his tea and as he sipped it, he thought about Maggie's 
words.  She allowed him the quiet contemplation.  When the tea was half 
finished, he set the cup down again and leaned forward, his forearms on his 
knees, and looked deeply into Maggie's eyes.  He felt a familiar link, almost 
the same blue eyes he was so accustomed to gazing into.  When he spoke, his 
voice was subdued, as if the weight of the world sat on every word.

"Right now, I feel more lost than I've ever felt in my life.  I hate the 
thought of what is going to come out of all this.  I'd rather be accused of 
murder.  Mrs. Scully, I don't even know how I'm going to face each day.  I've 
always felt secure knowing that Scully was beside me.  But now, I don't want 
her there because of how much this is going to hurt her.  It's a no win 
situation for both of us.  What should I do?" he asked in quiet desperation.

"Take each day, one at a time.  Let Dana guide her own way.  Don't push or 
pull.  As for yourself, have faith, Fox.  You are a kind, honest man.  You 
have done a world of good in your lifetime so far, and you will be rewarded 
for that.  Believe it.  It may be down the road a ways, but I know in my 
heart that you will prevail.  The people who know you best believe in you, 
and really, that's all that counts.  They will find the truth that you have 
dedicated your life to, and it will save you."

<The truth will save you.  I believe it will save both of us.>

When Margaret stood Mulder followed, once again taking her in his arms.  As 
they held each other, she said a silent prayer to give him strength and 
peace.  Then she let him go.

"I can see myself out.  Thank you.  You have given me more than you can 
imagine.  I will fight, Mrs. Scully, because I won't let down the people who 
are standing by me."

She smiled and watched him walk out of the room.  

It was so easy to understand how her daughter could be in love with him.
__________________________

END OF PART 5 (Cont. in part 6)


Title:  Light from Shadows (Part 6 of 19)
Author:  writergal2000@aol.com

Disclaimer in part 1

LIGHT FROM SHADOWS (Part 6 OF 19)

NEXT DAY
4:35 p.m.
Fox Mulder's Apartment

Mulder had been given paid leave from the Bureau while the investigation was 
going on.  He was spending the day at home, alone, and not talking to anyone. 
 There was a knock at the door and a messenger handed him an envelope.  He 
saw it was from Skinner.  When he opened it, he found a mini cassette. 
Written on the label was 'Interview with cab driver.'  Taking the tape 
recorder from under his desk, he put it on the table and put the tape in.

Forty-five minutes later, as the interview came to a close, Mulder sat there, 
numb with shock.  Just as he swore to himself that he would do everything 
possible to see that Scully never listened to the tape, he heard a female 
voice at the end of the interview. 

Stopping the tape, he sat for a moment, his body suddenly breaking out in a 
cold sweat.  With a quivering finger, he hit REWIND for just a few seconds, 
turned the volume all the way up, and then played it again.  

<Can I see you outside for a minute?>

<Mr. Venetti, I think that's all we have for now.>  *We*

When the tape ended, Mulder sank back against the chair, the silent hiss of 
the reel continuing to play in the silent room.  He closed his eyes.  

<Oh fuck.>

*   *   *   *   *

SAME DAY
6:02 p.m.

Scully was working at home.  She was on her computer, doing a background 
check on the girl when there was a knock on her door.

"Scully, it's me," Mulder said before she could look through the peephole.

She opened the door and without looking at her, he briskly entered

"Mulder, what ...?" she said, surprised, as she shut the door.

When he faced her, his eyes were hard, strange.  He pulled the cassette out 
of his pocket and held it up close to her face.

"This is the interview yesterday with the cab driver.  Is that your voice at 
the end of the interview?"  His question sounded like an interrogation.

She was silent.  She anticipated this reaction when he heard the interview, 
and the distress was clearly apparent.

"Were you there!  Scully!" he asked impatiently.

No response from her.  Mulder's whole body was shaking.  "Did you hear what 
happened in the back seat of that car - what I did!  Did you hear all that!  
Were you there, Scully!  Answer me!  ANSWER ME DAMMIT!"

"YES!" she finally screamed back at him, not sure whether her anger was 
because of the content of the interview, or the fact that Mulder made her 
confess to being there.

Mulder grabbed his head and bent over, as Scully heard his cry of anguish.  
Her concern for her partner was greater than her own pain and she went to 
him, but as she touched him, he jerked away from her.  

When he stood up, his face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed with worry and lack 
of sleep.

"I ..am .. so .. sorry," he stammered.

Scully was overwhelmed by his pain.  "Mulder, it's okay."

"I did it, didn't I?"

She didn't answer him.  His voice broke into a strangled cry and he staggered 
back against the sofa.

"Mulder, please ..."

"I can't be innocent of this whole set up because no one but me would know 
that I'd call out your name!  No one but me would know that I fantasize about 
us!  Only I would know that!"  His eyes seemed to glaze over and his voice 
was barely audible.  "I did it!  I raped that girl!  I may have beaten her 
up!"

"No!"

Mulder was losing control.  He screamed at Scully and thrust his hands out in 
front of her.

"Look at my hands, Scully!  They're bruised!  That's from hitting her!  OH 
GOD HELP ME!"

He was so grieved and distraught that he crumpled to the floor in a heap, his 
body heaving with sobs.  The sharp throbbing pain in his side only added to 
his agonizing torment.  Scully instantly kneeled beside him, putting her arms 
around him and pulling his head to her chest.  He melted into her embrace, 
letting her hold him.  Scully, crying with him, realized that he really had 
no idea what he had done.  She tried to quiet him, knowing that his pain was 
far worse than hers and feeling terrible for putting herself before him.

"Shhh, it's okay sweetheart.  It's going to be okay."   Scully's words of 
comfort came pouring out before the rational part of her could relay that 
this was her partner she was speaking to.  But having him trembling with fear 
in her arms, hardly able to speak coherent words from his brilliant mind, she 
succumbed to her impulsive, maternal, emotion-wracked instincts.  Her 
partner, this man whom she loved more than life itself, was in dire torment 
and needed her help desperately.

She kissed his forehead.  After a minute, he was quiet but he still held on 
to her tightly.  Scully kissed his forehead again, then after only a 
split-second decision, she lifted his chin and without hesitation, put her 
mouth to his.  

Mulder reacted instinctively, first startled, then responding to her by 
parting her lips with his tongue and kissing her passionately.  But then, as 
reason brought him to his senses, he realized what he was doing and he pulled 
back, once again crying out.

"No, Scully, how can you -- !"

"Because you're my friend and I love you!  I love you, Mulder.  And I don't 
know how to take your pain away!" she sobbed.

Mulder pulled out of Scully's arms and stood up, his arm instantly clutching 
his chest, attempting to brace his rib.  Scully saw what he did, but Mulder 
had plunged ahead.

"I don't deserve you!  I don't deserve anybody!  I don't care what drugs were 
given me, I acted from what was inside me!"

Scully also got to her feet.  "No you did not!  What you were given could 
have completely changed you!"

"That's BULLSHIT and you know it!  I was sexually repressed and the drugs 
allowed me to act on that!  Subconsciously I knew that if it were *you* I 
went to, it might destroy us, so I forced myself on someone else."

"I'll never believe that!  I know you too well!"

Suddenly Mulder grabbed her roughly just above her elbows and pulled her into 
his body.  "Do you?" he snarled.  His eyes were blazing with an intensity 
Scully had never seen before.  She watched his face as his eyes traveled 
longingly down to her breasts, then back up to meet her eyes.  His face had 
broken out in a sweat, but she didn't know it was from trying to suppress the 
pain.  When he smiled, it was dark, menacing, and Scully felt her heart 
flip-flop.

"Don't you want to see the other side of me, Scully?  The part that you and 
Skinner believe is lurking behind my armor of restraint?  My dark side," he 
droned with a smirk.

"No, Mulder ..."

He pulled her even closer and she could feel the heat emanating off of him, 
feel his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms.  She wasn't 
afraid of him, but she knew that the wrong move from her could have 
disastrous consequences.  Mulder's hands moved slowly up her arms to the top 
of her shoulders, then across to rest on either side of her neck.  She could 
feel his heart racing against her chest.  Scully was too shocked to react 
when she felt his left hand slowly begin to slide down her neck, his fingers 
continuing to trace an agonizingly slow downward path.  His eyes were pools 
of black as they catalogued her reaction.

"Mulder, please ...," she urged, hoping to reach her friend and partner, whom 
 she knew would never intentionally hurt her.

When his hand purposely brushed across her left breast and reached for the 
top button of her sweater, she was catapulted from her stupor.  Flinging his 
hand away, she slapped him hard enough to snap his head to the side.  

"STOP THIS!" she shouted at him.

The slap, which jerked his body to the side, almost took him to the floor.  
The pain in his ribs was excruciating.  He somehow managed to stay on his 
feet and regain his senses.

When Mulder's head slowly pivoted back around, Scully saw his features again 
transformed into the man she knew as her caring, sensitive partner.  
Realizing what he had done, he was even more engulfed in guilt and regret.  
Gently, he placed his hands in her hair, then stepped back from her as if his 
touch would burn her. She tried to take his hands, but once again he pulled 
away.  She prayed his calmer state would give her the chance to reason with 
him before any more damage was done.

"Look, I'm a doctor, I know what I'm talking about.  Certain drugs cause an 
entire chemical change.  There wasn't any decision to be made, Mulder! There 
was no rationale involved in this!  It's like giving someone crystal meth.  
It completely changes their personality and even their physiology.  They 
become violent and super strong, not even remembering later what they did.  
That's what happened to you!  You did not do this!" she pleaded, trying 
everything in her power to reach him.

Mulder's eyes narrowed with anguish as he stared into the ice blue eyes of 
the woman he loved.  Scully saw him blink slowly, his eyes seeming to be 
weighted down as his lids raised halfway.  She knew she had to reach him, had 
to console him with words he had never heard her speak before.

"You didn't do this, honey.  Your physical reaction, your anguish and 
indisputable abhorrence of what happened is proof that Fox Mulder couldn't 
have done this terrible thing."

Carefully, Scully approached him, as if saying or doing the wrong thing would 
shatter him into pieces.  Gently she took his hand in hers, getting no 
resistance this time.

"I made a mistake last night, Mulder.  I let you walk out of here when you 
needed me so much," she said, her voice cracking.  "I let you go because I 
didn't think I could handle it.  I didn't even consider what you were going 
through.  I let you down."

He closed his eyes, with one shake of his head, as if he wouldn't even hear 
of such a thing.  But Scully went on, trying to reach him.

"I know you so well.  Better than anyone in the world, and I should have seen 
what was happening to you.  I'm the one who should apologize."

Mulder's emotions were spent.  As if in a trance, he seemed to be looking 
straight through Scully.  She became afraid of his blank stare.

"Mulder ..?"

"There's only one way to make this right," he said, as if talking to the wall.

"Yes.  Find the truth.  And we will," she answered desperately.

"No.  This is going to get worse, and I can't take it getting worse.  I can't 
go beyond this point.  Don't you see that?"

She felt a stab of panic course through her.  She knew Fox Mulder too well, 
and the implications of what he was saying turned her blood cold.  Her voice 
was strained as she fought for control.  

"You think this is painful for me now?  Do you have any idea what it would do 
to me if I lost you?  I would never recover.  Do you want to do that to me?  
I'll overcome this, and so will you, and so will *we*.  This is a blink of an 
eye in our lifetime.  We have a whole future ahead.  They won't win, Mulder.  
There are too many people on your side.  But if you give up, we don't have a 
chance."

"It would be better in the long run.  You just can't see it now."

He turned and picked up his jacket off the edge of the sofa.  He had to get 
out of there.  He had hidden things from her, and now he was hiding his 
injury.  Between his devastated mental state and the lightheadedness and 
nausea he was experiencing, he knew he could collapse with his next step.  He 
didn't want to put Scully through any more tonight, but he no longer felt in 
control.  

Scully held on to his arm, scared now.  "Don't go.  Stay here with me."

"Stay with you?  Aren't you afraid?" he said quietly, drained of any further 
emotion.

"I trust you with my life.  We need each other tonight, just to hold each 
other.  Please."

"Being together tonight won't fix anything.  How are you going to feel next 
week when you find out that was my semen inside that girl!  I forced her to 
the ground, forced her legs apart -"

Scully's anguish was too much for words as she leaned back against an 
armchair for support.  Mulder's emotions were roller-coastering and she was 
becoming dizzy from the ride.

"You read the medical report!  There were bite marks on her breasts!   Her 
clitoris was almost bitten in half!  I would never, NEVER -" Mulder broke 
down again and Scully reached for him, but he brushed past her and went to 
the door.  

Scully grabbed the