DISCLAIMER:  Most of the characters in this story belong to Chris
Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network.  I mean no
copyright infringement.

Category:  SR
Rating: PG-13 for language and adult situations
Spoilers:  US Season Seven through "all things"
Keywords:  MSR, stakeout, pursuit
Summary:  Once you cross the line, where do you go from there? 

"Across the Rubicon" 
by Anne Haynes
AHaynes33@aol.com

"The die is cast." - Julius Caesar

"It's not even an X-File," she complained, and he cut his eyes at
her. She looked away, slightly annoyed at the glint of humor she
saw in his sidelong gaze.  "The strip club stakeout was better
than this."

In the driver's seat, Mulder stretched his long legs as far as he
could and reached into his pocket.  After a few muted crackling
sounds, he withdrew his hand and opened it toward her.  "Seed?"

Scully plucked a couple of the mottled sunflower seeds from his
palm and rolled them between her fingers.  "What about that email
you got last week---about the doctor who's in the mental
institution? The one who may have years of conspiracy data locked
in her mind?"

"The one you called a 'glorified rutabaga with good P.R.'?"

She glared at him.  "Turnip, not rutabaga."

"Potato, potahto."  He cracked a seed with his tongue and teeth.
"We could still be in England tracking crop circles if only you'd
decided to go."

She hid a smirk.  "Bet you're glad I didn't, though."

He tried to hide a smirk of his own but wasn't quite successful.
"I.S.U. thinks this guy killed six women in the past two months,
Scully. Your old academy buddies would blow somebody to have this
case."

"I'd blow somebody not to have this case."

"Oooo."  Mulder's lips pursed with delight.  "Say that again,
Scully.  Only lick your lips first this time."

Scully quashed a smile, not wanting to encourage him too much.
She popped a sunflower seed in her mouth and rolled it over her
tongue, savoring the salt tang. "See that blue Buick three cars
down?"  She nodded in the general direction.  "Bill Turner is in
the passenger seat.  I think that idiot blew somebody just to
pass the Academy final."

"Anybody I know?"

"Maybe Agent Forsythe.  At least, that's who *I*..."  She trailed
off deliberately.

Mulder cut his eyes at her again.  "Wow, Scully--me too. Small
world."  Suddenly, he leaned forward.  "What the hell--?"

She looked through the windshield at the house they were
watching. It took a second to realize that Mulder was looking
beyond, toward the blue Buick parked down the road, where a dark
figure was hunched over and duck-walking down the street away
from the suspect's house.

"Bill Turner?" Mulder asked.

Scully passed her hand over her face and released a sigh. "Has a
bladder the size of a walnut."

"Well, I think this time he's blown our case."  Mulder nodded
toward the suspect's house.  Every light in the downstairs window
now shone like daylight in the dark.  A second later, the porch
light came on and Tommy Earl Phagan walked out onto his porch. 
He stood there, hands on his hips, and glared out at the FBI
sedans dotting his street like sprinkles on a cupcake.

"Kiss me, Scully."

Scully looked away from the porch and met Mulder's gaze.  "Excuse
me?"

"Don't go all virginal on me, Scully.  It's a little late now."
His grin was a bit too cocky; she'd known this could happen.  

"Mulder, just because the case is blown doesn't mean you're gonna
get--"

"We're the last car in line, Scully.  Waaaaay down the street. 
Who's to say we're not just a hot and horny couple looking for a
little four-door fantasy?"

He had a point.  She hated to admit it, but he did have a point. 
"Can you handle it, Mulder?"

He arched one eyebrow and looked her up and down.   "Oh, I can
handle it all, Sugar Mama."

"I'm serious."  She gave him a stern look.  "This is work."

"So what's new?"  He shrugged.

She glanced up the street.  The other sedans were dark, but she
could feel the shared tension of all the FBI agents behind the
shadowy windshields as they considered their options.

The FBI handheld radio between them squawked, making her jump. 
"Unit Nine to all units."  That was Agent Fuller's voice. He 
sounded cranky.  "We're made.  We need to pack it in and 
try again later."

Mulder punched the call button.  "Unit Nine to Unit Seven."  

"This is Nine, go ahead, Seven."

"Negative on that," Mulder said.  "Subject is not going to stop
if we leave, and we think we have a chance to salvage.  But
everyone else should go set up well out of sight. Give him a
chance to drop his guard.  We'll maintain."  

"Affirmative, Seven."  Fuller signed off.

One by one, the other FBI sedans cranked their engines and pulled
away, leaving Mulder and Scully in their sedan near the end of
the block.  Scully kept her eyes on the porch, where Phagan still
stood, watching the cars leave.  "What now?"

Mulder unbuckled his seat belt and leaned toward her.  "His
pattern suggests tonight's the night, and his fantasy has
escalated to a point that I don't think a little entourage of
FBI agents will be enough to stop him, now that he thinks he's
won this round.  Within the next hour, he's going hunting."  He
closed the distance between them and kissed her chin.  "Can you
still see him?"

Scully tried to disentangle her brain from her hormones.  "Uh
huh."

"Whatever I do now, don't stop watching him.  I want to know if
we're being made."  Mulder's lips grazed her jawline and began a
slow descent along the side of her throat. 

"Uh huh," she murmured, little shivers running through her.

"You like this, right?"  He sank his teeth lightly into the
tendon where her neck met her shoulder.  

She made a little hissing sound between her teeth. "You should
know."  He'd left marks Monday night--or was it Tuesday morning? 
Whatever--she'd had to wear turtlenecks the next two days.

"He still there?"

She realized she'd let her gaze drift.  She quickly looked back
at the porch.  "I think he's looking at us."

Mulder's nose nudged her ear.  "He probably can't see past the
streetlamp glare on our windshield."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"You have to ask?"

She gave him a little push.  "You cheat, you know that?"

He didn't let her push him far, keeping his hands firmly settled
on her hips.  "You know, we get an R.D.O. tomorrow.  Three day
weekend, Scully.  Is Phagan still on the porch?"

"Yes."  Her voice was more breathy than she intended.  "Three day
weekend, huh?"

"Unless you want to look up the rutabaga on our off days."

"Maybe Sunday...."  She saw movement on Phagan's porch.  "Son of
a bitch."

"What?"

"He didn't go back inside. He's getting in his car."

Mulder groaned.  "Call it in---we can't go right after him or
he'll know we're FBI, too."

Scully got on the radio and alerted the other FBI teams that
the suspect was on the move.  She and Mulder remained parked well
after Phagan's wood-paneled station wagon turned left at the
opposite end of the block.  "He's heading south on Medland
Avenue."

"Got him," Agent Fuller's voice growled through the speaker.
"Any idea where he's heading?"

"Hold."  She deferred to the profiler behind the wheel. "Where's 
he going, Mulder?"

He buckled his seatbelt and motioned for her to do the same. 
"All six victims were found in a nine block area around the
Georgetown club district." He paused a half beat. "Not far from
your place."

"You think he'll go back there, knowing we're onto him?"

"It's part of the fantasy. He has to go there."

"He's heading to Georgetown," Scully spoke into the radio. "We're
going to try to cut east and beat him there."  She laid down the 
radio and waved at Mulder to take a right.  "There's a
cut-through here--we can shave time off his head start."

Mulder took the turn at a fast but controlled speed, then pulled
over. "You drive--I need to look at the reports again."  They
switched places, and she pulled back onto the road. Even on a
Thursday night, there were plenty of people willing to party into
the wee hours of the night, and half of them seemed determined to
get in her way.

"There's got to be a pattern to how he chooses his victims." 
Mulder stuck another sunflower seed between his lips.

"He always goes to Georgetown."

"But there's got to be more to it."  Mulder was in what Scully
secretly called hound dog mode--he even had the furrowed brow and
droopy eyes to complete the picture.  

Sometimes his unwavering focus could be unnerving.  And other
times-- 

"Mulder--we already know who the killer is.  We can just wait for
him to show up."

"But if we don't catch him in the act, we may not be able to nail
him for the other murders.  We've got to get wherever he's going
before he gets there.  We need to be inside, Scully."

"*You* need it."

He didn't bother to deny it.

"Mulder--"

"I'm not losing it, Scully."  He offered up a half smile as
proof. "I already know how he does it, I know what to ask him to
make him break.  But without more proof, he can recant. We need
to catch him stalking and nab him the second he makes a wrong
move.  And we can't do that from the outside."  

"I'll beat him to the club strip," she assured him.  "Maybe we
could park on a side street, in case he might recognize the car,
and just walk the strip until he arrives.  Agent Fuller can keep
us apprised on our cell phones."

He closed the folder and looked at her.  "You aren't exactly
dressed for club hopping."

She glanced down at her suit.  "I can lose the jacket and
unbutton a few buttons."

"And if we neck against the wall every block or so, nobody will
bat an eye anyway. Well, maybe Skinner if he gets wind of it--"

"I think he knows," she said.

Mulder blinked.  "You do?"

"Well, it's not like he actually came out and said anything. But
I just got a vibe."

"A *vibe*?"  He sounded incredulous.

"Yeah--just this--I don't know."  She was at a loss to explain
it. "He just--knows."

"Does your brother Bill just...know?"

"God, no."  She chuckled.

Mulder's voice was a little quiet.  "Are you ashamed to tell
him?"

Her smile faded, and she risked a glance his way despite the
growing traffic.  "No, Mulder--I just haven't talked to him in
over two months.  But if it makes you feel better, Mom knows."

His eyes widened almost comically.  "My God, you told your
mother?"

"Well, not details, no."  She bit back a laugh and concentrated
on making the turn onto the main thoroughfare through
Georgetown's club district. "But she's the one who suggested we
not tell Bill any time soon. At least not until his ship is
safely in the Adriatic."

"There."  Mulder pointed, leaning forward like a hound on the
scent.

"Where?"

"That street--pull down there."

Scully maneuvered the sedan around the corner and down the narrow
side street between a couple of neon-lit bars.  She parked where
Mulder indicated.  

"Did you see the name of the bar on the corner?" Mulder asked,
stripping off his jacket and loosening his tie.  "The Rose
Garden."

"Yeah--so?"  She stripped off her own jacket and plucked at the
button over her breasts, revealing a little cleavage and flash of
black lace bra.  She glanced at Mulder to make sure he was
getting a sufficient thrill. 

His return look was hungry enough to be gratifying.  "So the
first victim was last seen at a bar called Redheads.  Victims
three and four were found with stamps on their hands from
Scarlett O'Hara's.  Victim five was found in the alley outside a
dive called Ruby Slippers."

"Red," Scully murmured.  "Variations on the color red.  But there
have to be a half-dozen possibilities just in Georgetown."

"I just have a feeling about this, Scully.  You know--a vibe." 
He slanted a teasing look her way. "Come on, baby, let's boogie."
He stepped out of the car.

************

Mulder's knack for the criminal mind was really quite uncanny,
Scully mused fifteen minutes later as she nursed a watered-down
beer in a booth inside The Rose Garden and watched Tommy Earl
Phagan enter the front door of the bar.

He looked around, and Scully let her eyes skim away from him so
she wouldn't be caught looking.  "Phagan just walked in," she
murmured to Mulder, who was currently wrapped halfway around her
with his lips glued to her neck.

"Mmmhmm," he murmured.

"How long do you think it'll take him to find a target?"

Mulder made a little grumbling noise and came up for air. "Hard
to say.  I think he's too pumped up at this point to be very
patient."

"Maybe we should nudge him."

Mulder went immediately tense.  "No, Scully."

"I read the file, Mulder.  He likes redheads--four out of six."

"No, Scully."

"Head start on our three day weekend, Mulder."

"Not enough reason to risk it."

She sighed, frustrated. "I'm armed.  There are a dozen FBI agents
lining the streets outside, and you'll be right here with me if
things go south."  She disentangled herself from him and slid out
of the booth.  "I'm going to the ladies' room--phone me if he
moves before I get out. And then, we'll see if he notices me. 
Deal?"

Mulder caught her hand.  "Be careful."

She gave his fingers a squeeze.  "Three day weekend," she said
softly.

In the ladies' room, she pulled out a tube of bright lipstick and
freshened her make-up a little, giving her hair a quick
finger-lift for good measure.  Almost as an afterthought, she
rolled the waistband of her skirt under once to take an inch off
her knee-length skirt, then headed back out into the bar.

Phagan was at the bar, drinking a beer and looking around. She
paused at the end of the bar to scoop up a handful of peanuts and
let him get a look at her.

He was interested.  She saw the gleam in his eyes and tried not
to shudder.

"Dana?"  The sound of her name made her jump.  

She turned to find Daniel Waterston standing just down the bar
from her.  He moved toward her. 

She blinked, momentarily disoriented.  "Daniel?  What the hell
are you doing here?"

He moved to hug her.  She stepped back automatically, avoiding
the embrace.  "Why aren't you in the hospital?"

"They sprang me today.  You must be a panacea for all my ills." 
He reached out and took her hand.  "I've been thinking a lot
about what you told me the last time I saw you.  I think you were
right."

Scully looked down the bar.  Phagan was gone.

"Damn it," she muttered.

"I think I needed to face some things about myself before we
could move on."

"Daniel--I really can't talk about this now--I'm on duty--"  She
pulled her hand away from Daniel's and scanned the bar, looking
for Phagan.  She saw Mulder disappearing out the front door.  

"Can I call you?" Daniel asked.

"Go home, Daniel.  You just got out of the hospital."  She
hurried out the door and looked up and down the sidewalk.  She
found Mulder a half block down, leaning against the side of
another club, cell phone to his ear.  She jogged to catch up.

"He's prowling again," Mulder told her, shutting off the phone.
He looked down at her.  "Someone you know?"

"Daniel Waterston."

Her answer surprised him, even though he tried to mask it. 

"He got out of the hospital today," she explained.

"And went straight to a Georgetown meat market?"  Mulder passed a
hand over his stubbled jaw.  "I'm sorry--that was harsh."

"Where's Phagan heading?"

"West.  Fuller and Calvecchia picked him up.  We're back in the
car, since you've been made."  He started toward the side street
where they'd parked the sedan.

"Try not to hide your disappointment," she muttered, trotting to
keep up.

He took the wheel this time. "We're supposed to cruise the block
in case he takes off down one of the side streets."

"We're going to get him."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Timing our move will be delicate.  He doesn't rape them, right?"

"No, he doesn't rape them. Just snaps their necks."

"But not right away," she pressed.  "It's not his first move."

"No--they usually have to struggle a little first."  

She flipped through the file again.  "Bruises and scrapes."

The radio squawked.  Scully grabbed it.  "This is Unit Seven, 
go ahead, Nine."

"He's headed down Wisconsin," Agent Fuller barked into the radio.

Scully searched her memory for a mental map.  "There's a bar down
Wisconsin called Cardinal Joe's.  That's where he's going."

"How the hell do you figure that?" Fuller asked.

"Just go." Scully put down the radio.  "Thirteen-hundred block
of Wisconsin Avenue, Mulder."

"Cardinal Joe's, Scully?" Mulder queried softly.

"Tuesday night is jazz night."

"Modern or traditional?"

"Traditional."

"Scully?"

"Yeah?"

"Marry me."

She glanced at him. "Mighty brave of you there, Mulder, under the
circumstances."

"Is that him?"  Mulder pointed toward a man walking down the
street away from them.  

Scully squinted.  "That's his jacket."

"And that's Cardinal Joe's."  Mulder parked a half a block past
the bar while Scully phoned in their position to Fuller and the
others.  "You've been made, but he didn't see me, Scully."

She nodded.  "You should go in.  I'll wait and watch from here."

Mulder reached for the door handle, then stopped.  He looked at
her for a long moment, his eyes dark and serious.  "I love you."

She blinked as tears pricked the back of her eyes. "I know."

He bent and gave her a swift, hard kiss, then slid out of the car
and jogged back toward Cardinal Joe's.

Scully's cell phone rang. "Scully."

"We saw that, Agent."  It was the voice of Jeff Fiorello, a
member of Fuller's task force.  "Thought you should know you two
just made me rich."

"Just keeping up the cover, Fiorello.  Don't you and Haskell ever
have to play tonsil-hockey on stakeouts?"  

"Anything for the Bureau."  Fiorello was amused.  "Speaking of
Haskell, he wants you to know that he's heartbroken."

"Lucky you, Jeff--you'll catch him on the rebound."  She hung up
and sat back, keeping her eye on the entrance to Cardinal Joe's
in the reflection from the rear view mirror.  

That went relatively well, she thought.  When things changed
between them three days ago, she and Mulder had decided not to
hide anything; it was pointless to try, and any attempts at
secrecy would cause more trouble than discreet honesty. It wasn't
like the Bureau exactly discouraged these relationships.

Still, tonight was the first time anyone at the Bureau had
actually caught them in the act.  She was glad it was a nice guy
like Jeff Fiorello--he was married to an agent in the Washington
D.C. Field Office, so he knew how it was.  He'd spin it in their
favor on the grapevine.

Her phone rang again. "Scully."

"He's found one."  Mulder's voice was soft in her ear.  "Bottle
redhead, five ten or so, wearing a green silk minidress and fuck
me pumps."

"Try not to drool, Mulder."

"He's trying to get her to leave with him."

"How much slack are we going to give him?"

"Enough, I hope."  Mulder paused a minute, and the din from the
bar buzzed in Scully's ear.  

"What's happening now?"

"Persuasive son of a bitch.  She's going with him. Alert the
troops."

Scully hung up and grabbed the radio.  "Unit Seven to all units.
Subject has acquired a target. He's on the move."

Scully watched the rear view mirror.  The door to Cardinal Joe's
opened and Tommy Lee Phagan emerged, his arm around the waist of
a tall redhead.  Scully recognized Phagan's target immediately. 
She dialed Mulder's cell phone number.

"Mulder."  In the rear view mirror, Mulder emerged from the bar,
cell phone to his ear. 

"That's not a woman Phagan's with, Mulder."

She saw him stutter-step a moment.

"His name is Cherry Blend, or so he says.  He says he's in the
middle of a sex change, but I have my doubts.  Big fan of jazz,
though."

"That's going to screw Phagan's fantasy."

"How do you think he'll react?" Scully asked.

"Cherry Blend could be in deep shit."  Mulder hung up.  In the
rearview mirror, she could see him dialing another number as he
hurried toward her.  

He slipped his phone in his pocket as he got behind the wheel. 
"Fiorello's got them a block down M Street. We're going to circle
the block in case he takes Cherry into one of the alleys." 
Mulder pulled into traffic and took an immediate right turn.

"Fiorello saw us," Scully commented.

"Yeah?"  Mulder looked briefly contemplative.  "Guess that's why
he called me loverboy, huh?"

She smiled slightly.  "He's just jealous of me. Wants you all to
himself."

They slowed as they took another turn.  Mulder parked in the
first free spot.

"This could be a problem for the case," Scully said, settling in
for the wait.  "Cherry defies the pattern."

"He's a damned fine looking woman--I'd never have guessed. I
don't think Phagan has a clue."

"You didn't get close--it's a little more obvious up close." 
Scully reached into the glove compartment of the sedan and pulled
out a small pair of binoculars.

"The fantasy may have overcome his caution."  Mulder tapped his
fingers lightly against the steering wheel.  "When he couldn't go
after his primary target--thanks to the good doctor Waterston--he
went for a reasonable facsimile."

"Thanks a lot."

"Be flattered--Cherry's got a great pair of legs."

"Is that them?"  Scully lifted the binoculars to her eyes. 

At the same moment, the radio squawked.  "Unit Nine to all units,
who has him?"

Mulder picked up the radio.  "Unit Seven to all units, we have 
visual contact. We're going radio silent." He opened the car
door.

"What are you doing?" Scully asked.

"We have to do this on foot.  He's making the final move before
the kill."

Scully got out of the car and walked around to Mulder's side. 
"Won't he recognize me?"

"Not now--he has his target.  Tunnel vision.  And we're not going
to get that close until he makes a move."  Mulder put his arm
around Scully and drew her close. "Act like you love me."

"Piece of cake," she murmured, and he rewarded her with a brief
glassy-eyed gaze of delight before he dragged his focus back to
the retreating pair a block ahead of them.

When the big moment unfolded, it happened so quickly that Scully
didn't have time to do much more than react.  After it was over,
Mulder speculated that Phagan had gotten a handful of Cherry
Blend's package on one of his exploratory gropes, but however it
happened, one minute Phagan was fondling Cherry Blend and the
next, he had the unsuspecting bar fly on his back, green pumps
flailing in the air as Phagan tried to strangle the life out of
him.

Mulder let go of  Scully so quickly she almost stumbled.  He
raced the half-block to where Phagan was straddling the
transvestite. Mulder grabbed the suspect under both arms and
hauled him off Cherry.  Phagan struggled wildly; at one point his
elbow slammed into Mulder's ribs, driving out Mulder's breath in
a painful "oof!"  

Scully drew her gun.  "F.B.I.!  Stop struggling, Mr. Phagan!"

Phagan didn't listen, but by that time, a dozen FBI agents began
to swarm onto the scene.  They took Phagan down in a matter of
seconds. 

"You okay, Mulder?" Scully rushed to his side.  

He nodded, still gasping for breath.  He gestured toward the
ground.  "Check on him."

Scully hurried to Cherry Blend's side, helping him sit up and
regain his breath.  Mulder crouched next to Scully, his hand 
warm on her back.

Fifteen minutes later, it was all over. Fuller and his boys
hauled Phagan off, brushing aside Mulder's offer to sit in on the
interrogation.  Cherry Blend was taken to Georgetown Memorial 
for observation.  And Skinner, upon being informed by Fuller 
about the outcome of the case, personally informed Scully that 
he didn't want to see her or Mulder in the office again until the 
next Monday.

Mulder watched the flashing lights of the ambulance disappear
around the corner.  Scully studied his profile, noticing that his
struggle with Phagan had also left him with a bruised jaw.  She
reached up and touched the mark.  "Does it hurt much?"

He looked at her.  "Only when you poke it like that."

She smiled.  "I know how to make it feel all better."

He moved a little closer to her.  "Yeah?  Secret doctor stuff?"

"A little something I patented."

Her apartment was less than a mile from Wisconsin Avenue; they
arrived in minutes.  Mulder draped his arm over her shoulder as
they walked up the steps.  "I think my ass hurts, too."

"Mulder, he didn't get anywhere near your ass."

"All that sitting.  I bet your ass hurts, too.  I'll be glad to
kiss it better." He nuzzled her hair.

"I think I've created a monster."  She pulled free and ran ahead
of him up the stairs.  She could hear him following at a languid
pace, in no hurry to catch up.  He was far too cocky about this
whole turn of events, she thought, secretly amused.  It was good
to see him at peace and know she had something to do with it.

She turned the corner to her apartment and took a couple of steps
before she realized something was not right.

Daniel Waterston was sitting in front of her apartment door.

He looked up as he heard her footsteps, a sheepish smile creeping
up his face.  "You told me to go home," he said.  "This seemed
like the only place that fit that bill."

Scully closed the distance between them, well aware of Mulder's
footfalls not far behind her.  "Daniel, I thought we settled this
three days ago."

"You were right.  About how I'd been running from things.  I had
a talk with Maggie. A good talk.  She helped me see how wrong I
was, how selfish.  She's a good girl--better than I deserve." 
Daniel pushed to his feet and stood, taking a step toward her.
"She gave us her blessing."

Behind her, Scully heard Mulder's footsteps falter to a stop.  He
was close enough to hear Daniel, she guessed.

"There is no us, Daniel.  I've come to understand there never
was.  There was only you."

"You know that's not true."

"I'll call you a cab."  She pulled out her keys and started to
open her front door.

"I've got that covered," Mulder said from down the hall.  

Scully and Daniel both turned as Mulder approached at an
unhurried pace.  He had his cell phone out and was punching
buttons.  "Where do you live, Dr. Waterston?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Scully's...friend," Mulder said softly.  "Where do you live?"

Daniel pulled out his own cell phone.  "I can call my own cab." 

Mulder shrugged and put his own phone away.

"Your body needs time to heal, Daniel," Scully said gently.  "You
should take some time--"

"You don't need to remind me that I'm getting older," Daniel
snapped.  He eyed Mulder.  "Off with the old, on with the new,
huh?"

"Go home, Daniel."

Daniel brushed past Mulder, bumping shoulders briefly.  "Women
are fickle," he murmured to Mulder.  Scully saw Mulder's hands
clench into fists, and she reached out automatically to grasp his
wrist.

Daniel turned the corner and was gone.

After a couple of seconds of silence, Mulder released a long
breath.  "I'd like to think your taste in men has improved over
the years."

She squeezed his arm.  "It has." 

He followed her into the apartment and slumped next to her when
she dropped onto her sofa.  She kicked off her shoes and put her
feet up on her coffee table.  Mulder followed suit.

"Want to just cuddle tonight?" he asked.

She glanced at him.

"Thought I'd preempt you."  He reached out and squeezed her
thigh. "You looked tired."

"I'm not that tired."

"Three day weekend, Scully."  He squeezed her leg again.  "We
don't need to rush things this time.  No six a.m. alarm--"

"No dash to the Metro."

He slid his arm around her, pulling her closer so that she could
rest her head against his shoulder.  "Was that hard?"

"What?" she asked.

"Dealing with Daniel."

"Was it hard dealing with Diana?" she countered.

He stiffened for a second, then relaxed.  "I guess maybe it's
similar.  Old relationships are like trees--even when there's
nothing there but a rotting stump, you still trip over the roots
now and then."

She nestled deeper into his embrace.  "Mmm, poetic."  

"I think I read it in a fortune cookie."

Their stomachs growled simultaneously, and they chuckled.

"I have turkey slices in the fridge, and some fresh whole wheat,"
she said.

He gave her a little nudge to her feet.  "I'll make the
sandwiches.  You go slip into something more comfortable."

She pulled him to his feet and grinned up at him. "Flannel okay?"

He kissed her nose and returned the grin.  "You *know* what I
like."

She chuckled all the way to the bedroom.

==end==