MULDER’S APARTMENT. DC.  7.45am 

Mulder perched on the dining chair, wearing nothing but a towel around his hips and a smile. His bare heels resting on the edge of the seat, his arms hugging his knees to his chest, he watched in fascination as Alex licked fastidiously at the foam of his cappuccino. Except for the occasional  flick of his head, whenever his vision of Alex was obscured, Mulder ignored the water that was dripping down his forehead from his shower-damp hair.  His heart was racing, but he wasn't certain whether it was still just calming down from his Saturday morning run or from the delicious shock of finding Alex in his apartment when he'd returned.

He was longing to throw himself into the younger man's arms but had learned never to make the first move. Alex hadn't even spoken to him yet, he'd simply wrinkled his nose with distaste on Mulder's sweaty entrance, and then had given a warning glare when Mulder had bounded out of the shower towards him. He'd actually shivered in disgust at Mulder's wet hair, his eyes flashing a warning of how intensely offended he'd be if even a drop of water touched his naked skin.

So Mulder sat there, his hips wrapped in a towel, hugging his knees in a desperate attempt to keep himself from leaping at the younger man, trying to ignore the way the lube he'd hopefully applied to himself in the shower was weeping out of his ass onto the wooden seat, and considering how 'natural' it seemed these days to find a naked Alex prowling around his kitchen. Which was a contradiction by itself. From Alex's state of undress, Mulder assumed he'd arrived in cat-form but that still didn't explain how he'd gotten inside the apartment. Mulder had offered him his own key some weeks previously, but had been rewarded by a glare of such amused contempt that he'd never raised the subject again.  For all he knew, Alex turned himself into smoke and flowed through the key-hole but seeing him in his kitchen, all flesh, blood and muscle, it was hard  to remember that Alex was anything other than human. Mulder's memories of their wild nights together took on the aspect of crazed fantasies in the daylight. Alex was simply too *real* for Mulder's impossible memories to be true.

And yet, from the fastidiousness of his dining habits to his aversion towards water and the sheer physical grace of the man, the image that unfailingly came to mind when Mulder stared at Alex was always that of a sleek, deadly cat. Even in the bedroom, caught in the throes of passion, Alex retained an economy of movement that made Mulder feel like a clumsy, over-grown puppy by comparison. Sometime he thought it was an apt analogy, given the way he seemed to constantly run around in circles in a desperate urge to keep Alex happy with him.

Mulder barely recognized his own apartment these days. Over the weeks, items had crept into brand new kitchen units. A waffle iron, a full set of saucepans, a griddle, a wok and now a cappuccino machine on the the counter next to the now always spotless sink. It appeared Alex liked his latest offering, judging by the way he was delicately licking at his foamy coffee and the sense of relief Mulder felt at Alex's obvious approval made his rapidly shrinking bank balance more than worthwhile. It hadn't taken him long to realize that Alex was as obsessive about cleanliness as the cat he so often chose to portray. If Mulder wanted Alex to keep coming back and, more importantly, stay a little while when he visited, the price Mulder had to pay wasn't so much in the money he spent as in keeping a certain level of previously alien domesticity.

Unable to face actually disposing of anything, Mulder had rented a small lockable storage container for the dusty files, books and theses that had previously occupied his bedroom. He'd just bought new bedlinen at first. Then, when Alex had continued to slink out in the middle of the night, he'd invested in a new, more comfortable bed.  Because Alex didn't actually 'sleep', Mulder soon deduced that the only thing that would keep him lying  in bed instead of resuming his nocturnal prowling, was warmth and comfort. Like any cat, Alex was content to nap lazily for no other reason except his own enjoyment and so Mulder had found himself pandering to that instinct.

It had been three months since Alex had come to him after Scully's abduction. He'd seen Alex only a dozen times in those months, yet his whole life had changed to revolve around the possibility of a visit. He didn't know where Alex was living or how he was surviving, although Alex had twice arrived in human form, wearing clothes that made Mulder's suits look cheap and a genuine Rolex on his right wrist.  It *had* occurred to Mulder, on seeing that watch, that he'd heard about a recent spate of high-classed jewelry thefts but he'd felt disinclined to question Alex further. He *had* made some discreet inquiries at work that had re-assured him that the thefts had all been from 'questionable' victims, that no-one had been hurt, no evidence had been found at any crime scenes and that the impossible nature of the thefts had led most of the insurance companies involved to refuse to pay out on the claims.  Perhaps the fact that the spate of thefts had also coincided with some reports of mysterious generous donations to various homeless shelters in DC had helped further soothe Mulder's conscience.

He'd decided that Alex was no more than a modern day Robin Hood.  Maybe he *did* take things that didn't belong to him, but he invariably only took from criminals and he shared his ill-gotten wealth with the people who needed it the most. Whenever Mulder's conscience pricked him, when he could no longer avoid the fact that he was an FBI Agent sleeping with a common criminal, he reminded himself of two things. Firstly, he didn't actually *know* Alex was the thief, and secondly, there was fuck all he could do about it anyway because there was nothing 'common' about a thief who could not only shape-shift but could also seemingly walk through walls. Alex was just a living, breathing X-file and, as such, Mulder reasoned he was under his own jurisdiction.  

Or, of course, it might just have been the fact that Mulder was head over heels  in love with him.

"Hungry?" he asked, his voice a little croaky, as Alex finally turned his head and fixed his intense green eyes on his face.

He watched Alex consider the question carefully as though the decision carried great magnitude, but then Mulder now understood that was just the way Alex was. He never made *any* casual choices.

"I'd like eggs," Alex finally purred, his lips quirking in a tiny smile that made Mulder's cock leap to attention.

He was disappointed that Alex didn't react to the invitation of his rising towel, but not surprised. Having decided to *eat*, all of Alex's attention would remain fixed on his stomach until it was filled and Mulder's arms still bore the scars from the last time he'd tried to distract Alex from his food. So he rose, like an obedient servant,  and fetched milk and eggs. He chuckled under his breath as he lit the stove.

"What?" Alex growled in his ear.

Mulder shivered from head to toe, both shocked and aroused by Alex's silent movement across the kitchen. He pressed back against the length of Alex's lean body as he began cracking the eggs into the pan.

"I was just thinking how well trained I'm becoming," Mulder laughed. 

"You have...potential," Alex replied with a grin, then licked Mulder's neck teasingly.

Mulder took a deep breath and, because his back was turned to those terrifying eyes, he finally dared to ask the question that had been niggling at him for weeks.

"I was just wondering..."

"Hmmmn?" Alex purred, nibbling at Mulder's earlobe.

"Who scrambles your eggs for you when you don't come *here* for breakfast?"

He regretted the question as soon as he asked it because Alex pulled away from him and prowled back towards the table, the muscles of his back rigid with offence.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Mulder apologized, his eyes wide with fear that Alex would simply walk out of the door.

Alex glared at him for a moment, then gave a careless shrug and sat down.

"Don't burn my eggs," he warned.

Mulder gasped with relief that Alex had obviously decided to forgive him. He *knew* the rules. No questions allowed. Alex came and went as he chose. Alex never explained. Alex never apologized. Alex simply arrived, expected to be fed, expected to fuck and then Alex left. Sometimes, if Mulder was lucky, Alex hung around the apartment for a few hours afterwards.

Yet, there was more to the relationship than that, so Mulder had no doubt that it *was* a relationship they were having despite its peculiarities. He didn't dare hope that Alex loved him. He wasn't even sure whether Alex was capable of the emotion and, for all he knew, Alex might have a whole collection of tame *pets* like himself. Still, Alex 'cared' about him and Mulder was realistic enough to understand that being cared about by Alex was a distinct and meaningful honor in itself.

Twice Alex had appeared at motels he was staying at out of town. On both occasions Mulder had been stuck on seemingly unsolvable cases and each time Alex had told him the identity of the murderers and the location of necessary evidence. Another time Alex, or at least Mulder *believed* it must have been Alex, had broken into his apartment and left a vital file of evidence on his pillow while he slept. The next morning Mulder hadn't known whether to scream with excitement at the file or in frustration that Alex hadn't stayed long enough to collect his 'reward'.

Again, Mulder had learned not to ask *where* Alex found evidence for him. He simply accepted whatever help Alex offered him with gratitude. The only time Alex *had* made any comment was when they'd once discussed Scully's abduction.

"They took her because they believed you'd fall apart," Alex had said. "The only reason they'll return her is if they see you're even more dangerous without her."

"How do you know?" Mulder had demanded, but Alex had refused to answer and when Mulder had pushed him, he'd left in a temper. Since then, Mulder simply took whatever Alex offered, asked no questions and threw himself into his work with a fervor that had left Doggett panting for breath. 

He piled two plates high with scrambled eggs, checked the toaster and poured Alex a fresh cappuccino. He was just delving into the cutlery drawer when he heard a loud rapping at his front door.  Alex shot to his feet, his eyes blazing.

"Who is it?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Mulder admitted. "I'm not expecting anyone. Stay here."

He tightened the towel around his waist and hurried to the front door, pausing long enough to snatch his weapon from its holster.

"Who is it?" he called, careful to keep his body away from the door.

"Skinner," a gruff, unmistakable voice replied.

"Oh, shit," Mulder muttered. He ran back to the kitchen. "It's my boss. Just keep quiet, I'll see if I can get rid of him." 

Mulder opened the front door cautiously.

"I…um…wasn't expecting you, Sir," Mulder mumbled, swallowing heavily.

"Something's come up. We need to talk."

"Oh."

"Are you going to invite me in?" Skinner snapped.

"Um…yes, Sir. Of course, come in," Mulder replied, raising his voice to warn Alex and motioning Skinner towards the living room. He settled on a chair and tried to look nonchalant, but found himself glancing surreptitiously at the closed kitchen door.

Skinner followed his glance and frowned.

"Do you have company?"

"Um… Why do you ask?" Mulder hedged.

"The shifty way you keep looking at your kitchen. Who's in there?"

"It's my home, on my time," Mulder replied quickly. "I don't think it's any of your business, Sir."

He wasn't sure whether Skinner would recognize Alex. He didn't even know whether Skinner had ever seen a photo of him. He was, however, damned certain that having a naked man in his kitchen wasn't going to improve his job prospects.

"I agree," Skinner said. "It's none of my business *who* you have in your kitchen. Although your state of 'dress' and your reluctance to introduce us raises a question, doesn't it?"

Mulder refused to rise to the bait. "Maybe you could come back later?"

"Alright," Skinner replied. He turned, as though to go, then changed direction and charged for the closed door.

"Don't go in there," Mulder squeaked, then closed his eyes in despair as Skinner ignored him and strode into the kitchen. He waited for the inevitable exclamation of surprise and wasn't disappointed.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"It's not what you think," Mulder said weakly, rushing into the room.

"You mean it's *not* a damned great cat sitting in your kitchen?" Skinner demanded.

Mulder blinked stupidly at the huge black cat that was calmly washing itself in the middle of the table.

"That's one hell of a tomcat, Mulder. What breed is he?"

"I…um…don't know, Sir. It's just a cat, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. He's the size of a pit-bull, aren't you, fella?" Skinner commented, in an unfamiliarly affectionate voice. "Aren't you the most handsome fella?"

Alex purred, grinned and pressed his head invitingly into Skinner's outstretched palm. Mulder's eyes bugged as he watched his surly supervisor crooning and petting the 'cat' and had to stifle a nervous giggle as he wondered whether Skinner had been taken over by an alien. Alex, on the other hand, was lapping up the attention with panache, thrusting his head against Skinner's hand and purring like a freight train. Finally, Skinner paused long enough to fix Mulder with an accusatory glare.

"What the hell are you doing with a cat, Mulder? Last I heard even your fish commit suicide rather than attempt to co-exist with you. What gave you the idiotic idea of keeping a cat this large in an apartment? It's damn cruel."

"It's not mine," Mulder blurted. "It's…it's Scully's. That's it. It's Scully's cat."

Skinner nodded and looked sad.

"You poor fella," he told Alex. "Bad enough *she* doesn't come home without you ending up having to live with Mulder."

"Sir..." Mulder protested, as Alex gave him a wide-fanged smirk.

"I guess you thought you were doing the right thing looking after it for her, but how long can you possibly keep it with you in an apartment? A cat like this needs freedom and *what* the hell do you think you're feeding it?"

Mulder looked at the table in panic, taking in the two plates and two mugs and giving silent thanks that he hadn't gotten as far as putting the cutlery out.

"He…um…he *likes* coffee and scrambled eggs," he mumbled.

"Cats are carnivores, Mulder. Where's the cat meat?" Skinner demanded, walking over to the units and pulling cupboard doors open at random.

"Cat meat?" Mulder asked weakly. "They sell meat for cats?"

Skinner just glared at him.

"So…um… you like cats?" Mulder asked brightly.

"Of course I like cats," Skinner replied as though it should have been obvious. "Never saw you as a cat person though, Mulder. I *could* see you with some scruffy pound-mutt, maybe. What's his name?"

"Name?" Mulder bleated, his mind going blank. "I just call him 'hey you'."

"I presume Scully gave him a name," Skinner said dryly.

"Um..yeah."

"Which is?" Skinner encouraged.

Mulder fished desperately inside his head for inspiration and grabbed the first name that occurred to him. 
"Mephistopheles," he announced with relief, although he ducked his head from Alex's amused eyes.

"It's a Scully type of name," Skinner agreed with a good-natured smile. "And he's definitely got that satanic cast to him. A real witch's cat. I guess he maybe suits you, after all."

Mulder gave him a thin-lipped smile, trying to ignore the way Alex leaped off the table and started to wind his body around Skinner's legs. He understood enough about cats to understand that Alex was 'marking' Skinner with his scent and the realization made him want to bodily throw Skinner out of his apartment. The likely impossibility of *that* working forced him to keep his voice calm.

"You wanted something, Sir?" he asked. "Because I'm late for an appointment."

"Oh?" Skinner asked. 

"We're going to the vet," Mulder hissed, glaring at Alex furiously and making a snipping gesture with his fingers. Alex arched his back, spat and flounced off into the bedroom. Mulder swallowed heavily, knowing he was going to *really* pay for that comment later.

"I don't think you should," Skinner replied. "After all, he's not *your* cat, is he?"

"You wanted something?" Mulder prompted impatiently.

"Comments have been made to me about your recent successes with the X-files. You've always had a good solve rate but suddenly you seem inspired. Then there's a certain file you obtained recently. It's worried *someone* that you got hold of it. A lot of questions are being asked."

"Your point is?"

"You're upsetting people, Mulder. It's a talent you've always had, but recently your ability to piss people off seems to be hitting a new height."

"And you're here to rein me in?" Mulder demanded.

Skinner smiled coldly.

"If I wanted to 'rein you in' we'd be having this conversation at work. Watch your back, Mulder."

"Are you threatening me?" Mulder asked.

Skinner smiled unpleasantly.

"Don't *look* for enemies, Mulder. You already have enough of them."

"So what are you saying?"

"When people get upset, it usually means you're getting too close to something they don't want you to see. I imagine if you keep on the way you're going, they'll either kill you or find some way to distract you. Who knows? Maybe the distraction will be worth something in itself."

"I don't understand."

Skinner shrugged and walked towards the front door. "Oh, and Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"Whoever your new source is, he's good."

"My source?" Mulder yelped.

Skinner just smiled.

~#~#~#~

"What the hell was that all about?" Mulder asked aloud, when Skinner had left. He didn't hear Alex approach but he sagged gratefully back into the arms that wrapped around him and shivered as Alex's breath tickled the back of his neck.

"You *told* me your boss was a hard-ass bastard, Mulder. You forgot to mention how attractive he is."

"Is he? I'd never noticed," Mulder snapped, his heart racing.

Alex's arms tightened around him and he felt the first hint of claws pressing against his skin.

"He seems a little too 'interested' in you, Fox."

"In *me*? I wasn't the one throwing myself at him like a slut," Mulder spat, then he flinched in fear as Alex spun him around until they were facing.

"Jealous, little fox?" Alex mocked.

"Should I be?" Mulder demanded bravely.

He wasn't sure whether Alex would hit him or reassure him. Instead, Alex just laughed. Infuriated, humiliated, Mulder broke free and began to pace angrily up and down the room.

"He thinks you're a cat, Alex, and he likes cats. That's all. If he knew what you *really* were, he'd probably be more inclined to shoot you than fuck you."

"You *are* jealous," Alex grinned, clearly enjoying Mulder's discomfort, and Mulder had the sudden realization that Alex was capable of pursuing Skinner simply to amuse himself. He had a sudden image of a cat playing with a mouse and understood that it was Alex's nature to tease and be cruel. The only way he could hope to control Alex was with subtlety and submission.

"Of course I am, Alex," he admitted. "I love you, and it hurts me to think of you with someone else, but that's *my* problem, not yours. I don't like the idea of sharing you, but I'll accept it if I have to."

Alex's eyes softened a little, as they always did whenever Mulder said he loved him.

"I *hate* cat meat," Alex confided, with a small grin.

It wasn't exactly a promise that he wouldn't go after Skinner, but it was closer to one than Mulder had dared to hope for. He relaxed a little and returned to Alex's side, cautiously pressing himself against the younger man in invitation.

"Please?" he begged, knowing how much the need in his voice always turned Alex on.

Instead Alex broke away from him and strode towards the kitchen. Mulder shuffled uncertainly from foot to foot, uncertain whether to charge after him or head for the bedroom. 

"Fox? My eggs are cold," Alex called out petulantly.

Mulder grinned with relief and half-ran towards the kitchen.

  ~#~#~#~

Alex forked a fluffy cloud of scrambled eggs into his mouth and closed his eyes blissfully as he chewed. Mulder leant forward over the table, his weight resting on his elbows, his own breakfast forgotten as he hungrily watched Alex's face contorting with obvious pleasure. He wet his lips nervously, his legs trembling as he forced himself to stay on his chair when every instinct in his body was insisting that he crawled over the top of the table and licked at a tiny spot of egg that had caught at the edge of Alex's mouth.

Alex's eyes snapped open and raked over Mulder's face with sardonic satisfaction. Then he eased his chair back from the table a little and shifted in his seat. Mulder swallowed heavily as he realized that Alex had opened his legs in invitation but he still waited, breathlessly, for actual permission. Alex grinned, his tongue flicking out to lap up the errant egg at the corner of his mouth. Mulder groaned and whimpered with need. Alex teased him by reaching for another forkful of his breakfast, then gave a small nod, his eyes glinting with amusement.

/Oh, God. What's happened to my pride?/ Mulder asked himself, as he scrambled off his chair, hit  the floor with a painful jolt through his knees, and crawled under the table until he was between Alex's thighs. Then, as his nostrils filled with Alex's musky scent, as his eyes glazed over in the face of Alex's rigid, engorged cock, he decided that pride was a small price to pay for the privilege of being allowed to give Alex pleasure.

He nuzzled his face into the dark hair of Alex's groin, ignoring the lure of the magnificent cock in favor of the salty flesh of the heavy ballsac. His tentative licks were rewarded by a low rumble of approval and the sound reverberated through his own body, making him so hard that he ached. He carefully swallowed one then the other of Alex's balls into his mouth and sucked on them hungrily, feeling them harden and expand in his mouth under the worshipful massage of his lips and tongue. He heard Alex give a sob of pleasure and hoped it was his attentions that had caused the sound, rather than the eggs that Alex was still placidly munching.

Yet there was something almost painfully erotic about Alex's apparent lack of attention. The fact that the man he was sucking on was continuing to eat should have offended him. Instead, Mulder accepted Alex's behavior as just one of the games they played. It clearly was up to Mulder to *make* Alex lose interest in his breakfast. That understood, he released Alex's balls and moved his attention to the turgid cock.

He blinked in astonishment, his eyes almost crossing in shock. While he had been occupied with Alex's balls, Alex's cock had 'changed'. It was still huge and engorged, its head still glistening with arousal, its flesh still hued almost purple with the amount of blood that had poured into it, yet it wasn't 'human' anymore. From half-way up the thick shaft, the flesh now wore dozens of tiny protrusions that curved downward towards Alex's groin. 

Barbs, Mulder realized in panic. Seemingly harmless bumps that would simply scrape against his throat like a heavy-textured condom, yet with the potential to spring outwards and tear into his flesh. His own erection deflated in terror, as he imagined Alex ripping his mouth apart with the savage barbs. Yet he could feel his buttocks clenching and he writhed  with almost obscene excitement at the thought of that vicious cock battering into his ass. With the image, his own cock leapt back to eager, dribbling attention and he whimpered with need, licking teasingly at the pink, glistening tip of Alex's cock, coating the bulbous head with his saliva, teasing the barbs with his tongue but still unable to bring himself to take Alex inside his mouth.

He squirmed on the floor, the back of his head repeatedly striking the underside of the table as he struggled between his fear and his arousal. He could feel the muscles of his ass spasm, the almost uncomfortable feeling of the lube melting down his inner thighs, and he moaned desperately, silently begging Alex to pull back his chair, haul him to his feet, throw him across the table and just fuck him senseless..

Instead, Alex silently finished his breakfast, seemingly unaffected by the feel of Mulder's tongue flicking in hungry terror over his cock head. It wasn't until he'd cleared his plate and drained his mug of coffee that he finally eased his chair back from the table. He said nothing as Mulder scrambled after him on his knees, he just looked down at Mulder's sweat-sheened face and grinned at the desperate hazel eyes. Then he patted one of his thighs, clearly inviting Mulder onto his lap.

For a moment, Mulder just swallowed heavily, his expression more terrified than relieved. Then he surged to his feet and straddled Alex's thighs, closing his eyes and grimacing in as much fear as anticipation as he slowly began to lower himself down over the rigid, inhuman cock.  He gasped as the abnormally wide head caught on his pucker and his own tension made even the well-lubed flesh resist its invader.  

"I can't," he sobbed, dropping his head onto Alex's shoulder in defeat. His calf muscles were screaming at him from the stress of his half-squat. He was too aroused to pull away from Alex's cock, yet too terrified to admit it inside.

With a snarl of impatience, Alex took matters into his own hands. He grabbed Mulder's hips and savagely slammed his body downwards. Mulder screamed in agony as the entire length of Alex's shaft buried itself inside him in one violent thrust. Then he gasped for breath, tears of pain running down his cheeks, feeling his insides stretched almost past endurance by the invader.

"You bastard," he sobbed.

Instead of answering, Alex took hold of his hips once more and raised him upwards so slowly that every nerve in Mulder's ass was scraped by the knobbled protrusions of the still-inactive barbs.

"Oh, shit," Mulder gasped, as the agony inside him was transformed into a pleasure so intense that his whole body quivered and jerked in reaction.

Alex just smirked and pulled him down into his lap again, laughing at the way Mulder sobbed and whimpered in obvious pleasure. He took his time, allowing Mulder to slowly adapt to the intensity of the sensations before increasing the pace until Mulder was flopping bonelessly on his lap, his mouth open in a soundless continual scream of pleasure. He noted, absently, the dark bruises already forming around Mulder's waist but he was concentrating too hard on controlling his cock to give more than a passing thought to such minor injuries. He was well-aware that if he lost control of himself and allowed the barbs to extend he could rip his little fox apart. Although, from the spaced-out look of sheer pleasure on Mulder's face, he suspected Mulder wouldn't complain. 

He could tell, from the tension in Mulder's body, that the older man was going to explode into orgasm at any moment and he knew he'd be dragged along with Mulder's passion. Quickly, without ceasing his assault on Mulder's senses, he reached into the 'nothing', casting a mental net for the power that would enable him to transform himself back to fully human before his rising arousal caused him to harm his little fox. He effortlessly snagged the power, knew from Mulder's keening wail of disappointment that he'd become slick and smooth inside Mulder's hungry ass, and deliberately increased the speed with which he was thrusting to compensate.

Mulder screamed and came so hard that only Alex's hands prevented him from falling  to the floor. His spasming ass muscles milked Alex's own cock so that he followed Mulder into orgasm. In the split-second before he lost himself, Alex was still linked into the 'nothing' and, perhaps because he and Mulder were so closely connected by their mutual pleasure, an uninvited image crashed into his mind. He broke away, slamming up his mental barriers, trying to refute the vision, not wanting to deal with the implication and responsibility of knowledge he didn't want. Yet, as his breathing gradually slowed, as Mulder collapsed weeping against him, so shattered by their experience that he could only cling to Alex's body and sob, a feeling of unfamiliar tenderness swept through Alex.

He cradled Mulder in his arms, kissing the damp hair, hugging the trembling, exhausted body and sighed with defeat. 

"I'd do anything for you, little fox," he whispered. "Anything.."  He thought about it, weighed up the risk, the consequences, the danger to himself, the danger to his fox and then he sighed in defeat. "Even that."

But Mulder was too insensate to hear him.

~#~#~#~

MULDER'S APARTMENT DC  Two Weeks Later

Mulder  lay on the couch and pretended to watch a video. Every ten minutes or so, he'd realize he'd completely zoned out and would rewind the tape only to immediately lose concentration again as he visualized picking up the telephone, dialling Skinner and asking whether he'd stolen his 'cat'. He could just imagine how *that* conversation would go. 

"Hello, Sir. I seem to have misplaced my cat. Yes, that big black one you couldn't keep your damned hands off. You haven't seen him have you? He isn't by any chance lying in your bed at the moment is he? He is? Oh, well has he done anything strange? You know...like turning into a man and fucking you senseless? Oh, he has? And...and that's okay with you, is it? Ah... Um... I don't suppose you'd ask him to come back to me, would you?"

Mulder  picked up the remote and wound back the video again. Two minutes into the film, his mind again escaped to contemplation of his missing Alex. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks and the last time he'd seen his lover, Alex was practically drooling over Skinner.

"Fuck it," Mulder cursed, throwing the remote on the floor and burying his face in his hands.

He was still crying when the phone rang.

~#~#~#~

NORTHEAST GEORGETOWN MEDICAL CENTER; WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mulder burst through the door and raced down the corridor, completely oblivious to the medical staff who thronged the hall.  A young nurse leapt forward and grabbed at his hand as he reached the intensive care unit.

"Sir... sir, you can’t go in there," she cried.

He broke free of her and charged through the door, ignoring the "Authorized Personal Only" sign. He didn't pause until he was at Scully’s side. Then he swayed in shock at the way her face was almost obscured by respirators and monitoring devices. He turned to her mother and sister, who were sitting in silent shock at Scully's bedside, dismissed them mentally and looked instead  at the medical staff who filled the room.

"Who brought her here?" he demanded. "How did she get here?"

A nurse pulled gently at his arm. "Sir, will you please..."

"How did she get here?" Mulder repeated, almost shouting now.

Perhaps realizing he wouldn't leave until someone answered him, the nurse said "Ms. Scully was in this condition when I arrived for the evening shift. If you’ll step outside, perhaps Dr. Daly..."

"Are you Dr. Daly?" Mulder demanded, stepping up to the attending doctor.

The doctor nodded cautiously.

"What’s going on? How the hell did she get here?"

"Would you settle down?" Daly soothed..

"Was it, was it paramedics, FBI, military? Answer me right now!"

"I...."

"What, you’re telling me she just appeared?" Mulder demanded, almost out of his mind with frustration.

"Sir..."

"Who did this to her?" Mulder screamed, charging over to the nurse's station and tossing papers aside as he searched for Scully's admission form.

Daly tried to wrest the papers off him and Mulder was too distracted by the struggle to see the hospital's security guards approach him. He struggled uselessly for a few moments, then sagged in defeat. Yet, although he allowed himself to be pulled out of the room, his eyes were still bright and defiant as he yelled a last threat at Daly.

"Listen, if you’re hiding anything, I swear, I will do anything, whatever it takes, I will find out what they did to her," he cried, as he was dragged away.

~#~#~#~

"Sometimes I think you *enjoy* pissing people off," Skinner snarled. "You're an FBI Agent, Mulder, not a teenager. The way you apparently behaved earlier not only made *you* look like an uncontrollable thug but reflects badly on my department. You're lucky they haven't banned you permanently from the premises."

"With respect, Sir, my behavior isn't the point, is it? She's in a coma. *They* did this to her and then she just *appears* out of nowhere?"

"So it seems," Skinner confirmed. 

"*Inside* a hospital? They brought her here and no-one even saw them do it?"

"So they say," Skinner said blandly.

"You know something, don't you? You know who took her," Mulder accused bitterly.

Skinner sighed and frowned.

"I don't *know*, although I admit to having my suspicions. But I'll tell you what I *do* know, Mulder. Her sudden reappearance seems to have confused a *lot* of people."

"What do you mean?"

Skinner shrugged.

"I received a phonecall from someone today, someone I *suspected* was involved in her abduction. He seemed most...confused by her sudden reappearance."

"You're saying they *didn't* give her back? That someone rescued her?"

Skinner didn't answer.

"So she's in danger. We need to get security on her room," Mulder exclaimed frantically.

Skinner shook his head.

"They won't show their hands with a second abduction. Besides, there's no point is there?" 

"There's still a chance," Mulder insisted.

"Not according to the doctors," Skinner replied. "They say she's critical. There's complete unawareness of self or environment. There's no evidence of language comprehension, no evidence of voluntary responses to external stimuli. Also, in the terms of Scully’s living will her criteria for terminating life support is quite specific."

"There has to be a chance or he wouldn't have done it," Mulder blurted, as the obvious answer smacked him in the face.

"Who wouldn't have done it?"

Mulder shrugged innocently.

"Whoever rescued her, of course."

"You know something, don't you?" Skinner demanded.

"I've got to go."

"Where?"

"I need to find Scully's cat," Mulder grinned.

"You lost her cat?" Skinner demanded, his face filling with a different outrage.

Seeing Skinner's frown, Mulder's last doubt was laid to rest. Alex *hadn't* gone after Skinner, he'd gone to find Scully. *That* was where he'd been for the last two weeks.

/I'm sorry, Alex, /  he thought, as he raced from the hospital. /I should have trusted you. Should have believed in you / and underlying that thought was a desperate prayer that Alex's talents didn't include mind-reading.

~#~#~#~

 
MULDER’S APARTMENT  

Mulder burst excitedly into his apartment, then slid to a confused halt. He'd been so certain he'd find Alex there that his absence was almost like a physical blow. 

"Where are you, Alex?" he pleaded, spinning around hopefully as though Alex might suddenly appear. "I need you. I know you did it. I know you got Scully back for me, but it's not enough, Alex. She's in a coma. She's lost in your 'nothing' and you're the only one who can bring her home. Please, Alex. I need you. Please..."

He sank to his knees and hugged his chest miserably.

"Please, Alex. You can't have brought her back to me just so I could see her die!"

Behind the broken air-conditioner grille, a large black cat stared dispassionately at the sobbing man. His tail twitched as the urge to give in to Fox's misery warred with the lure of the night. The moon had risen, the city was filled with irresistible scents and the hunger he was feeling was for violence, not sex, tonight so although his little fox's tears disturbed him they held little power over his instincts. He'd brought Fox the gift. It wasn't his fault it was broken, he decided a little spitefully, then his whiskers twitched as he caught the distant scent of his latest prey.  

He left as silently as he'd arrived, his vague worries about Mulder completely forgotten in the excitement of the impending chase.

~#~#~#~

   
NORTHEAST GEORGETOWN MEDICAL CENTER; WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mulder was sitting in Scully's room, trying to ignore the way the nurse at the desk kept surreptitiously checking he wasn't about to have another tantrum, when Frohike walked in to the room, wearing a suit and bowtie and carrying a large bunch of flowers. 

"Frohike?" 

The little man nodded at him sadly, gave his flowers to the nurse and joined Mulder at Scully's bedside.

"You okay?" he asked.

Mulder nodded his head wearily, although he was as far from okay as he could imagine. Alex hadn't turned up, his subsequent attempts to contact X had failed and he had ended up sitting helplessly in Scully's room, completely at a loss as to how he could help her with his presence, but unable to spend any more time in his empty apartment. It had occurred to him finally that both Alex and X appeared only when it suited them, and not before. 

It was strange. Scully was back, yet Mulder had never felt so damned alone in his life.

Feeling a little awkward, Frohike pretended to ignore Mulder's obvious misery, reached for Scully's charts and began to flick through them absently.  Then he turned back a page and narrowed his eyes in thought at the anomalous reading.

"Hey, Mulder. This is weird."

~#~#~#~

THE LONE GUNMEN'S OFFICE; WASHINGTON, D.C.

"The chart shows abnormal protein chains in the blood. The amino acid sequence is in a combination I’ve never seen before," Byers announced, sliding his chair over to his computer. "I’ve downloaded Scully’s medical data to the newest Lone Gunman."

Mulder frowned questioningly.

"He goes by the name 'The Thinker'," Frohike explained.

"He's a hacking genius," Byers added, tapping keys until a three dimensional image of Scully’s DNA appeared on the screen. The computer beeped and the screen began to fill with data.

"What?" Mulder demanded, as he saw Byers and Langly both frown.

"The Thinker reports the protein chains are a result of branched DNA," Byers explained.

"Branched DNA?" Mulder asked.

"The cutting edge of genetic engineering," Langly said.

"A biological equivalent of a silicon microchip," Byers added.

The computer beeped again and Byers sighed.

"This branched DNA is inactive. It’s waste product. Whoever was experimenting on Scully is finished. Now it’s nothing more than a biological poison."

"Will she live?" Mulder pleaded.

The three gunmen looked awkwardly at each other, then finally Byers spoke.

"Um... her immune system has been decimated and, uh... I doubt even a healthy human body has the ability to fight this. Mulder, there’s nothing you can do."

~#~#~#~#~

MULDER'S APARTMENT

Mulder turned the key to his door, stepped wearily inside and then gave a small, choking bark of bitter laughter as his eyes identified the dark shadow on his couch.

"No offence, Alex, but I'm really not in the mood tonight."

Alex's eyes flashed and he rose to his feet, his whole body stiff with anger. He wordlessly prowled towards the door without even a second glance at his Fox.

"Wait," Mulder begged, as Alex reached for the door handle. "I'm sorry. I...I just had some bad news. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Alex didn't turn around, but he made no further effort to open the door.

"Please?" Mulder begged.

He saw a little of the anger drain out of Alex's back, saw the stiff shoulders relax a little, and he dared to move forward and cautiously kiss the back of the pale, elegant neck. Alex twisted, turning until he was facing Mulder, then he opened his arms invitingly and allowed Mulder to collapse inside them.

"What's wrong, little fox?" he purred, as Mulder began to shake and sob silently in his embrace.

"You were too late, Alex. Whatever they were doing to her, they'd finished anyway. All you did was bring her home to die."

Alex released Mulder and pulled back, his eyes cold.  Mulder jumped forward and threw his own arms around the younger man.

"I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to say it like that. I don't know how you did it, but...but at least she's here now. It's...it's closure at least."

Alex didn't reply, but he didn't pull away either so Mulder sagged against him with relief.

"Where *did* you find her?" he asked, careful to keep any note of interrogation from his voice.

Alex shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It isn't there anymore."

"What isn't there anymore?"

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't a UFO," Alex sniggered.

"Who took her? Where was she? There has to be some evidence of what was done to her. Some clue about the experiments they performed on her."

Alex shrugged. "Not much left now except ashes."

"You destroyed the evidence?" Mulder accused bitterly.

Alex's temper snapped and he back-handed Mulder across the face, knocking him to his knees.

"I was too pre-occupied with saving your *friend*, you ungrateful little bastard," he snarled. "By the time I got back, the lab was gone. Burned to the ground, fire engines everywhere."

"The warehouse fire downtown?" Mulder gasped painfully, through his split lip. "I saw it on the news. They *said* it was a chemical storage facility."

Alex just shrugged, his expression still angry.

"If I'd known you were more interested in evidence than Scully, I would have rescued the files instead," he snapped.

"Please, Alex. I'm sorry. Of course it was more important to get *her* out of the warehouse, only...it's just...just that she's dying anyway. The doctors can't help her.."

"Why not?"

"She's in a coma and her immune system has been decimated. She can't fight whatever it is that's infected her."

"There isn't an infection," Alex contradicted. "She's just sleeping and doesn't want to wake up."

Mulder felt a surge of hope at Alex's tone of complete confidence.

"How do you know, Alex?"

Alex shrugged. "When I fucked you the last time, when you lost consciousness for a few seconds, you touched the nothing and, because I was with you, I followed your dream and found her there."

"What exactly  is the nothing?"

"It's impossible to explain. That's why I call it the nothing. It's...it's a place of fantasy, I suppose. A dreamscape where anything is possible but nothing is real. There's no pain there, but no pleasure, just peace and quiet and...well, nothing. It's like an endless well of power for me because it's the place everyone touches in their dreams and there are always millions of people around the world who are sleeping. While they dream, while they are lost in the nothing, I can reach out and take their forms or even their fantasies and borrow them for a short while."

"That's how you shape-shift?" Mulder demanded.

Alex smiled.

"Even cats dream, Fox."

"And that's where Scully is?"

Alex nodded. "If she's dying, it's not because of what they did to her body, it's because she doesn't want to leave the nothing. It happens, Fox.  When people have suffered great pain and fear, the nothing becomes a place of refuge to them and they won't let go. They don't *want* to wake up. And while they sleep, their bodies fail until they can't return even if they want to."

"Then you *could* save her, couldn't you? You could go into the nothing and convince her to come home," Mulder said, his face flushing with excitement.

"What makes you think she'd listen to me?" Alex asked dismissively. "If she won't wake up for you or her family, why the hell would she wake up for me? She doesn't even know me."

"You said it's safe there, peaceful, quiet and she doesn't want to leave," Mulder argued, "So go and kick her ass. You said you can control the nothing, so make it more uncomfortable for her to stay there than to wake up. Turn the dream into a nightmare if you have to. Please, Alex. At least *try*. You owe me that much."

"I don't *owe* you anything, Fox. I gave you a gift, that's all. If that's made you think you've got power over me, you're mistaken."

Alex turned back towards the door. He'd barely taken two steps before Mulder threw himself forward from his kneeling position and grabbed Alex's legs.

"Please," he pleaded, clinging to Alex's ankles. "I'm sorry, you're right. You don't owe me anything but I'm begging you, Alex, *begging* you to do this for me. I'll do anything you want in return. Anything."

"You seem to be forgetting something, Fox. You're mine. You'll do anything I want whether I help Scully or not. All I have to do is snap my fingers and you spread your legs for me," Alex replied, with a vicious smirk.

Mulder gave a choking, bitter laugh at the truth of Alex's words. The bastard was right. He was too enthralled by the shape-shifter to ever refuse him anything. He swallowed heavily.

"You're right, Alex. There's nothing I can offer you that you don't already have. There's no reason for you to try. Scully means nothing to you, I understand that, and you're not responsible for what happened to her. I should be grateful enough that you rescued her for me and my asking for more than you're willing to give probably just makes you regret doing as much as you have already done. But the thing is that you *did* rescue her for me, for no other reason than to make me happy. So, I have to believe that you care about me, Alex. I have to believe that my happiness is important to you and, if that's true, then surely you could find it in yourself to at least *try* to save her?"  

"Everything has a price, Fox. Look at Scully. She's already paid the price for  'caring' about you. She was so badly hurt that she doesn't *want* to come back into the game. Maybe she's better off where she is. You want me to bring her back to make you 'happy'. What about her happiness?"

Mulder's eyes narrowed in suspicion and he surged to his feet.

"You're so full of shit, Alex. You don't give a damn about Scully. You're just scared that if I get her back I won't need you anymore. You know I'll want you, that I won't be able to resist you, but you're worried that I won't *need* you."

"Will you?" Alex demanded, his voice thick with emotion.

"Oh god, Alex. I LOVE you. You're everything to me."

"So why do you want *her*?" Alex snapped bitterly. "Why did I find your mind linked to *hers* in the nothing, when you were screaming in orgasm on *my* lap?"

"I don't know," Mulder admitted quietly. "Maybe I was just so carried away  in that moment that I touched *all* emotions. My love for you *and* my grief for her. You know that, really. You must do because if you really were jealous of her, you wouldn't have rescued her, would you?"

"You're mine, Fox," Alex growled.

"I am," Mulder agreed, "and Scully won't change that. She can't change that. I do love her, Alex, but not in the way you fear."

Alex bristled.

"You have no concept of what I fear, Fox. You have no idea of what's really going on around you, how much danger you are in."

"Then tell me," Mulder demanded.

"I can't," Alex admitted. "I can't explain it. It's like you're in the center of a spider's web. Not just you. Everyone."

"I don't understand."

"When you dream, when you enter the nothing, you're linked to everyone around you. It's like tiny threads binding people together, thousands of links, all twisted and entwined, and sometimes I follow those threads. I run along them from your mind to, maybe Skinner's or Doggett's, and then from their minds to whoever *they* are linked to, and sometimes those people are dreaming of *you* and there's loops of feedback and I get trapped, bouncing between you all, desperately trying to get a picture of what's going on, of who are your real friends, who are your real enemies. I lose myself in the web of corruption that surrounds you, Fox. I'm supposed to keep you safe, and all I see is trap after trap and danger after danger  and too many of those people dream of Scully too. They'll use her, Fox. If I bring her back, she'll become a weakness to you, a point of vulnerability that they can use against you."

"But you'll take care of me," Mulder soothed. "You can protect me, can't you?"

"I don't know," Alex admitted, his eyes uncharacteristically frightened. "And I won't take the risk of losing you."

"I'll resign," Mulder offered.

"What?"

"If that's the price for Scully's life, I'll pay it. I understand your fear, Alex. You think by giving Scully back to me you're handing me a loaded gun, so let me disarm it for you. I'll leave the bureau. It's not like I'm achieving much there any way. Agree to save Scully and I'll hand in my resignation."

"No, you won't," Alex replied softly.   

"You think I'm lying to you?" Mulder demanded, bristling with offence.

Alex smiled, leant down and kissed Mulder's forehead.

"I think you're lying to yourself, little fox," he replied, then pulled away.

"Alex?" Mulder demanded, scrambling to his feet and racing after him, but Alex slipped through the door too quickly and by the time Mulder reached the hall, all he saw was the tip of a tail disappearing down the stairwell.

~#~#~#~

X-FILES OFFICE; FBI HEADQUARTERS; WASHINGTON D.C.

Mulder sat at his computer and stared in vague disbelief at what he had just typed. Finally, with a sigh, he clicked on the mouse and sent the letter to the printer. He took the paper out and signed it, not bothering to read the letter since it was burned into his memory;  'To Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner
Please accept my resignation from the Federal Bureau of Investigation effective immediately.'

"There you go, Alex," he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Still think I'm lying?"

"You say something?" Doggett asked, looking over from Scully's desk.

Mulder shook his head. "Um...you remember the Pierson case?"

"Yeah?"

"I thought maybe you could go and get those witness statements this afternoon while I clear up a few things here."

"Sure," Doggett agreed. 

"Would you drop a letter off in Skinner's mailbox on your way out?" Mulder asked, keeping his voice deliberately casual.

"No problem," Doggett said, with an affable smile, reaching for his coat.

Mulder didn't move for twenty minutes, just in case Doggett returned to the basement for some reason, then he went to his car and fetched the cardboard boxes he'd brought with him that morning. He wasn't sure why it was so important that Doggett didn't see him pack but suspected it was as much fear of changing his mind as embarrassment. He'd do anything for Scully, he'd happily *die* for Scully, so it was strange how difficult it was to give up his quest for her.

Yet, as he looked around the basement he wondered who he was trying to fool. He'd never achieved *anything*. Despite all the cases he'd investigated, and even all the cases he'd solved, he'd never found a single shred of irrefutable evidence to prove his beliefs.

He went to the nearest filing cabinet and retrieved Samantha's X-file.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered. "I failed you and this is going to seem as though I'm giving up on you, but I'm not. I swear. It's just...it's just that Scully needs me now and it's my fault she was hurt so I *have* to do this, Sam. I have to."

It was perhaps an hour later, when he was carefully packing his microscope into a box, that Skinner walked into the basement.

"When I started out, this is where they kept the copier."

Mulder stared at him coolly, then shrugged. "At least back then, it wasn’t just wasted space," he replied bitterly.

Skinner walked towards him, decisively tearing up a sheet of paper. "It’s unacceptable," he announced, just in case Mulder had any doubts as to what he had just ripped up.

Mulder ignored him and started adding books into the box.

Skinner cleared his throat loudly. "Look, I know you feel responsible for Agent Scully, but I will not accept resignation and defeat as self-punishment."

"All the forensics, the field investigations, the eyewitness accounts... to still know nothing. To lose myself... and Scully. I hate what I’ve become," Mulder replied, adding a stack of folders to the box.

Skinner sighed and took his glasses off. 

"When I was eighteen, I, uh... I went to Vietnam. I wasn’t drafted, Mulder, I... I enlisted in the Marine Corps the day of my eighteenth birthday. I did it on a blind faith. I did it because I believed it was the right thing to do. I don’t know, maybe I still do. Three weeks into my tour, a ten-year-old North Vietnamese boy walked into camp covered with grenades and I, uh... I blew his head off from a distance of ten yards."

Mulder stopped packing and turned his full attention to Skinner, a shocked look on his face.

"I lost my faith. Not in my country or in myself, but in everything. There was just no point to anything anymore. One night on patrol, we were, uh... caught... and everyone... everyone fell. I mean, everyone. I looked down... at my body... from outside of it. I didn’t recognize it at first. I watched the V.C. strip my uniform, take my weapon and I remained... in this thick jungle... peaceful... unafraid... watching my... my dead friends. Watching myself. In the morning, the corpsmen arrived and put me in a bodybag until... I guess they found a pulse. I woke in a Saigon hospital two weeks later. I’m afraid to look any further beyond that experience. You? You're not. Your resignation is unacceptable."

He headed towards the door.

"You..." Mulder called out, and Skinner tuned back to face him.

"You don't understand, Sir. Someone...well, there's a chance someone could save her only he won't agree unless I resign."

"He's blackmailing you?"

"No," Mulder admitted, ducking his head and blushing. "He...he cares about me. He thinks if he saves Scully *my* life will be in danger."

"Agent Mulder, every life, every day is in danger. That’s just life. Perhaps you should explain that to your friend. If you trade your career for Scully's life, they win anyway. Is that what you want? Is that what you think *she* wants? For the people who did this to her to just walk away with impunity?" Skinner replied, then walked out, closing the door behind him.

~#~#~#~

MULDER'S APARTMENT

There was a note on Mulder's couch when he got home. Just two words. "Told you."  The note wasn't signed.

Mulder curled up in a miserable ball, hugged the note to his chest and cried.

From the ventilation grille, two angry green eyes stared irritably at the sobbing man and a black tail thumped with growing agitation against the dusty air-conditioning shaft.

'Damn you, Mulder. I said I'd do *anything* for you, but this is too much. I can't let you get hurt. You're *mine*'

Still, Mulder cried silently, his whole body quivering with such misery that Alex hissed.

'You won't forgive me if I don't, will you?" he asked rhetorically since the answer was etched in every line of Mulder's body.

For a moment Alex was tempted just to leave. He didn't *need* Mulder, he reminded himself. Mulder was just a pet, an amusement, and a high-maintenance one at that. He could easily find another toy to play with, another willing body, another safe refuge.

'So, if you can leave him so easily, what difference does it make whether saving Scully puts him in danger or not?' he asked himself, flattening his ears to his head in irritation at his own treacherous thoughts.

~#~#~#~

NORTHEAST GEORGETOWN MEDICAL CENTER; WASHINGTON, D.C.  

"Okay, sleeping beauty. Time to rise and shine," Alex snapped irritably, prowling up to Scully's bed and glaring at her hatefully.

Scully blinked in confusion at the huge talking panther who was pacing around her bed, his long black tail thumping the surrounding grass with obvious irritation. All around her, the trees swayed in a sudden breeze and the tiny birds that had been chirping happily in their branches were now squawking in alarm at the arrival of the predator.

She snuggled deeper into the soft sheets of her bed, closing her eyes against the panther's glowing eyes and wishing her surroundings back into their prior peacefulness. She smiled as the birds calmed down, as the breeze died away and the hazy fog began to descend over her once more.

"GET YOUR LAZY ASS UP, YOU STUPID BITCH!"

The sudden roar in her ear was so terrifying that she shot upwards in panic, sitting up in the bed and opening her eyes wide with fear.

"Call Dr. Daly, now," a nurse shouted, racing over to the bed where her formerly comatose patient was suddenly wide awake, her eyes blinking in terrified confusion.  

~#~#~#~

"How are you feeling?" Mulder asked, squeezing Scully's hand gently.

"Mulder, I don’t remember anything... after Duane Barry... I was on the mountain, then next thing I was lying in a forest somewhere and a..." she laughed nervously and blushed, "...a talking panther was screaming at me to wake up."

"It...it doesn’t... doesn’t matter," Mulder managed, although her words made him almost faint with relief. Since he'd received the call he'd *known* Alex must have changed his mind, yet there had still been a tiny doubt that Scully's mysterious cure could have been from another source and, although he was too grateful for her recovery to care *what* had caused the miracle, he was selfish enough inside to be relieved that Alex *had* apparently forgiven him for not resigning..

"I brought you a present," he announced, reaching into a bag for a video. "Superstars of the Super Bowl."

"I knew there was a reason to live," Scully laughed.

"I know you want to get some rest.  I... just came by to see... how you were doing and say hi." He squeezed her hand a last time, then rose to leave.

"Mulder?" Scully called out softly.

He turned back to look at her.

"Say...um...say thanks to Alex for me, would you?"

Mulder flushed at her knowing eyes, then grinned at her.

"Sure thing and I'll add a few thanks of my own while I'm at it."

Scully smiled sleepily.

"Now *that's* a video I'd like to watch," she laughed.

Mulder felt the hot blush that colored his face although he was surprised there was still enough blood left in *that* part of his body after Scully's comment.  Then he walked stiffly towards the door, his mind already racing with all the various ways he could think up to 'thank' Alex.

TBC