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

CATEGORY - SA
RATING: PG-13 for language
SPOILERS: US Season Six through One Son
KEYWORDS: M/S partnership, Diana Fowley, fall out
SUMMARY: The first day back on the X-Files takes a couple
of unexpected turns.

"First Day Back"
by Anne Haynes
AHaynes33@aol.com


Their first day back in the basement office was notably
unceremonious.  Mulder wasn't sure what he expected--a nice
housewarming plant from Accounting in anticipation of their
entertaining expense reports?  A cross-stitch sampler from 
Skinner, proclaiming, "There's No Place Like Home"?

All he got was an empty office.  Denuded of the dribs and 
drabs of the weird and otherworldly, it smelled like Pine-Sol 
and new paint.  The carpet had been replaced since he'd last 
been in here. Same drab camel color but missing the well-trod 
path between the door and the desk.

Mulder settled into the chair behind the desk.  It was new, 
too--an almost exact copy of the chair he'd had before the fire.
Tentatively, he leaned back.  The new springs didn't have the
same give as before; he'd have to break it in slowly or risk
concussion the next time he tilted the chair back to give Scully
a cheap adrenaline rush.

Just thinking her name hurt.  Another time, he might indulge 
himself in a little wallowing, but the soft click-click of her heels 
coming down the hall forewarned him to school his features to 
the slack mask he'd worn over the past few days.

She paused in the doorway, inhaling the sharp scent of
disinfectant with a crinkled nose and a furrowed brow.  "Mulder,
did you clean?"

He smiled a little.  "Thought I'd kill all the Spender cooties."

She cut her eyes at him and crossed to the computer desk, draping
her trenchcoat over the back of the new chair.  She automatically
booted up the computer, not looking at him any further.  She hadn't 
looked at him in a few days.  Not really.   He hadn't exactly been 
looking at her much, either.  Things that had happened over the 
past few days cut both ways.  

He wondered if she understood that.

There was a lot of busy work to do.  Files to sort through,
adjustments to make.  They didn't speak again until midday, when
she rose from her desk.  "I'm going to get some lunch," she
announced.  No offer for him to join her, no offer to bring
something back for him.  No big surprise, really, but it was
still enough of a rebuff to draw blood.

He waited until he heard the elevator chime, then grabbed his own
coat and left the office.  He took the stairs, needing the
activity to occupy his mind.  And yet, he spent the climb
upstairs wondering where she was going for lunch.  Begnini's near
the Mall? She loved their grilled chicken salad there.  He used
to tease her about ordering vinegar only as a dressing---as if
she and her little size four body didn't dare risk a dollop of
olive oil. 

Maybe she was in the mood for chicken in black bean sauce from
Mr. Loo's in Georgetown.  Mr. Loo would usher her in with his
fatherly clucks, slip her extra wonton because he thought she
needed a little more meat on her ribs, then he'd turn to Mulder
and chew him out in badly mangled English about not taking better
care of her.  

Except Mulder wasn't going with her this time.

He emerged from the stairwell and trudged toward the cafeteria. 
Not his idea of great dining, but it was quick and relatively
cheap.  He could grab something and head back down to the office
to work while he ate. Ignoring the speculative looks of other
agents heading in the same direction, he entered the cafeteria
and got in line.

He was picking through his sandwich choices when he glanced
across the cafeteria and saw her.  Sitting alone at a table for
two, spearing a slice of honeydew melon.

Diana Fowley.

For a moment, he couldn't believe his eyes.  She wasn't supposed
to be here.

She looked up, noticing his gaze. One eyebrow lifted slightly. 
Expectantly.

He stepped out of line, all thoughts of food vanishing.  He
crossed the room to her side, not sure what he was feeling. Glad
she hadn't died in the fire?  Confused by her presence here now? 
Angry that she hadn't even bothered to leave a message on his
phone to say, "Hey, didn't go up in flames.  See you around the
office"?

"Fox," she said, dropping her fork as he sat across from her.

He didn't speak.  He had no idea what to say.  Her presence here,
in this cafeteria, in front of him--it made no sense.  It was an
anomaly sans precedent. No old X-File to rely on to help him
figure it out.

"I should have called you--"

"I guess you never made it to El Rico."

She shook her head.  "I couldn't go without you."

He didn't believe her.  But calling her on the lie didn't seem
like a prudent thing to do at the moment, so he just gave a slow
blink and tilted his head slightly.  "That was three days ago. 
Where have you been?"

"I took a day off, drove to the mountains to think."  She leaned
slightly toward him, lowering her voice.  "Remember when we'd
take long weekends at that place near Haymarket?"

He wasn't in the mood for reminiscing.  "The invasion's been
postponed for now.  I don't know for how long."

"I heard."  She picked up her fork, prodded at the fruit plate. 
"I also heard you got the X-Files back."

"What's left of them."

Her dark eyes were sympathetic.  "I heard other things, too."

"Spender's resignation?"  It wasn't what she meant, and he knew
it, but he wasn't going to talk to her about Scully.

"Seems he's cleared out of town."  She gave a little shrug,
uninterested.  "But that's not really what I was talking about--" 

"We're just settling in.  First day back." He changed the subject
with a faint air of desperation.  The cafeteria seemed close and 
small.  He looked across the table at Diana and felt something 
dark and mean curl in his gut.  Suspicion, something he'd 
fought against when Scully tried to bring her own doubts to his 
attention.  

...you don't know her like I do....  

Like I thought I did, he amended silently, the last bit of denial
crumbling to dust.

It hurt exactly as he expected.  Raw and sickening.  Bile snaked
up his esophagus, and he took a deep breath to tamp it down.  

"Agent Scully glad to be back in the basement?" Diana asked.

"Yes," he lied. 

"I'm certain she could have been offered another assignment more
suited to her skills."  Diana poked a strawberry with the sharp
tines of her fork.  It bled red onto the white plate.  "It could
probably still be arranged."

"She's where she's supposed to be." Even as he said the words,
they felt like a lie.  Because Scully wasn't where she was
supposed to be.  She was a million miles away, and he didn't know
how to bring her back this time.

"I was approached about staying with the X-Files."

He looked up sharply.  "When?"

"This morning."

He shook his head, not believing.  "Skinner offered that?"

"Yes.  He thought the work might benefit from my experience."

Mulder's eyes narrowed.  Skinner was under a big thumb, it
seemed.  "You're not going to take it."  

"I guess that's up to you."  She leaned forward, reaching across
the table to cover his hand with hers.  Her touch was cold and
uncomfortable.  "I'm not sure that I can work with Agent Scully.  
She's made it clear that she has no use for me and my ideas.  Or
yours, for that matter.  I don't think I can come back to the X-Files 
if she remains."

He pressed his fingers into the formica table-top until they felt
numb.  "Are you asking me to choose?"  If he weren't so close to
throwing up, he'd laugh.

"I didn't really want to put it that way...."

He pulled his hand from beneath hers.  "It's becoming apparent 
to me that I haven't been clear about something."  He leaned
forward slightly, lowering his voice.  "I'm not looking for a new
relationship.  Or an old one."

She stared at him, surprised and something else.  Something
darker.

Hurt?  No, he didn't think so.  Not on any deep level anyway.
Maybe a little miffed that she couldn't seduce him into doing
things her way anymore.  Probably a little bit of bruised female
ego there, wondering if the lines and sags she'd acquired over
the past few years had taken a toll on her beauty.  He didn't
tell her that she hadn't been that beautiful to begin with, that
beauty had been only a little of her appeal to him all those
years ago.  

"Lone wolfing it these days?" she asked.

"I'm not alone."

"No?  Are you sure?"  She reached across the table, stroking 
his cheek.  He pulled back, surprised, until he saw that her gaze 
had shifted slightly behind him.

Stomach dropping, he turned around.

Scully stood at the end of the cafeteria line.  Though she wasn't
currently looking their way, her cheeks were a little flushed and
her expression was tight.  She'd seen Diana's calculated move.

So had the rest of the cafeteria. An odd lull had fallen over the
room, as if all the agents and support personnel there were 
waiting for a fight to break out.

He released a pent-up breath and turned back to Diana, rising 
from the table.  "I understand there's an opening in the Violent 
Crimes unit.  Talk to Agent Fuller--he'd probably be glad to get 
someone with your experience.  Just don't make the mistake of 
using my name.  I'm not his favorite person."

He walked away and didn't look back, heading for the cafeteria
line.  Scully was almost up to the buffet table when he reached
her.  "I thought you were going out for lunch."

"Changed my mind.  I went back to the office to see if you 
wanted to grab something here, but you weren't there."  Her 
voice was controlled, uninflected. He couldn't tell what she
was thinking, much less what she was feeling.

He decided to cut through the crap.  "Did you know Diana 
was back?"

"No."

"Me, either."

She glanced at him briefly, then shuffled ahead as the line 
moved.  "Did she say where she'd been?"

"Took a long weekend."

"Why didn't she go to El Rico?"

"Said she couldn't leave me."  He stepped closer, lowered
his voice.  "Pure bullshit.  Someone got her out of there. 
Probably C.G.B. Spender."

"So you don't think his visit to her apartment was innocent
after all?"  To her credit, there wasn't even a hint of "I told 
you so" in her voice.

"I don't think there's an innocent bone in her body." He
glanced around the cafeteria.  The other agents were still
watching them. God only knew what sort of Spooky Mulder
stories were circling the grapevine these days.  "I need to
talk to you about all this--but not here."

To his surprise, Scully touched his hand briefly, closing
her fingers over his.  "Why don't you go back to the office?  
I'll get something for you and bring it down."  She cut her 
eyes toward the other agents in the cafeteria and released
his hand.

He did as she suggested, glad to get away from the close
scrutiny. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Diana rise
as if to follow him out, but he simply quickened his steps
and darted into the stairwell to avoid her.

Once again esconced in the comfortable womb of the 
basement office, he returned to the task of sorting through 
the X-Files.  Not much left of them beyond the fragments 
he'd managed to salvage in their spare time, some files he 
and Scully had managed to transfer to disk over the months 
and years before the fire.  There were no new files to sift 
through; Spender had round-filed most of what crossed his 
desk.  Like a good little soldier.

Mulder was adding tabs to new file folders when Scully returned 
with a small sack and two bottles of iced tea. "Chicken salad
or turkey and cheese?"

"Whichever. I'm not that hungry."  He moved aside a stack of
files to make room for the food.

She handed over the chicken salad.  She unwrapped the turkey
for herself but didn't take a bite, laying the sandwich on a napkin 
in front of her.  Nervously dusting the crumbs off her hands, she 
avoided his curious gaze and took a couple of long, deep 
breaths.  She was obviously preparing herself for something.  

Mulder waited, growing tense. When she didn't speak after a 
moment, he filled the painful silence. "Scully, have you ever had 
a relationship that was good from start to finish?"

She cocked one eyebrow slightly.  "Start to finish? No.
Do such things exist?"

He felt a little foolish. "I thought they did.  I thought Diana
was mine."

"But it ended. She left you."

"Mutual decision."  He gave a little shrug. "Remember the
way I was when Phoebe Green came to town a few years
ago?"

She nodded, her mouth tightening into a little line.

"That was ten years after the fact.  Imagine me fresh out 
of that mess."  He saw her little frown turn into a grimace.
"Well, that's how I was when I met Diana."  He picked at 
the edges of the chicken salad sandwich, rubbing little 
shards of bread between his thumb and forefinger until they 
were nothing but crumbs on his desk blotter. "She liked me. 
Or seemed to.  Enjoyed my company, didn't laugh at my 
mood swings, taught me that sex could be more than a 
battlefield. She believed in me and my work.  Even when it
took strange detours. She was so...kind."  He destroyed 
another sliver of bread rind. "So fucking kind."

"Mulder--"

"Skinner told her that she could remain with the X-Files."

Scully's looked horrified.  "Skinner said that?"

"I'm pretty sure somebody has him by the balls."

"Or something."

"I told Diana that wasn't an option," he added. "God knows
she wasn't any help to us.  She wasn't trying to protect the 
work like I thought." He sighed. "I suspect she'll pop up 
next time we get too close to what they're trying to hide,
though."

"What are you going to do if she does?"

"See what it is she wants--and make sure she doesn't get it 
from me."

She met his gaze for a moment, then looked down at her
hands.  "I have something to say to you. I don't seem to 
know how to say it, but I have to try."

She nibbled her lip and didn't continue for a long moment,
long enough for Mulder's stomach to twist into a knot.
"You're scaring me, Scully," he muttered, his voice a little
shakier than he liked.

"I'm sorry."

At first, he thought she was apologizing for scaring him. But
when she didn't continue, he realized that her apology was
what she wanted to say to him. "Sorry for what?"

She seemed to be measuring her words carefully.  "When
I walked into the cafeteria, it got quiet for a moment. Enough 
to hear you ask Diana if she was asking you to choose."

"There was no--"

She held up her hand to silence him. "You asked me that
same question. You asked if I wanted you to choose."

"Scully---"

"When I heard you ask her the same question, I just..."
She licked her lips.  "It's like something finally clicked 
for me.  Something I've been trying to put into words."

He didn't know where she was going with this. He wasn't
sure he wanted to know.

"I accused her of manipulating you.  Using your guilt 
and your affection for her to blind you to her motives."
Scully shoved her bottle of tea forward with an angry 
little jab of her finger.  "And I don't take that back. I know
that's what she's been doing.  I just--"  She pressed her
lips into a tight, angry line and started over.  "I just don't
think she's the only one who's been doing it." Her voice
dropped even lower.  "I know she's not."

He wasn't following.  "Scully--"

"I knew what I was doing when I called you to the Gunman
office. I shared my suspicions with the guys, knowing how
they'd react.  Knowing their paranoia and their loyalty to 
you--and to me--I knew they'd take my side."  She looked
miserable, her gaze lowered, her voice small. "I called you
there because I knew my evidence was weak, and I needed
reinforcements.  I knew that telling you in front of the guys
would make you feel foolish if you tried to fight me on it.  I
knew that they'd badger you if you refused to listen to me."

He didn't know what to say.  It's exactly how he'd felt at the
time. 

"My only defense is that I don't think any of these decisions
were conscious, and I know I didn't do it to hurt or humiliate
you.  I just needed you to believe me. And I didn't have enough
real evidence to make that happen.  Not when you were so
determined to believe the best of her."

He closed his eyes a moment, well aware how much it had
cost Scully to confess these things to him.  "But you were 
right about her.  Weren't you?"

"That doesn't excuse my behavior."

"Mine wasn't exactly spotless."  He opened his eyes and
looked at her.  "You think I lied that night in the hall 
outside my apartment."  He could tell by the faint blush on 
her cheeks that she knew exactly what he was talking 
about.  "You think I only said what I said to keep you from 
leaving me.  And my behavior hasn't exactly done anything 
to relieve your skepticism."

She met his gaze.  For one naked moment, the full 
measure of her uncertainty blazed back at him before she 
regained control.  "I know you need me to complete your work.  
I believe you meant that."

But you're not ready to hear or accept the rest of what I 
was saying, he thought, gazing back at her sadly.  Not yet.  

Maybe never.  

He picked up his sandwich and forced himself to take a bite.
The chicken salad was oddly tasteless.  So was the swig of
tea he swallowed to wash the bite down.  It seemed to stick
on the way down, making his throat ache.

She started to wrap up her untouched sandwich, her appetite 
apparently gone. He reached across and stilled her hands.  
"You need to eat."

She looked down at his hands splayed across her own.
"Are we okay, Mulder?"  

"I'm okay if you're okay."  He meant it.

Her lips curving just a bit, she gave a little nod.

He dropped his hands away, watched her pick up the 
sandwich and take a bite.  She didn't seem to enjoy it, but 
she took another bite. And another. Because he'd asked her 
to.  Because after all the shit they'd just suffered through, she 
still wanted to please him, just a little.

Something inside his chest caught and then released.

Maybe it was hope.

Watching Scully finish her lunch, he found himself 
remembering Diana Fowley's implied ultimatum in the 
cafeteria.  Me or Scully, Fox--who are you going to 
choose? 

He swallowed a bitter little laugh.

As if there were ever a choice.

= end =