DISCLAIMER JAZZ: "The X-Files" and its characters are the creations and property of the fabled Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. I am, of course, using them without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. All other concepts or ideas herein are mine. RATING: NC-17 SPOILERS: Through US season 7 ARCHIVE: ONLY ON THE AUTHOR'S OWN WEBSITE (http://rowan_d.tripod.com/elizabethr.html) UNTIL STORY IS COMPLETED. This way I can mess with the early parts as later parts develop... TIMELINE: Though this takes place sometime after "all things", in this universe "Requiem" did NOT happen... Special thanks to Beatha Sellman and Megan English for extensive medical research info which will hopefully prevent me from making a fool of myself in this chapter or in several to come. Any idiocy that remains is purely my bad interpretation, not their advice. WATER'S EDGE by Elizabeth Rowandale Copyright (c) 2003 Chapter 11b The scent of warm cinnamon and apple that boomed across the threshold was like a tangible piece of home; of past sensations and comfort and family and security. Her father home for the holidays and Missy alive and vibrant and driving Bill off his rocker and Charlie sticking his fingers in the icing before dinner had even been served. The struggle to reconcile all this with the dead woman in the woods with the words carved into her arm was almost more than Scully could manage. She returned her mother's bright smile with a rush of her own affection. "Dana! Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" Scully hovered on the doorstep, hands on her hips, a gentle smile lingering on her lips. She was uncomfortably aware of her mother zeroing in on the darker shadows hazing her eyes. "Hi, Mom," she said softly. "Is this a bad time?" Maggie pulled her inside and into her arms for a quick tight embrace. Dana was reluctant to let go. "No, honey, not at all. What's wrong?" Scully took a step back and lifted her eyebrows as Margaret closed the door. The kitchen smells were even stronger here. Or maybe it was a scented candle somewhere nearby. "What, I can't drop by to visit my Mom for no reason?" "Of course you can, Dana. Always. So...what's wrong?" "Nothing." She looked at the floor, but, even with her eyes on the immaculate linoleum, her Mother's patented gaze penetrated her consciousness. (*Charlie, were you in Mrs. Menninger's shed again? Charlie?*) Scully let a heavy breath slip from the tightness of her chest. *Can I just stand here and not speak, Mom? Or better yet...could you just put your arms around me again? Jesus, I hate this. I just...hate this.* "It's...it's stupid, it's the smallest thing, it shouldn't bother me." Her mother's eyes narrowed, hands clasped in front of her. "Dana, how old are you going to be before you stop berating yourself for feeling what you feel?" Scully closed her eyes for a long beat, she swallowed hard and her neck muscles ached from the tension. "I called my partner 'Mulder'," she breathed. "I've never--" The words hurt as she pushed them across her lips. She was looking anywhere but at her mother, tilting her shoe back on its heel and stretching her knotted calves. To her credit, Maggie knew better than to be instantly sympathetic. She had never been remiss in reading her children's temperaments. She knew how to edge information out of Dana almost better than anyone. Only one other person had ever held that gift. Maggie spoke kindly, but with a cool respect that kept Dana standing. "What happened? Did Agent Michaels react badly?" Scully's brow furrowed as she shook her head. "No, no. He didn't mind at all, he just...well, he would have been supportive, I think, but, I didn't give him a chance to be anything. I don't...generally." Her mother just nodded. After a long moment, Maggie said softly, "You don't need me to tell you, it's a perfectly understandable mistake. More than." Scully just swallowed again. Her mother reached out a hand and ever so gently stroked the side of her face. "You're shaking." Scully shook her head, shook it off. "Are you cold?" "I, uh..." She started to deny on instinct, but then her mind moved on from the denial that she was hurting into the reality of the question and awareness of the present, and she said, "Yeah. I am, actually." Margaret smoothed a hand down the back of Dana's hair, and nudged her toward the archway to the front parlor. "Go warm yourself on the couch, honey. I'll make some tea." ***** When Maggie returned from the kitchen, Scully was seated on the far corner of the love seat, sheltered in the gentle glow from the front windows. Her elbow was propped on the wide arm rest, fingers fanned out to shade her eyes. "I made apple cinnamon. You like that, right?" Scully heard her mother's voice, didn't see past her own closed lids. She wanted to say yes, but couldn't speak. Maggie set the steaming mugs on the coffee table and settled into the love seat; Scully felt the brush of their shoulders. It took her Mom a moment to realize Scully was crying. Her silence and guarded posture kept the fact well hidden, even from her own admission. She felt the moment her mother understood. She needed it and dreaded it. Maggie reached out and settled her hand on the back of Scully's neck, the practiced, gentle touch of a seasoned mother. "Oh, Baby..." she said softly. "It's so hard in the first months. Believe me. I remember." Without a word or a thought, Dana pushed away from the arm of the couch and lay across her mother's lap. Maggie twined her fingers through Dana's hair and smoothed it back from her face. It felt like a million years ago--sitting at her mother's dressing table and trying not to squirm while Maggie brushed her hair up into a ponytail. Missy's turn next. *'Why does Dana always get to go first, I'm older?'* Her stomach ached. "I miss him every time I breathe," Scully whispered, and she could no longer hold back her tears. The pain was blinding. All these months and she had never let her mother comfort her for the loss of Mulder. Because she hadn't been able to look at her. Because she was probably the only person alive who understood what this loss meant to her. Maggie slipped an arm beneath Dana's neck, and Dana nestled into the crook of her mother's elbow, knowing she was probably going to leave make-up smudges on the sleeve, but letting it go. She clung tightly to Maggie's arm, eyes closed, crying harder than she could remember. Her mother just held her, steadily stroking her hair and letting her grieve. After a while, the sobs turned to quieter tears, and Maggie began whispering gentle comforts not meant to be responded to. "I remember every time I heard the phone ring...my stomach would tie in knots. Because in that first moment, I would think it could be your father. Just for a second before reality hit. But even that brief moment, was like it was happening all over again. Every time." Scully just breathed. She didn't question why her mother was relating the loss of a spouse to her loss of Mulder. She didn't need to. Eventually, she was quiet. Her eyes came into focus on the flowered mugs on the coffee table. The tea was getting cold. But she was warmer now. And the thought of the soothing liquid was drawing her. Her mother's arm was still tight around her, her fingers in her hair. She didn't want to move. She had to move. She had to sit up, and try to keep her eyes open and own up to the moment. Swallow the horrible sickness that always followed her moments of weakness. So much for the value of catharsis. An odd thrill rushed over her skin at the thought of Daniel's strong arms around her. This was all so foreign. Her life had become someone else's. Scully sat up, reached out and lifted one of the flowered mugs, cradling its lingering warmth in her hands. The transition was easier if she had a point of focus. Her mother reached out and picked up the other mug and sipped at it. "I can't...stay too long," she said, testing the solidity of her voice. "I need to get back to work. This case...it snowballs so fast." "Give yourself a few minutes," her mother said evenly. Scully sipped her tea. "Have you eaten lunch?" She shook her head. "No, but I'm not hungry." "I know. But you will be. I'll send something with you." Scully settled into the cushions and closed her eyes, letting the tea nurse her back to equilibrium. Maggie leaned back and sipped from her own mug again. She gazed out the window behind Dana's shoulder. "Is that your car? Is it a Bureau car?" Maggie reached back and pushed the curtain aside, peering toward the driveway. "Is that a Jaguar?" Scully cleared her throat, sniffed. "Yeah...actually, it's, uh...it's a friend's. I'm just borrowing it." "Is your car in the shop?" "No, no, it's fine, I just--" She drew a deep breath. "I needed a way home. From his apartment." "*His* apartment." "Mom..." Her tone was warning. "What?" Dana just closed her eyes. "Dana?" A pause. "Dana...are you seeing someone?" The question was gentle, non-combative. Scully forced her eyes open and lowered her tea mug to her thigh. "You might say that. Yeah." She saw the wave of excitement wash across her mother's gaze. Then the deeper level of comprehension as she processed the implications, tied it all into the past hours' events. She had only subconsciously made the connections herself, didn't really want them acknowledged in any concrete way. "Anyone I know? Stop me when I'm being nosy?" "Stop." "Dana..." "You didn't really know him. But you knew about him. And you didn't approve at the time. So needless to say, since this is a little new...I'm not talking." Margaret nodded. "Okay. Just tell me one thing, no pressure, no thoughts of the future. Right now, today--is it good?" She was fixated on her tea mug, the slightly fluted shaping of the rim, the minute chip in the dark blue paint. "Yeah. It's really good." Her mother just accepted that quietly and took another drink of her tea. Scully reached out and drew a light finger down her mother's chest. "I like your blouse. Is it new?" She shrugged. "I got it a couple of months ago." Scully just closed her eyes. *Sorry, Mom.* "Dana?" Scully looked up, her mother's tone drawing her out of her own thoughts. "Hmm?" "Never feel guilty for the moments you feel happy." Dana just sat for a long minute holding her mother's gaze, letting the words seep into her bones. Leave it to her mother to just sock her right in the gut. ****** "Hey..." "Dana, hey. How's it going? Any luck with your contact?" Scully hung her trench coat on the coat tree by the door, strolled across the basement office, dropping her briefcase behind her desk. "They were occupied. I caught them by cell phone, though, and they asked us to come by first thing tomorrow morning. They should have something by then." Michaels nodded. "Sure hope so. We could use a break." Scully gave a dry laugh. There were already new blow-up photographs spread across her desk. Photos she had requested herself. Close-ups of the scars on the backs of the victims' necks, unnervingly like looking in her own bathroom mirror. Close-ups of the cuts in their arms. "Watch me". *Watch me stop the invasion? Stop Colonization?* Maybe. Maybe they had a little bit more of a foothold than the freefall they had been in this morning. She could feel Michaels watching her when he thought she didn't see. He wanted to say something about the last moments they had spent in this office. It was still tangible in the air between them. But she had no desire to touch on the subject. Maybe it was cold or selfish of her, but it was all she had to offer at the moment. Scully sat down and pulled out her glasses, opened her laptop and lifted the first of the photos. Back to the paperwork, the legwork. Somewhere in all the details lay the key. And persistence was the only way it would ever appear. Michaels watched her off and on a bit longer. Then the rhythm of their workday began to settle in between them. The partner synchronicity came into play. And the clock ticked away on a murderer somewhere on the Mid- Atlantic Coast. ***** The warmth in Daniel's smile spread over her like a soft blanket. Scully leaned a shoulder against the door casing, hovering on the threshold of Daniel's apartment. She dangled her keys in his line of vision. "I brought back your car." He nodded. "Brought back the car. And, of course, this was your only reason for visiting." She slipped him a sideways grin. "Of course." The playfulness hung comfortably between them for a moment before Daniel said, "Come here, Lady," and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her lips, full on and hard, and in a moment the traces of nervous tension dissolved, and Scully was back inside the circle of rare intimacy that had surrounded them last night. The sensations rushed over her, and it felt so good to be back, to be...home. The kiss ended, but they hovered close, Daniel's forehead lowered to rest on hers. They breathed together, eyes closed. Daniel's hand felt warm against the small of her back. "Hi," Scully said softly. "Hi." Daniel smoothed her hair. He closed the door and took Scully's hand, leading her deeper into the apartment. Tasha came up and greeted her like an old friend, and Scully let the dog lick her hand to her doggie- heart's content. "Have you eaten?" Daniel asked. Scully shook her head. "No. I had a late lunch." "Well, you've come to the right place. You're just in time for the Waterston Leftover Goulash. Patent Pending." "Believe it or not, that actually sounds appealing." Scully smiled. "Then I shall set the table for two," Daniel said, stepping ahead of her into the kitchen. He reappeared a moment later with silverware and glasses for the dining room table. Scully sat back on the rear of the couch, watching Daniel work and enjoying Tasha's warmth against her ankle. She let her gaze wander the room, soaking in the details, getting more and more familiar with the terrain. She had learned to pick up so much so fast in her years as a detective. But sometimes she forgot to look with private eyes, to pay attention to the details that were relevant to *her* and not just to the profile or the crime scene. She read the names of the music scores on the piano--Rachmaninoff, Prokofiev; the paperbacks on the end table--Colin Dexter, George Simone. Mysteries. She had read some of them herself. "Ranch dressing or Italian?" "Ranch," she said rotely. Scully continued her mental inventory while Daniel moved back and forth between the dining room and kitchen--until she caught Daniel studying her as thoroughly as she was studying his apartment. She met his gaze and raised an enquiring eyebrow. "What?" He smiled. "You're different. I've rarely seen...this side of you." "This side of me? I don't understand." Daniel paused, napkins still in hand. He shrugged one shoulder. "'Agent Scully', I would imagine. You're still...I'm still seeing traces of Agent Scully tonight. The other times we've been together lately, you were just...Dana." Dana swallowed, held Daniel's gaze a long moment, uncertain whether his comments were entirely positive or negative. "Hmm. Truthfully, Daniel, I don't think you've seen much of Agent Scully at all." He took that in, then nodded. Scully pulled in a deep breath and her ribcage felt tight; she hadn't been breathing much this afternoon. She wasn't surprised. Scully lowered her gaze to her suede pumps. The right one was pinching her toes, a dull nag on the edge of her awareness. She slowly realized she could take it off now if she wanted, she was somewhere she didn't need to keep every inch of the polish in place. For now, she kept them on. "I'm sorry if I'm a little...," she struggled for words, moistened her lips, tightened the fold of her arms across her chest. "This wasn't my best day." Daniel turned from the table now, moved into her space. He reached out and brushed back her hair, pushed it behind her ear. She felt a strand catch and pull around her delicate pearl earring. "Well," Daniel said softly, the intimacy electric between them, "let's see if we can't improve on that." Scully closed her eyes, leaned into his hand as he caressed her cheek. "We already have," she whispered. Dinner warmed her. She had been skimping a bit on the sensory aspect of meals over the past months. She had watched her nutrition, been careful as always to guard her health in the face of stress. But she had not taken the time to prepare savory or enticing meals most nights. (And Mulder hadn't been taking her out for Sushi or Italian on Friday nights.) She found herself luxuriating in the sensation of a good meal, the quiet comfort that followed. She helped Daniel clean up afterward, the rote domesticity oddly comfortable between them. In the kitchen, Daniel pulled a mostly eaten apple cobbler out of the fridge and placed it on the counter. He grabbed two forks, offered her one, and they began nibbling off opposite edges of the cobbler, standing together at the counter and chatting idly. "Do you go to the movies?" Scully looked up, sliding a bit of the luscious cobbler off her fork with her teeth. "Doesn't everyone?" "Well, I meant *often*. Is it something that interests you these days?" Scully shrugged, nodded, worked over the cobbler in her mouth. "I like it, yeah. I pay attention to what's playing. Back when... Mulder and I used to do a lot of field work. I still do, just...not quite as much. Mulder had a way of...finding things. Anyway, when you're out in the field, staying at motels, everything closes for the night, you can't really get anymore work done, and you can only watch so much free HBO," she said with a smile that Daniel returned. "So, we went to the movies a lot. Kept us in touch with the world a little, I think. Our work tends to...suck you into an alternate reality." "I was getting that impression." She gave a wry laugh, but let the subject slip by as she focused on carving out her next bite of cobbler. "What about you, you still a movie buff?" "When I have time, yes. A lot of the time I'm treating my grandkids these days, so the selections aren't necessarily mine." "That's sweet, though." "Yeah, it is." Scully dug her fork into a fresh bite, overworking the cut edge to make it as clean and neat as possible. "Are you supposed to be eating this?" she asked, half-serious as she glanced in Daniel's direction. "Aren't you supposed to be on a strictly 'heart-healthy' diet or something of the like?" "Atrial fibrillation as a result of hereditary high blood pressure--" "--and chain smoking--" "--and I *am* on a healthy diet, thank you very much, Dr. Scully. The occasional dessert is not going to kill me." She raised a critical eyebrow. "You're not a kid anymore, Daniel. You should be careful." "Nagging already, are we?" "Hey, when have you *not* nagged me? You've been telling me what I should do from the day we met." "You ever plan to start listening?" "No." She looked at him directly for a moment, calmly defiant, and as she stared him down the set of her mouth hedged toward a suppressed smile, and the deeper edge to the conversation softened into affectionate and mutual laughter. "Still my Dana," Daniel said softly. He reached his fork toward the cobbler for another bite. Scully slapped his hand. "Enough." "One more bite." "No." She jammed her fork against his, blocking his attempt. "You just want it for yourself, don't you." "I do not," she said, hearing the less than convincing quality to her voice as she spoke around the large bite already in her mouth. It *was* damned good cobbler. "I just want one more," Daniel said. "You have to *know* it's your last bite, when you--" "No!" "Oh, but I suppose *you* get a last bite." "Yes, I do," Scully said, smiling now, almost laughing. In a quick motion, she stabbed her fork in and tried to whip the bite to her mouth. But Daniel grabbed her arm and leaned forward to catch the bite in his own mouth. "*No!!*" Scully struggled to get the bite to her own mouth, and in a matter of seconds they both had traces of cobbler on their noses and mouths (and part of the wall), and they were melting into peals of laughter. "It's mine!" Scully cried, defeat already apparent in her voice as Daniel sucked the small portion remaining on the fork into his mouth. "Never mess with a man's cobbler," Daniel said through his gentle laughter. And Scully felt time slow, crystallize into vibrant clarity. This moment, this breath, the faint sound of wind chimes somewhere outside the open window, the lingering smells of roast beef mixed with the sweetness lingering on her lips--this was all precious. Because she was laughing. Because Daniel was laughing with her, because he was touching her skin and she was touching his and she was teasing him and they were acting like ten year olds for the sheer joy of apple cobbler and togetherness. And this moment had to be captured, acknowledged. Because for the first time in a million years, Dana Scully felt...happy. Daniel felt the shift in her thoughts. The pace of the play between them slowed, his gaze and breath falling into synch with hers. He held her gaze intently, tender crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He reached up and drew his hand down her cheek. Scully leaned into it. "You have a beautiful laugh," Daniel said. "I haven't heard it in a while," Scully replied, surprised by her simple honesty. Daniel nodded. "I know." Then added, "Don't stop." Scully only smiled at him. And Daniel leaned in to kiss her. The kiss grew hot quickly, their arms slipping around one another and the sweet taste of cobbler passing between them as their tongues intermingled and teased and swapped passions and flavors. And Scully closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the moment. Just this moment. Nothing before, nothing after, nothing to take away from the pure happiness in this apartment kitchen at the end of the street of old trees. The kiss ended with a shared smile. Scully didn't want to speak. She didn't want anything to break the spell. She just wanted to breathe. They put away the cobbler and placed the last of the dishes in the dishwasher. Scully drifted out onto the veranda, and Daniel followed. Soon they were nestled into the cushions of the wicker love seat, warm beneath the heavy woven throw blankets Daniel kept by the door. Daniel sat in the corner, Scully in front of him, her legs pulled up, back pressed against his chest. They gazed down over the common garden. It was the first time Scully had really taken the time to absorb the view. "This is an amazing garden," Scully said. "I bet it will be just beautiful in a couple more months. Daniel nodded. "I'm afraid I probably haven't taken advantage of it the way I should. Just never seem to find the time." Scully gave a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, I know how that goes." The quiet outside was soothing, the wind gentle against her skin. The city seemed to fade into shadows and whispered sounds, cocooning them in a blanket of darkness. Scully felt sheltered, quiet. She was tired, susceptible to the smallest offering of comfort, and more than willing to sink into the offered calm. She tried not to pull back for reason of that very knowledge. For a long time they sat together, enjoying the closeness, the serenity. Daniel's breath ruffled her hair, and she listened to the rhythm of his breathing, the vibrations of life coursing through his limbs. Less than a year ago, this man had coded on the table beneath her touch. She shivered at the memory. It seemed surreal--another life, another time. Tonight seemed a continuation of something from long ago, something outside of their encounter last spring. Something outside of the X-Files. Tasha, at last resigning herself to the fact that the fireplace was not going to be relit, squeezed her way through the narrow crack at the patio door and curled up on the extra blanket in front of the love seat. "You really had cancer?" Daniel said softly, no preamble, no pretension. Scully nodded, eyebrows lifting as she gazed out over the lush night. A moth fluttered past her vision. "Yeah. I did." "I can't believe you didn't call me." She scoffed. "Call you? Daniel...I didn't even know you were divorced. You didn't tell me..." His chest rose and fell against her back. She picked up the slack. "Besides, you didn't call me when you had your heart problem last year." "I didn't have to. You had already shown up by the time I was awake and the test results were back to tell me what I was dealing with." "But you wouldn't have." "It's different, Dana. You left me. That means you play the first card." "Again, you could have followed me." Silence. Then, "How long? How long were you sick?" Scully thought for a moment, realizing how long it had been since she had bothered to remember. Maybe that was good. "From the time I first got the diagnosis, to the remission... about five months." Daniel sighed heavily, mouth pressed against her hair. His arms tightened around her. "God, Dana. You must have been terrified." "Sometimes, yeah." "Were you...single? Alone?" "Single, yes. Alone...not really. Mulder was...well, he was there if I asked." "And did you?" She thought for a long moment. "Kind of. Once or twice. But it was hard...to watch him watch it." "That happens." "Most of the time it was enough just to know...he had my back." Daniel took that in in silence. Scully just watched the pattern of headlights on the iron gate at the front of the garden. They were quiet. "Tell me about Melissa." Scully closed her eyes and turned her head in toward Daniel, tucking her forehead against the side of his neck. She didn't want to go through this. Didn't want to relive it. Ever. That was what her dreams were for. But Daniel needed to know. And a part of her was grateful he had started here, and not with the liver-eating mutant, or the chip in the back of her neck. She spoke steadily and evenly, telling the story from as distant a point as she could reach. "Mulder and I had gotten in over our heads. Not for the first time. We were investigating a government conspiracy. I had been warned that someone close to me, someone I trusted would be sent to kill me. I was suspicious of my Assistant Director. That night, I had called Missy. I'd had a rough day and I'd asked her to come over and talk. Then I got a phone call that made me think I was being watched, that maybe they had come for me. I tried to call back and stop her, but it was too late. I started walking to Missy's apartment, hoping to catch her, but before I got far at all, Skinner, our Assistant Director at the Bureau, drove up and asked me to get in the car and come with him. I thought he was the danger. A conviction I regret on more levels than I can count. I got in the car with him, thinking I was leading him away from Melissa. The assassin was already in my apartment, waiting for me to return. Missy used her key and let herself into my dark living room. I didn't hear until she was at the hospital in a coma. And by then Mulder and I were in hiding and I couldn't even go to her. She never woke up. She died in surgery. I got there before she died, but...I didn't get to tell her anything. Nothing she could hear at least. My mother couldn't even look at me. She said she never blamed me, but..." Daniel kissed her hair, smoothed it back from her face as the wind pulled at the unruly strands. "Dana Scully. You know you could only have done your best. Melissa knew that, too." "I know. And I knew the risks when I took this job. The risks to my family. But it was my choice. And in the end, therefore....my fault." "You can't live your whole life protecting those around you. Loving people comes with risks, from both sides. It's how the world works." "Daniel. Do you really know what you're saying?" "What do you mean?" "You need to think about...," she cleared her throat. "Daniel, I still work the same job. And I want to be sure you make a fully informed decision....about...being someone I care about." "Dana. I couldn't change how I feel about you if I tried. And I have tried. From the moment I set eyes on you and I was married and you were my student, through the day you walked away, and through eleven years of trying to have relationships with other women. I don't pretend that I would have chosen this life for you or for me if I had the power to change it. But there is nothing you could say, that could make me not want to be here on this balcony with you...right now." Dana just narrowed her eyes and gazed out over the garden, letting his words soak into her skin, knowing he couldn't really know what he was taking on. Not yet. "What about you?" she said at last. "Tell me more about the work you've been doing. I've been following your articles, but I don't know about your life." "Not too exciting. Nothing like yours, apparently." She almost smiled. "That might be a good thing." Daniel talked for a while about the traveling he had done. About his grandchildren and the research grant he had won. She listened intently, slowly remembering a time when she had lived in a world not far from his. When she had thought this was the only life for her. "How are you and Maggie getting along? Last time we spoke, it seemed you two were...working some things out?" "We're good. Much better than we were. I did a lot of damage over the years. It can't all be fixed. But we have a real relationship now, and that's something to be thankful for, considering where we might very well have ended up." "That's good to hear. I know how much you love her." "That I do. That's the one thing about fatherhood that I didn't have to work at." "And the one thing you can't do it right without." Daniel accepted her words with a gentle touch. They talked a bit more, catching up on the details of life, the necessary steps from there to here. Daniel had the good tact to avoid the X-Files for tonight. Scully was quietly thankful. After a long spell of quiet during which Scully had sunk more heavily against Daniel's chest, Daniel whispered, "You're tired. You need to rest." Scully murmured a quiet response, reluctant to break the spell. "I'll take you home." "Come home with me?" Scully said on pure instinct. "Just to sleep." "You never have to make that a question, Dana." She nodded. "Just give me a minute to get some things together," Daniel said as Scully pushed back the blanket. "Bring Tasha," she said, and at the sound of her name, the dog looked up and smiled. ***** (End Chapter 11b. Continued in Chapter 12a...) Feed me. bstrbabs@earthlink.net http://rowan_d.tripod.com/elizabethr.html