Looking back on it now, I could kick myself for not acting differently.

Looking ahead, I'm glad I didn't.

*****
The computer geek's wet dream that was my partner watched me from the
doorway, her blue eyes slicing through me with a familiar and exquisite
serrated edge. With increasing uneasiness I realized the look she was
bestowing on me screamed The Doctor Is In. I squirmed in my seat.
"What, Scully?"

She took a few steps closer and cocked her head at me like a frigging
spaniel. Down, girl. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine," I said curtly. I had been fighting a losing battle with an irritating
cold for the past couple of weeks and Scully seemed to be convinced that
any minute I would plunge over the edge into pneumonia. She had been
plying me with Vitamin C tablets and Thera-flu until I'd considered fleeing the
country just to escape her ministrations. Thankfully, she'd been easing
up on me lately, partly because I was getting better and partly because she
was beginning to realize that she was driving me nuts.

"If you say so," she said skeptically.

I flashed her what I hoped was an endearing grin, trying to melt the icy
blue daggers she was shooting at me. She gave me a fleeting smile in
return and glanced away quickly, obviously embarrassed by the slight flush
coloring her cheeks. I decided to take pity on her. "Did you pick up that report
from the lab?" I asked, giving her an excuse to change the subject away from my
questionable health.

Relief flooded her face as she approached my desk, her high heels clicking
loudly on the linoleum, and handed me the manila folder she had tucked under
her arm. "It's just like we thought," she said. "Both bullets in the victim's chest
cavity were fired from the Magnum we retrieved at the scene. We're just
waiting to get the fingerprint analysis on the partial that was picked up from
the trigger. And since our primary suspect already has a record, well...it looks
pretty open-and-shut."

I perused the contents of the folder and nodded, keeping to myself the comment
that a lot of our cases started out looking open-and-shut, but... "And if the partial
doesn't match up with Salzgeber?"

She shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge *if* we come to it." She paused,
let out a tired sigh before continuing. "To be honest, Mulder, I'm not very
focused on this case, not like I should be. I'm afraid I have other things on
my mind at the moment." She sat down on the corner of my desk and crossed
her legs. God. If she had any idea how turned on I got when she did that,
there'd be hell to pay. I tore my eyes away from the sight of her pantyhose
with difficulty and concentrated on her face instead. She was chewing her
lower lip, a sure sign that she was worried or nervous about something. And it
was definitely unlike her to be so cavalier about a case.

"What is it, Scully?"

"Hmm? Oh. I, ah, just found out my college roommate is coming to visit
next week."

Interesting. "One of the countless skeletons in your closet, Scully?" I teased.

"You don't know the half of it," she said quietly. "I...forget it, Mulder. I'm
going to go nudge Prints about that report."

*Very* interesting. She was gone before I could open my mouth to respond,
leaving me with only the faintest whiff of her perfume for company.

I propped my feet up on the desk and chewed on my pen as I leisurely scanned
my brain for any past mention of a college roommate, trying to zero in on a
reason for Scully's anxiety. She rarely, if ever, mentioned those days, and I'd
always assumed she had her reasons. I certainly couldn't picture anything too
out of the ordinary, though, knowing Scully as I did. Perhaps this mysterious
roommate could provide new insight into my earthbound partner? I smiled in
delicious anticipation. Extreme possibilities indeed.

****
"So, do I get to meet this woman?"

Scully's head snapped up from the computer monitor with such force I was
surprised she didn't incur whiplash. "What are you talking about?" she asked,
unconvincingly innocent.

"Your old roommate. I do get to meet her, don't I? Unless you don't want
me to, I mean I'd understand..." The thought hadn't really occurred to me
until that moment. Maybe she *wouldn't* want anyone from her outside
life to meet me. I certainly hadn't met many of her friends, or family, outside
of her mom and sister. Was that intentional on her part? Embarrassment to the
FBI, embarrassment to my partner...there was a reason I was in the basement,
after all. Maybe she wouldn't want to inflict me unnecessarily on someone
she cared about. The thought tore a hole right through me. Jesus. *This is
my partner Spooky...*

"I guess so."

"Huh?"

"I said, I guess you can meet her. Just try to be nice, okay? I know it's an
effort for you," she said dryly.

Relief and a slight sense of giddiness washed over me. "Scout's honor."

The corners of her mouth quirked upward, and my insides became suffused
with the familiar warmth that was exclusive to the effect of her smile.
"Mulder, I just had a truly horrifying vision of you dressed up in a Boy Scout
uniform."

I shot her a look of mock disgust. "Scully, try to refrain from sharing your
kinky fantasies with me. You're offending my delicate sensibilities."

I *almost* managed to duck the wad of paper she threw at me.

****
When the big night finally arrived, I got to the restaurant first (strange, since
Scully was obsessively punctual), and staked out a plush velvet booth for
the three of us, feeling oddly nervous. I wanted this woman to like me, I
realized, even though I hated myself for acknowledging it. I had never even met
her and in some bizarre way I wanted her approval, didn't want her to think
that Scully was wasting her life by working with me. Hell, it was bad
enough that I already felt that way.

I was idly testing my capacity for pain by holding my palm over the
miniature candle in the middle of the table when I finally caught sight of Scully
entering the restaurant. I flagged her down, and as she made her way
over to the table, I drank in the sight of her. She looked incredible. She was
wearing an ice-blue silk shirt with black linen pants and black sandals,
and her windblown hair delicately framed her face with stray wisps and
strands. It constantly amazed me how she seemed to have no concept of
how attractive she was. She wore her beauty carelessly, with virtually no
awareness of her effect on the male gender. It was one hell of a turn-on...
Christ, what the fuck is your problem, idiot? Snap out of it.

"Mulder," Scully was saying, oblivious as always to my response to her
presence, "this is Cecilia Baudino, the reason we're late."

I hadn't even noticed the woman who accompanied her, so preoccupied was I by
the sight of Scully, but as I turned my gaze upward I couldn't imagine how I'd
missed her. Wow. The woman was a good 5'9", with curly brown hair that grazed
her shoulder blades and dark eyes. A long, thin nose led down to a pair of full,
wine-colored lips, and her body...damn. She wore a clingy, black tank dress
that emphasized every facet of her statuesque figure. Thin, but curvy, with a
great pair of...shit. I looked up to see Scully giving me a Look. When had I
started feeling guilty whenever I looked at another woman? "Hi," I gulped.

"Just call me Cece, everybody does," she said brightly, reaching out to shake
my hand. Her voice was a warm, rich alto with a slight Southern lilt. I looked
down at our clasped hands and noticed that her nails were perfectly manicured,
painted a deep burgundy. "And I am *not* the reason we're late. American
Airlines is the reason we're late."

"Cece, the fact that you wouldn't stop talking to that quarterback of a flight
attendant at American Airlines is the reason we're late," Scully put in tiredly.

Cece shrugged. "What can I say? He was 'something special in the air.'"

Scully looked at me as if to say, Do you *see* what I'm dealing with, here?, but
I was unfortunately too distracted by the fact that Cecilia's ample breasts were
an inch away from my face to offer much in the way of a reply.

As if acting on some unspoken signal, they both slid into the seat across from
me. Great. Two of them to tantalize me. I hoped I wouldn't have to stand up any
time soon; it would prove more than a little embarrassing.

"So I can't believe I'm finally meeting the illustrious Fox Mulder," Cecilia said,
her liquid brown eyes looking me up and down and glinting with something I
couldn't quite identify.

I glanced at Scully before returning Cecilia's stare. "And what exactly do
you mean by that?"

"Cece..." Scully said, and I could hear the hint of warning in her voice.

Cece either didn't pick up on the nuance or chose to ignore it. "Well, it's just that
you're all Dana talks about --"

"Cece!" Scully said sharply, and I was glad that for once that that particular tone
of voice wasn't directed at *me*.

"I'm sorry, Dana. I didn't mean to embarrass you." Scully's eyes darkened as she
made a show of studying the menu. "Don't get too excited, Mulder," Cece
said throatily, leaning across the table toward me, her voice strangely intimate
all of a sudden. "It wasn't all good."

I feel like a piece of meat, I realized uneasily. This woman is looking at me
like a piece of meat...and I think I like it. Dangerous territory, Spook.

"You're dead, Cece," Scully said quietly, her eyes never leaving the
clothbound menu. There was an underlying danger to her statement that I
couldn't help but find amusing. I got the feeling the two of them had been
through this sort of routine many times before. Someone who enjoyed riling
Scully as much as I did? Wonders never ceased.

"Scully? What exactly did you tell her?" I asked teasingly.

She refused to look at me, and it took all of my will power not to laugh out loud.
"Just what an asshole you are, Mulder," she said calmly.

Cecilia did laugh. "Among other things. You know, you're right, Dana.
He *is* cute."

Scully's cheeks were now *flaming*. I couldn't believe it. "I'm going to pretend
you didn't say that, Cece," she said, then looking at me, "and you will too,
Mulder, if you know what's good for you."

God, my mind was racing with some truly disgusting fantasies involving all three of
us and a giant tub of Crisco. It didn't get much better than this.

"So, Cece," I asked, deciding to be nice and take the heat off of my obviously
uncomfortable partner, "what is it that you do?" Out of the corner of my eye
I noticed Scully's shoulders untense ever so slightly.

"For a living? I'm a jewelry designer," she said, pushing a recalcitrant brown
curl out of her eyes. "Of course, I didn't realize that was what I really wanted
to do until more than halfway through college. When Dana and I were roommates
I was a psych major. It took a couple of years before I realized that psych is just a
load of shit."

Her statement hit me like a slap in the face. "Excuse me?"

"She knows you're a psychologist, Mulder," said Scully's voice, muffled by the
menu. "She's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"That's not *quite* the kind of rise I was going for, but it'll do," Cece said, lips
turning up in a sensuous smile as her eyes trapped mine. I felt like a piece of sirloin
once again. Dinner, anyone?

"Well, I'm glad I could accommodate you," I said, enjoying this little game
way too much for my own good.

"Can we order?" Scully asked abruptly. She craned her head around. "What do
you have to do to get service around here?"

Cece caught my eye again, and goddamn if I didn't get hard when we shared a
commiserating smile. Shit. "I'm ready," I said, covering. I hoped.

"Me too," Cece said coolly.

Suddenly eating food was the last thing on my mind.

****
For the rest of that week Scully didn't even mention Cecilia. I was actually starting
to wonder if the entire evening had merely been a product of my over-active and
sexually frustrated imagination, especially since Cece had been playing a featured
role in my sexual fantasies all week. Fortunately that notion was put to rest on Friday
afternoon, when Cece appeared at the entrance to the basement office.

"Who's up for sushi?" she asked brightly, waving a white paper bag at us.

"What's the matter, Cece?" I asked dryly. "You like your food still breathing?"

She ignored my comment and breezed into the room, sitting down in the chair
in front of my desk and crossing her legs. She was wearing a really, really short
black leather skirt. Christ, her legs went on forever, it was like looking at some
sort of fucking mutant --

"I'd love some sushi, Cece," Scully said, her voice as effective as a bucket of
cold water. I looked up to see her lips pursed and her brow furrowed, as if
it were taking a herculean effort for her to resist saying whatever it was she
obviously wanted to say. Probably something along the lines of, Mulder, take
your eyes off my friend's legs before I have to hurt you. (Then again, that idea
was not entirely unappealing.)

"Good, because I bought plenty," Cece replied, and began unpacking the bag.
Sushi, shashimi, sunomono, chirashi....the woman had cleaned out the place.
Scully pulled over another chair and we set to it, turning my desk into a
makeshift Japanese restaurant.

"You know," Cece said around a mouthful of raw fish, "you should've seen
the look on the guy's face at the front desk when I asked him the way to
your office. 'The basement,' he said, like he was giving me directions to the
dump or something. I told him that at least the two of you weren't little more
than a glorified receptionist. Desk jockey."

Scully glanced at me, and I returned the look with a resigned shrug. We'd have
a hell of a time getting into the building for the next few days.

"Anyway," Cece continued, and it amazed me that she was able to talk
incessantly and put away a startling amount of food all at the same time, "I
think this place is wonderful. A lot of character." She looked around the office,
taking in the pictures of UFOs, bigfoot sightings, and assorted bizarre shit, then
smiled. "I mean, this is great. This is better than the Voodoo Museum on Bourbon
Street."

"Cece," Scully said, and I recognized the all-too-familiar warning tone in her
voice. "This," she said, gesturing to the wall decorations, "is Mulder's..."
She trailed off, and I looked at her challengingly, curious as to what she would
have the nerve to say. She returned the look and gulped. "...work," she finished
weakly.

I smiled in satisfaction, running mentally through a list of what she *could*
have said. Folly, insanity, nonsense, White Whale...

Cece looked at Scully as if attempting to be patient with a six-year old. "I know
that, Dana," she said slowly, enunciating each syllable. "I think it is in-ter-est-ing."

Scully snorted (snorted!) and gave Cece the finger. Cece grinned, evidently having
achieved her desired effect.

"You know," Cece said, eyeing me, "when I was ten years old, I saw a ghost."

My gaze slid over to Scully, who'd obviously heard this story before and didn't
believe a word of it. "Really?"

Cecilia nodded vigorously. "It was at my great-aunt's house in the Garden
District. There was a big party going on in the backyard...I think it was someone's
anniversary, I can't remember. Anyway, I'd gotten bored, and wandered into
that creepy old house Aunt Sophie had -- until my parents made her sell it,
but that's another story for another time -- and I went up to the second floor,
until I was standing at the foot of the stairs that led up to the attic. I put my
foot on the first step, then looked up -- and I swear I saw this faint, colorless...
apparition, I guess you'd call it, of a little boy, just standing there silently at the
top of the stairs. But as soon as I blinked, he was gone.

"Well, I've always been too fearless for my own good, at least that's what everyone's always told me, so I rushed up the stairs, and as I climbed I felt a cold blast of air rush through me, like that cold feeling when you're in the frozen food section at the supermarket. But when I reached the top, there was nothing there. I searched every inch of that attic -- but I was alone." Finished, she leaned back in her chair and raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for my reaction.

I tried not to smile at her, I really did, but she was just so damn enthusiastic.
"Nice story."

"Oh, you're not going to pull a Dana on me, are you?" she asked, frustrated.
"Why would I make something like that up?"

"I didn't imply that you did," I replied.

"You didn't have to."

"Look," I said, leaning over my desk in an attempt to convey my sincerity,
"I absolutely believe that you think you saw a ghost when you were ten years
old."

"Fine," she said grudgingly. "That's good enough, I guess."

Scully had been noticeably quiet during our conversation; now, I turned
to her. "What's your take on her story, Scully?"

Scully finished chewing her maki roll before replying. "I think Cece has an
over-active imagination and always has."

Cece put a palm up in the air, halting further discussion. "Don't even listen
to her, Mulder. She made up her mind about this one a long time ago."

"I'm not surprised," I murmured.

Scully sighed. "Cece, it's just that I know your tendency to...make things
sound more colorful than they really are."

Cece looked down her aquiline nose at my partner. "I'm glad *some* people
are a little more open-minded than you are, Dana."

"Well, there's a difference between open-minded and gullible," Scully
mumbled.

My eyes widened at that crack. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing." Scully looked straight back at me, and I knew she wouldn't
admit to anything no matter how hard I tried. Dammit. I had a feeling
Scully would have been able to withstand torture during the Inquisition, if
only through unfathomable hard-headedness.

"I heard you," I grumbled. The corners of her mouth twitched, and I knew
she was trying desperately not to smile. I could feel Mr. Bilbo hoping to start
something, and I tried to force him down through sheer force of will. It was
just that Scully managed to turn me on in the most bizarre ways...especially when I knew she wasn't in any way *trying* to turn me on. Jesus, that's when it was the worst, when she was totally oblivious to the fact that I wanted to throw her down on the desk and start pumping away like a jackhammer tearing up Pennsylvania Avenue...

I snapped out of my reverie when a palm waved in front of my face. "Hello,
Mister..." Cece sang. "I'm leaving, say goodbye to the nice lady..."

I tried out my most engaging grin, but she didn't bat an eye. "Goodbye,
nice lady."

She smiled slowly, like a cat about to pounce. "Much better. Goodbye,
Mr. Mulder."

"I'll walk you out," Scully said, and the two of them stood and exited the office
at the same time.

Christ. I didn't even know which ass to look at.

***
When my office phone rang the next day Cece's voice was the last one I
expected to hear. "What can I do for you?" I asked, not entirely sure I wanted
an answer to the question.

She exhaled loudly into my ear. "Tonight is Friday night."

"Yeeeesss...I'm suitably impressed by your knack for stating the obvious," I
said dryly.

Another frustrated sigh. "Well, Dana has to babysit Trent tonight, and I
want to go out and have some fun."

"I'm not surprised. What do I have to do with it?"

"You're going to take me out."

"I am?" My eyes darted over to Scully, who was sitting on the other end
of the office, typing something on the computer and studiously pretending that
she couldn't hear me.

"Yes, you are. Someone has to show me around this pathetic excuse for a
Southern city."

I inserted a Bic into my mouth and began chewing vigorously. "What makes
you think I know where the 'hot spots' are?" Damn. I knew a few dives, a couple
of topless bars...that was about the extent of my wild nightlife.

"Don't worry about it. I found out about a few places from my sources. I just
need an escort."

"Oh really?" Who exactly was showing around whom, here?

"Pick me up at Dana's at nine, okay?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"What do you think?" she asked, that husky voice curling itself around my
eardrum.

God. "I'll see you at nine," I said, managing to keep my voice even. I hung
up the phone and stared at it for a while. Now what?

"So you're taking Cece out tonight?" Scully's voice was carefully neutral.
A little too neutral.

"I don't know. It's more like *she's* taking *me* out," I replied.

She nodded knowingly. "That's probably more like it." This time her tone
carried something I wasn't sure I liked. She sounded...pissed.

"You don't mind, do you, Scully?"

"Why should I?" She had slipped back into that neutrality again. Damn, I
hated it when she was so impossible to read.

"I mean, it's not like we're gonna do anything, or --" I broke off. Why was I
justifying myself to her? I was allowed to see anybody I wanted. Wasn't I?
Hell, why should she care, anyway?

"Mulder..." Scully paused, took her glasses off, and rubbed the bridge of her
nose. Mr. Bilbo predictably noticed and stood up a little straighter. Down, boy.
"...I know what Cece is doing. I've seen it before. She doesn't do it to
hurt me -- I think half the time she isn't even aware of it."

What the hell was she talking about? "Scully, there's nothing going on, here."

She shook her head as if gently reprimanding herself. "Why should it matter
if there were?" she asked quietly. "You're my partner. I don't have any
claim on you."

I almost laughed in her face. If she only knew. If she only knew my heart
might as well be permanently engraved *Property of Dana Katherine Scully,
MD.* "Scully, I wouldn't want to do anything that would make you
uncomfortable."

"Mulder, you're an adult. You're free to do whatever you want. And if you
choose to do something with Cece...that's fine. That's great. Just make sure
she's had an HIV test recently. I worry about her."

Jesus, I was *so* uncomfortable discussing this with her. I wanted the floor
to swallow me up so I wouldn't have to continue our conversation. "Look, I
need to go scare up some old files in the archives. Can we just drop this for now?"

"Fine," she said, in that tone of voice that clearly said, It is not fine and if I had
the time I would show you exactly how NOT fine it is. But I let myself believe
her for the moment, because I was a coward.

Hell, I still am, when it comes to Scully.

***
I had never realized that music could be played so loudly.

I took another swig from my bottle of Sam Adams and wondered just how
much longer Cece was going to take in the bathroom. The multi-colored strobe
lights hurt my eyes, and each reverberation of the bass line pounded into my
skull with maddening regularity. As for the music...there wasn't even any
melody to speak of, just that damn bass, with a strained, breathy voice
providing the questionable lyrics.

God, I felt old.

I finally spotted Cece making her way toward me, expertly weaving her way
through the throng of thrashing bodies. My groin tightened at the sight of her, as it had been doing off and on since I'd picked her up two hours earlier. She wore an electric blue sheer top that ended just above her navel, with her black bra visible underneath; black pants slung low on her hips, flared slightly at the
bottom; and a pair of black platform sandals that turned her into a veritable
Amazon. I had been in a frustrating state of low-level arousal all evening.

"Miss me?" she asked -- or to put it more accurately, yelled -- over the music,
when she reached me.

"Tons," I said, noting how strange it was to be almost at eye-level with a
woman when I spoke to her.

"Good." She tugged on my arm. "Let's dance."

A harsh laugh escaped before I could stop it. "Sorry, Cece. Dancing is...
one of my lesser talents."

She rolled her eyes. "Mulder, no one will be looking at you. Except for me,
of course."

She stepped closer to me, her body just touching mine, and it took every
shred of will power to not reach out and grab her, feel her -- "You're wasting
your time, Cece. I don't dance. Period."

"I see. I guess I overestimated you." She shot me an enigmatic look, then
disappeared into the crowd. What the fuck was she doing? If she was abandoning me, then I'd just get the hell out of there, go home, and jerk off until I passed out. In fact, the idea was becoming more appealing by the minute.

Just when I was about to give up and call it a night, she resurfaced in the crowd,
leading a beefy blond meathead by the hand. They stopped about ten feet away
from me and began to dance, Cece pressing her body along the length of the
meathead's and gyrating with him in time to the pounding bass line.

Christ. What did she think this was, *Basic Instinct*? I *seen* this movie,
Sarge...

Unfortunately, if that was indeed the effect she was going for, it was working.
She moved with a feline grace, her hips undulating, her arms reaching up to
twine around the beefy guy's neck. His meaty hands were all over her, caressing
her hips, her ass, then oh-so-subtly brushing against her breasts. To her credit
she didn't even look at me, didn't feel the need to taunt, to be obvious about it.
I knew what she was doing, and she knew that I knew. It was as if we *were*
dancing in a sense, a dance of bizarre seduction that was barreling its way
toward an increasingly inevitable resolution.

I drank desperately from my beer bottle, hoping the brew would slake the
dryness in my mouth. I had to get out of there, before things went too far.
Wasn't sure why I was afraid of things going too far. Didn't want to
examine those reasons why.

Too late. Her mission accomplished, Cece sent her dance partner on his
way, somehow managing to dismiss him without his feeling rejected, leaving
him with a smile still planted on his face. And then she was on her way
toward me. The idea of turning tail and running as fast as I could flashed
through my mind but didn't linger.

"Are we going to put an end to this little dance we've been doing?" she asked,
eyes smoking.

My hand tightened around the beer bottle, threatening to break it between
my fingers, glass shards embedding in my flesh with pleasurable pain.

****
I still don't remember the ride to my apartment, twisting my way through
the traffic as I must have done, as a man possessed, bereft of coherent
thought.

The next thing I consciously knew we were in my living room, on the floor,
and I was kissing her, bruisingly hard, drinking in those impossibly soft lips
as she responded hungrily, reaching for the buttons of my shirt, clawing at
them until they were undone, pushing the shirt off of me. Her breath was hot,
her body long and slender and fragrant and beckoning. I reached to pull up the
sheer shirt, when she finally spoke, the first words either of us had spoken since
entering the apartment.

"Rip it."

Unquestioningly I grasped the neckline of the shirt and pulled, ripping it down
the front easily with a satisfying tearing sound. She arched up against me and
let out a cry of excitement, then fell back onto the floor as I quickly removed her
bra, then took one of her round, pink nipples into my mouth, sucking urgently,
kneading her full breasts as she writhed beneath me.

"Yes..." she hissed, her fingers tangling in my hair and pulling hard. I responded
by biting one of those hardened peaks and was rewarded with a sharp moan of
pleasure. "Mulder..."

I froze at the sound of my name.

Sure, I had given Scully that bullshit line oh so many months ago about no
one calling me Fox, but we both knew I was full of it. She was the only
woman who ever called me that. To hear Cece speak my last name in the
same way Scully would if it were her beneath me instead, her naked body against
mine....I sprang up off of Cece, my head spinning.

"Mulder?" She propped herself up on her elbows, confusion evident in her
voice. "What the fuck?"

"I can't do this. Cece. I can't. Please...just go."

"Excuse me?" She got up, walked over to me, completely unconscious of
her state of undress. "What's going on, Mulder? We both know what we want.
Don't you dare jerk me around."

"Cece..." I looked at her, still wanted her in a purely physical way -- I'd be crazy
not to -- but it just wasn't the same anymore. I'd be...Christ, it would be like
cheating on Scully, somehow.

Cheating myself.

"I'm sorry. I am," I said plaintively, hoping she realized that I meant it.
"But I can't do this. I thought I could, but..."

"This is about Dana, isn't it," she said, a statement, not a question.

I didn't answer.

She sighed loudly. "And Dana's become so...rigid...I guess a nice little
threesome is out of the question, now."

My eyes fell out of my head. "Excuse me?"

Cece's only response was to put her bra back on. "Have a nice life, Mulder."

"Uhh..." Threesome?

Now that I think about it, I don't even remember Cece leaving. All I know is
that she was suddenly gone.

****
Monday morning was awkward.

I holed up in the office with the door locked, hoping against hope that for some
reason Scully wouldn't darken the doorstep.

But she did, of course, Ms. Responsibility and Punctuality, and the look she shot
me when she walked through the door gave me the creeps. It was this bizarre
combination of anger, confusion, and -- although I might have been imagining
it -- satisfaction.

She knew I was itching for her to say something, had to know it, but she was all
business, just to drive me crazy. She handed me a file folder, careful not to let
her fingers touch mine. "The partial was Salzgeber's," she said quietly.

"I know."

"DCPD just picked him up, took him into custody. I think they can handle it from
here, don't you?" she asked.

I nodded. "Threesome?"

She stiffened, her entire body petrifying until she looked like one of those stone
guys from the *Clash of the Titans* movie. God, I loved that flick.

"Cece told me that she said that," she said finally. "She made it up, Mulder. She
was just trying to drive you crazy."

I raised my eyebrows, not sure whether or not to believe her. I didn't want to
believe her of course, because it was just too delicious an idea, but...Scully? A
threesome? Sadly, I knew better.

"I, uh, kind of figured that's what it was," I said, disappointment swallowing me
whole.

She nodded, a jerky movement that caused her fiery hair to bounce around her
head in a way that made me want to touch it more than anything. My hand jerked
involuntarily, reaching for those silky strands, but I resisted.

If there is a god, he'd better give me one hell of a medal when I meet him, I
reflected, considering the admirable restraint I show and the torture I put Mr. Bilbo
through.

"What happened, Mulder?" Scully asked suddenly, her voice so quiet it was barely
above a whisper. "Cece told me a little bit about what happened, but she has her
own way of looking at things."

I swallowed, not sure how to answer. "I, uh...well, I didn't..." I was hopelessly thankful
that I'm not the blushing type, or my face would have been as red as her hair.

Scully twitched. "It's okay, Mulder. I know it's none of my business. I was just...
wondering...if there was a reason...maybe...I don't know."

"It just wasn't the right time," I said quickly, knowing how lame it sounded. Her
eyes met mine, skewering me. She knew I was lying, but I couldn't give her
what she wanted. I desperately wished I had the nerve, the guts, to say
something more, but...I didn't. My mouth opened and nothing came out. I just
sat there catching flies as disappointment flickered over her face, clouding her
eyes.

"I'll see you later, Mulder," she said softly. "I have work to do."

****
I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell her. To tell her a lot of things. I doubt it.

End.

Acknowledgments: "Mr. Bilbo" is shamelessly ripped from a "Kids in the Hall" sketch. The line, "I seen this movie, Sarge!" is also shamelessly stolen, this time from the book "The End of the Circle" by Jack McKinney.