"Umbra" 7/?
			       By Dawson E. Rambo

Disclaimer : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any other
tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris Carter remain his
copyrighted property, the property of 1013 Productions, and the property
of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. The author believes
that the use of copyrighted characters in the forum known as "Fan
Fiction" is protected under the "Fair Use" statutes of US Copyright law.
No infringement of any copyright is intended.

Characters created by the author remain his property.

Original Post  :  May 6, 1997
Archive Entry  :  Book I, Chapter 7
Classification :  Action Adventure, Scully/Other, Scully/Mulder,
		  Mythology
Rating	       :  R (Adult Themes, Violence, Adult Language)
Enjoy!

See the end for definitions of words that I use herein.
======================================================================

"In these days and these hours of fury
When the darkness and answers are thin
Lovers come and check out in a hurry
Shallow and hollow again
Come lay your body beside me
To dream to sleep with the lamb
To the question your eyes seem to send
Am I your passion your promise your end?

Barring divine intervention
There is nothing between you and I
And if I carelessly forgot to mention
Your body your power can sanctify
Come feed your hunger your thirst
Lay it down the beast will die
You can question my heart once again

I will stand firm in the tempest
I will ride destiny's trail
To believe when the truth comes up empty
To hold and respect without fail
Come and be one in the motion
A desire they cannot comprehend
Never to question again
For I am your passion your promise
your end"
	== "Yes I Am"
	   Melissa Etheridge

"The heart knows what the heart wants,
and the mind knows nothing of the heart."
	- Anonymous

=====================================================================

Apartment of Dana Scully
2310 Hours

	Mulder parked his Bureau-issue Taurus at curb in front of Scully's
apartment and twisted the ignition key to OFF. He glanced up through the
windshield and saw that there was only the one light on as far as he
could tell.
	Mulder tried to quell the feeling of disquiet rumbling in his
stomach. He had tried to figure the reason why Scully had invited him
over to her apartment (itself a rare occurrence,) the entire way over.
They lived about half an hour apart, but he had made the trip in less
than twenty minutes, complete with a stop at Dunkin' Doughnuts for some
of their extra-high-octane coffee. The coffee that kept the DC police
awake during the night shifts, the coffee that had been consumed are
more crime scenes than any other. He had two Styrofoam containers with
him, just in case Scully needed a jolt.
	Mulder locked the car and then made his way upstairs. He was
trying to figure out how to unlock Scully's door without putting either
of the coffee cups down, because he knew that if he did, he would end up
knocking one of them over with his foot. It was as inevitable as the
tides; it wasn't a matter of if it would happen, but how deeply the
stain would affect the hallway carpet. He was still struggling with the
idea of balancing one cup on top of another while digging in his jacket
pocket for the keys when the door opened wide, revealing a wide-awake
Dana Scully.
	"Mulder," she said softly. "Thanks for coming."
	He just nodded and entered the apartment, handing her a cup as he
passed. "Coffee," he explained.
	"Thanks," Scully smiled, "But I drink tea."
	Embarrassed, Mulder shrugged. "Sorry."
	"No, Mulder, it's OK. I appreciate the gesture." Closing and
locking the door, Scully pointed at the couch with the back of her hand.
"Have a seat, Mulder. I'm going to go put this in a real mug." Scully
moved into the kitchen, and Mulder took the opportunity to seat himself
on her couch, moving to the far end and settling down.
	Scully, in the kitchen, opened the cabinet next to the sink and
reached for her favorite mug. It had the FBI crest on one side, and her
name ("Dana Scully, M.D.") on the other. It had been a graduation
present from Scully's mother.
	The other mug sat next to it.
	Purchased when Mulder was...in New Mexico, Scully had purchased it
specifically because it reminded her of Mulder. It was a simple black
enameled mug with a drawing of Marvin the Martian. Scully realized with
a start that she hadn't used that mug in almost a year, and that she had
never told Mulder she'd gotten it.
	No time like the present, she thought. Pouring her coffee into her
mug, she grabbed "Mulder's" mug and returned to the living room, holding
it out for him to take.
	Mulder's eyes were on his partner, concern etching his face. He
didn't notice the mug's illustration until he had transferred his coffee
into it and was raising it to his lips to take the first sip. He pulled
it back slightly, his gaze narrowing on the image, and then he smiled.
	"Scully, this is really cool!"
	Smiling, she sat at the other end of the couch, tucking her feet
underneath her. "I'm glad you like it, Mulder. I kind of got it for
you."
	Mulder laughed. "Oh yeah, considering all the time I spend here."
	Scully's smile was her only answer. "I guess I could ask you why
we don't spend more time together away from work, but we already know
the answer to that question, don't we?"
	Mulder nodded. "Yes. We do."
	There was a long silence, and finally Mulder broke it. "Scully...
not that I don't enjoy every moment we spend together, and not that this
isn't nice and all...but why did you call me?"
	Scully was in the middle of sipping her coffee, and she took the
opportunity to gather her thoughts before speaking. "It's this case,
Mulder. I found out some things today that I think we should discuss.
And since you hate using the telephones for anything sensitive, and the
fact that Matt might show up at the office early tomorrow morning, I
wanted to do this here."
	Matt? Mulder thought, but wisely chose to say nothing.
	"There's more going on here than we've been told, Mulder. As you
know, Matt and I went to NRO today to meet with Major Haynes." Scully
paused, again trying to find the words. "Mulder, she was gorgeous.
Supermodel beautiful, I kid you not. And that's what got me thinking. I
don't care what Matt told me, it doesn't seem likely that they would
have sent a woman into combat that looks like her. No matter what the
mission."
	Mulder interrupted. "What was her cover?"
	If Scully was surprised that Mulder knew Heather had gone in
covered, she didn't show it. "Journalist," she said. "Complete with all
the background paperwork and props to back the story up, or so Matt
said."
	"You keep calling him `Matt'," Mulder pointed out.
	Scully arched an eyebrow in his direction. "That's the man's name,
Mulder."
	"What happened to `Commander Stone'?"
	Scully used the pretense of taking another sip to buy time to
compose her answer. "Matt and I..." She stopped, then began again. "He
and I..."
	"Are becoming close," Mulder finished. Scully couldn't meet his
gaze. She just nodded. Mulder looked away. He couldn't look at her. The
slowly creeping dread that had been building since yesterday was now a
full-blown bummer. He had tried so hard not to think about it, to resist
the temptation to obsess over it. The images came to his mind unbidden,
little mind-movies of Scully and Stone walking down the beach arm in
arm, laughing as the slowly creeping tide tickled their bare feet. It
was a clich‚, something about of a cheap romance novel, but that image,
among others, would not go away. He had a sudden mental snapshot of
Scully in Stone's arms, moving towards him, her lips seeking his, her
eyes drooping heavy with passion, her tongue coming out, snakelike, to
moisten her lips, and then-
	"Mulder?" Scully's voice snapped Mulder out of his reverie, and he
turned his attention back to the matter at hand.
	"I'm sorry, Scully. I just...need a minute." Scully said nothing.
Standing, she went back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and
located the milk carton. Returning to the living room she added a dollop
to her coffee and then offered the carton to Mulder, who shook his head.
His mind was a thousand miles away. The images of Scully and Stone had,
thankfully, left his mind for the moment. Instead, he was battling with
a new set of emotions, a brand-spanking-new feeling that was surprising,
both by its presence, and its intensity.
	He was struggling to qualify it, to put a name to it. The first
description that came to mind was obvious: Jealousy. But not the kind
that Scully would expect, not the kind that most people, if they knew
the situation, would expect. He wasn't jealous of Stone because he had
Scully's affections. They were partners, friends. He wouldn't be human
if he claimed that he'd never thought of...that with Scully. She was a
gorgeous, intelligent, interesting...captivating woman. A woman who had
more than once put her own life on the line for him, a woman who'd had
to endure more pain and suffering than anyone had a right to expect.
Melissa Scully was dead and gone because of him, because of his crusade.
He knew that he loved her...but he was not in love with her.
	Was he?
	He searched his soul, looking deep. He found his affection for her
there. He sighed deeply, and caught a whiff of her scent in the
apartment, an intoxicating sand-spice-perfume scent that was pure
Scully, a scent he had come to treasure over the years. A door inside
his mind unlocked, and he went through it, going down the mental stairs
to the next level.
	Well, why not? Why not Scully? Just because they were partners?
The FBI was filled with couples that had started off as partners. The
bosses frowned on it, but they realized that it was bound to happen.
There was no regulation against marrying your partner, oddly enough,
just one against sleeping with them. In the insane world of internal
office politics, Mulder held the opinion that the FBI brass would almost
rather have two male partners sleeping together than a man and a woman.
	So, why not Scully? Well, Mulder reasoned, for one thing, they'd
be split up, separated, scattered to the four winds. Scully would be
returned to Quantico, or perhaps a field office. Mulder had too much
clout these days to be taken off the X-Files, but something would have
to be done.
	And then, of course, there was the deeper reason. The little voice
came out of his hiding place. It wasn't the normal little voice, the
invisible demon that spoke to Mulder when he was at his spookiest. It
was the evil twin of that voice, the little troll that only spoke in the
wolf hours of the night, when the only thing to talk to, the only thing
to curl up with was a cold, impersonal pillow. The voice of self-doubt
and guilt that had plagued Mulder all his life.
	She won't want you.
	She doesn't feel the same way.
	She'll laugh at you if you ask.
	Mulder was amazed to discover that a very small part of him was,
in fact, in love with Scully. He'd buried it so deeply and so completely
that only the specter of Matt Stone taking Scully's heart brought it to
the surface. And that explained the ache in his gut and the heaviness in
his chest.
	And on the heels of that, another thought. Anything he did that
was even sensed by Scully as being an attempt to break her and Matt up,
any even oblique attempt to discourage the normal developmental cycle of
the relationship would damage his relationship with her. Possibly beyond
repair.
	Mulder felt his gut clench as he realized he was going to have to
ride it out. And then, a savior. The evil twin's better half spoke up,
emerging from the same mental closet, bringing words of joy, of
happiness, of salvation.
	Even if she slept with him, even if Scully and Stone had a torrid
affair that lasted the rest of the case, when the case was over, Stone
would go away. He might be reassigned, me might have a mission somewhere
else. There was no way he was going to become a permanent part of
Scully's life. She was entitled to a fling, to a casual thing between
her and another consenting adult. God knew he hadn't been an angel for
the last four years. His thoughts hadn't been pure. Who was he to point
the finger?
	"Ok, Scully, what about Heather's cover story bothers you?"
	She shifted on the couch, glad to be back on the main topic. "It's
not that her story bothers me, specifically." She held up a hand. "Wait.
Let me back up. When I was at NRO, she asked Matt to leave the room for
a minute, and then she let something slip. She told me that she took
people's minds apart for a living. She knew psychology better than the
kind they taught at Oxford."
	Mulder considered that, and the implications behind it. "She knew
about me."
	"She knew Matt and I were coming. Someone on the inside was giving
her information."
	Mulder nodded, mulling it over. "Ok, but that seems like just
normal business in the intelligence circle. Remember, Scully, you and I
are not exactly unknown in those circles."
	Scully nodded, not wanting to take the next step. "There's one
more thing."
	"I'm listening."
	"She and Matt had a relationship. Before, I mean."
	Mulder wiggled his jaw as he thought about it, an old nervous
habit from school. Was the fact that their co-investigator had a history
with the now-dead Major Haynes bothering Scully professionally?
	Or personally?
	How to approach that subject? Mulder thought.
	Easy, his mind answered. Give her the benefit of the doubt.
	"I assume you confronted Stone about it."
	Now it was Scully's turn to shift on the couch uncomfortably.
"Sort of. He admitted that he had a history with her, that they'd been
lovers in the past. He maintains that it has no bearing on the case, and
I believe him."
	Mulder desperately wanted to ask if she had any evidence to back
that up, but remembered that she had gone along on his hunches more than
once.
	More than twice, Mulder.
	But then there was the pieces of paper in Mulder's pocket. Four of
them, neatly folded into quarters, shoved in his left rear pocket. Which
was more important? His friendship with her, or Scully's safety?
	No choice.
	Mulder scooted over closer, using his arms to lift himself off the
cushions enough to move. Scully's eyes got very wide as she watched him
move, but she said nothing.
	He reached out, taking the cup from her hand and placing it on the
coffee table. Then he took her hands.
	"Scully," he started. "I don't know how to tell you all this..."
	"Mulder...what is it?"
	"It's about Matt. Some things I found." He felt her fingers
tighten on his, and then her arms were trying to pull away. Her eyebrows
were knitted together, her mouth turned down in the beginning of the
famous Scully frown.
	"No...listen to me. Listen to what I have to say. If, after
listening, you don't want me to tell you what I know, I'll respect your
wishes."
	Scully's fingers loosened and she nodded. "Go ahead, Mulder. But I
already know what kind of man he is."
	Mulder didn't answer. "Did you know he was a pilot, too?"
	"Naval Aviator," Scully automatically corrected, and then paused.
"No. No, I didn't. That's strange. Why doesn't he wear his wings?"
	Mulder scooted a little closer, taking a deep breath. "Scully, I
care about you very much. About your happiness. I know that working with
me all these years hasn't been easy, and I appreciate your...dedication
to my quest. No matter what other feelings I have for you, I'm your
friend first."
	Other feelings? Scully thought.
	"I am not playing mother hen, and I don't think that you need
protection, Scully. You're a fully grown woman, and you already have one
mother. You don't want or need another. But I have learned things about
Matt that I'm almost positive you don't know, and...it's important that
you know, Scully. I think it's very important that you know what kind of
man you might be getting involved with."
	Tentatively, she asked, "What kind of things?"
	"Bad things," he said softly.
	Scully withdrew her hands and stood, walking to the fireplace.
Putting one hand on the mantle, and the other on her hip, she titled her
head up and studied the picture of her father mounted there. Captain
William Scully, USN, was in his full dress uniform, wearing his cover,
his medals on full display.
	"Go ahead, Mulder."
	Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Mulder began. "From
Annapolis, Stone left for primary flight training in Pensacola, and then
to jets in Texas. After jets, he qualified for the F-14 program. He was
assigned to VF-221."
	Scully turned, her face going white. "The blackjacks?"
	"Yeah, Scully. I was going to point that out. But there's more."
	She bit her lip and nodded, both hands on her hips. "He made his
carrier qualifications, and flew for two cruises aboard the USS
Eisenhower. Then...he was selected for something else. A mission. A
classified mission into Libya."
	Scully could see it coming, but she wasn't there quite yet.
"1982?" she asked.
	"Yes!" Mulder said. "He told you?"
	"No. I'm piecing this together bit by bit, Mulder. Tell me the
rest."
	"1982...Libya. Whatever mission it was, it involved both air and
ground forces. He was the commander of the air support forces, and he
got shot down. The ground force ran into some resistance. They
encountered about 300 troops. At one point, there were only sixty of
the...other guys alive. They contacted the action officer for the
mission, who was aboard the Nimitz in the Straits of Hormuz. They were
ordered to execute the survivors, Scully. All thirty of them." If it
were possible, the normally fair Scully whitened even more.
	"Some of the ground forces refused to carry out the order. The
after-action report states that..." Mulder halted, not willing to finish
it, not willing to inflict that kind of pain on his partner, his best
friend.
	"He killed them, didn't he? He executed all of them."
	"No," Mulder said, moving to soften the blow, although he didn't
know why. "Thirty of them."
	"Well," Scully laughed, a short barking noise. "At least he's not
a total monster!" She started pacing, running a hand through her hair.
"How, Mulder. How did he do it?"
	Mulder looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "Execution style.
Back of the head."
	Scully crossed her arms. She studied her partner. She was angry at
him, angry for digging this dirt up on the man who she-
	What?
	She-
	No, not that.
	Anything but that.
	But...yes...maybe?
	No.
	Scully shook herself, wanting the feelings inside her to go away.
She wanted nothing more than to call Matt, to beg him to defy Mulder, to
prove her best friend, her partner, wrong. She wanted that dark,
dangerous man to claim that it was all a mistake, a paperwork screwup, a
misfiled report. But she knew that he couldn't, because it fit.
	"I haven't felt like a part of the human race in 15 years," he'd
said. 1982. It all fit.
	"Oh God, Mulder," Scully said, her voice shaking. "He told me he
loved me! What am I going to do?"
	Mulder knew what he wanted to do. But he couldn't. That would be
cruel, taking advantage of her.
	He stood and joined her, taking her hands in his own again.
"Listen to me," he whispered, dragging her eyes back to his with the
urgency of his voice. "Scully...we're friends, right?" She nodded.
"Scully, we've been friends for four years, partners...best friends. But
we're not..._that_ kind of friends. I want to be here for you, to help
you through this. If we do this...if we go there...this is a new place
for us, and we can't go back. I can't go back. I won't. I know I'm not
the most sensitive person that ever lived. I can be flip and dismissive
sometimes, especially when it comes to your feelings. But...not this
time, Scully. Not about this. This is too important to you...to us. If
you let me in, there's no going back. Do you understand what I'm telling
you?"
	Scully felt the tears welling up behind her eyes, stinging and
vicious. Mulder was trying so hard. She could see the pain and hurt in
his eyes, could feel his need and hunger to be there for her, to be the
man, the person she so desperately needed. Struggling not to cry, she
just nodded her head.
	Twice.
	"Come with me," he whispered. "Come sit down on the couch."
	They moved together, bumping knees against the coffee table as
they shuffled towards the couch. Mulder sat on the end, holding his arms
open, and Scully came to him, burying her face against his chest, her
arms around his neck and shoulders.
	Mulder said nothing for the longest time. He just held her and
softly stroked her hair, letting his even breathing and calmness wash
over her.
	Scully wanted to cry, wanted to let it out so bad, wanted to
scream and yell and throw things. She wanted to punch Mulder, just to
have something to hit, something to take her aggression out on. Instead,
she just took comfort in Mulder's closeness, in his warmth.
	Mulder shifted slightly. "Scully...do you love him?"
	Silence. He let the question hang in the air.
	"Mulder, I've only known him for two-"
	"Do you love him?" Mulder asked again.
	"No," she finally said. Mulder's heart soared, and then plummeted
with her next words. "But I could. So easily."
	He wanted to ask why, what could she possibly see in him, what
could attract someone like her to such a monster, but knew better than
to ask.
	"Let's talk about the case," she whispered.
	"Sure, Scully. What do you think the card meant?"
	"The playing card? It's obvious. The killer knows Stone."
	Stone, Mulder thought, grinning. She's calling him `Stone' again.
	"But we knew that," she added. "Or at least, we assumed that."
	"Why is it important?" he prompted.
	"Mulder, I'm too tired to think-"
	"Because it's the only thing he's left at a murder scene except
for the murder weapons, complete with handy-dandy fingerprints from a
dead man. He was sending a message, Scully. A very specific message to a
very specific person. The killer knows we're onto him, Scully. He knows
Stone is on his case."
	Scully twisted in Mulder's arms, laying her head in his laps, her
forearm across her forehead, looking into her eyes. There was nowhere
for his hands to go except where they did. Gently, he put his palm on
her stomach, feeling the muscles shifting underneath.
	God, she's warm, Mulder thought.
	Warm and soft.
	"That was his plan all along, wasn't it?" Scully said.
	Mulder nodded. "That's why my take on it is. And remember, I'm a
nationally certified violent crimes profiler. My opinion counts when it
comes to this." She heard the smile in his voice and returned it for
real; it wasn't the full-wattage Scully Smile that Mulder treasured, but
considering the circumstances, it was a good effort.
	"Who? His father?"
	"I doubt it. But I do know one thing. Or at least, I suspect it.
Somehow, what happened in Iraq is tied to Stone, Heather Haynes, what
happened in Libya, and the killer. Somehow, they're all interconnected."
	Scully chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I'll agree about the
killer, Stone, Heather and Iraq. Libya is a bit of a stretch. That
happened fifteen years ago, Mulder."
	"I don't think they're directly related, Scull." She smiled at his
use of her nickname. It was so...familiar. Warm. Comfortable.
	Mulder.
	"How, then?"
	"Something happened to Stone in Libya. And that has something to
do with what happened in Iraq. That's about as far as I can take it
right now."
	"What's next, then?"
	Mulder moved again. The feel of Scully in his arms was perhaps the
most divine thing he had ever experienced, but she was heavy!
	"Well, you and Stone need to explain to Skinner how a killer got
through the tightest security that the guys at TechServ were able to
manage, kill your remaining team member, and escape, all completely
undetected. I imagine that will take a good portion of the morning."
	"Oh, God," Scully wailed. "Skinner! I forgot all about Skinner!"
Suddenly, she smiled. Reaching up a hand, she pressed her palm against
Mulder's cheek. He could feel her nails against his beard stubble. They
made a scraping noise as she massaged his face with her thumb.
	"Thank you for making me forget Skinner," she said. Scully saw
something flare behind Mulder's eyes, something hungry and animalistic,
and she dropped her hand.
	But not right away.
	"What are you going to do?" Scully asked.
	"I'm going to talk to the Gunmen about their contact. The guy that
dug all this stuff up is going to talk to me. He's going to get me
names...men assigned to the Libya mission. I'm going to talk to them.
I'm going to find out what happened in Libya. And I'm going to use that
leverage against Stone to tell us what happened in Iraq."
	"Trust no one," Scully whispered.
	"No," Mulder said, just as quietly. "Just be careful who you
trust, Scully."
	She smiled again, and then hoisted herself upright. "Go home,
Mulder."
	"No," he said.
	"What?"
	"I'm staying here tonight."
	Scully's eyebrow reached a new height. "Excuse me?"
	"I mean it," he said, patting the couch. "RIGHT here. I'm not
leaving this couch. You have two choices, Scully. You can sleep here,
tonight, with me. I'll hold you all night, and in the morning, we'll
both pretend that it never happened. And we'll succeed at it, too.
Because this isn't about being partners; this is about being friends.
Or, you can go and sleep in your bed. But I'll still be here, because I
want to be here. If you need me in the night, just come out. I'll be
awake." He laughed. "I promise."
	Scully felt the heaviness in her chest, the ache in her heart.
"You dear sweet man," she said. "What would I do without you?"
	"Perish and die. Just as I would. Now, put up or shut up, Scully."
	She giggled, and stood, moving to the lamp by the window. She
turned and faced her partner, smiling as he arranged the throw pillows
so they could lay down together. When he was ready, he nodded, and
Scully doused the light, blanketing the apartment with darkness.

***

	Below, on the street, in a parked car carefully hidden in an
alley, away from any streetlight or other ambient illumination,
Commander Matthew Stone, USN, sat. The fourteen-power Ziess binoculars
brought Scully's window into sharp focus. He'd seen Mulder enter the
apartment almost an hour ago. He'd seen them moving around the
apartment, had seen when Mulder had stood and walked to Scully's side,
taking her hands and leading her to the couch.
	And now Scully was turning, smiling over her shoulder, her hand on
the light.
	The apartment went dark.
	Stone lowered the glasses.
	Oh, he thought. So that's how it is?
	I don't think so.

======================================================================
END CHAPTER 7
"Yes I Am" Lyrics and Music by Melissa Etheridge. Copyright 1993 MLE
Music Administration by Almo Music Corporation (ASCAP). All rights
reserved. Used without permission. No infringement intended.
For the purposes of this medium, the author can be contacted at
<drambo@sonic.net>

Werdz:
Cover - Navy nomenclature for a hat.
F-14  - Navy Fighter aircraft, the plane made famous by the movie
	"Top Gun." Nicknamed "Tomcat." Manufactured by Grumman.
VF-xxx- Navy nomenclature for a Fighter Wing. VMF refers to a Marine
	Corps Fighter Wing.
USS	United States Ship