No, it can't be happening! Not the Rift again! I thought we resolved that damn plot line! You are MEAT, CC! Beef, to be exact! Well, looks like I'm just gonna have to resolve it *again*. WARNING: LOTS of third season references. Especially 'Quagmire' since it's written after they return from that little escapade. RATED PG, no angst, no romance, some anger, a couple of adult words (or adolescent words depending on your POV) Disclaimer: Tell you what, Chris, if you let Howard Ganza write the next *several* episodes, I promise I won't infringe on your copyright. I won't anyway, but, heck, I had to try, right? (Who was this 'Kim' person, anyway? Where did she come from, the Charles Grant School of Cheap Shots?) NOTE: Includes the sequel. Comments to me. I love 'em, and I almost always write back. Epistles to Fox by Vickie Moseley vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com FBI Headquarters Friday May 10, 1996 4:45 pm "Just one clue, Scully? Are you at least taking your cell phone? I swear, I won't call unless it's an absolute emergency," Fox Mulder said, standing erect with his right hand held up in the traditional Boy Scout salute. "Not on your life, Mulder," she said evenly, shaking her head. "Personnel said that if I don't take this time off, I lose it and I am _not_ about to lose a week's vacation time. We have been so bored lately that we spent last weekend searching for 'Big Blue'! Not that I minded finding that alligator in the middle of Georgia, but I did lose my dog, after all! I need a little time. I _need_ a vacation!" He nodded his head in agreement. That always infuriated her, how he managed to stand there and agree with everything she said--and then go off and do the exact opposite. "OK, Scully. I understand. And I really am sorry about Pegleg, uh, I mean Quepqueg. But I need you to promise me one thing," he said and put his hand on her shoulder. She sighed and looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and affection. "What 'one thing' would that be, Mulder?" she asked tiredly. He leaned over so that his mouth was right next to her ear. "Promise me you'll come back," he whispered. When he pulled back, she could see just how much that took for him to ask that of her. And just how important it was to him that she answer him the right way. She gave him an indulgent smile. "I'm still 15 years from retirement, Agent Mulder. I'm not going anywhere until my pension is fully vested," she joked and reached up to pat his hand lightly. "Now, I will see you in a week from Monday. And please, Mulder, no phone calls. I need to rest. I really need this time to myself, OK?" He was all wide eyed innocence as he shook his head vigorously in the affirmative. "Have a great time, Scully. I'll see you when you get back." She smiled at him and nodded, then picked up her briefcase and started out the door. Before she closed it behind her, she turned and stuck her head back into the office. "Oh, and Mulder. No Hospitals! Got it? Stay in the office, stay in your apartment, just stay OUT of the healthcare system. That is an order, understood?" He laughed silently and nodded again. Then, with a final wave, she was gone. ******** Interstate 95 North of Baltimore Saturday, May 11, 1996 10:30 am Scully set the cruise control and settled back in her seat. It would only take another hour and a half to arrive at the cabin. She was looking forward to the little place. It was in the Pennsylvanian hills, totally secluded, no phone, just electric and a Franklin stove when the nights got cold. Just a little place her dad had managed to pay for on a Lieutenant's pay so that they would always have a place to 'get away from it all'. And that is precisely what she intended to do. Get away from Washington, get away from the empty dog dish and the water bowl that haunted her, get away from the newness of her apartment that still wasn't quite as homey as the old one. But more than anything else, she needed to get away from her partner. her inner voice scolded her. It had been, a couple of months before. She had been ready to call it quits. He had finally succeeded in pushing her so far away that she was looking longingly on those teaching positions at Quantico that were always posted in the cafeteria. she let her mind shout. Still, it had a point. She had been doing as much 'pushing' as Mulder. It took her seeing him with a gun to his head, pulling the trigger without a second thought and then struggling NOT to pull that trigger when he had been forced to point it at her, to make her realize how much he really cared. And how much she couldn't walk away from him, either. But he had been so infuriating the past weekend! Chasing an alligator, of all things. The son of a bitch *ate* her *dog*! Poor Quepqueg. Just another victim of the food chain. She sighed and let the tears roll down her cheeks. And Mulder had *still* insisted that they find that--what? Monster of the briny deep? What a laugh. Of course, they did manage to save a few lives during the 36 hours from Hell. Including that frog researcher. She thought back to the conversation on the rock, after she had expertly plowed the boat into it. She had really been pissed. Mulder was fanatical. He was obsessed. He was a maniac who just barely functioned in society and he *used* her to keep himself out of the psych wards! She had compared him to Ahab, and the idiot didn't even know what she was really saying. He didn't even see that she was comparing him to her dad. She turned on the radio to block out her thoughts and sang to the music as loud as she could stand it. Hills of Eastern Pennsylvania 4:30 pm She put the last of the provisions away in the cupboard. Enough canned food to last the 9 days she intended to be up at the cabin. She would drive into town once a day to pick up the fresh things. It wasn't the most efficient use of energy, but her father and mother had never managed to get a refrigerator for the cabin. All perishables were kept in a cooler and needed daily infusions of ice. It was also a good way to keep some contact with the outside world. Dana wanted to get away, not disappear. In the last three years she had come to know the difference. She wanted the outside world to at least have some part of her day. She pulled out the chicken breast she had packed away in the cooler that morning and placed it in a bowl with a good sprinkling of bottled Italian salad dressing to marinate. She would grill it on the little hibachi in an hour. Now, she could start to relax. She stared around the cabin. It was cozy. Furnished with cast offs from garage sales. She knew where each piece of furniture had come from, it's place of origin. The table had been in their kitchen until they moved to a house with a dining room. It was grey Formica, tubular metal. The sofa was actually a porch glider they had found in Annapolis. The end table were TV trays. The lamps were mismatched and had been found in an auction house in Rockville. The memories. She sat on the glider and rocked. She stared at the four walls. She hadn't even been in the cabin a whole day and already she was bored out of her mind. Where had that come from?! She had come to the cabin to get away from the madman, not dwell on his itinerary for a Saturday afternoon! Still, it wouldn't go away. "Damn you, Mulder! Get out of my head! I want to be alone, for once," she yelled at the four walls. She got up and paced the floor like a caged tiger. Suddenly, she spied her knapsack. She had left it by the door, in her haste to get the food put away. Her knapsack, her salvation! She had packed it full of cheap paperback novels and writing paper. She grabbed in like a life preserver and sat down on the glider. She pulled out the books, ten of them. One for each day, and an extra one if it rained. But it was late in the afternoon and if she started one of them now, she would only forget to grill the chicken and probably stay up all night to finish the darn thing. Bad idea. She shook her head and pulled out the writing paper and a new Pilot pen. Much better. It was always easier to end a letter than a book. She stared at the ivory sheets laying innocently on her lap. She had just talked to her bothers, both of them, in the last week. She had seen her mother just two days ago. She didn't feel up to trying and explain to any of her college friends why she was suddenly writing to them after a five year silence. she decided. But before she could even figure out what she was doing, she had picked up the pen and started to write. Dear Mulder, -scratch that- Dear Fox, she assured herself. She'd mail it when she went into town. I wanted to tell you what I didn't say last Saturday night. You remember? After we hit the rock and the boat sank and you pulled me up on the only dry land to be found (which had also cost us a $500 deposit--you still owe me $250)? We were talking. Well, I just wanted to tell you that I was really mad at you that night. You see, Fox, my dog had just died. I know that shouldn't make a difference, but it did. Quepqueg was my dog, but more than that, Mr. Brunkman wanted us to find him a good home. It wasn't his fault that his former mistress forgot to feed him. He was a really good dog. He never messed on the rug and he always greeted me at the door. And he only ate one of my slippers. I know you didn't like him and I could never figure that out. I mean, God, Mulder, he was a dog! What was there not to like? But that night, when we were on that damn rock, I just wanted to cry. I wanted to grieve. I wanted to hold that furry little body in my arms and feel it's little heart still beating and it's little hot breath on my hand and know that it loved me and I loved it and damn you, Mulder, you just wanted to find that stupid giant fish! Couldn't you at least have given me the chance to _cry_? Would that have crumbled your world that much? Just to let me have one night when I could crawl into bed and wish that I hadn't let loose of the leash. Ah, hell. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm really mad at you, Mulder. And that's why I wanted this time away. I know I'll get over it, eventually. I always do. But right now, it's a good thing we are in different states. Dana ******* Sunday, May 12, 1996 Dear Fox, It was a pretty day out today. I found a patch of mayapples and they reminded me of you. That's silly, right? I mean, how could mayapples remind me of you? Well, I'll tell you. They are persistent. You can dig them up and sure enough, they are there the next year. Like you. You are always there. Always. Except in New Mexico. Did I tell you that I stood in that ravine and screamed your name for over an hour before Albert and his son made me go back to their house and get something to drink. I think they thought I was going to pass out from heat prostration. Or that I was having a nervous breakdown. Why didn't you answer me? Why did you let me get in that car with the bloodstain on the passenger seat (OK, that was my fault, I'll admit it) and drive back to DC? Did you know THEY stopped me. THEY frisked me and ransacked the trunk and went through my bags and all the time I knew you were dead. I knew it, Mulder. I knew. It hurt so damn bad. I knew. Would it have cost you so much to tell Albert to let me know you were alive? Where were you? When you got back you gave me some New Age babble about being dead, but WHERE WERE YOU? I was so scared. And then I got to face the 'firing squad' by myself. They were so smug. I didn't know half of them. And they as much as accused me of your death. And I walked, get this Mulder, I walked to my mom's house because I couldn't stand the thought of getting in that car again and seeing your blood on the seat cover. I had killed you. I might not have shot you dead, but I sent you to the damn ravine alone. So I killed you. And you bastard, you waited, you took your own sweet time to tell me that you weren't dead. I'm still mad at you, Fox William Mulder. I just wish you were here to tell you that myself. Dana ********* Monday, May 13, 1996 Dear Fox, I went fishing and caught a trout. It was about two pounds and I'm fixing it with a little salad and maybe some rice. I'm beginning to feel human again. I wanted to let you know that you might get two letter before this and, well, you can ignore them, if you want. I just had some stuff that I needed to air out, you know. And I guess, in true fashion, I turned on you. I didn't mean to dump on you. Well, yes, I did, but now I'm feeling better and I realize that it wasn't all your fault. You can't help it, Mulder. You are just you. If you were any different, I probably wouldn't want to be your partner. You infuriate me, you make me so mad that I could just--no, let's not go there again. But I realized as I was sitting on the bank and catching that fish that I also enjoy our friendship. And I wouldn't want to be partners with anyone else. And quite frankly, I could have said no when you wanted to look for Big Blue a week ago. It was a Saturday and I could have said no. I just wanted to let you know, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings on that rock. And when I said you reminded me of Ahab, I meant that as a compliment. Dana ******** Tuesday, May 14, 1996 Dear Mulder, You won't believe what I found today! A faery's ring! Out in the woods. It was in the middle of a clearing and the sun was shining on it through the canopy to leaves. It was so pretty, it was glistening with dew. I wish you had been here to see it. Of course, I left my camera in the cabin and when I went back I couldn't find it. But it was really neat to find it in the first place and I wanted you to know about it. I had beans and wieners for dinner tonight. The trout must have figured out my bait. It would help if I had a boat and could get out into the middle of the lake, but with my recent luck with boats, I'm forgoing that option. How's work been? Dumb question, right? Did you get the expense report for April to Skinner? I know this won't get to you before it's due, since it's due tomorrow, but did you remember to turn it in? Try to remember to turn it in, Mulder. I put in on the computer under exp_april.txt. If you get it to him a day or two late, he won't go ballistic. But if it's not turned in when I get back on Monday, he'll have both our heads. I really wish you could have seen that faery's ring. It was neat. Dana ********* Wednesday, May 15, 1996 Dear Fox, Remember when I told you not to call me this week? Well, I really wish I hadn't. I brought my cellular with me. You know the number. I'm bored. I've been here, staring at these walls for hours. I've walked in the woods, sat on the bank and fished, read trashy novels, hemmed a skirt, wrote my college roommate and balance my checkbook for the month. I miss you. Want to grab a pizza when I get home on Sunday? Dana ********* Thursday, May 16, 1996 Dear Fox, I had the weirdest dream last night. We were on that rock again. And it was night. We were talking, just like we did. And all of a sudden, the rock started to move. It was 'breathing'! It rose up in the sky and I started to slip off, but you grabbed my arm and pulled me back up. Then we heard it. It let out this terrific noise, Mulder. Like a roar or a scream or I don't know what. And then I realized what was happening. That rock was Big Blue! And we were hanging onto it's back. I woke up then. Let me tell you, it scared the shit out of me! I was sweating and it felt like slime and I could almost smell that dank, musty smell that was on that rock. I sat up and read until the sun came up and then I slept until noon. Have you gotten the other letters? Remember to ignore the first two. Are we on for Sunday? Dana ********* Friday, May 17, 1996 Dear Fox, It stormed last night. Lots of lightning and even a little hail. It was loud on the roof. I have to get back up here sometime this summer and see if I need to reshingle. Mom would never think to have the boys do it. They get home so seldom. Ever thought about getting away for a weekend? On second thought, you and a roof--I don't think so. I know how you hate casts. Well, today is my last full day of vacation. I've decided to come back early. I never got a chance to clean out my refrigerator. I have some lettuce in there that is now beyond 'science experiment' stage. Mushy, brown, you know the route. I hate that smell, you know. I'll be back before you get this. I've had a good week, Mulder. I've had a chance to clear my head, eat some great food ( the trout was excellent), and I even gave myself a pedicure. It was a good time. I just wanted you to know that I remembered my promise. Instead of Sunday, want to go out tomorrow night? I think 'Broken Arrow' is still at the cheap movies. I'll call when I get back home. Dana PS Want to help me get another dog? I think I need that. See you soon. ******* Mulder's Apartment Wednesday, May 22, 1996 7:30 pm Mulder smiled as he finished reading the last letter. He put it in the bottom drawer of his desk, right on top of the others. E-Mail for Dana by Vickie Moseley vmoseley@fgi.net FBI Headquarters Washington DC Friday, May 10, 1996 5:00 pm Fox Mulder stared over at the empty desk for the tenth time in as many minutes. he told himself. He turned back to the file folder open in front of him. he nodded, silently satisfied that his 'moles' in personnel would alert him to that disaster. But that didn't completely stop him from worrying. She had never taken time off before. Never. In over four years, since March 6, 1992, his eiditic mind rattled off, at 10:42 in the morning, she had not taken a single 'vacation' day. There had been a half day off for her father's funeral. They had been suspended when her sister died. And sick time, *plenty* of sick time, counting hospitalizations and quarantines. And that horrible 3 months that personnel insisted had to be accounted for even though *he* considered it 'line of duty' and all the sick time after that. But never time off just to get away from it all. he corrected his train of thought. he decided sadly. He glared at the empty desk. He slammed the folder shut and pushed his chair away from the desk. "Well, two can play that game, babe!" he said out loud and grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. The Offices of The Lone Gunman 6:15 pm Mulder negotiated the narrow staircase, deftly balancing the pizza in one hand and a set of night vision goggles in the other. He smiled brightly at the surveillance camera that was secreted in the corner of the hall and knocked twice. "Dominos!," he called out, and waited for the door to open. The slightly pudgy, bespeckled gnome that answered the door looked once at Mulder, then around the empty hallway. "Where is she?" Frohike asked, slightly disgruntled. "Nice to see you, too, Frohike," Mulder said sarcastically. "*She's* on vacation. I'm by myself," he added, moving past the little man and setting the pizza box and goggles on an empty table. "Vacation!" Frohike cried. "Agent Scully never takes a vacation! Damn it all, Mulder! If you drove her off for good this time. . ." Mulder waved his hand to stop the onslaught. "Chill, Fro. She's got some time that's going to lapse if she doesn't use it right away, she didn't want it to disappear into the ether. This really is a vacation," he said, hoping he sounded more convinced than he felt. "So, where is everybody? That's a large pizza." "Byers has a seminar and Langly has a date," Frohike said absently, looking for a piece of pie that had more cheese than the rest. "Langly has a *date*?" Mulder responded in amazement. "I _know_ Skinner would approve a 302 to investigate *that* extreme possibility!" "Hey, not all of us treat women as shabby as you do, Mulder," his friend replied. "Some of us actually are 'nice' to them." "I'm 'nice' to women," Mulder defended himself. "Hah!" the little man laughed. "Mulder, you treat your partner like dirt, and you know it. You are always dragging her to the four corners of the Earth, you ditch her any time you feel like it, you pick the sleaziest hotels to stay in on cases. . ." "Sometimes there aren't anything other than 'sleazy' hotels, Fro," he interjected. ". . .And I bet you didn't even send her a sympathy card on the demise of her beloved Pomeranian!" Frohike concluded angrily pacing in front of his friend. "Face it, Mulder. You are a sot!" "Hallmark makes sympathy cards for dead dogs?" Mulder asked, trying to ignore what the other man was saying. Frohike threw up his hands in disgust. "Forget it, Mulder! But let me give you a little sage advice. I had a woman in my life like Dana Scully once. And I treated her just like you are treating Agent Scully. And I lost her, forever. I have never forgiven myself for that," he concluded sadly. Then, pulling himself up to his full 5 foot 7 inches, he shook his finger angrily at the slightly bemused agent before him. "Don't let it happen to you!" Fox Mulder's apartment 8:45 pm After the tongue lashing Frohike had given him, Mulder had decided he had enough of human companionship. He went home to his apartment to relax. The weekend loomed ahead of him, like a vast uncharted territory. It had been months, *years*, since he had a whole weekend with no thoughts of investigation. There was nothing to investigate. He had checked even the MUFON newsgroup and there weren't any recent sightings of any note. Even the aliens were on vacation, it appeared. After changing into jeans and jersey, he stretched out on the couch, but he was restless. It was too early for sleep and he wasn't in the mood to see men and women interacting, no matter how tawdry the subject matter, so his videos were out. His fish tank needed cleaning, but that was a chore best left for Saturday morning, while watching THE TICK and the X Men. He got up and pulled his desk chair out, booting up his computer. "Time to go 'on-line'," he said to the fish, who did their level best to ignore him when he was in one of 'those moods'. He had plenty of e-mail, but one caught his attention. It was from Scully. It had been sent on Wednesday. he chastised himself and clicked the file open. >Mulder, >Don't forget the expense report for April. If you don't sign it and turn it in, Skinner will kill you and I will help. I put it on the computer at work under exp_april.txt. All you have to do is print it and sign it, I already double checked the numbers. And remember, May is yours alone, Buddy-boy, so you better keep track of all those little receipts! And they do NOT accept scribbles on the back of paper napkins anymore, the girls upstairs have caught on to that one. >DS "*Buddy-boy*!" he shouted. "Now, I'm *Buddy-boy*!" He sat and fumed for a few minutes. Then, without consciously taking action, his fingers clicked on the 'reply' icon and he began to type. >Special Agent Dana Scully >GS 12, >Where in the hell do you get off calling me 'Buddy-boy'? As I remember my org chart, *I* am the senior agent in the division, and *I* can assign you the duty of handling the damn expense reports on a permanent basis, if I so desired. But no, I thought it would be more in line with our 'supposed' *equal* status to divide the more mundane chores between the two of us. So, to review, while you were doing the expense report (with a calculator, might I add), *I* was doing all the filing for this month. It don't add up, sweetie, but we switch off, remember?!? >And if any of this is about that mutt, I already said I was sorry, Scully. What do you want? I can't bring the damn thing back from the dead! It was a dog! Get over it! >Actually, I am glad you took some time off. I think you have a lot of stress to work through and this separation will be beneficial for both of us. I just hope you decided to go out of town, so we don't 'accidentally' run into each other. >Special Agent Fox Mulder >GS 14 -------- Date: Saturday, May 11, 1996 To: Dana Scully From: Fox Mulder >And another thing. I *do not* 'ditch' you! There have been times that I have decided to go off on my own to investigate a situation. In almost all of those instances, you are well aware of what the circumstances are and have either blown off my theories or know that it is my personal business and none of yours. I *have* a life! It may be 'obsessive' and 'megalomaniac', but it's mine and I'm stuck with it. So you can just stop getting on your high horse everytime you think I should have you tag along. Sometimes, Scully, I do it for your own good. Respect me enough to realize that next time. >And for your information, I was hospitalized a total of 2 times between 1984 and March 6, 1992. And one of those times was for a torn ligament I got playing basketball!! So maybe I am safe to leave alone, after all, huh? ------- Date: Sunday, May 12, 1996 To: Dana Scully From: Fox Mulder >Scully, >Hey, on the off chance that you didn't leave town, do you have any idea where I left the directional microphone that I borrowed from the LGM to use on the assignment in Georgia? Byers called this morning, apparently Frohike wants it for something tonight. I've searched both my apartment and the office and came up with bumpkus. I didn't leave it in the rental car, did I? I know I didn't use it, but if I left it, well, when they don't find my body in the first week, have them drag the Tidal Basin. >Oh, and one more thing. Some creep has been hacking into my e-mail. S/he leaves these really mean posts and signs my name so it looks like it comes from me. Byers alerted me to it. Just thought I'd let you know. You know how 'open' these things are. Just watch for any and be careful who you say what to. OK? ------- Date: May 13, 1996 To: Dana Scully From: Fox Mulder >Scully, >Just wanted to let you know that the first issue of that new medical journal you've been waiting for finally arrived. My god, when are you going to find the time to read the damn thing, it must be two inches thick! So I didn't put it with your mail in your desk, it took up too much space. I put it on the bookshelf. On the left side at the end. You'll see it. I just didn't want to forget to tell you where I put it, since I knew you wanted to check it out before subscribing. >Kimberly in Skinner's office wanted to know where you went. Of course, I didn't know, so I couldn't tell her. I hope you took a raincoat if you headed to the midwest. But then, who in their right mind would vacation in the midwest, anyway? Oh, if you *did* decide to go to Chicago, or St. Louis (doesn't your brother live in one of those places?)--that was not a slam. I just meant the weather has been really lousy there, you know. >And I was not in Skinner's office getting reamed out. I was turning in the expense report. And I filed all the folders in your out box. It's been so quiet, I might rearrange the file drawers tomorrow. I think I'll take you up on that suggestion of alphabetical order. Would be fun to try something new. Hope you're having a great time. Rest up. ------- Date: May 14, 1996 To: Dana Scully From: Fox Mulder >Scully, are you pissed at me? >The reason I ask is that I just got this letter. But it was raining and I was going to read it on the elevator but I brushed it up against my raincoat and it smeared something awful. From what I had read, I got the feeling that we have some unresolved 'business' to attend to when you get back. >Dana, I'm really very sorry about Queequeg. I mean that. I know how attached you had become to the little guy. He didn't deserve to be dinner to that damn 'gator. Nobody deserves that. But I think it was fitting that he gave his life to save yours. I mean, if he hadn't been chomped first, you might have been. If I could have traded places with him, I would have. I mean that. >I tried your cellular, but I think you must be in the mountains, because I couldn't get through. I noticed the postage mark was from Pennsylvania. Doesn't your mom have a cabin up there? At least the weather's better there. See you soon. -------- Date: May 15, 1996 To: Dana Scully From: Fox Mulder >Dana, >I am really sorry that I didn't have Albert call you. See, when he found me, those MIB's had messed him and his son up and trashed their house (apparently you knew about that) and he was afraid that any call he made would have put you in danger. He really did mean well. I was out of it at the time. He told me later that I had a really high fever, but I don't remember any of it. Well, I remember some dreams. But nothing of reality. He said I kept asking for sunflower seeds. Funny, what you ask for when you're sick, isn't it? >I feel really rotten that you had to go before the OPR alone. I wouldn't wish that on a toad. Bastards. They had no right, accusing you. Deflecting blame, that's all it was. >Having gone through that shit when you were missing, I can only say that I know how you felt. And I am *really* very sorry I put you through that. I know you were probably scared. Hell, when you were gone I was so scared I forgot to eat and refused to sleep. I didn't want to dream. My dreams were too frightening to think about. My hallucinations were enough, thank you very much. I feel like the worst kind of heel for putting you through even a couple of days of that. >Damn it, I wish I could get through on your cell phone! I'll keep trying, maybe you'll go into town to the movies or something and you'll be closer to a cell. ------- Date: May 16, 1996 To: Dana Scully From: Fox Mulder >Scully, >A faeries ring, huh? Haven't seen one since Oxford. Cool. >Don't take this the wrong way, but this last letter sounded a LOT better. I mean, you sounded relaxed. Happy. I'm really glad you've had a good time. >I did reorganize the filing cabinets. And guess what? We now have room in them! Since the chances of us ever seeing the two new ones that I requisitioned last month are slim and none, I think the additional room will eliminate the need to use the bottom drawer of your desk--for now. See, I am a nice guy, sometimes. >Pizza sounds good. Hey, instead of 'Broken Arrow' (which will be out on video next week, probably), how about going to see 'Twister'. Would make a good X File. --------- Date: May 17, 1996 To: Dana Scully From: Fox Mulder >Scully, >Well, only one more day. Hope you had a good time, but from the sounds of your letters, you did. You were right, the time away was what you needed. Sometimes that office is just too damn small. >You know what? I think you might have inspired me. I mean, I might take a vacation myself one of these days. Not right away, mind you. A file came through this morning that really looks too good to pass up. I'm thinking we could get the 302 Monday morning and be off by noon. Of course, if you don't want to go to Key West at the height of the suntan season, I'll understand (yeah, right). Numerous unusual attacks by manta rays. Ever been scuba diving, Scully? Better bring your flippers. >I'm going into the office tomorrow morning. I went through that pile of stuff on my desk and, well, you know that bottom drawer of your desk? I sort of used it. But I promise to clean out the bottom drawer of my desk to put the stuff in. I hope to get that done before you get back. >I sort of wish you were coming home tomorrow. Not that I missed you or anything, it's just that I hate going out on Sunday nights. If we catch the late show, it makes getting up hell on Monday. But that's OK, I really have been hungry for pizza, so I don't mind. See you soon. Real soon. ------- Dana Scully's apartment Saturday May 18, 1996 1:25 pm She smiled as she finished reading the last message. A quick glance at her watch and she knew exactly where he would be. She picked up the phone and speed dialed the number. "Mulder," came the answer on the other end of the line. "Have you finished cleaning out the bottom drawer, yet, Mulder? Because if you haven't, tonight's pizza is on you. Literally," she said smiling. "Almost finished," he chuckled in reply. "Give me half an hour and I'll come help you unpack the car." She hung up the phone, still smiling. The end