Chapter Three:


Mulder

Chicago FBI Field Office
10:00 a.m.


I could not believe Scully packed her suit. I was startled when she emerged out of the bathroom this morning with it on. She must have had it shoved in the back of her garment bag. But there it was, its black tailored lines adorning her small, shapely body. The jacket hugged her waist, where it buttoned across her flat stomach. The pants were cut perfectly, ending to her black, sensible pumps with a large heel. Her FBI badge was clipped to her lapel.

She was dressed for work.

I watched her working over the computer at the field office in Chicago, gathering the medical files of the previous victims. I could see the slight swell of her breasts as she leaned in. The same breasts I was tracing with my fingers and mouth just a short five hours ago.

But we were working now.

And I knew that aspect of our lives was over, at least until this case was solved or we went back to DC. She never wanted our personal life to interfere with our professional, keeping the line clearly drawn between us on the clock. But as I've reminded her before, I don't stop loving her just because we're working. I still have the overwhelming urge to touch her. To talk to her in ways that would clearly be defined as harassment.

I find it much more difficult to stay focused.

"Scully," I said, forcing these thoughts away. I waved at her across the room. "I heard from Skinner."

"Yes?" she asked, standing up. She motioned for us to move into a small conference room. "Did he...?"

She was worried that Skinner might question what we were doing here in the first place.

"It's not the first time we've been off somewhere and gotten involved on a case," I assured her. That little furrow in her brow started to ease back. "He wasn't surprised. In fact, he was wondering why I hadn't called sooner. Knowing my talent for trouble."

Scully frowned slightly. "You're being straight with me, aren't you?"

I sighed and put my hands on my hips. Skeptic. "Of course I am. I wouldn't jerk you around on this."

"Good," she said. "Because I've found some interesting similarities between all of the victims."

She walked back out of the room and I followed her to the computer. She reached for some files lying on the desk. As she stretched her arm, some of her left wrist was exposed. I smiled to myself. The sharpie hadn't washed off completely. It would be there to remind her.

"See?" she said, pointing to some medical data. "All the victims were drained of blood, with no visible cut or wound. It was like the blood was somehow extracted."

"How?" I pressed. "And in such volume?"

"I'm not sure," she said, flipping papers around. "From even the tiniest needle, it would take such a long time. And it wouldn't be possible to only have one point of entry."

"Well, the perp had them...on average...a week?" I asked, standing close behind her. I could smell her skin. The nape of her neck. Vanilla and spice again.

"Here's something very interesting," Scully started, setting the folders down and going to the computer. "All of the victims' blood seems to have some kind of...for lack of a better work, viral agent introduced to their system."

"Viral agent?"

"Hmm-mmm. Look. In the white cells, there is this sequence introduced into the blood. It seems to lie dormant. Not causing any of them to become ill. After they are treated for the hypovolemia, the virus seems to dissipate somewhat."

"Think Adderley has it, too?" I asked.

"I bet he does. And I'd like to get a sample," she said, grinning slightly at his name.

I didn't know what it was about that man, but if I hadn't known better, I swear she was quite taken with him. Perhaps because she was the one who found him? But that didn't make sense. She never got involved with people on cases. Never getting to know them.

I suspected it had something to do with the nature of this case. Kidnapping. Something Scully was familiar with. All too well.

****

Aylebourne Apartment
7:30 p.m.


I spent the day interviewing a couple of the other victims. Some of them had remembered only small details of their abduction. Dark walls. A sense of being underground. But nothing concrete. The last victim, Sheryl Miller remembered someone laughing. She'd wake up in the middle of the night, screaming.

Another victim, Jonathan Moore was a patron of the arts. And coincidentally enough, had attended the Julliard school of music. Upon further investigation, I found out someone else had attended the school at the same time he had.

Jessica Aylebourne. Or, Jessica Marwood, as she was known in those days.

It all kept coming back to the Aylebournes. Having immigrated to the States, I couldn't find much detail of Peter Aylebourne's life prior to that. I had INS working on it, but it could be days before they might have anything. I talked to people at Adderley's gallery and found one interesting thing about the Aylebourne's.

They only came out at night.

I tried calling them periodically throughout the day, wondering if they were out. So, I decided it was time to pay them another visit. Much to Scully's chagrin.

"Mulder," she started, folding her arms. We stood on the steps of his brownstone. "I don't think we should be here."

"Scully," I said, reading the names on the mailboxes. They were on the top floor. "I have a few more questions for Peter Aylebourne. And for his wife. You can stay here, I shouldn't be too long."

She exhaled. I could tell she was getting aggravated with me. Scully sat on the concrete ledge, pressing her fingertips together. I guessed she was staying.

I wandered up the grand staircase of the building. He had obviously taken great care in restoring this building. The woodworking looked very old, handcrafted even. I made a mental note to ask the tenants about their landlord's habits.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I knocked once on the door. But the door slid open.

It was unlocked.

I pushed it open further with my fingertips. I could smell something in the air...thick and heavy. Oil paint. And turpentine.

No sign of the Aylebournes.

It was like a studio apartment, only the windows were all shut securely. Letting no external light in. Candles were lit on the beautiful piano off to the side, presumable Jessica Aylebourne's. Unfinished canvases were propped up on easels and linen drop cloths protected the wood floors. I ventured further in, following to the only light source ahead.

Suddenly, I felt a hand grasp mine, I turned around defensively.

"Shhh," Scully said, anger flaring in her blue eyes. "Mulder, what are you doing?"

"Couldn't stand to be away from me?" I mused.

"You're trespassing," she reminded me, as I continued ahead.

"Just for a moment, I'm just seeing if anyone is home." I continued walking, away from her.

I could hear sounds ahead. A thud. The sounds of something hitting the floor. Soft moaning. I walked into another room, stopping to stare.

It was a good thing Scully was still in the other room.

I don't know how her Catholic sensibilities would have handled what I was seeing, especially from what she thought about this nice, normal couple. Aylebourne had Jessica against the wall, kissing her passionately. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, his fingers pulling her shirt loose. Reckless. Passionate. Uninhibited.

You could feel the spark in the air, they continued to kiss, over and over again. Anticipating. But there was also something else. A darkness that transcending just mere sexuality. She was beautiful, Jessica was, more so now. Aylebourne's fingers slid through her hair, allowing the silky tendrils to fall back against her face.

"Tigerlily," I heard him whisper. "My Tigerlily."

He nuzzled her neck, his tongue running along her clavicle, then up her neck across the jugular.

She breathed loudly, clutching at his shoulders.

"Peter...I need..." she said, throwing her head back. Her mouth, her teeth caught light. They looked distorted, almost feral. "I need bl..."

I felt a sharp punch to my lower back, breaking my concentration.

Jessica must have heard my small cry of surprise, her eyes shot open, staring accusingly at me. Perhaps it was the stark track lighting, but they didn't appear green anymore. More yellow, the pupils distorted like a cat or an owl. She turned her face away from mine, burying it in her husband's shoulder. Aylebourne's head snapped around, his eyes were the same for a split second. But he blinked...and suddenly, they were clear and blue.

"Hey...normally I gotta pay $5.99 a minute for this," I said, breaking the tension in the room.

"Not anymore," Scully whispered, smacking the same spot again on my back. Harder.

Busted.

I wondered how much Scully had seen.

****

Peter

Aylebourne Apartment
7:35 p.m.


The sharp cry startled us both. Against my body, I felt Jessie gasp. A moment later, she buried her face in my neck. I felt her trembling.

"Hey...normally I gotta pay $5.99 a minute for this."

That voice. That damningly familiar voice I had argued with in the hospital corridor. For the briefest moment, I wanted to spin around and slug him. I even turned my head, but remembering the state I was in, I paused. Quickly blinking my eyes, my mind and body instantly shifted gears.

My attention was immediately drawn to Jessie as she let her legs drop to the floor. She was still trembling violently. Knowing she was far less experienced with this than I was, I gently touched her face, trying to calm her.

"Slow and steady, Tigerlily," I whispered to her. "Slow and steady."

She silently nodded and a moment later, I saw her body relax as she shifted back into neutral. Her clear green eyes peered up at me as she smiled.

Now,  I could slug him.

I took a deep breath, struggling to control my temper.

"Resorting to breaking and entering, Mr. Petrie?" I said flatly.

"The door was open. This is just trespassing," he answered. "We needed to talk to you. We didn't expect to find a live porn flick going on when we walked in."

"Well, I'm sorry," I retorted, spinning around to face both him and Mrs. Petrie. "You'll have to excuse me for wanting to make love to my own wife."

I saw a small smile tug at Mrs. Petrie's lips. At the same moment, I heard Jessie let out a soft snicker.

"Put it in neutral," he said flatly. "We have a few questions."

I opened my mouth to protest, but before a word could come out, he was holding something out to me. I easily recognized it as a government ID of some kind. Mrs. Petrie was doing the same.

"Our names are not Rob and Laura Petrie," he said simply.

"Big shock," I muttered. I saw another smile tug at the face of the woman formerly known as Mrs. Petrie.

"I'm Agent Fox Mulder and this is Agent Dana Scully. We're with the FBI."

In a way, it wasn't unexpected. Jessie and I had talked about it earlier that day, speculating that our friends here were not just the vacationing couple they had tried to pass themselves off as. I glanced back at her.

There was a wide-eyed expression on her face and a moment later, she did last thing I expected.

She burst out laughing.

"Why am I not a bit surprised?" she giggled, as she bent down to scoop up her silver hair combs from the floor. I smiled to myself. I had been just a touch careless when I had pulled them from her hair and tossed them aside. Of course at that moment, neatness hadn't been foremost on my mind...

She used the combs to push her long hair back from her face, burying them in the auburn strands to hold it back. "I encountered several cops during my first marriage. You remind me of quite a few of them, Agent... Mulder, is it?"

"Well coincidentally, Mrs. Aylebourne," he said answered. "One of these questions is for you."

Jessie raised her eyebrows at him.

"Did you ever know a Jonathan Moore?"

Jessie blinked in sheer surprise. "Johnny Moore?" Her eyes grew distant with memories. "He and I went to Julliard together. I believe he's with the Chicago Symphony now."

"Did you know him well?"

She shrugged. "He was a violin player. I knew him as a friend, that was about it."

"Jessie," I said. "I think there's a better place to do this."

Her startled eyes turned to me and she suddenly grinned, knowing what I was thinking.

I turned back to the Agents. "Have either of you eaten yet?"

Looks of pure surprise crossed their faces and I wanted to laugh. "Um, no." answered Agent Mulder.

"Well then," I said simply. "If you want any more answers out of us, I'm afraid you're going to have to get them over dinner." I reached out and took Jessie's hand. "I'll even make certain you won't have to burden the taxpayers with the cost."

"I'm not sure we can do that," answered the red haired agent, Agent Scully. "It might be regarded as a conflict of interest."

"Oh please," I answered simply. "Live a little."

She smiled suddenly and I had the distinct feeling that I had somehow struck a chord.

Pulling Jessie behind me, I pushed my way past both of them to head out the door. But as she brushed past Agent Mulder, she suddenly stopped, a startled expression on her face that quickly dissolved into one of amusement. For a moment, her eyes flitted between them before they settled on Agent Mulder. A playful smile crossed her face as she whispered in a sultry voice, "Was it good for you?"

She didn't wait for an answer before turning away and following me towards the door. Knowing exactly what she was referring to, I laughed. "You are a very wicked woman, Jessie."

"Me?" she said innocently. "What makes you say that?"

"The same thing that makes you call me a tease."

She giggled.

Not hearing their footsteps following, I called out as I pushed the door open, "If you want your answers and you want to be fed, I'd suggest you follow us."

There was a moment's hesitation before we heard a pair of footsteps hurrying after us.

Out on the street, I had no problem with holding my wife's hand, but glancing back, I noticed that the two of them were silently striding along, each wrapped in their own thoughts, their hands stuffed in their pockets.

Agent Mulder was looking distinctly annoyed, while Agent Scully simply looked thoughtful.

"So what has put you into such a good mood that you're willing to buy them dinner?" Jessie's voice interrupted my thoughts. "When they walked in, you looked about ready to deck Mr. Mulder there."

I shook my head. "Just the absurdity of it all, I guess," I sighed. "And the realization that I really shouldn't get so worked up over it all. After all, he is just trying to do his job."

"I suppose."

There was something in the tone of her voice that made me look up at her. I couldn't help smiling. Just up the street, I could hear the sound of swing music drifting back towards us. I stopped walking and turned to her. Behind us, the two Agents had stopped and were peering at us with curiosity.

"Come, come, my dear lady, and dance with thy husband," I grinned at her. "And I guarantee thy spirits shall be lifted."

She laughed merrily as I held her hand, slid an arm around her waist and danced her down the rest of the block to the club. Behind us, Agents Mulder and Scully were hurrying along, trying to keep up. But it didn't matter if they did or not. At that moment, nothing else in the world mattered except the woman in my arms and the fact that she and I could still laugh together.

We had spent most of the day holding each other and quietly talking. The horror of what I had confessed to her had slowly sunk in and it disturbed her. But while the things I'd told her had horrified her, she kept saying over and over that she still loved me; knowing that was the one thing I feared, that I would somehow lose that.

She had been the one to initiate the lovemaking. She knew that I needed it. I knew that she wanted it. Of course, having our two friends walk in on us and announce that they were FBI agents threw yet another loop into our lives.

I gazed down at my wife's smiling face as we danced along. It still amazed me how easily she could take those loops in stride. Of course, knowing the life she'd lived, loops could never be a surprise to her.

My feet hitting the stairs leading up to the club violently interrupted my thoughts and I found myself sprawled backwards across them with Jessie on top of me. We laughed again. The careful hands of Agents Mulder and Scully helped us up.

"Thank you," I said politely. I motioned to the door. "Shall we?"

Agent Mulder peered up at the sign over the door. "Mesh?" he asked. "With a name like that, what does their food taste like?"

I couldn't help laughing as we stepped up to the door. "My goodness, he does have a sense of humor!"

They followed us up the steps where the doorman greeted us.

"Mr. Aylebourne!" he grinned at me. "Haven't seen you here in a bit." He turned to Jessie. "And Miss Parker."

"Ah," corrected Jessie. "It's Mrs. Aylebourne now."

"Well, congratulations!" His eyes fell on the Agents behind us. "Friends of yours?"

"Yes," I answered. "So to speak." I shook my head. "Don't card them, Henry. They're FBI agents. Card them and they'll pull out their badges and get all Elliot Ness on you. You don't want that."

"Ah," grinned Henry, thinking it was a joke. "I hear ya." He nodded to the Agents. "Go right on in."

****

Scully

The Mesh
8:15 p.m.


The music was loud, couples were out on the floor doing various swing dances. Mulder already looked uncomfortable. It wasn't exactly bureau policy to have dinner with them, but I felt like we owed them some courtesy, especially after the way Mulder barged in their apartment.

I felt his hand on my arm, pulling me to the side.

"Scully, did you see their eyes?" he whispered in my left ear. "When she looked at me, back at the apartment. They weren't green, they were yellow."

"Trick of the light, Mulder," I said, staring at him. But I did know what he was referring to. But had seen them on Aylebourne, not his wife. I'd seen eyes like that before.

We sat down at a small, intimately round table. Mulder and I were on one side, the Aylebourne's on the other. Mulder's long legs were cramped a bit, so he swung them beside mine. I could feel them up against me.

"Something to drink?" Aylebourne asked, smiling at us. "They have a very extensive wine selection. May I recommend the Merlot?"

"We're not allowed to drink while on assignment," I replied, looking over the menu.

"I won't tell," he replied. Aylebourne's voice had an almost tangible quality to it. It hung in the air around me, enveloping me in its rich sound.

"Maybe..." I started, caught in the blue stare of his strange eyes.

I felt Mulder kick me under the table.

"I mean, no. I really can't," I said, turning back to the menu.

The waitress came and took our orders. Suddenly, it grew quiet between us all, staring at one another. As if waiting for something to happen.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Mulder asked Aylebourne.

"No," he replied politely. "Now that I know you're not some crazy pervert who's stalking me."

"How do you know Jeremiah Adderley?"

The Aylebourne's exchanged looks, but it was Aylebourne who spoke.

"He's an old friend of mine, we'd met in Bristol. I found Jeremiah in the street, a gang was assaulting him. I got them to back off, but they left him for dead," he said. "No tolerance for his kind. I took him to the hospital and made sure he got well."

"So, you were a Samaritan to him as well," I said, throwing an accusing glance at Mulder. They were just a normal couple, weren't they?

"Let's just say I know what it's like to be...different," Aylebourne replied, fixing me with another stare.

"Given your artistic background, care to tell me what this means?" Mulder said, taking the sharpie out of his pocket. He grabbed a napkin and drew the ankh symbol.

"What's on Jeremiah's arm," he answered. "Egyptian, is it not?"

"It's the symbol for everlasting life. But inverted, I think it means something else. Don't you?" he pressed, shifting the napkin to Aylebourne.

His face was sullen for a moment, but then he smiled. "I suppose so, Agent Mulder."

"This friend of yours," I said, finding my voice. I looked at Jessica. "From the Julliard school. You hadn't seen him in how long?"

"Years," Jessica said. She laughed suddenly, her eyes sparkling. "It seems like a lifetime ago."

"Would he remember you?" I asked, feeling strange that I knew her long history. I had a hard time believing this woman ever allowed herself to be victimized.

"I suppose," she said thoughtfully. "He was found like Jeremiah, wasn't he?"

I nodded. "Exactly the same. Drained of blood. Tattoo on his arm."

Her eyes fell downward for a moment, then over to her husband. He met her gaze. What was I seeing in his eyes?

"We're just upset about our friend," Aylebourne said.

"Where were you, the night he disappeared?" Mulder asked, directing the question at Jessica.

She seemed taken aback, slightly. But then she grinned. "Playing."

Mulder stared at her, confused by the strange way she said the word.

"The piano, Agent Mulder," she continued. "I had an engagement."

"And where were you?" he asked Aylebourne.

"At the gallery," he said. "Putting up my latest works."

"Awful late to be putting up a show," Mulder said. "I spoke with some of the people at the gallery. They said you are a creature...of habit. Only putting up and tearing down at night."

"Maybe I'm superstitious," he replied. "I do my best work at night."

"That's for sure," Jessica said, under her breath.

Mulder caught her comment and the watched her as she reached out and touched her husband's arm. One could feel the connection between them.

"How about the night of April 10th? It was a Saturday. Do you remember what you were doing that night?" Mulder asked. It was the night Sheryl Martin disappeared.

Aylebourne and Jessica exchanged looks, smiles creeping across their lips.

"You walked in on the beginning of what we were doing that night," Jessica replied, voice low and sultry.

"Jessie!" Aylebourne exclaimed, laughing at her boldness.

"Is that a good enough alibi, Agent Mulder?" Jessica asked, grinning at him.

Perhaps she was trying to unnerve him, with her overt comments. But she was messing with the wrong person. Mulder knew a few things about innuendo. I anticipated his answer.

"Works for me. Although videotaped evidence would have been nice," Mulder replied, smiling back.

"What's your take, Mr. Aylebourne..."

"Peter, please call me Peter," he said, interrupting me.

"What do think about these kidnapping? They occur very close to where you live. And work," I said, staying professional.

"I've been worried. Keeping a closer eye on Jessica. Her concerts often go late and I can't always accompany her. I never expected it to happen to Jeremiah," he replied. Aylebourne's face grew serious. "Jessie and Jeremiah are really the only family I have. I can't bear the thought if anything happens to them."

He reached out and took Jessica's hand.

"Don't you have any family or friends back in England? Brothers? Sisters? Mom? Dad?" Mulder asked. "I noticed your personal history seems very...limited."

"I did. Once. I even had a fiancé. Before I met Jessie, of course," he replied.

"What happened to her?" I asked, suddenly curious.

He paused for a couple minutes. "She died."

There was something about the way he said it, that made it seem...dark.

"Enough of this talk," Aylebourne said, suddenly standing up. "I feel like dancing. Care to dance?"

He extended his hand to me.

I looked at Mulder, unsure of what to do next. But he nodded. I had a sneaking suspicion he wanted them apart. So he could question Jessica by herself. I reached for his outstretched hand.

"I'm warning you, I'm not very good at this," I said, allowing him to lead me to the floor.

His mannerisms were very fluid, as if he'd been well trained in the etiquette of dance. The music had changed to something slow and rhythmic.

"I bet you are," he said, smiling as he wrapped his arm around my waist. "You're almost the same height as Jessie. And we dance well. I can teach you."

I cautiously wrapped my arm around his neck, throwing a glance back at Mulder. But he was busy talking to Jessica.

"So, what do you do for the FBI? Besides posing as Laura Petrie," he said, moving his body in time with the music.

"I'm a forensic pathologist," I said, feeling the need to be honest with him. Perhaps for being so dishonest before. "My partner and I investigate...the paranormal."

"The paranormal?" he said, as if the word amused him. "You don't strike me as the type to believe in such things."

"My partner is more...open to extreme possibilities than I am," I said, trying to match my steps with his.

"He seems like he would," Aylebourne replied. His hand slid from my waist and he reached for my neck, almost caressing my throat. His touch was very gentle, tracing the base of my neck. "This is beautiful."

I felt my skin flush and it took me a second to realize he was talking about my cross. I never let anyone touch me like that, just Mulder. But I couldn't pull away. He fingered it gently.

"My mother gave this to me," I said, staring up at his blue eyes. Clear and penetrating.

"It's beautiful," Aylebourne said, letting it fall back on my neck. "My wife, she's not a Catholic. But I am. Is your partner?"

I smiled slightly. Only one thing made Mulder call out God's name, and it had nothing to do with religion.

"No," I said, sensing he was deeply religious. "We disagree on that a lot."

"Jessie and I do as well," he said, holding me closer. "It's makes us well matched, I think. You dance well, Agent Scully."

"I don't," I said, leaning against him. "I don't get to dance very often."

"You should," he replied, reading my thoughts. "And faith isn't always about God. You can have faith in someone, too. Believe in them. Trust your heart."

His voice was almost hypnotic to me, and I found myself wondering what exactly he was talking about. Could he know? Did he suspect? I glanced over his shoulder at Mulder. How many times in our lives did it come down to just us? Faith in each other, when everything else failed. Something inside me ached to be his arms right now. To have his body pressed against mine. To be sharing these thoughts and feelings with him.

I really do love him.

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes?" I snapped out of my thoughts.

"I suspect you know about Jessica's past," he said gently. "It's well documented. It took a lot of faith for her to trust me. Even more to fall in love with me. It happened slowly. After all the monsters she'd had in her life, one can't blame her for being cautious with her heart."

I understood what that meant. I was very cautious with mine.

"It's hard to know whom to trust," I said, glancing up at him. His eyes narrowed slightly. For a brief second, I thought they shifted in color again. To yellow. "With your heart, I mean."

"With your heart," he repeated, turning to look at Jessica. Eyes still blue. He smiled at her. And I knew, he really wanted to be in her arms as well.

****

Jessie

The Mesh
8:30 p.m.


I hoped the wink Peter gave me as he pulled Agent Scully out onto the dance floor went unnoticed by Agent Mulder. If he had seen anything, he gave no sign.

I watched as Peter gently slid an arm around the small woman's waist and smiled down at her. Suddenly my heart ached to be in her place, to be in his arms.

"Mrs. Aylebourne."

The sound of Agent Mulder's voice pulled me from my musings and I turned to him with a smile. "Yes?"

"I know what you are," he said cryptically. "I've seen it before."

I blinked. And for some reason, I got the feeling he was fishing; that he was uncertain as to what I was and was testing me. Somehow, it didn't surprise me if he did know, but I'd be damned if I was going to give him any straight answers. I was definitely going to make him work for it.

"I know you have, Agent Mulder," I answered in perfect innocence. "You have one for a partner."

He blinked at me, confused.

"You are talking about a woman with red hair, aren't you?"

The expression on his face was a cross between annoyance and amusement. I turned my attention back to the dance floor and spotted Peter and Agent Scully. Peter's fingers were touching a chain around her neck. I stole a quick glance at Agent Mulder and found he was watching them intently.

I sat there for a moment, watching them, again wishing it was me in his arms instead. All I wanted was to be with him. To hold him and soothe away the pain of what he saw as his past sins. I needed him so much at that moment. Even when he was across the room, I missed him fiercely.

"You don't like me, do you?"

It wasn't Agent Mulder's voice that startled me as much as his words. I turned and stared at him, genuinely surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"Your posture. You keep looking back at your husband, wondering when he'll get back and save you from talking to me."

I almost laughed. "Maybe I just like looking at my husband." I gave him a knowing smile. "You seem to enjoy looking at Agent Scully."

"I have to keep an eye on her. Your husband is a suspect."

I giggled merrily. "Not with that leer on your face!" I chuckled at the smile that tugged at his lips. "You're doing a little more than keeping an eye on her, Agent Mulder. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were undressing her with your eyes."

The small smile grew. "Don't let her hear you say that. She'll kick my ass."

This time, I just plain laughed out loud. "As well she should! I have a feeling she has her hands full keeping you in line."

"Well," he admitted. "She's shot me once. I'm sure she'll do it again if she needs to."

I felt my eyes widen. Good Lord, what a pair these two made! "My, my, my!" I said. "Interesting relationship you two have." I gave him an impish smile. "What happens when you make love? Whips and chains?"

Instantly, the smile was gone, the professional FBI agent back. "She's my partner, Mrs. Aylebourne."

I smiled to myself. He seemed so intent on keeping up a professional front. But beneath it, I could sense something else; someone who loved a beautiful, strong woman and wasn't afraid to let her know it; someone who believed in magic and possibilities and wanted to believe that Peter and I were exactly what he suspected, no matter how impossible that seemed.

What would he do if he discovered he was right?

"Hmmm," I answered. "In more ways than one, I think. To anyone with a decent set of eyes."

"Looks are deceiving, aren't they?"

The double meaning of his words was obvious. Funny he should speak the ones Peter and I lived by.

I felt a smile spread across my face. "Yes, they are, Fox," I said quietly. "Yes, they are."

The silence hung between us for several moments, heavy and awkward. Finally, I smiled at him. "So tell me what you do for the FBI. Besides stumbling onto kidnapping cases."

"I'm a profiler," he answered.

I blinked. "Oh, now that is interesting. Getting into someone's head, trying to figure them out." I smiled. "Sounds like that would be right up your alley."

He smiled again. "It's interesting to see which person fits a profile and which doesn't." He raised his eyebrows at me. "Like you, for instance."

"Me?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

He nodded. "We took a look at your records." His voice suddenly became gentle. "You were abused by your first husband, weren't you?"

I didn't answer him right away. Instead, I reached for the glass of water in front of me and took a long sip. The cold wetness dissolved the lump that had sprung up in my throat. In spite of the fact that it made up a lot of what I was now, I still didn't like to think about that period of my life. Especially considering what Jeffery did to me the night he died...

I closed my eyes at the painful memory and took another sip of water.

"Yes," I finally said, opening my eyes and setting the glass down. "I was."

"Most women," he said softly. "Are quiet and introverted when they come out of an abusive relationship."

I smiled. "I've always liked to think I'm unique."

He smiled. "Well, you certainly don't fit the profile." His voice suddenly warmed, as if he was genuinely interested in the answer. "Why is that?"

I let my gaze turn back to the dance floor where Peter and Agent Scully were still dancing and talking. Suddenly Peter's eyes lifted from hers and met mine. I felt myself smile and saw him smile back.

Turning back to Agent Mulder, I stared straight into those hazel eyes of his. "I think, when a woman comes out of an abusive relationship, she's lost her soul to the man who beat her. That's what makes her draw into herself. She's searching for the soul she hasn't realized she's lost." I stared down at the glass of water in front of me. "Jeffrey did a lot more than just beat me. A lot more." I felt a smile cross my face. "I was lucky, Fox. Someone was there for me; to help me find my soul again." I looked up at him again and tilted my head towards the dance floor. "The answer to your question is right out there, dancing with your partner."

I turned back and watched them for several moments, again wishing I was in Agent Scully's place.

"Sometimes," I whispered. "It takes just one person to save your soul."

I turned back to him and smiled. "Is that what you were looking for, Agent Mulder?"

"It'll do," he said simply. "I'd like to ask you one more question."

I reached over and tugged back his suit jacket, revealing the holster beneath. I kept my fingers well away from it so he wouldn't get the wrong idea.

"Shoot," I answered. "Just not with that."

He smiled as he closed his jacket. "What did you mean by that comment back at the apartment? 'Was it good for you?'"

I felt myself giggle like a schoolgirl. "I was just wondering if you enjoyed your little tryst with Agent Scully."

"What tryst?"

"The one you didn't take a shower after. You probably figured you didn't need to after making love to her in a bathtub filled with vanilla soap."

The way his eyes widened made it all worth it.

I leaned towards him. "Don't worry," I whispered conspiratorially. "I won't tell if you won't."

It was Peter and Agent Scully walking up to the table that saved him from responding.

"Well," smiled Peter as he settled Agent Scully back into her seat. "I've danced with one beautiful redhead. I'd very much like to dance with another." He held his hand out to me. "Will my wife dance with me?"

"I don't know," I teased. "Will she?"

"Well, let me ask her," he grinned and took my hand in both of his. "Dear wife, will you dance with me?"

I giggled. "Now, how can I refuse an invitation like that?"

With a tug on my fingers, he pulled me to my feet and led me out on to the dance floor. I was about to glance back at the Agents when he pulled me close to him. Looking up into his clear, blue eyes, everything else was forgotten.

I was in my husband's arms at last. And nothing else mattered.


****


Continued in Chapter Four