I feel my own arm shaking as my weapon weighs heavily in my hand, and suddenly I'm brought back to who I am and what I'm doing. I turn back to look at our suspect, spread-eagled against the wall, my weapon pointed squarely at his back. If he chooses this moment to walk away, I'm not sure I would have the wherewithal to stop him, or even notice he is gone.

What the hell have I done?

Just yesterday morning everything was fine. Everything was more than fine. It had been three weeks since Donnie Pfaster had died. Just the day before, the Office of Professional Conduct had cleared Scully of culpability for Pfaster's death, mostly because of my testimony. My sworn testimony that Scully had not shot that bastard in cold blood. But lets face it, that's what it was. She walked into that room and shot Donnie Pfaster in cold blood.

Despite that, I convinced the OPC, and I even convinced Scully, that what I had really seen was Scully defending herself and me, not knowing that I had my weapon trained on him or that with his eyes he had already surrendered to me. Given the angle Scully had entered the room, the explanation was plausible. I might even have convinced myself over time had Scully not admitted her sin to me that same night. I left that little detail out of my testimony and the OPC bought the rest.

Cleared by the OPC and given the green light by her counselor, Scully was returned to field duty just in time to keep me from going stir crazy. When Scully is on desk duty, I'm on de facto desk duty. We're partners. That's what partners do. After three weeks of paper pushing, I was ready to get back to work and it didn't take long for me to come up with something interesting.

The police department in Knoxville, Tennessee had requested assistance with a killing spree that had vampiric overtones. We had flown down yesterday morning and it hadn't taken us long to put the lie to the vampire theory. All we had here was a whacko who got his jollies killing teenage boys and staging their deaths to look like vampire attacks. Like Scully once said, just a guy who'd seen one too many Bela Lugosi movies.

I decided to stick around and help, though. It seemed safe enough. The victims weren't little girls, no aliens were involved, and the suspect showed no signs of necrophilia. Nothing too sensitive for my still-hurting partner. And the winter weather in Knoxville was much milder than what we had waiting for us back in D.C., so I thought it would do us both good to hang out here for a few days. Besides, Knoxville has some great restaurants.

Last night had been incredible. We knocked off about 8 o'clock and I treated to ribs at Calhoun's on the River. Watching her devour a huge plate of ribs brought back some great memories, though this time she wasn't nearly as prissy about keeping clean. By the time we finished, she was as messy as I was. Then we went to Old City and I managed to coax her into a disco named "Tony's" and before you could say "John Travolta," I had her on the dance floor. We had the time of our lives.

After a good night's sleep, we were back at KPD Headquarters this morning when the call came. Another victim had been found. Through some stroke of luck -Scully would call it one of my intuitive leaps of logic, but i just call it luck - we found ourselves hot on the heels of our chief suspect, chasing him through an empty Neyland Stadium on the University of Tennessee campus till I cornered him against a concrete bulkhead, just 100 feet inside the gate we had originally come in.

With all the adrenaline pumping through my system, I was none too gentle as I pushed the guy up against the wall and trained my weapon on him while I caught my breath. I'm not getting any younger and chasing these guys is starting to wind me. I heard Scully running up behind me. She just hates that she can't run as fast as I can, but hell, my legs have at least eight inches on hers. And I'm not wearing three-inch heels.

As she ran up beside me, I saw her weapon raised and pointed at my prisoner. Without thinking, I reached out, grabbed her gun hand, and shoved it down so that her weapon was pointed at the concrete floor. That's when I uttered the four words I now so regret: "I've got him, Scully."

It took about two seconds for the import of those words to register in Scully's brain, but when it did, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. Her eyes locked on mine and I saw two pools of blue filled with....what? Horror? Disbelief? Hurt? All of the above? She took a step backwards and looked at the weapon in her hand, then at me again, backing up several more steps till finally she turned and walked quietly back to our car just outside the gate.

And now, here I am, barely conscious of my prisoner or the KPD officers rushing in to assist me. My eyes keep darting back to the car where I see my partner sitting alone, her head lowered. I've got to go to her. I've got to undo the damage I've done. But can I? Now she knows I've been lying to her. Now she knows that I lied to the OPC. Now she knows that Agent Fox "I only want the truth" Mulder can lie with the best of them.

Jesus.

After KPD has our guy cuffed and tucked away I finally walk back to our car. Now I know what prisoners on death row feel when they take that final walk to the death chamber. Every step takes me closer and closer to what I fear might be the death of our partnership, of our friendship, of..... us. I climb behind the wheel, busy myself fastening my seatbelt, and then stare out the windshield, waiting for her to say something.

She doesn't.

I don't either.

We drive back to KPD headquarters in complete silence.

When we get to the police station I go in to fill out the paperwork and accept the gratitude of the KPD detectives. Scully stays in the car. When I get back to the car, she is gone. I do a three-sixty, trying to spot her in the parking lot. I wasn't in there long so she can't have gotten far. I don't see her anywhere. I pull out my cell phone and jab number "one." It rings and rings but Scully doesn't answer.

Shit.

I drive around the area for awhile trying to find her but finally give up and return to our motel. When I get there, housekeeping is in her room, changing the sheets and cleaning the bathroom. Scully is gone. Checked-out. The guy at the desk tells me she left in the same cab that brought her. Jesus. She's running from me. And if I don't catch her fast she might do something crazy.

At the airport they tell me she just took the first flight out. It was going to Toledo. Okay, she'd rather go to fucking *Toledo* than talk to me. I'm a big boy. I can take it. Maybe I can beat her back to the office. The next flight is to Pittsburgh. If it arrives there on time, I'll be able to catch a flight to National Airport almost immediately. I look at my watch. No way she can beat me back as long as everything goes smoothly.

Three hours later, I verbally abuse the D.C. taxi driver to get him to step on it. I flash my badge and promise him he won't get a ticket. He gets me to the Hoover building faster than I've ever gotten there from National. I run in the front door to save some time, race through the security checkpoint, and run up the four flights of stairs to Skinner's office rather than wait for the elevator. Don't ask me how, but I know that's where Scully's headed. To Skinner. To resign.

By the time I get to Skinner's office, I'm gasping for air like the nearly forty-year-old man I am, and I'm sure I must look the mad man as I dash in and come to an abrupt stop. I think I've scared Kimberly as she jumps in her seat and looks at me wide-eyed.

"Agent Mulder," she said reproachfully. "The Assistant Director is in a meeting and can't be disturbed."

I bend over, trying to get my breath, finally able to gasp out, "Has... Agent.... Scully.... been..... here?" I put my hands on my knees for support and take in great heaving mouthfuls of air.

"Agent Scully? Not today."

I nod appreciably and take a seat. "I'll wait," I say.

For the next hour-and-a-half I drive Kimberly to distraction with my fidgeting. I call Scully's cell phone a few times, but she never answers. I let my eyes run over the pages of a magazine, but nothing registers. My hands are sweating so badly that I can barely hold onto the glossy pages. Then I hear the elevator door open down the hall and the "click click click" of footsteps that I would recognize anywhere. She's coming.

When she walks in the door her head is down and she doesn't see me at first. But I see her, and more importantly, I see in her hands her holstered weapon, her badge, and a sealed envelope. I was right. She has come straight here to resign before I can talk to her. Before I can talk her out of it.

When I leap to my feet, she registers my presence at last. Her eyes flash a look of disbelief and then look down, finding it too painful to maintain eye contact with me. I barely hear her say, "How?"

"An intuitive leap of logic and some friendly airline employees," I say softly as I move us toward the door. Kimberly has been witness to too many of our personal crises already. And I don't want Skinner getting even a whiff of this problem. That it even happened could be enough for him to reopen her case with the OPC. I've got to get her alone.

When we get to the door she resists, refusing to move into the hallway.

"Where are you going, Scully?" I ask, running my finger tips down her arms till they rest on her hands holding her weapon, badge, and letter.

"I've got to see Skinner," she whispers, still unable to look at me.

I take the objects from her hands and stuff them in my coat pocket.

"Why, do you need to see Skinner?" I ask softly, once again nudging her gently through the door and into the hallway.

"To resign," she says, choking on the words. Then the tears start, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close. Several agents walk past us and pause as though to offer help. I wave them away. As much as I hate to see Scully cry, I know now that we'll be okay. I know now that she'll talk to me. I just have to get her someplace private.

*end*