textfiles/sf/XFILES/dmj

The author acknowledges the copyrights of Chris Carter, et al., 
in association with "The X-Files" and Zalman King, et al., in 
association with "Zalman King's Red Shoe Diaries." No copyright 
infringement is intended.

This is a sequel to my previous X-Files/Red Shoe Diaries crossover 
story, "Dana Meets Jake." However, this story should stand on its 
own without reading the previous story. 
 
Comments are welcome (76021.3043@compuserve.com).

Dana's Letter
by Laura Herold

	Jake walked out of the diner with Stella trailing behind. It was 
a beautiful day, warm and sunny, and he was eager to get over to
the water and take in the reflection of the sun on the waves.

	But that wasn't all he was thinking about. More than a month
ago an attractive, endearing, redheaded FBI agent who was there 
on vacation had confided in him about her life. When they parted, 
she had agreed to write to him about how things turned out when 
she returned to Washington DC.

	He had thought about Dana Scully on and off over the ensuing
weeks. She had seemed like an intelligent and emotionally
complex woman, both vulnerable and strong. He had wanted to
get to know her better, and, for a while, he had looked for her
letter every day. But pretty soon he began to get discouraged,
and eventually he gave up.

	He had thought he had learned a long time ago that trusting
in someone, believing in someone, only led to betrayal and
heartache. But something about Dana had been different.
Something about her had made him want to believe.

	When the letter finally arrived he was so surprised to see 
it that for some time he had just walked around with it in 
his hand, afraid that if he put it down it would disappear.
He hadn't opened it then: He had decided to wait until he got
to the spot by the water where they had parted.

	It had been a long time since he had come to this spot with
a letter addressed to him, a letter that was really for *him*
rather than Red Shoes. For a moment the anticipation was 
almost scary. He thought maybe he would be better off if he 
just didn't open it at all.

	He looked down at Stella who was looking at him with 
expectant eyes. "What do you think, girl?" he asked. She just
continued to stare at him, but he could swear she was telling
him something through telepathy: Get on with it.

	He opened the simple white envelope carefully. There were
a couple of sheets that, from the looks of them, had been
printed off a computer. He leaned against the railing and 
looked at the pages without reading the words. Stella protested
with one short, sharp bark.

	"OK, OK," he said. He started to read the letter aloud:

	Dear Jake,
		I'm sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. As you can
	imagine, I have been very busy. I hope you have been well. You
	must write and tell me what's up with you. Is Red Shoes still
	in business? Please write and tell me.
		Well, enough of the small talk. What you really want to know 
	is what happened after I left you on that pier. Well, I went back 
	to my hotel and started to really think about things...

	Jake continued reading and let the images form in his mind...

--------------------------
	
	Dana sat on the bed in her hotel room and sighed. She had
taken this trip away from DC, the FBI, and Mulder --
especially Mulder -- as a way to clear her head and make some
decisions about her life. But it hadn't worked. She was still as
confused as ever.

	Her feelings for Mulder had changed: There was no use denying
that any longer. It was no longer friendship, concern, or "caring"
that he stirred in her. It was love. She was in love with him.

	She closed her eyes.

	How had this happened? Of course Mulder was attractive, but
she had maintained plenty of professional relationships with 
attractive men. Mulder was intelligent, clever, funny -- he was, 
in essence, extremely compelling. She had recently found herself 
unable to spend time with him without thinking about what it 
would be like to have his arms around her, to have his lips touching 
hers...

	That was no way to run a partnership.

	In the real world Mulder had never given her cause to think
that he saw her as anything other than a partner and a friend.
There were times when he was gentle and caring, but none of his 
words or actions revealed a romantic interest in her. There *had* 
been moments when she had seen a look in his eyes or felt a certain 
tension between them, and she had thought she should say 
something, do something. But she always let those moments pass. 
After all, why ruin a good thing?

	The answer was simple: Maybe there was something better.

**********

	On the plane she ordered iced tea, even though she didn't 
particularly like it very much. At least they didn't have sunflower 
seeds.

	She read a magazine she had picked up in the airport. It was one of 
those fashion magazines, the kind she usually never gave a second 
glance to. She was ashamed to admit even to herself that the cover 
line for one of the articles had led to her buying the issue.

	How To Snare Your Man, it read.

	She felt sick.

	She was surprised to see that the article's number one method for 
snaring your man was: "Tell the truth." Weren't these magazines 
supposed to advise you to wear low-cut tops and splash on a lot of 
expensive perfume?

	It did, just later on.

	So: Tell the truth. Right. She should just walk into Mulder's office 
and say: "The vacation was great, and by the way, I love you." Then
when he gave her some embarrassed, quizzical look, she could just
excuse herself and jump off the nearest bridge.

	She took a sip of the iced tea and nearly choked. How did 
Mulder drink this crap? she wondered.

*********

	In her apartment, she laid on the bed and stared at the TV.

	Maybe the magazine was right. In a way its advice was the
same as Jake's had been: Talk to the guy about how you feel.

	She took out her cellular phone. She hesitated for a moment, but 
she was tired of backing down. It was time to take a chance.

	She dialed the number, and as it rang she experienced a moment of
sheer panic when she was sure she was going to hang up.

	She didn't.

	"Mulder."

	"It's me."

	"Scully? Is something wrong?"

	"I was wondering if you were staying out of trouble," she said, 
wondering what the hell she said that for.

	"As much as I can."
	
	There was a moment of silence. She thought: Damn it, now is the
time. "Where are you?" she asked.

	"At home. Why?"

	"I'm coming over there," she said before she even realized that
was what she had decided.

	"What? Why?"

	"I'll tell you when I get there."

*********

	As she drove she kept thinking: Oh my God -- what am I doing? 
Am I really taking the advice of some trashy magazine and some
guy I don't even know? But she had already set this thing in motion, 
and she didn't really want to stop it.

	Yet she continued to have second thoughts. I can still turn back, 
she thought. I can wait until tomorrow...

*********

	She pounded on his door.

	"Mulder!" she shouted, still pounding.

	"Scully?" Mulder said as he opened the door.

	They just looked at each other in silence for a moment.

	"Are you going to ask me in?" she asked.

	Mulder stepped aside, and she walked into the apartment. He closed 
the door but just stood there. She stopped in the middle of the room 
and faced him.

	Mulder looked uncomfortable. "What's going on here, Scully?" he 
asked. 

	She went over to him, took his hand, and led him over to the couch. He 
sat down beside her. 

	"Scully, what..."

	"Dana."

	"Dana?"

	"Is it OK if I call you Fox?"

	"Why?" 

	"Why not?"

	"It's OK."

	She looked him square in the eyes. Tell the truth, she thought. "I 
love you, Fox," she said.

	She watched as his face broke into a smile. "Oh that," he said, looking
relieved. "I've known that for a while," he said as he moved closer to
her. "To tell you the truth, I feel the same way about you." 

--------------------------

	The letter had one more paragraph:

		I have to leave off there, as that's all I have time to write right 
	now. We're on a case, and I've got things to do. Maybe if you send me 
	a letter I'll tell you what happened next.
			Best wishes,
			Dana
	P.S. Say hello to Stella for me.

	Jake looked back over the letter and then put it in a pocket. He 
glanced at the water. "What do you suppose he thought she meant, 
Stella? Romantic love or platonic love?" Stella just looked at him 
with a poker face. "I hope it works out," he continued. "I really hope so. 
Come on. Help me come up with something to write back." Jake sifted 
through various ideas as he strolled down the pier.