textfiles/sf/XFILES/tlatt

THE LADY AND THE TIGER 
by Stephanie Davies (100573.2252@compuserve.com) 
and Sue Esty (Windsinger@aol.com)

Chapter 2.5b
                                
     Two days later, the doorbell rang just as Dana had started a
fire in the fireplace in an attempt to take the chill off the room.
She had only been in the house ten minutes. Someone must have been
watching. Winter's cold wind blew in as she warily opened the door.
A man filled her doorway. For a moment, back lit by the lights from
the street, she thought it was the 'Hunter' again, only this man
was even broader.  

     "Dr. Scully?" inquired the clipped, authoritative voice.

     Dana turned on the hall light. "Yes?" The evening had darkened
significantly since she had gotten home. This was a big man, not
fat but solid. Even though he wore casual pants and a sports coat
under a huge army-green parka, he could just as well have been
wearing a uniform. He had military written all over him, except,
surprisingly for his face. His face was round, hair thinning. No
real expression, not yet, but not a cruel face. Just an official
face. He was probably about Dana's own age though she knew she
looked younger and he, older.

     "I'm Daniel Chesterton."

     He went up a notch in Dana's appraisal. He had not tried to
impress her with either his uniform or his title. Two points for
him. "Come in." She took his coat. "Would you like some tea?" she
asked as she led him into the living room. 

     "That would be appreciated," he told her. "The weather's raw."

     He sat down in the chair 'Mulder' had last sat in. She thought
about telling him not to, but changed her mind. To have someone
else sit there was a blessing. She had been avoiding it.

     She made the tea, heard sounds from the living room. He was a
restless man for all his size. She found him standing by the
mantle. He had tended the fire and was now examining her photos.
She felt her stomach twist to see he was looking at the photograph
of Mulder and her together.

     "I take it that's Fox Mulder," he said, accepting the tea but
not sitting. 

     "Many years ago." <And if he thinks he is going to intimidate
me by sheer size, he's got a big surprise coming,> Dana thought
sitting down on the couch with exaggerated calm. <Still, another
point for him. He knows I know why he is here and he gets to the
point.>

     "The kind of activities you two were engaged in -" he began,
obviously not pleased. 

     "What about them?" Dana asked taking the offensive. 

     His eyes took on a steely sheen. "Over the last two days,
since Under Secretary Skinner contacted me, I've done a lot of
reading on Mulder's work with the X-Files. Infiltrating government
installations, restricted zones. I'm surprised you weren't arrested
-"

     "We were," Dana retorted, her gaze steady.

     "You put yourselves in danger with those kind of activities
and compromised National Security. Why?"

     "For the truth," she said simply. She would play Mulder's game
here, or maybe it was hers now, too.

     His expression was hard. "You were, on occasion, accused of
getting good men killed by your irresponsible actions." He was
trying to grow above her, unnerve her. 

     <Not a chance.> 

     "If you read our files well, you will see that there were
never any formal charges."

     "Just multiple FBI disciplinary hearings and suspensions." 
          
     Dana Scully set her tea down and stood up, all five feet two
of her. "There were a lot of people trying to protect their butts
over the X-Files. Some of them good people like Walter Skinner. You
work for the government. You know how it is. So Mulder and I got a
little down time. Lord knows we needed it. It was all a game, as
well you know. Just like what you are playing now is a game. What
is this? I don't need this. There are more important issues at hand
then going over ancient history."

     He looked down at this bristling bundle of outrage and nodded
once in approval. He took his tea from the mantle where he had set
it down and took the chair again. His face relaxed, as did his
posture. It was as if another man sat before her. "At ease, Dr.
Scully. I just needed to know if you still had all the fire I read
in your reports. I needed to know if you would stand up to me. I
have veterans under my command who are too afraid to speak their
mind. When I need their ideas, their opinions, they give me
silence. Useless baggage."

     "This from a military man?" Dana inquired, clearly surprised.

     "Don't get me wrong. There is a time for giving and taking
orders. Just as there is a time for gathering information. Some
people don't seem to know the difference. Do you?"

     "You read the X-Files reports. What do you think?"

     "That you don't. At least, that you don't know when to take
orders. At least that Mulder didn't."

     "Some of the orders were stupid. To follow them would have
been dangerous. Besides, we weren't in the military," she defended.
"We were paid to think and act. We did."

     He took a large swallow of tea but his eyes never left her
face and she did not back down. "But between the two of you, you
had to agree on a plan of action."

     She shrugged. "You must know about Mulder. Mulder was
brilliant, though most considered him difficult. His initial
hypotheses were often outlandish, but we usually met in the middle.
In the end, he was seldom far wrong." She paused before continuing
and when she did she looked at the General with firm eyes. "We were
partners. Do you know what that means?"

     The General nodded. "We have them in war, too. A 'buddy', to
watch your back in a battle. With your buddy, you don't have to
ask. You just know he'll be there." Dana nodded slowly. "But you
are no brother," he added, looking at her with a man's eyes, and
somehow she did not find his chauvinism offensive. Perhaps because
he was so matter-of-fact about it.

     "Our relationship was - unique," she agreed. "But then you had
an army and we were alone."
     
     "If we accept this assignment -" 

     "I have no choice," Dana responded firmly.

      He set the cup down and leaned towards her, his elbows on his
knees. "If *I* accept this assignment, we'll need to be like that,"
he insisted. "Buddies, partners, if you will. There's not a lot we
can plan ahead for." He stood up and walked purposely up and down
the room. Not Mulder's restless prowl. "I know what they want me
for, but I'll need to depend upon you a lot for cues. You have
their trust and you have more experience in this sort of thing than
I do, but I've been involved in more than you might think." She saw
the solidness settle over him again. 

     He had seen things, she could tell. And he would be unwavering
in a fight. A good 'buddy'. A rock. "I hope you'll tell me," she
said. "About what you've been involved it."

     "What I know, you'll know. But you must be willing to leave
the 'official' parties to me," he told her.

     She agreed with that. She had no desire to pick fights with
cancerman's successors. *He* had died of emphysema and congestive
heart failure five years before. 

     "What makes you think the Shadow people, the men in the black
coats, even your own people, are going to let us get near a
rendezvous point?" she asked with bitterness. "What makes you think
they will not kill her and try to kill us in some *accident* to
hide the evidence yet again? Are you ready to die? This is not the
war you're used to. In this war you don't know who your enemies
are." <Or your friends,> she admitted.

     Daniel Chesterton's eyes turned to embers, burning
underground. "They won't dare touch us, because I'm leaving a trail
a mile wide." He looked at her. "You left the agency after you
discovered Nate Wyatt so you may not have heard, but a lot of heads
rolled when what had been done to Mulder became known. Many
individuals overstepped their bounds. There was a massive coverup.
Eventually some paid, but the most significant change is that
underlings are not so willing to obey blindly any more." His voice
was full of sympathy. "Good did come of that horrible action.
Mulder led the way. It is regrettable that more of those
responsible were not punished and that those who were punished were
let off so lightly. But there is only so much that can be done when
no murder has been committed."

     "No murder?" Dana launched herself from the couch. "How dare
you sit there and say no murder? You say you've read the reports.
What does it 'officially' say in the records about Fox Mulder?"

     The general was taken aback by this whirlwind. "That there 
was some sort of brain damage. That he is no longer the man he
was."

     Dana barked a quick, sarcastic laugh, her small body quivering
with rage. "'Not the man he was.' Ah! What a euphemism! As if he
were just a little slow maybe, or less aggressive, or maybe that he
doesn't have nightmares any more. No! General Chesterton, they
killed him. As cleanly as if they had taken a gun and shot him. And
as completely as if he were now lying in his grave. They cut into
his brain. Everything that was ever Fox Mulder is gone! Gone!" And
that was too much for Dana. The anger had slipped over into agony
and she sat down heavily onto the couch before her knees gave way.
She had sworn to herself she would not cry, not in front of him,
when she must be strong and professional. But here she was, full of
tears. She felt him come and sit down beside her. Hesitantly, he
placed a large hand lightly on her knee, an awkward attempt at an
act of comfort. 

     His breath came out tense, harsh. "Those damn, mother-fucking
bastards!" he swore. "I didn't realize. I just thought he had a
breakdown from the interrogations or a drug, maybe. Some
complications from a concussion. They said he was still alive, just
changed his name, got a new life." 

     His genuine anger surprised her and helped to cleanse her own
grief. Anger was better, after all, going into battle. Yes, revenge
*was* a dish best served cold. "A new life, a new name? Yes, his
body lives," <his beautiful body>, "but his mind is gone.
Everything that made him uniquely Mulder...is gone." There were no
sobs this time, only icy rage. "And now Samantha will come home and
he'll never know. After he sacrificed his whole life and all of his
happiness to get her back. What a farce! And what if she wants to
see her brother?" Dana grumbled sourly. "What do we tell her?" 

     Daniel took her small hand in his huge one. His hands were
strong but amazingly gentle. Dana fought panic, felt something
crumble within her, a wall, a wall which had chipped into it "Dana
against the World". And something rose in its place which she had
not felt in a long, long time. 

     "Now I understand better the discussion I had with Secretary
Skinner," Daniel said with dawning understanding. "He had the same
concern as you. Mr. Wyatt has been informed of the situation and
understands the implications. When and if the time comes, when she
understands what happened to Fox Mulder, he had agreed to see her."

     <That will take a while,> Dana thought sadly. How do you
explain a thing like that to a woman after she has been through
what Samantha will have been though. Still, Dana was gratified and
at the same time, not surprised. Nate Wyatt, from the two times she
had seen him, seemed a good person, which was one of the reasons
she knew she could never see him again. 
     
     The big man at her side seemed to sense her distance and had
dropped her hand. "I'd better go." He rose and she got his coat.
"I'm looking forward to working with you, Dr. Scully," he told her
at the door and extended his hand. "I think it will prove to be a
very interesting experience." 

     Dana took the proffered hand and looked up, up even higher
than she had needed to look into Mulder's eyes, to find his grey
ones on hers. They were full of determination for their cause and
respect, respect for her. Their hands lingered longer than one
would expect and she did not know if that was at his desire or
hers. 

                                
     Hours after Daniel Chesterton had gone, Dana sat in the
darkened room staring at the chair where the figure that had looked
like Mulder had sat and later, Daniel Chesterton. The few embers
from the dying fire provided the only light in the room with the
exception of the lamp which was pointed at the crossed tape on the
window, the window the 'Hunter' had pointed out.

     In her hours of solitude Dana had come to realize that she had
been wrong. She had been living for fifteen years allowing herself
to think that Mulder was the only one. The only fighter, the only
worthy knight. But as Daniel sat beside her on the couch for those
few minutes, she had felt the tension in his body, a tension that
was familiar to her. This man blazed with a fire, too. His own
fire, his own battles, his own arena. Had fought alone and with
those close to him. He had just suffered within the rules, Mulder
had suffered outside of them. 

     Dana looked at Mulder's picture in her lap and let the tears
roll down her cheeks. How she missed him, would never stop missing
him. <Mulder, what do I do? I have to get her back. I swore to you
that I would and this is my chance. A chance it turns out you
created by sacrificing your life. Mulder, Daniel is strong, he has
the power. I sense, he wants this, too, for his reasons, but still
the right reasons. He will help me fight your enemies.>

     She put the picture back on the mantle and laid down on the
couch, wrapped herself in his old afghan which was nearly worn out
now and had long ago lost his scent.

     On the edge of sleep she thought of him, and opened her soul
and felt something like his spirit enfolding hers, a breath of
spring in the winter. It helped and once this would have been
enough, more than enough, to keep her going, but now she remembered
the feeling of Daniel's body beside her, the look in his eyes.
Waiting for Mulder, who would never come, brought him no comfort,
and her little. Perhaps it was time to move on. No, it was well
past time to move on. "Forgive me, Mulder?" she whispered.

     Wind whistled down the chimney. A cool breath ever so gently
touched her cheek. 

                               ***

8 months later

     Dana Scully looked up from her book to see a tall, slender,
exceeding fair-skinned young woman moving unsteadily across the
sculpture garden like a sailor who has been to sea too long. The
young woman sat down beside Dana on her bench.

     "It's still early," Dana said. "You could stay longer if you
wanted. Nate doesn't come to D.C. that often."

     The young woman smiled a little and began to speak like one
who finds forming words difficult. "No, long enough. His son wants
to see the revision of 'To Fly' at the... Air and Space Museum at
two o'clock and I don't want to keep you. Besides," the young woman
added, "I think he felt uncomfortable with me just staring at him."
The young woman looked towards the patch of grass under a tree a
block away where she could just make out a tall man and a woman and
two tall children. They were packing up a frisbee and a picnic
lunch. 

     "Oh, he gave this to me for you." The young woman held out a
card which Dana took gingerly. It was the first communication they
had had. Carefully, she placed it in her book. "He was very
handsome, my brother, wasn't he?" Samantha asked.

     Dana put the book away in the satchel she had used to carry
her own lunch. "You should have seen him sixteen years ago." She
got to her feet and started walking to where she had parked her
car, pausing to let the younger woman catch up. As always, Dana
marveled at the tricks time had played. This young woman should be
her own age.

     Samantha placed a hand on Dana's arm to steady herself. "I'll
bet he was a real *fox*."

     Dana laughed brightly. "That he was. And who's been teaching
you colloquialisms?"

     "Daniel, but that one was easy. You might say I had... mo-ti-
vation." Samantha Mulder had trouble with that last word.

     Sam shook her long dark hair in the wind. "Though he was
uncomfortable having me there, I could tell Nate is a happy man."
They walked on a little. 

     Dana's eyes saddened. "Your brother was never that happy. He
missed you so."

     "Is that why you don't like to see Nate?" Samantha asked.
"Because he has the happiness Fox never had."

     Dana kept walking. "Partly. Mostly, I guess. It hurts too
much. Seeing you again would have given him heaven on earth."

     They reached the car. Dana slid in behind the wheel and the
young woman got in the passenger side.

     "Tell me a Fox Mulder story," Sam asked as they pulled into
traffic.

     "Again?" Dana smiled as she stopped the car at a red light.
"Which one?"

     "The one about the woods," Sam giggled.

     Dana gasped dramatically. "Oh, no! Not the woods!"

     "All right, just the part when you were in quarantine then."

     "Veerry well," Dana agreed, with mock reluctance. "When Mulder
got bored, which was often, he would play this trick on the medical
staff with a rubber glove, bleach, two gauze squares and a urine
sample..."

     Dana drove quickly. Daniel was waiting.

End of Chap 2.5b (Now this is a good place to end the story, but
there is a chapter 3. I guess you might say, chapter 3, which has been
posted,  is optional.)