George Hale (15/17)
by invisiblefriends

Feedback: bettyteddyandray@gmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After IWTB, life goes on.


Chapter 15

"Dr. Scully, what are you doing here?"

Bruce at the admitting desk is looking up from the chart he's filling
out.

"Bringing in my - a friend. How busy is the lab tonight?"

Bruce rolls his eyes. "Dead." He manages a look at the man
towering over the tiny Dr. Scully. Bruce is familiar with the usual
friends and families of his co-workers but this guy is new.

"Thanks," she says, and pulls Mulder by the sleeve.

"Not going to introduce me?" Mulder asks under his breath. He still
dreads being introduced to people but walking around with a
mystery illness should keep him safe from too many encounters.
"Tell them I'm your brother," Mulder continues dangerously. "Bill.
The fun one-"

"Mulder, please keep quiet or I *will* introduce you to everyone."

Scully parks Mulder on a chair and goes to the front desk of the
lab. Another person she knows. This is good. She needs to pull all
the favours she can now to get Mulder checked out without being
official about it. She has a quick word with the technician and
motions Mulder to follow her.

The technician, another bored employee, watches Mulder push
himself to his feet. Probably someone Dr. Scully found wandering
around town. He has heard that the doctor has a big heart for
strays. Rumour has it she has been seeing a homeless guy named
George.

"You okay, Mulder"

She has been drawing blood in the lab for a minute or so. She can't
tell if Mulder is pale because he is sick or if he has suddenly
become squeamish.

He nods once.

"Almost done here."

"I feel sick," he says tightly.

"Okay, just another second."

"Hurry."

She removes the needle and puts the vial back in the holder, and
shoves a garbage bin into Mulder's arms with about five seconds to
spare.

He bolts forward and vomits into the garbage bin. His entire face
disappears inside. Finally, the heaving stops and he leans back.

"Christ," is all he can say.

"I know," is all she can say back as sympathetically as she can. "It
looks like you're just bringing up the bile. There's nothing left. I'm
going to hook you up to an IV for a few hours while I wait for the
tests."

"Do you have to?"

"You're too dehydrated." She rubs his back gently. "You're going
to feel better once I know what we're dealing with. Okay?"

Another nod. "Can I use that?" He is pointing to a wheelchair in the
corner.

She looks at the chair, oddly relieved. "Sit."

She adjusts the foot part and wheels Mulder and his blood to Bob.
"Can you page me when you've got the results?"

"Of course, Dr. Scully. Right away."

He offers a smile to the man. Dr. Scully may be aloof but her work
with the homeless should be rewarded for all that she does for
these people, especially that poor bastard in the wheelchair.

Scully kicks the door open with her foot and pushes the chair into
the room with her knee. Her arm is searching the inside wall for a
light switch. She has to reach high to find it.

"Dear God," Mulder sighs, looking at the wasteland that was once
a room.

"Used to be one of the doctor's lounges." Scully closes the door
behind her and makes sure she hears it click. "Come on, let's get
you settled over here." She wheels Mulder, and his newly acquired
IV and pole across the squeaky linoleum to the lone couch in the
room.

There are boxes where the kitchen sink used to be. A coffee stain
the size of a weight ball looks like a welcome mat in front of the
door.

"Rumour is that people only come here now to make out." Scully
skirts in front of the wheel chair and helps him get to his feet and
not tangle the iv pole at the same time.

"When in Rome."

"We're not. And all I need is some intern walking in on you and I
going at it."

The couch is one of the ancient ones - the kind that could seat
twelve comfortably. Mulder is able to lie down and still have room
to stretch his legs.

As Scully tries to make him comfortable and adjust the IV pole, he
looks up at her and asks, "If someone comes in, can I tell them I'm
the guy sleeping with Dr. Scully?"

"You do and you *won't* be the guy sleeping with Dr. Scully for a
while. Here, shift over, the pillow is stuck." With the strength that
people tend to underestimate, Scully lifts Mulder up from the pillow
so that she can put it under his head properly. She stands back and
looks at the finished product with a little pride. "I think that should
keep you comfortable for a while. How do you feel? Still
nauseous?"

"Yes."

"Think you can sleep?"

"Yes."

"I might go to my office and get some paperwork done while I've
got some down time."

She has made the mistake of telling him this in her polite-voice. She
wants to go to her office, close the door and scream at herself for
what she said to her mother.

"Why don't you call home first and see how your mom is doing with
George Hale?"

Her eyes are suddenly beginning to fill with tears and she can't do a
damn thing to stop them.

"Hey - Scully."

"I'm fine."

He reaches over with his free hand and tugs at her pant leg.
"What?"

"It's nothing."

His hand finally finds her wrist and doesn't let her squirm away.
"You want to take my mind off this, you tell me about 'nothing'."

"No - I can't. Not here, Mulder. It's fine, it will keep."

Not again, Mulder thinks, remembering the promise they made to
not disappear from the other when pockets of their lives begin to
close in.

She breaks away and won't look him in the eye. "I'll bring my
laptop up here and work."

If he could get up off this couch without disconnecting the IV or just
not vomiting, he would leap to the door that her hand is reaching for
and slam it shut. Instead, he warns, "I'm not doing this again,
Scully."

His voice is so even and quiet she almost misses it.

Mulder is staring her down "You remember how you felt the last
time.? You remember what I said about the *next* time?"

She looks at him strangely. She would like to tell him to go to hell
for bringing up that terrible, terrible morning.

"Does it have to do with William?"

And now she could strangle him. Instead, her body takes over and
tears begin to drop.

Over she goes to him, her shoulders shaking as she tries to explain
what she said to her mother and why this makes her want to find a
very tall bridge.

"Scully, she understands."

"She will never, ever forgive me for giving him away, Mulder."

He pulls her down next to him. He shifts back against the couch,
her back settles into him. He drapes one arm over her shoulder and
keeps the other hand by the IV pole.

"Did you ever really talk to her about why you had to do this?"

Her head shakes. "Between then and leaving with you - I know I
should have but I was so ... I couldn't."

"If she had to make the decision you did, with one of her children,
your mother would have done the same thing."

"I know she would. But this was me. I hurt her so badly. And
tonight, to refer to our dog - our *dog* - as a *grandchild,* after
everything that's been taken from her."

"Do you know how many times I've almost made the same kind of
remarks to you, Scully? Scared to death something inappropriate
would come out, something simple that should speak of how much
this dog means to me; not to serve as a reminder of a painful
decision. Do you think Curt means to hurt you when he refers to us
as George Hale's parents? The bottom line for all of us is that we
are invariably going to say things that affect other people in ways
we will never see. All we can hope for is that these things are said
out of kindness. Beyond that, you will censor yourself to death."

Something about this thought begins to ease her hurt. To protect
herself and her mother, she could go the rest of her life censoring
every simple sentence to form in her brain before she opens her
mouth.

She is shivering under his arm.

"Are you cold?"

"I'm so tired."

He pulls her in closer and whispers into her ear, "Then let go and
find some rest for a while."


Bruce is a People-Person whose greatest strength is knowing
people and how to get along with them, with or without their help.
New employees are often directed his way when they want to
know something about someone that no one else seems to know.
Bruce knows it all. So when he opens 9B with the test results for
Dr. Scully, he is stunned by what he sees. The hardest person in
this hospital to read - the mysterious Dr. Scully - is sound asleep on
the couch under the arm of a man who has an IV running out of his
other arm. It's the same man from last night.

The mysterious Dr. Scully has a life that Bruce knows nothing
about. It is humbling.

Bruce braces his knuckles and wraps them twice against the door.

Scully is up like a shot, as if she is trying to wake up to the noise
before the noise is finished.

"Uh - Dr. Scully." Bruce steps into the room. "I've got the test
results for your ... friend."

She takes the results with a quick, 'Thanks.'

He stays where he is. He knows how long it can take a sleepy
doctor to read results without help from him. "Nothing conclusive,"
he offers.

Scully stares at the numbers. "Thanks for this."

His cue to leave.

Scully closes the door with her foot as she reads the report.

"You see the look he gave me?" Mulder asks in an unusually faint
voice.

"That's because he doesn't know who you are. For people like
Bruce, that's a point of pride."

"So I *could* tell him I'm Dr. Scully's boy-toy?"

"No." Scully drops down onto the couch, still reading the mystery
numbers and codes.

He pushes himself up to read over her shoulder. "Well?"

A smile creeps onto her face. He can tell this even from behind.
"Nothing." She finally tears herself away. "White count is low but
other than that, most likely a bad virus."

"You sound relieved."

She won't regale him with her list of fears. She turns towards him
and pockets the good news. "How are you feeling?"

"Not as bad as last night."

Scully tilts his head towards her and has a look at his eyes. She
picks up his wrist and finds what she needs with her thumb. She
always feels odd treating Mulder as a patient. Sometimes it feels
like too much a character change from who they are to who she
doesn't want to be.

"Your pulse is a little fast."

"I'll live. Can we get out of here?"

"Any stomach pain?

"No. Yes. A little."

She stares at him as if he is a new car she is thinking of buying. "I
think I'd like to admit you for the day."

"Scully...."

"You're still dehydrated, Mulder and I'm not taking you home just
to have to bring you back two hours later. Besides that, we take
possession of the house next week, we both start new jobs the
week after, there are still arrangements to be completed and I need
you *healthy.*"

He knows by the exhausted look on her face that he is not going to
win this round. "Fine. What are you going to do?"

"Go home. Take a shower. Bring some of your things in case you
need to stay longer."

"Which I won't."

"Take George Hale for a walk." She lets the sentence drift into
silence and looks at the folded paper in her hand.

Mulder's sure voice creeps into her thoughts. "Your mom's ok,
Scully."

"I know. I just need to talk to her. Or try."

"We can both talk to her. He's my son, too and I would have done
what you did if I was in that position."

This gets a smile out of her as she stands up. "Thank you. I
appreciate it. But it will be fine. I should have spoken to her when it - 
at the time. Come on, let's get you sorted out."


On her way out, she stops by the lab to thank Bruce for his help
and let him know that Mulder is staying on as an outpatient. Bruce
pretends he didn't see Dr. Scully asleep in the arms of this Mulder.
"Glad I could help, Dr. Scully. I'm sure your ..." And here, he
pauses carefully, just long enough to hear what he wants.

She knows people like Bruce and she knows that she desperately
needs to get used to simple tasks like introducing Mulder to other
people. She wants people to know him, who he is, to whom he
belongs and that he belongs to her. And if she has to start with this
idiot, so be it.

"My ....partner."

*Partner.* When that word comes to mind, she still thinks she has
to correct herself and say that she didn't mean her work partner but
her life partner. In the bureau days, occasionally that misconception
was reversed.

"Oh. I wasn't sure if he was your husband or not."

This idiot is so transparent, Scully thinks he will dance into the
woodwork. But he's giving her a chance to stretch her social
muscles so she will suck up the pride. "He's the man I live with."
And she has officially declared herself a part of the human element
of this hospital. The *man she lives with* no longer has to be
explained by a shrug or absence of explanation. Soon, he will have
an identity. Bruce will see to that.

"That's a great name he's got," Bruce says. "Is that his given name?"

"Mulder? No, that's his ... oh, Fox. Yes. His parents ...."

In all this time, it has never occurred to her to ask why his
conservative parents gave him this wild, sly, mischievous,
mysterious first name. William is his middle name; after his father.
Fox - as elusive as the man himself.


Scully collapses onto the couch. She shouldn't have driven home
without getting a few more hours of sleep.

"Mom?" she calls tiredly as she kicks one of her shoes off.

There is no answer.

"George Hale?"

No sound of happy clicking nails. Scully leans back looks up at the
ceiling. They never bothered painting this place and the ceiling is
proof of why. It looks like shit. Maybe they never looked up long
enough to notice.

The front door opens. Mrs. Scully appears in the doorway. "Dana."

Scully manages to open one, then both eyes. "Hi."

There's something in this one word that creates a knot of fear in
Maggie Scully's stomach. "Where's Fox?"

George Hale skips into the house and bounces onto the couch next
to Scully.

"He's still at the hospital." She looks past George Hale's bobbing
head to catch the look on her mother's face. "He's okay, mom.
He's okay. Just dehydrated. The blood work didn't show anything
other than a virus. I'm keeping him on an IV for the day to see if he
improves."

Her mother tries to hide her relief. She had a terrible feeling that if
she returned from her walk and found her daughter alone, that
something would had happened.

A third voice joins the crowd. "Where's Mulder?"

Walter Skinner has now entered the house. He closes the door
behind him and jams it shut with his shoulder.

"Sir..." Forcer of habit sends Scully to a sitting position; the kind
that should be ready for any eventuality, including your mother's
boyfriend who is your ex-boss and your only reason for still being
alive, entering the room.

He bends over and tries to remove his muddy boots with as little
effort as possible. It isn't possible. There is more mud in this part of
the state than he will ever be used to. "That dog of yours knows has
marked almost every inch of this property. How's Mulder?" Rid of
the boots, he stands up. God, how he towers over her mother,
Scully can't help noticing. Maybe it is a trend. Maybe all tall,
handsome loner, veteran FBI men hover over the smaller Scully
women.

"He's fine," Scully answers his first question. She'll let George
Hale's marking habits go for now. "I'm going to pick him up from
the hospital later. I just came home to grab a shower."

"And get some sleep," her mother adds. "You look wiped."

She nods.

"I can pick him up for you," Skinner offers

Scully's looking at him oddly and they all suddenly realize he may
want to explain what he is doing alone in this house with her mother

He points to the table and a large envelope. "I brought this over
from your roofer. The estimates. "

"My roofer?"

"Carlyle. Your roofer."

Mrs. Scully smiles proudly. "You know your baby girl has made it
when she has her own roofer named Carlyle."

Scully shakes her head of these facts and gets back to her feet. "I
think I'll go shower," she decides. "After I eat something."

"Fridge is full," her mother calls after her as she shuffles to the
kitchen.

*Fridge is full.* Her mother's boyfriend may well have spent the
night - or rest of early morning but they have managed to keep the
fridge full. No, she decides as she stands in front of the open fridge
door. He would have had to arrive damn early for that. Maybe he
really did come to drop off the estimates. They don't have a fax,
this is probably Skinner's only option to help the roofer who may
not know they do not have a fax and probably won't until they
move into the house and set up an office which Mulder has already
planned out to look like-"

"Scully?"

She comes out of her semi-conscious inner ramblings. Skinner is
standing in the doorway with a funny look on his face.

"Do you have a second?"

Apparently, she does. He pulls out two chairs from the table.

Skinner waits until she is seated. He folds his hands and tries not to
look like the heel this kind of situation makes him feel like.

"You know that your mother and I ...."

"Yes, sir. That's fine. I'm fine with it. I think it's ... great." His eyes
are boring down at her, gauging the authenticity of this adjective. "It
was a little strange to hear at first. In a good way."

Skinner sits back. This will be fine. He won't have to deliver some
form of the, *I don't intend to take the place of your father*
speech after all.

"She deserves someone who makes her happy. So do you."

"Thank you."

"Have you met the boys yet?"

He looks puzzled. *Boys? Children?*

"My brothers," Scully explains, only mildly enjoying the glimmer of
panic on his face.

"Oh. No. Not yet. Your mother says one of them may visit once
she gets settled."

Scully's eyes light up for the first time today. "That's fantastic. Did
she say which one?"

He hesitates. "Bill."

Scully's turn to look worried. "Oh."

"He's the one who hates Mulder, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"He's going to hate me too, isn't he?"

"Not .... necessarily. Sir, his attitude to Mulder has nothing to do
with you or the FBI in general. It's a Mulder thing." Even she can't
spin a positive outcome on this one. "I'm sure he has changed his
opinions somewhat. For Mulder's sake, I hope he has. You'll be
fine. You're much like Bill in the good way; you share a military
background, respect the rules of the institution, you both -."

"Jesus, Scully, do you have to make me sound so ...."

"Sorry. I guess we are all going to have new things to get used to
when we move to Washington. Don't worry sir, if Bill gets out of
hand, we can have Mulder run interference for you."

There is a moment of shared relief. Mulder-inspired jokes can save
almost any moment. Skinner pushes his hands on the table to stand
up.

"Sir - " Her voice is so quiet he almost misses it. "Has - does my
mother ... does she ever talk about William?"

He pauses and sits back down. "No."

There is a feeling of relief and disappointment from this word.
Scully nods, understanding both.

"We talk about many things - but not him."

She didn't realize it was a useless question. Of course Skinner
wouldn't have talked to her mother about her mother's grandson. It
was Skinner who had to make the arrangements, it is Skinner who
must keep the secrets. She hopes this doesn't come between the
him and her mother, but she knows it eventually will. Secrets will
always fail, good intentions or not.


Scully crawls into bed and drags the duvet over her shoulder. She
is so exhausted, she cannot think. Did she close the bedroom door
behind her? If she didn't, George Hale will bolt onto the bed and
scare the hell out of her. He will wake up Mulder, but Mulder isn't
here right now....

"Dana?"

*George Hale?*

Her mother is walking towards the bed holding something. It is a
hot water bottle. She gingerly slips it under her daughter's legs.

"Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome. Get some sleep." Mrs. Scully turns for the door.

Scully lifts her head. "Mom ..."

Mrs. Scully turns around.

"What I said to George Hale ... talking about you as 'Grandma'....
I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

They both know she is not referring to a simple reference to a dog

"I know you are."

"I had no choice."

"I know you didn't."

"Do you?"

Cautiously, with legs now so wobbly at this long overdue
conversation, but still working, Mrs. Scully repeats softly that, yes,
she knows. How can she hold her daughter responsible for
worrying a parent when her own child now suffers the same hell.

Scully realizes to her own horror that she is waiting for her mother
to offer her forgiveness. Her mother doesn't say it. She isn't there
yet. For all she understands about her daughter's decision, a small
part of her will never forgive and Mrs. Scully will never admit this to
anyone, maybe not even herself.

Scully watches her mother leave the room, sees door close gently.
She hears her mother's soft voice tell George Hale to come into the
kitchen for his dinner.

And Scully falls asleep.


George Hale is in a strange mood He isn't sure if he should look out
for The Tall One or keep an eye on The Small One. He takes turns
between sitting at the front door and sleeping in front of Scully's
closed door. Normally, he is allowed free access to this room -
certain exceptions still withstanding - but if Scully leaves him in
there when one of them is trying to sleep and the door is closed,
inevitably, he will want to get out. So, he spends time wandering
between both entrances.

The Other Tall Man has taken him out for two walks but gave up
on each because George Hale's mind was on the house and the
return of the Alphas.

When the phone rings an eternity later he bolts up from the front
door while the Alpha's Alpha grabs it quickly.

She has been quiet all afternoon, sitting in one place and stare at the
paper object with all the pages.

She hangs up.

The Other Tall Man wanders in from the kitchen. He speaks in a
quiet voice. "Hospital?"

"They are going to discharge him." Her voice is also quiet. "I think
I'll pick him up, I want Dana to sleep."

The Other Tall Man walks past her to the door and takes his coat.
"I'll get him. You've slept about ten minutes longer than she has."

He looks down at George Hale, who is now on all fours and
looking up.

"Am I supposed to bring him?"

"No," the Alpha's Alpha says. "He might get too overexcited to see
Fox."

The Other Tall Man looks down at George Hale and shakes his
head. "This dog needs a life."


Mulder is waiting in the front lobby of the hospital. He signed
himself out twenty minutes ago and if someone doesn't pick him up
soon, he is going to tip over and resume sleeping. He doesn't even
mind if his ride is Curt. The man talks, but Mulder figures he can be
out cold before his first sentence has ended.

His long legs are stretched out and crossed. His arms are crossed.
His head is bowed forward and he is trying to remember what
sleep feels like. He has had a long, uncomfortable day; the kind you
don't even wish on the last guy to call you 'Spooky'. His stomach is
sore from all the throwing up he did the day before; his head still
aches and, worst of all, he feels as though he has been stared at,
wondered over; guessed about and misnamed. Hospital employees - 
only the ones who come into contact with Scully; the rest kindly
couldn't give a shit - have been meandering past him throughout the
day, the way you do when someone wants you to look at
something fascinating, *but for god sakes, don't get caught!*

Scully must have these people completely puzzled because every
one of them has an extra turn of their heads when they see him. He
thinks he heard the term, 'hottie' come from one intern to another
after their third walk-by. The name 'George' also floats past him
several times. He hopes he never has to come here for anything
worse than the flu because he truly doubts that these people could
do anything to help him without playing Twenty Questions first.

A few people are coming through and out the automatic doors.
Mulder even thinks he sees Assistant Director Skinner holding the
door for three women at the entrance. That's all he would need, he
thinks, before he reconsiders that Skinner is no longer his boss. He
isn't sure what they are exactly.

"Mulder."

He looks up. Christ, it *is* Skinner.

He looks at him with a strange feeling that, for all probable good
reasons, he and Skinner could very well turn into family, if they
haven't already.

"Sir!"

"Do you know you've been staring directly at me since I got out of
my car?"

Mulder's face is blank. "Huh? Where's Scully?"

"Sleeping." Skinner leans forward and puts a hand under Mulder's
elbow. "Let's go. Car's outside."

Mulder stands up and has to let Skinner steady him before he can
walk by himself.

"Why is Scully still sleeping?"

"Something about staying up all night with you. Let's move."

It's all too strange for Mulder and he lets Skinner take over.


The house is quiet and settled in a way that Mulder is not used to.
Mrs. Scully is at the table reading a dog training book she found on
top of a packed box. There is a cup of hot coffee by her elbow.
George Hale is at her feet and has slept through Mulder's return.

Skinner closes the front door behind them. There is a strange sense
of comfort that Mulder has not felt since he was a kid; He is
returning to his home and to a family - his family - that is settled and
accounted for.

George Hale and Mrs. Scully see him at the same time. "Fox, how
are you feeling?"

"Better thanks."

When she pulls him down into a hug, that unexpected feeling of
family grows. She hugs like Scully, meaning every second of it. It's
a safe place.

He glances down at his knees. "Hey, buddy."

George Hale knows not to jump on him right now, that something
still isn't right.

"Sc-Dana - still sleeping?"

"So far. Can I get you anything to eat?"

"No, thanks," he says quietly. "I'm going to lie down." Like the
zombies he used to watch on TV, he shuffles into their bedroom
and crosses the dark room to where he hopes the bed still is.

He wraps one of the discarded blankets around his shoulders and
drops face down onto the mattress next to Scully. He drops an arm
around her shoulder and is asleep in seconds.


The middle of the night is full of quiet activity. Scully rolls onto
Mulder's arm at three thirty and has to wait a few moments before
she puts together why this is unusual. She has slept over eight
hours, and as soon as she makes a trip, she is probably going to
knock off a few more

"Sorry," she whispers to his sleeping form. He doesn't budge
despite the crushed appendage.

Gently, she leans over the bed and puts her hand on his forehead
and is relieved to find he has no more fever. She is a little creeped
out by the fact that he is still in his hospital clothes while on her linen
but as she told her mother, the linen will not be joining them in DC.
Still, she doesn't want to think what little things managed to hop a
ride on his clothes.

Delicately, she opens the bedroom door and almost steps on
George Hale's sleeping form. He is sprawled across the doorway,
his eyes shut tight and his legs twitching; chasing bunnies, Mulder
calls it.

The walk to and from the bathroom is dark and she is extra careful
not to bump into anything. If she turns on the light, she will wake
their second houseguest, Walter Skinner. She can barely make out
his form on the couch. And, oddly enough, is still there. If this were
her mother's house and Mulder was the guest assigned to the
couch, he would have snuck into her room long before this, even if
it was just to sleep. Maybe this is how life as an older couple goes.

"Sorry," she apologizes to the sleeping dog again as she steps over
him. She crawls back into bed and into calmer sleep, now that she
knows the man snoring next to her is home and safe.

Two hours later, Mulder wakes up to a full bladder and sleepily
thinks that he is still in the hospital. By the time he stands up and
pulls his fingers through his hair, he realizes he is in his own home.
Scully is on the other side of the bed, her head tucked under a
pillow, sleeping fiercely. He should really have a shower and get out
of his hospital-visit clothes but he doesn't want to risk waking
anyone up, especially George Hale. Instead, he strips down to his
underwear and hopes Mrs. Scully is used to Haines. He pulls on a
grey t-shirt to complete the set and creeps out of the room .

It is still black outside. There aren't even any stars to poke through
the sky and remind him that there is life on other planets. Mulder
does his business and slips out of the bathroom. Across the room,
the door to the guest room opens and Mulder sees Skinner
tiptoeing back to the couch.

Both men stop and stare at the other.

"Morning, Sir," is all Mulder can think of to say.

"Morning Mulder," Skinner whispers back. He is wearing
underwear and holding his pants in his left hand. One of his socks is
still on. Moments between men shouldn't be this awkward.

"I didn't know ... you were staying over," Mulder stammers.

"I'm driving Mrs - Maggie to DC in the morning -today - this
morning."

"Oh. Yeah, I heard you two are ... dating."

"Yes. She and I are currently... dating." This conversation is taking
a strange turn. "Are you all feeling all right?"

"Just going to the bathroom."

"Good luck."

"You too sir."

"Don't need to call me Sir, Mulder." Skinner tiptoes back to the
couch and disappears under the covers.

Mulder wonders how long Skinner managed to stay on that couch
for. If they were in Mrs. Scully's house and Mulder was assigned
the couch, he wouldn't waste time once the lights were out to sneak
into Scully's bed.

Mulder heads back to his room. He is still putting this together but
basically, he just caught the boss sneaking out of Scully's mothers'
bedroom. It's a shame, he thinks. This story is too good and he
won't be able to tell anyone but the dog.