"The Fourth Side of the Triangle" (with apologies to Ellery Queen) by Susan Jameson

The most annoying thing about this whole mess is that it was my brother who caused it.

Mulder and Daniel's relationship was going along quite well, it seemed to me. They'd recovered from the trouble over the Robert Modell case -- some of which, I freely admit, I caused -- and to all appearances, they were settling into as much domesticity as they could, given that they couldn't actually live together.

I was pleased and proud to be considered their friend, and if I was also their beard, well, I didn't especially mind that either. We all knew it was happening, and we were able to discuss it openly amongst ourselves, so it wasn't actually a case of being used -- it was a case of my being able to give them something that they needed very much.

Actually, I don't mind it at all. I love them both, although in very different ways, and they are so good for each other that anything I can do to help them stay together is just fine with me.

Oh, all right, it's fun, too -- in an evil sort of way. I don't get to be evil very often.

You see, the people at Bethesda Naval Hospital think I'm seeing Daniel, their staff orthopedic surgeon, while people at the Bureau think I'm seeing Mulder, my partner.

There are a few people who are convinced that I'm seeing both of them at the same time.

Such people are extremely puzzled if they encounter all three of us together, at lunch, for example, because we all get along so very well. Visions of menage a trois no doubt flit through their minds.

That, we have never even considered, although there have been a few moments that -- although they were entirely platonic -- came fairly close to that.

My favorite such moment was late last summer, when Mulder managed to elude his inner demons long enough to reopen his father's house in West Tisbury, on Martha's Vineyard. He grew up on the Vineyard, about six miles away in Chilmark, and since his father's death he's expressed no interest at all in going back there.

But Daniel has healed a lot of the wounded places in Mulder's soul, and at last Mulder agreed to spend a week there at the end of the season, when the island was less crowded.

To my surprise, they wanted me to come along.

I protested, of course. This was supposed to be their time together, and they have precious little of that, but they both insisted.

"It won't be any fun at all if you're not there, Dana," Daniel said, as we discussed it over lasagna and garlic bread at my apartment one Friday night. "You've got to come."

"Yeah, Scully, you've gotta be there," Mulder agreed, nodding his head firmly. "You haven't taken a real vacation since you joined the X Files, and that's almost four years ago. Besides, if you don't go, people are going to think Daniel and I are banging each other."

"There's a reason for that, Mulder," I said, wrinkling my nose at him. He is so juvenile sometimes. "You are, as you put it, banging each other."

"Scully, please -- it sounds so crude on the lips of a lady," Mulder said in a mock-wounded tone, but he had that yes-I'm- misbehaving grin on his face.

I didn't answer him; I just raised my eyes to heaven in my best what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you look and heaved a dramatic sigh.

Daniel chuckled; he enjoys watching Mulder and me at our verbal fencing matches. Which, I'm sorry to say, I'm usually forced to concede to Mulder.

His point made, Mulder returned to his cajoling. "Come on, say you'll do it," he said, putting a hand on my arm. He knows that gets to me. "Really, we do want you there. No kidding around."

I didn't answer right away; I poured myself another glass of Chianti (yes, it's a bourgeois taste, but it's what I like with Italian food, okay?) and sipped at the wine while I thought it over.

They would want to be alone together, but I supposed I could arrange to go shopping or walking on the beach or something, and it would be nice to spend some downtime with them ...

Well, to be honest, it was mostly Mulder I wanted some downtime with. No matter how much I have come to love Daniel, or how strong the bonds are between us -- we're both Irish Catholic doctors; he's in the Navy, and I'm from a Navy family -- the thing that really binds us together is that we're both in love with Fox Mulder.

Now, of course, that's not a secret from any of the three of us, and we've all adjusted to it as well as could be expected, but it's not ever going to stop being a consideration when we think about who spends time with whom.

Finally, I put down my glass. It was silly to deprive myself of a free beach vacation and the company of my favorite people simply because there might be a few awkward moments. There always were awkward moments, but they were getting fewer and further between, and we had ways of dealing with them.

So just be honest, Dana, I told myself. They deserve that.

"Guys, the truth is, I would love to go," I said. "But if I start to get in your way, if you need me to get out of the house so you can be alone, please just tell me. All right?"

"We'll tell you, Scully, but that's not going to happen," Mulder said -- as always, far too confident for his own good.

How the man managed to get by for 30-some-odd years without me, I'll never know.

Perhaps it has something to do with the irritating fact that he's often right.

That settled it. Mulder and I went to the Vineyard early on the following Friday, and opened up the house, aired it, dusted it and got it in habitable shape. It really was a nice house, with a wide verandah, large, airy rooms, and a beautiful view of the island.

It wasn't near the shore, although that's a relative matter -- everything on Martha's Vineyard is close enough to the seashore to walk, if you're in any kind of shape at all.

When Daniel arrived that evening, I had a nice dinner waiting for all of us -- nothing fancy, just my usual pasta and salad, although that always gets raves from the guys. We ate, talked, laughed, drank wine and after dinner we moved to the living room.

Daniel laid a fire to drive away the early fall chill, then stretched out on the sofa with his head in Mulder's lap. That was nice to see; Daniel is usually so reticent, even around me.

I sat on the floor and rested my head on Mulder's knee. Mulder had one hand in Daniel's hair, the other in mine. A couple of times, I took Daniel's hand and just held it.

Our little circle was complete. No one was left out; no one was missing. We were at peace, and there was no tension at all.

We made the most of it, too; we talked, and laughed, and told stories for hours. At one point, Mulder was telling us about something funny his grandmother had done at Passover one year, and right in the middle he got very quiet.

"What's wrong, Fox?" Daniel asked, quietly, raising his head and looking with concern at his lover.

Mulder shrugged. "That was the year I turned 12," he said, with a sort of apologetic smile.

Of course, Daniel and I both knew what that meant. It was the last Passover his family had spent together before Samantha disappeared.

I put my hand on his knee, hugging him just a little, and Daniel sat up and kissed Mulder -- not like he usually does, but gently, and very sweetly -- and then he put his arms around Mulder and Mulder laid his head on Daniel's shoulder, and Daniel held him close.

I felt Mulder's hand tangling itself more firmly into my hair.

Mulder always thinks he's getting more out of this than Daniel and I are. It's times like that I know that he's not.

We sat there in a companionable sort of silence after that, just watching the fire. It was heavenly.

But it always is, when we're all together like that. We all complete each other in so many ways, and if the bonds between Daniel and me aren't as strong as those between Daniel and Mulder, or Mulder and me, well, they're still there, nonetheless.

We long ago accepted that it takes both of us to love Fox Mulder the way he needs to be loved.

But we take care of each other, Daniel and I, all except for that one little thing, and that is the one thing that neither he nor Mulder can give me. I prefer to wait until Mulder and I are in the field to take care of that; I find them, I bring them to the hotel, we have sex, and they go, and I never want to see them again after that.

For everything else, there are my guys -- both of them.

After a while, the guys got up to go to bed. I got sweet good- night kisses from both of them.

Daniel, probably because he was married before he came out, is actually a more talented kisser. The way he kisses me is not at all the way he usually kisses Mulder; it's gentler, not as demanding, although I would call it seductive if I thought he really wanted anything from me.

He doesn't want anything, of course -- it's just how he learned to kiss women, and God knows, it's fine with me.

Mulder, on the other hand, has never in his life kissed a woman with the intent to arouse her, and his kisses are, as a consequence, delivered with far less finesse. They're tender, and loving, but almost chaste, with no sense of urgency or demand, no hint of wanting more, not even in make-believe.

But Mulder's kisses carry so much more emotional weight with me that the overall result is pretty much the same -- I get extremely turned on. I'd have to say it's a toss-up as to which of them is better at doing that.

It's never a toss-up whose kiss I'd rather have, though. Mulder wins that one in a walk. A touch of his hand, an embrace, a smile -- anything physical from Mulder goes straight to my soul, and no wonder.

He is the other half of my soul.

I told them I was going for a walk on the beach. I wanted them to be able to be together without having to worry about whether I'd hear.

I didn't mind hearing; actually, just the opposite. Their enjoyment of each other is arousing, in a way I'd never expected it would be, but I don't want to violate their privacy or inhibit their pleasure.

Mulder made a face. "You be careful, Scully," he said, almost sternly. "The Vineyard's a pretty quiet place, but that doesn't mean it's perfectly safe for a woman to be out at night by herself."

"Mulder, you know I'm armed," I told him, rolling my eyes at his mother-hen attitutude. "Will you please quit worrying?"

Daniel's eyebrows went up at that, just slightly. I don't think he's ever really gotten used to the idea that his two closest companions carry guns, but we do, pretty much all the time unless we're asleep or in the shower.

Even at night, Mulder and I both keep our weapons close at hand. You never know when you might need a gun in our business.

Mulder is used to it, of course. He just nodded. "Take your phone, too," he said, and kissed me again, even as he was putting his arm around Daniel to take him to bed.

I went for my walk. It was dark, but not frightening; the Vineyard was quiet, and the stars shone overhead, and I could hear, not too far off, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

It was the kind of place people call paradise, but it had stopped being that for Mulder a long time ago.

I tried to imagine what it was like for Mulder, growing up in this place in the shadow of his missing sister. I couldn't. I have never been able to picture what that would be like.

My sister, Melissa, is dead, of course, killed by people who were trying to kill me, but at least I know that. Mulder has never known what happened to Samantha; I wonder sometimes if he ever will.

After walking around for about an hour, I went back to the house. It was dark, and quiet. They were asleep.

I was exhausted from the cleaning and the long walk, and still just a little tipsy from the dinner wine. I pulled off my shoes, socks and jeans, pulled off my bra without taking off my T-shirt, and collapsed across the bed -- the same bed that used to be the sleeping place of a confused and miserably grief-stricken 12-year-old boy.

~~~~~

I woke up early the next morning -- I never really sleep late unless I'm at home in my own bed -- and started making breakfast. The guys were still asleep. I could tell; they were both snoring.

I've always thought that was one of the funniest things about their relationship. Two snorers in the same bed. My God, how do they ever sleep?

After an hour or so, though, I was getting restless. I put on a fresh pot of coffee and knocked on their door. The snores faded away, and I heard Mulder's sleepy, "Come in, Scully."

I opened the door. There they were, flopped out on the bed, both in boxers and T-shirts -- but that was okay, I mean, I was still in my T-shirt and panties. I long ago stopped noticing whether I was decently clad in their presence; God knows they don't notice.

"Are you two going to sleep all day?" I said, putting my hands on my hips in mock annoyance. "I've made two pots of coffee so far, and I drank the first one all by myself. I am ready to get moving, gentlemen."

Daniel just grunted and pulled the pillow over his head -- he's not a morning person at all -- but Mulder just smiled and sat up, raking the hair out of his eyes with his left hand the way he always does.

"Come on, Scully, we're on vacation," he said, in that sleepy voice that never fails to make me feel just a touch warmer. "You ought to just go back to bed and sleep a while longer." "After three cups of coffee? Not a chance," I said, walking over to the bed.

I grabbed the pillow from Daniel's head.

"Come on, Reilly, you're supposed to be the sensible one in this duo," I said. "I want to go to the beach, and I don't want to go by myself this time."

"God, I feel like I'm back in officer basic training," Daniel groaned, flopping around in what he must have assumed was a heart-rending fashion. "Have a little pity, Dana."

"I have no pity for lazy, good-for-nothing officers," I said, in my best drill instructor voice. "If Uncle Sam wanted you to sleep, he wouldn't have allowed God to create a 24-hour day."

"Fox, for Christ's sake, can't you do something with this woman?" Daniel complained, rising up on one elbow.

Mulder was watching all this with great amusement; actually, he seemed to be on the verge of giggling, not that I've ever heard him giggle.

"I've never been able to do anything with her," he said, and the laughter finally escaped him. "Dana, are you going to lie down or am I going to have to whip your ass for you?"

Dana? He almost never calls me Dana. I couldn't figure out what had led him to do it right now.

I can only guess he was trying to get me off my guard, because as I stood pondering the name question, he reached out fast as lightning, grabbed my wrist and pulled me down. I lost my balance and fell with a mighty thud right into the space between him and Daniel.

"Mulder, let me go!" I protested, trying to struggle out of his grip, but I was starting to laugh. It was kind of funny, after all.

"Not until you agree to go back to sleep," he said, with the most mischievous look that I've ever seen on his face. "Come on, Daniel, you're the one who wanted to sleep. You have to help me here; Scully's been known to shoot."

With that, Daniel rolled over and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Okay, I've got her," he said. "Now what?"

"What's now is that _I_ whip some serious ass," I warned, trying to twist away from them, but I was laughing so hard there was no chance I would succeed.

Anyway, they're both a lot bigger than me.

"Let me go right now, or else ...," I said, trying to sound threatening.

It didn't work.

"Or else what?" Mulder said, quite calmly.

"Or else I'm going to shoot you both -- DANIEL, STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!!!!" I shrieked as I felt his fingers tickling my underarm.

"Not until you agree to lie down and go back to sleep," he said, but he actually backed off. Daniel doesn't have a cruel bone in his body. "Are you ready to say uncle?"

I wiggled around, half-heartedly, but there was no escaping, and anyway, I didn't really want to.

"Uncle," I said, sighing, and immediately they loosened their grip on me. I sank back against the pillows, with Daniel on my right and Mulder on my left.

"You guys don't fight fair," I said, looping one arm around each of them.

"Ah, if you fight fair, you're apt to lose, Scully," Mulder said, kissing the tip of my nose. He pulled the covers up over all three of us, and then I felt his hand on my bare stomach, so warm against my skin. As always, his touch made me feel a little fluttery inside.

"Come on, you lost," he was saying. "That means you have to go back to sleep."

"Yeah, and the sooner the better," Daniel said.

"You won, guys," I said, "but I'm warning you, I'm not going to sleep a wink," and I gave each of them a kiss and snuggled down between them.

Daniel wrapped his arm around my waist, right up against my skin, and pulled me closer to him so that we were spooned together. Mulder scooted up under us and put one arm under my neck -- and Daniel's -- and held us both.

I laid my head on Mulder's shoulder and my hand on his chest, right over his heart, and he covered my hand with his and curled his fingers around mine.

The bed was warm and the sheets were warm and my guys were warm and their arms and legs were warm and everywhere around me. I felt like the filling in a very nice Scully Sandwich, and I liked it.

If it sounds weird, I'm sorry, but there's just no feeling like being curled up in bed in the arms of two men who love you, and each other, and to know that any one of you would willingly die to protect the others.

I never felt quite so small, so safe or so loved in my entire life, and I amazed myself by going back to sleep as I lay there between them.

Around mid-morning we got up, I made fresh coffee and we went down to the beach and played Frisbee all afternoon.

~~~~~

What, you were expecting to hear that we got into some hot, kinky sex?

I told you -- we don't do that. And anyway, you weren't paying attention. These guys are gay. G-A-Y. Homosexual. A six on the Kinsey scale. They don't have sex with women; they have no interest in it, not even with me, even though they both love me very much.

Well -- there was that time when my brother caused all the trouble. But that wasn't sex.

Not exactly, anyway.