That breakfast was pleasant enough, but pleasant moments were a little more rare than I'd hoped they'd be. While Josh was as attentive to me as ever, he wasn't making any progress in finding a job, and it was making him just a bit short-tempered at times.

Just a few nights earlier, when I'd mentioned to him an opening for a martial-arts instructor at Quantico, he'd lost his temper completely and yelled at me that he didn't need me to find work for him.

I tried to reassure him, tell him that it was just a matter of time until he was working again. I told him that I had more than enough income for us to get by until he got a job, but I only succeeded in making him angrier.

"Let me tell you something, Dana," he said, gripping my upper arms so hard that it hurt. "If I ever decide that I can't find a job for myself without your help, I'll just go back to Miami and get my old job back. I can do this, whether you think I can or not."

Then he gave me one final shove and left. A few minutes later, I heard the front door slam.

He came home six hours later, roaring drunk. I was already asleep, but he woke me up anyway and insisted on making love.

It wasn't exactly what I had in mind -- it was nearly 3 a.m., he was reeking of beer, and I had to work the next day -- but he was all over me, touching, kissing, murmuring, "please, baby, please,"

I finally decided it would be easier just to go ahead and do it, because he seemed to need that to heal the breach between us.

When I got up the next morning, there were bruises all over my arms where his fingertips had dug into me. The days were getting warmer, but I decided I'd better wear long sleeves anyway; I didn't want anyone thinking Josh had hurt me on purpose.

I didn't realize until later, when I tried to pay for our lunch, that Josh had taken all the cash out of my wallet to buy his drinks -- and, apparently, drinks for several other guys he'd met at the bar.

"Won't he cuff you?" Josh said, indicating the hot-dog vendor. That's cop slang for getting a free meal by showing your badge, by the way, although in the FBI it's called roast-beefing.

"Josh, you know I can't do that," I whispered as I continued to dig through my purse, trying to come up with enough money.

No use. I asked the vendor to take a check, and he looked at me as though I'd suddenly developed a third eye or something.

"Cash," he said, looking at me contemptuously.

Finally, at Josh's suggestion, I flashed my FBI credentials and persuaded the hot-dog vendor to let me give him a check.

My face was burning with shame as I walked away. I never do anything like that; it's against regulations, and it's unethical, and I would have been in a world of trouble if I had been caught.

"I'm sorry, Dana," Josh said, almost meekly. "I was just out of cash and didn't want to risk going to the ATM that late at night. I'll pay you back, I promise."

"Josh, I don't mind if you borrow money from me when you're short of cash," I said, as we walked toward a park bench. "I just wish you'd asked me first."

"I thought we were closer than that," he said, giving me that tentative sort of half smile that made me fall for him in the first place.

It made me feel ashamed of myself.

"I'm really sorry," he said, and I could tell that he meant it.

"No, I'm sorry," I said, and I kissed him, even though we were in public. "It's not that I don't feel close to you; it's just that I can be called out of town on a moment's notice, and I might not realize until I was trying to book a room in some one-horse town where they never heard of American Express that I didn't have any cash. You just need to tell me."

He frowned at that. "You haven't been out of town lately," he said. "I was sort of hoping you wouldn't have to do that anymore."

"We haven't been in the field much lately, that's true, but it's a constant possibility," I said. "You know that. We both have to be ready for it."

"I wish I didn't," he said, with that sad little smile again. "I hate being without you, Dana. I already miss you so much just when you're gone to your regular work day. I don't know what I'm going to do if you have to leave me for longer than that."

That made me feel so good, knowing how much he needed me, but on the other hand, it worried me. Inevitably, I would have to leave town on a case, and I wasn't sure how Josh might fare, given his current, somewhat fragile condition.

I would just have to cross that bridge when I got to it.

~~~~~~~

It turned out to be a bridge too far, if you'll pardon the expression.

About three weeks after Josh and I had talked about my traveling, Skinner called Mulder and me into his office and told us he'd approved our 302 and we would leave in the morning.

I was a little puzzled; I didn't know anything about a 302, but of course that was because Mulder had submitted it. He wanted to launch an X Files investigation into the mysterious disappearance of five Satan-worshipping teen-aged girls from a shopping mall in Denver, Colorado.

Denver. My heart sank. What with travel time, it would take at least three days, even if we solved the case the day we arrived, and I was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen.

Josh wasn't going to like this.

But Mulder looked so happy as we walked down the stairs to the X Files office, and I couldn't help but think that this might be a good chance to mend some fences and restore some of the old trust and camaraderie we used to share.

Josh called later that morning. When I told him I was going to have to go to Denver for three or four days, he begged to be allowed to come along.

"I'll miss you so much, Dana," he said. "I've almost forgotten how to get along without you. Anyway, I could stand a break from job-hunting."

He sounded so tired and unhappy that I agreed to book a third plane ticket and put it on my personal credit card. He probably did need a vacation, after all; I know that job-hunting is a very tiring and stressful process, although I've never done it, actually. The FBI recruited me right out of medical school, and I've been there ever since.

Mulder was sitting at his desk with his feet up, listening to the whole exchange, and if I didn't know better, I'd have sworn his face fell when I agreed to Josh's request. He didn't say anything, though, until I'd hung up the phone.

"Scully, I doubt there's going to be much time for you and Josh to spend together," he said, mildly. "With any luck, we'll wind up this case in a day or two, and you'll end up spending most of your time crammed into an airline seat next to him."

"It's better than nothing," I said, trying to smile, but in reality, the whole thing was making me uncomfortable.

Now that I was off the phone, I realized that there really wasn't any reason for Josh to go along. The skiing season was over, and while Denver is a beautiful city, he wasn't much of a sight-seer. He'd never taken any of my suggestions for visiting the sights in the District, anyway.

I knew, deep down, that if he came with us he'd wind up sitting in a hotel room, or worse, in the bar; his deepening depression was leading him to drink more and more lately.

But of course, that would get better once he found a job.

"I don't know that it is better than nothing," Mulder said, breaking in on my thoughts.

"That's not your decision," I said, feeling irritated. This sounded like it was going to be more of his jealousy, and I'd already decided, after talking it over with Josh, that I would just have to make it clear to Mulder that I wasn't going to tolerate it.

I took a deep breath and started.

"Mulder, it's time you realized that I don't belong exclusively to you anymore," I said, in my firmest tone. "If I choose to bring Josh along and pay his expenses, and he's not in the way of the investigation, then I can't see what business it is of yours."

"So you agree that if he does get in the way, it becomes my business?" Mulder said, and I couldn't miss the challenge in his voice.

"That's a big if," I said, coldly. "Josh was a police officer; he knows better than to get in the way of what could turn out to be a multiple homicide investigation."

"Let's hope he does," Mulder said, and despite the edge in his voice, I could see something in his eyes ... something darker, more worrisome.

"Mulder, if you have something to say to me, I wish you'd say it," I snapped at him.

"All right, I will," he said, putting his feet on the floor and rising from the chair. He walked around and sat on the edge of his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

"Say it then," I said, likewise folding my arms across my chest. He looked at me for a minute, almost as though he were doing a threat assessment, and that irritated me.

"Scully, I'm worried about you," he said, finally. "If I thought Josh was making you happy, I'd keep my mouth shut no matter what I thought of him personally, but you're not happy. Not one bit."

"And just exactly how do you reach that unwarranted conclusion, Agent Mulder?" I said, angrily, putting my hands on my hips. "Josh is good to me. He's very good to me. He's paid more attention to me in the past three months than any other man's paid to me in the past four years, because in case you hadn't noticed, I was too busy being your beard to go out and find a man of my own. But _you_ weren't too busy, were you? You managed to find Daniel while I sat at home doing your paperwork and protecting your secret."

Even I knew that was a low blow, but Mulder didn't respond as I'd expected him to.

"Scully," he said, quietly, taking my hand, "I admit I've been a selfish bastard where you're concerned. But your being alone for so long isn't just a matter of free time, or of your -- very generously -- covering for me and Daniel."

"Oh, really?" I said, jerking my hand away. "I would love to hear what you think the problem is, if it's not that I have had no free time whatsoever for four years."

"That's part of it," Mulder said, with a grimace that said he acknowledged the truth of what I was saying. "I'm not saying it's not. But it's not everything, Scully. It's not even the biggest thing."

"And what, pray tell, is the biggest thing, Mulder?" I demanded. "I can't wait to hear this one."

Mulder almost smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile at all; it was the sad smile, the one I used to see all the time before Daniel came along.

"You and me," he said, very quietly. "All these complicated feelings that we have for each other, feelings that neither of us really knows what to do with."

He looked up at me then. "I can't help thinking that what you've done," he said, slowly, almost as though he didn't want to say it, "is find a straight man who looks enough like me so that you can try to transfer some of those feelings to him."

Oh, really now, this was too much. His jealousy and self- centeredness had reached new levels of absurdity, and I had had enough.

"You're certainly not short on ego, are you, Mulder?" I said, and now I was positively dripping sarcasm. "Of course, I can see why you might think that, because it's exactly what you've done yourself. Or are you going to try to tell me that you haven't ever noticed how much Daniel is like me? Even our names? Maybe you're the one who went looking for a substitute for me."

Actually, that thought had never occurred to me until recently, when Josh pointed it out, and I had to admit that it was true, but I wasn't prepared for the effect I was having on Mulder by saying it. I thought he'd be angry, but he wasn't.

He was hurt -- very hurt.

Too bad. As Josh had pointed out, Mulder had brought it on himself.

"Maybe you're right," Mulder said, after a pause, but he wasn't looking at me. "Maybe I was attracted to Daniel at first because he's so much like you. But he's like you inside, Scully, not in the way he looks. He's smart, he's thoughtful, he's kind -- all the things I love about you, I love about him."

That shook me, all right, as I'm sure he meant for it to; but I couldn't back down yet. Josh had warned me that this would be difficult, that Mulder would try to play on my guilt feelings.

I felt terrible, but I tried to go on, finish this, so that Mulder and I could get over it and go back to being friends.

"Mulder, this is a ridiculous conversation," I said, trying for a tone of utter reason and failing completely. "And anyway, it's none of your business."

"It is my business when it affects our work, right?" he asked, and his voice was steady. He looked at me. "Well, it does. It affects my ability to work with you when you stop talking to me, when you can't even spare me a half-hour lunch to talk over our cases or our plans."

He stopped for a moment and swallowed hard before he went on. "And it sure as hell affects how I feel about going out in the field," he said, very quietly, "when I know that you don't even want to be around me."

That astounded me. "Mulder, are you saying we haven't been doing field investigations because you've been avoiding it?" I demanded.

"Yes," he said, simply. "I've turned down several cases, as a matter of fact, because I know that not only do you not want to be away from Josh, you also don't want to be alone with me. Shit, Scully, you don't even trust me anymore. You wouldn't feel safe with me at your back; not now, not like you used to."

Oh, that _really_ hurt. Not trust him? How could he ever dream that I don't trust him? I trust him with my life. Doesn't he know that?

But I couldn't tell him that. Once, I might have. But not now.

"It's not a matter of trust, Mulder," I said, but my voice wasn't as steady as I would have liked. "It's a matter of not wanting you to interfere in my private life."

"Normally, I wouldn't, Scully," he said, softly. "But I can't turn my back on this any longer. First of all, you're not getting your work done. You're not putting in the hours that it takes, and you're spending way too much of the time that you _are_ here talking on the telephone with Josh. Worst of all, you don't even have the energy to do any serious work; you've never looked more stressed out or unhappy in your life than you do right now."

That _really_ infuriated me. "I am _not_ unhappy and I have never failed to put in a full week at work," I hissed at him. "You're just looking for some excuse to interfere because you still want to keep me all for yourself. You really are a selfish bastard, Mulder."

"I'm not looking for an excuse," Mulder said, and it hurt to see the pain in his eyes. "Actually, I've been looking for excuses to go on keeping my mouth shut, but I've run out of them. You used to be my partner _and_ my best friend, and now you're barely even my partner. Even when you're here, you're not really here. And I miss you, Dana. I miss you a lot. If that makes me a selfish bastard, then I'm sorry."

His voice broke on the last word.

And that, at last, opened my eyes, and I saw him, the real him, not the jealous, insensitive creep I'd somehow created in my mind.

Whatever I might think about his motives, there could be no question that the pain he was expressing -- the pain of losing me -- was real.

Why was I standing there hurting him when he only wanted to help me -- even if he was wrong in thinking that I needed help?

"Mulder, what are you suggesting that I do?" I said, whispering. I felt shaky.

"Leave Josh at home," he said, simply. "Let's go work this case together, the way we used to. Let's fix what's gone wrong between us and get back to being the most effective team in the entire damn Bureau -- and back to being friends. I want you back, Scully. So does Daniel. If Josh is part of that, well, then, he's part of that."

I couldn't look at him; but I could feel him leaning toward me, as though he wanted to move closer to me, or to touch me, but didn't dare.

But I dared. I couldn't trust my voice, but I could close the distance between us.

I took two steps forward and walked right into Mulder's open arms, slipping my own arms under his suit coat the way I always used to do and holding him tightly, feeling the strong muscles of his back moving under his shirt as he held me close.

We stayed like that for a moment, moving together in a comforting rhythm, then Mulder put his hand on my cheek, tipped my face up to his and kissed me, twice, very gently.

Oh, God ... I didn't know how much I'd missed Mulder's kiss until I felt it again.

Mulder's kisses are nothing like Josh's. Josh's kisses are hard, passionate and almost brutal; they're designed to arouse me, to make me lose control and give myself to him, and they demand my response.

Mulder's kisses are pure bliss, soft, sweet, and tender, and ask for nothing in return except my love.

Which, of course, he already has -- and always will have.

I raised myself on tiptoe and kissed him again, just as softly as before, but this time I let the kiss go on for a long time, until I could feel myself relaxing against him, feel his steadfast love flowing through every fiber of my being, and I felt safe again.

Then I laid my head on his shoulder, and let him hold me while I cried.