*~*~*~*~*~*
Connected 
by Lovesfox
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lovesfox@rogers.com

Headers in Part 1

***
Part 4 of 12

Unknown Location
Monday 5:45 PM


Still reeling from the knowledge that Mulder could indeed 
read her mind, Scully walked several feet forward in a 
semi-daze.

When Mulder called out from behind her, telling her to
be careful, she realized she was close to the drop-off
into the small gully at the side of the road.  With a
shake of her head, she moved herself over to the center
of the tarmac.

<>

She had stepped forward on her bad ankle just as she heard
Mulder's thought in her head, like a voice speaking into
a headset.  In her shock, she pressed quite heavily on that 
foot instead of carefully as she had been, sending an arrow 
of pain up her calf.  An expletive slipped past her lips.  
"Shit!"

"Scully?" Mulder queried worriedly, loping to her side.
One of his hands came down on her shoulder as he leaned
slightly to look into her face.  "You okay?"

Shifting her weight onto her good leg, she lifted the 
injured foot and slowly rotated her ankle.  She nodded.  
"Yeah, just stepped wrong on the bad foot."  Taking a 
deep and somewhat shaky breath, she met his gaze evenly
and stated her next words matter-of-factly.  "Mulder, I 
heard you."

He nodded slowly, as if he had been waiting for such an
admittance.  Still, he murmured a need for clarification, 
"In your head?"

"In my head," she confirmed.  "I heard you say 'shell-
shocked'.  I assume you were talk...thinking about me?"

His hand was rubbing up and down her upper arm, and she
wasn't sure if he was even aware of the action.  Smiling
a bit ruefully, he replied, "The way you were walking
like you weren't even aware of your surroundings, I
thought to myself that you were acting shell-shocked."

Her lips curved a little in response.  "I guess I am a
little shell-shocked, Mulder."

"Understandable, Scully," he returned in a gentle voice.  
One last squeeze of her arm, and then his hand slid away,
dropping to his side for a moment before he lifted it to
gesture down the road.  "You okay to go on, or do I have 
to carry you the rest of the way?"

She laughed, appreciating once again Mulder's attempt to 
lift their moods.  "As if you could!"

Lightening fast, he sobered.  "I'd do my best, Scully."

So did she, sad that she had been the one to put a downer
on their newfound lightheartedness after a somewhat tense
time.  "I know, Mulder."

His hand came up and palmed her back briefly as they 
started forward yet again.

This time they walked side-by-side, in a companionable
silence, their pace slightly quicker than before.  Her
ankle gave the occasional protest, but she ignored it.
They had delayed too often already.  

Sometime later, she read Mulder again.

<>

Her stomach rumbled and she swung her head to the side 
to shoot a look at him.  "Mulder, were you just thinking 
about pizza?"

His eyes met hers briefly.  "I'm hungry," he said
plaintively, his hand lifting to rub his belly briefly,
before patting the front pocket of his pants.  Next he
tried his inner jacket pocket, fingers coming out empty.  
"You sure you don't have anything in your pockets, 
Scully?"

Sighing wistfully, she responded glumly, "No, nothing.  
Not even a breath mint or a stick of gum."  Stepping 
carefully to the side to avoid a large pothole in her
path, she paused before continuing.  "Thinking and
talking about it will only make you hungrier.  Not to
mention me."

"I know," he replied, dodging his own pothole.  "I can't
help it though.  I didn't even really have breakfast
this morning and that was..." he lifted his arm to 
consult his watch, "...about 11 hours ago, Scully.  The
tree bark's starting to look good."

She had to agree with him -- she'd started imagining a 
salad of twigs and grass.  Her own breakfast many hours 
ago had been insubstantial as well.  "Try and think of 
something else, Mulder.  Please."

Another ten or fifteen minutes passed, with still no
change in scenery, or glimpse of a town.  She found
herself walking a bit faster, pulling ahead of Mulder
as they followed a long, slow curve in the road.  Hoping 
there would be some sort of evidence of civilization 
once they passed the latest thick stand of trees.

Mulder had been fairly quiet since she had asked him 
not to think about food, sometimes whistling softly, 
sometimes mumbling snatches of songs.

She had not read any stray thoughts from him at all, and 
it was as she was musing the whys and why nots that the 
clearest thought yet filled her mind.  His choice of topic 
startled her and embarrassed her.  She refused to admit
that it also sent a little thrill through her as well. 

<>

Was he wondering if she was wearing a thong, or was he
replaying some favorite porn movie?  She wasn't sure if
she should be angry or flattered that he wondered about 
her underwear, if that were indeed the case.  Right now
she was leaning towards angry.

"Mulder?" she called out with a slight snap to her voice, 
stopping and turning to face her slowly approaching 
partner.  Who was currently staring at her mid-section.  
Perfect viewing she supposed, for carrying out a debate 
on whether one's partner wore a thong or not, if said
partner were facing the other way.

"Huh?" he responded, sounding preoccupied.  His eyes 
finally meandered up to her face.  Blinking, he added, 
"Is something wrong, Scully?" 

"Yes, it's a thong."  At another startled blink from him, 
she modified her statement, hands going to her hips, stance 
shifting to lean more on her uninjured foot.  "You were 
wondering if I was wearing a thong.  Well, I am."

His ears turned red, normally something she found to be 
rather endearing.  "I...Scully...I, uh."  He stopped,
clearing his throat, and tried again, throwing her a
cheesy grin.  "Scully, I'm a guy.  We think those kinds of 
thoughts all the time.  It's harmless."

"Harmless?"  She hated the fact that her voice came out as 
a squeak, fought not to sputter.  "Mulder, you were staring 
at my ass!"

<>

She scowled at him.  "Mulder!"

Though his ears darkened further, he fought back, his eyes 
narrowing a little.  "Scully, if you're going to get angry 
at me for every stray thought that floats through my mind, 
we might as well call it quits right now.  I can't control 
my thoughts all the time, and neither can you.  Can anyone?"  

Sighing deeply, he relaxed the tense pose he had taken, and 
continued.  "Scully, you are a beautiful, desirable woman.  
I am a healthy, heterosexual man, and I am only human.  Of 
course I notice, and it is natural that I might think about 
your attributes.  Maybe you don't want to hear these thoughts, 
but until we know more about whatever Kushov injected us with, 
there is nothing I can do about it."

Scully's own thoughts were whirling.  He thought she was 
beautiful and desirable?  She felt flushed, her cheeks 
stained pink, and tried to think clinically, brushing 
personal thoughts aside.  

Mulder was right -- a person could not be held responsible 
for the random thoughts that their brain might produce.  If 
not for this drug of Kushov's, she'd never be witness to any 
of Mulder's, nor he to any of hers.

He piped up again, an irascible grin on his face now.
"Besides Scully, you did tell me to think about something
else."

"Touche, Mulder," she remarked, smiling slightly.  Giving
his arm a light pat, she added, "I'm sorry for over-
reacting."

"No sweat, Scully."

***

It was cooler than it had been, and the sun was steadily
dropping in the sky, leaving them walking in shadows for 
long stretches of time.  

Another hour had passed since the 'thong incident' as he
had decided to call it.  Since then, Mulder had kept his 
eyes front and center at all times, ensuring that his gaze
never entered thong territory.  He had also kept his mind 
from straying into other equally danger-filled territories 
-- not an easy task -- by resorting to singing songs in 
his head.

Therefore things had been quiet - both verbally and 
mentally. 

By mutual silent agreement, he and Scully had decided to 
expend all their energy towards locating help.  Though as 
of yet, they had not spotted any signs of life or habitation.

Had to be an X-File, he thought, and snickered.

"Mulder?"  Scully asked.  "You okay?"

She probably wouldn't see the humor, so he simply replied,
"Just dandy, Scully."

Deciding it was time to sing again, Mulder ran through his 
repertoire.  Though it was blasphemy, he had to admit he 
was a little tired of the King, and thus started a rousing 
round of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.  

Hitting the 77th bottle, he was rudely startled by Scully
crying out his name.  Stumbling to a halt he looked around 
frantically, certain she had seen something.  When he spied 
nothing, he turned to her and barked, "What was that for?"

"You're driving me insane!" she barked back, nose wrinkled
and brows drawn down.

"Me?" he blustered.  "What did I do now?"

"Seventy-seven bottles of beer on the wall," she spit out
in reply.

Realizing with sudden clarity that his partner's anger 
masked her discomfort and unease with their newfound 
ability, he let go of his own anger.  "Classic song, 
Scully," he told her.

Surprisingly she chuffed out a laugh, her frown lines
smoothing away, shoulders relaxing.  "If we were at a frat 
party, sure."

"Scully!" he teased, dragging out both syllables, glad to 
see her more at ease again.  "A frat party, huh?"

"Yes, Mulder," she replied dryly, eyebrow arching just
slightly.  "I did do more than just study in college, you 
know."

His mind instantly supplied a picture of a college-aged 
Scully, perky and bright, with longish hair back in a 
pony-tail.  He remembered himself as a young man at Oxford,
and imagined the sharks that had circled the young Scully
as if she were prey.  Would she have caught his eye back
then?  Her words clicked in then, and he pursed his lips, 
saying, "Oooooh...do tell, Scully."

As if she had just realized the double-entendre in her 
statement, her cheeks flushed pink.  Still, she rallied,
giving him a droll look and throwing back, "Read my mind
now, Mulder."

He laughed, then tilted his head in the direction they
had been headed.  "Daylight's a'wastin', partner."  Waiting
until they were in step with each other, he asked, "So, any 
requests?"

Sending him a look under her lashes, Scully replied, 
"Anything but '99 Bottles'."

A fond memory of Scully singing to him in a Florida forest
came to mind, and flicking her a look of his own, he teased, 
"How about 'Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog?'"

She groaned, reaching out to give him a little punch on
his upper arm.  "May I remind you that was under duress."

He'd been working on a theory regarding their mind-reading,
and decided to test it out.  Instead of replying with his
voice, he used his mind to send the message. 

<>

Scully jolted beside him, it was the only way to describe
her reaction.  He could feel her gaze on him, intense and
heavy.  She drew in a somewhat shaky breath, then released
it noisily.  A moment later he read her response, a tease 
for his tease.

<>

Sucking in his own gulp of air, he held it for long seconds 
before slowly releasing it.  Noting their footsteps had
unconsciously slowed, he picked up the pace, his partner 
naturally following suit.  Time for test number two.

<>

Again that little jolt from her, followed by her mind
reply.

<>

"Holy shit."  

Her sudden snort of laughter made him realize he had 
spoken those last words out loud.  He flashed her a grin, 
unrepentant.

They continued on for a stretch of thirty or forty feet
before Scully asked, "Mulder, I don't understand why I
couldn't...*hear* you at first, when you could hear me."

Now to explain his theory.  "Well, Scully," he began.
"I've been pondering that myself for the last little
while and I came to the conclusion that because you were," 
he paused and changed the words he had started to say, 
"closed to extreme possibilities that you blocked 
everything out."

Scully sniffed, shooting him a haughty look, and then said 
in a mock-offended tone, "Mulder, are you implying that I'm 
uptight?"

His voice said, "Who me?" while his mind supplied another 
response.

<>

She actually giggled, if somewhat mournfully, before saying, 
"Unfortunately, these shoes don't fit.  Hence my damn 
blisters!"  Having lifted one foot to look at the shoe being 
discussed while still walking on, she stumbled a little, 
knocking into him.

Mulder grabbed her, swinging his arm up around her shoulders 
and hugging her to his body, slowing them both.  "Easy there, 
partner."  Giving her a little squeeze and then releasing 
her, he asked, "You okay?"

Nodding her head and shrugging her shoulders at the same 
time, she mumbled her reply.  Sounding suddenly so weary.  
"I feel punch-drunk, Mulder." 

Concern flowed through him, though he tried to hide it.
"I think that's normal, Scully.  You haven't eaten or had
anything to drink in several hours.  Coupled with whatever
knock-out gas we were given and all this walking..."

"You too, Mulder," she put in.  "But you don't seem as
affected as me.  At his shrug, she added, "I suppose you
have a theory as to why?"

"I'm a big manly man, Scully." 

"Mulder!"  Her eyes rolled in reaction.

"I just calls them likes I sees them, partner," Mulder 
returned.  About to throw her a teasing grin, his attention 
was caught by a glimmer of light through the next stand of 
trees.  "And I think the manly man might have just seen our 
salvation.  Come on, move those little legs, Scully."

***
End Part 4 of 12

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