Title: Knives Author: GenieVB Summary: Sequel to Knock Over, Undone & UnBroken. Rating: PG Legal Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the X-Files. I will make no money from any- thing related to the X-Files. FOX is up to their ears in moolah. I have five cats. Category: MSR/UST Spoilers: None. ** "Mulder-" The question from over his left shoulder startled him and his hand slipped. "Ah-" The small pocket knife he'd been using to whittle nicked his thumb. Looking back, "Scully? What are you doing here?" "What am _I_ doing here?" She took his hand and checked the cut. "It's not bad. Sorry I startled you, but what are _you_ doing here, Mulder? I thought you were jogging?" "How would you know that?" She cleared her throat, gave herself a mental kick and covered her tracks, "Well, isn't it obvious? You're here in the middle of the night, dressed in worn sweats and a Knicks sweatshirt at Two Am sitting on the steps to your partner's apartment building..." It was ridiculous and Mulderishly ironic. Teasing, "I mean, this is normal Fox Mulder behavior. What else would you be doing?" Scully noticed the biceps. Mulder d been working out. He looked good. Better than ever. "Guess I overdid it." "I'll say." She didn't dispute him, knowing it was a lie. He had something on his mind. Well, so did she. "Come?" He asked, nodding his head in the direction of the waterfront parkway. It was only a few blocks away. "Sure." What the hell? "I have to get dressed." "Catch up with me by the pond and we can have breakfast at Jenny's." She was wide awake anyway. "See you there. Hey, Mulder!" She called, before he got out of earshot. "Yeah?" "Jog slowly, all right. I don't have spider legs. And follow the path, so I can find you easily." "See you there." He answered, then muttering to himself, "And I don't have spider legs." Mulder set off at an easy lope. His long legs took him over the dewed lawn and occasional gopher hole with little effort. Not a decade before running had become the healthy alternative to a pack a day and sleeping in. No matter what kind of week he was having at work, this was his relaxation. Away from the job, it was the time he did his best thinking. Sometimes, though, it was the time he could let everything go. Work, responsibilities, worries, stresses all became pounding feet on earth, lungs orgasm-ing on crispy air, body and everything in it feeling alive, tingling, and afterward, the shower and the head to foot vibrating muscles and nerves. Lately, though, he thought of Scully. Work, life, late reports, were all there too, but Scully was taking up a bigger and bigger slice of his mental pie. He'd stop by the pond, do a few stretches. Scully should be there by the time he'd be done. They'd jog to Jenny's- -Mulder only glimpsed a shadow, an undefined form. There was no time beyond that to react or yell. He was down and something was happening. Shock, however, prevented him from feeling anything but the sensation of invasion. Quick, solid thrusts sinking into his flesh. Intellectually, he knew what was causing it, he knew he was being stabbed and the warm liquid flowing over his skin was his own blood, but that's all. He'd been shot before, he knew this is often how it occurred. One didn't always feel the pain right away, especially when an assault happened quickly before the brain had time to register and recognize what it was supposed to be feeling. One, two, three times, he felt the knife sink in. Then he felt grass on his back and strange hands rifling through his clothes, turning pockets inside- out. But he'd carried no wallet with him at all. His attacker would take away perhaps ten dollars in loose bills and coin for his trouble. All this for that. Mulder heard a man curse and then feet running away. A calmness, like floating on a cloud, overcame him. He heard his breath, ragged, his chest wheezing and wondered if one of the strikes had penetrated a lung. But it all seemed far away and meaningless. He, lying on the ground and dying (he knew in fact, that was what was probably happening), suddenly knew exactly who he was and where he should have been going with his life. Life did flash before your eyes. Regrets too though. Things left undone, unsaid, un-acted. Only there was mere minutes of life left, and how would he repair any of those oversights? It was all too late. Sunlight painted the clouds overhead with streaks of pink and orange, starlings twittered, the slightest wind stirred his sweat soaked hair... ...blood flowed and cooled. Yet it was all so simple. Clear. He wished he could have bought Scully breakfast, and imagined her chewing on the biscuit (or bagel was that what she liked? He couldn't remember), and the strawberry jam stuck to the corner of her red rosy lips, its juice running down her chin, flowing over to run between her breasts in a red river, drying to brownish globs... He felt pain. * "See you there." He'd called over his back. Scully, dressed in tights and a loose oversized sweater over cotton jersey, jogged easily in the grey streaks of dawn. It was only a few blocks to the waterfront parkway and the pond. Visions of Mulder danced in her head. Pictures of them eating together, talking, laughing. Laughing together. Yes, that's one she wanted more of. She'd bring the subject, the "us" subject, up during breakfast. Maybe. Oer maybe over coffee afterward. People usually discussed these things over coffee. That's how she and Jack had somtimes talked about things. No, wait, that's how she and Jack had yelled about things. But she and Mulder only yelled at each other over a case. When it was vacation time- -She remembered that they had never, ever in seven years spent any vacation time together. Over the weekend- -No weekend time together either. Well, when they were thrown together outside of a case, things between them were usually, well, nice. Scully had no idea what it was like to spend free time with Mulder, though she had a few speculations about how he spent his free time. That was the goal, though, wasn't it? To be with him off hours. To get to know the free time Mulder, to find out if there really was any possibility... During Saturday mornings, the park would be filled with joggers, people with little fluffed be-ribboned pooches and women with baby strollers. But on a weekday morning, Scully saw that it was all but deserted. As she rounded a bush on the red graveled pathway, she met someone at a dead run. "Hey!" She said as he rudely rushed passed, bumping her arm hard. Muttering, "Jerk." She rubbed her shoulder and continued on. A few hundred yards to the pool, a short run to Jenny's and fresh baked biscuits with home-made preserves. A hundred yards off from the pond, Scully checked around for Mulder. Not finding him, she checked down by the waterside but it was empty. Just an old man walking his very fat poodle. "Don't tell me..." She wondered if she'd misunderstood. "Was I supposed to meet him here or AT Jenny's..." * Continued in 2/2
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