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Chapter 19
Accountability
by Pam Gamble


No lights shone from any of the homes on the street,
including the Harrisons. Only a tacky red plastic
Santa, forgotten in the last minute bedtime
preparations, still brightened and darkened in the
needless glow of the streetlights. It was only then
that Mulder remembered.

It was Christmas Eve.

*Fuck. How much more can I take from her before she
has nothing left?*

His partner seemed transfixed by the keychain dangling
from the ignition, where it would stay. Standard
operating procedure. The untimely jingle of a car key
in a dark room could alert the wrong person of their
location; hardly worth the risk for a fleet sedan too
ugly to be stolen anyway.

Mulder ducked his head to catch her eye. When she'd
recognized that doctor from the autopsy video, she'd
been distant. Not just physically, but emotionally.
Not that he'd been any more capable of giving her
support that she had been of asking for it. "It's
different now," he muttered, not meaning to speak the
words aloud.

"What is?" she asked, refocusing on him. 

He hesitated, knowing he was really offering her a way
out. "Scully, if you can't go in there with me, I'll
understand."

He was trying so hard to get a handle on this, to get
a sense of what it was like for her. She understood
that now. She took his hand, shaking her head
fiercely.

"No, I need to do this. I need to face him." The fiery
independence that had once held her so separate from
him paled in comparison with their combined strength.
She understood that now, too. "I need to do this...
with you." 

His eyes widened. He knew the effort that had taken.

"But I am going to need some time, after all this, to
come to terms with everything. To understand it all."

Her eyes asked what her pride would still not allow
her to speak.

And he answered her now, because he could.

He squeezed her hand tightly. "Just let me know. I'll
give you anything you need, baby."

She nodded and he watched as she abruptly shifted back
into Agent Scully. He'd always marveled at her ability
to compartmentalize her feelings. It helped to know
that they would come out eventually.

Approaching the house Mulder nodded towards the open
garage door. The van was missing. They must have spent
the night at the hospital. With a bob of her head
Scully indicated she would enter through the front
door, while Mulder ducked into the side door in the
garage.

In the spirit of suburban complacency, neither door
was locked. In less than a second there was no
movement outside the house, save for the light and
dark dance of the discount Santa.

Mulder felt his way through the kitchen, maneuvering
from memory. As his irises were expanding in an effort
to suck in all the available light in the room, he
began to make out shapes and shadows. It was just then
that he heard his partner's strangled cry from the
front of the house.

"Mulder!"


****Hmmm, WIPs make a person become sadistic...*****