From: Bryndela@aol.com
Date: Wed, 3 Nov 1999 18:32:43 EST
Subject: The Winklers (1/4)  Michelle Ferguson
Source: xff

Title:  The Winklers (1/4)
Author:  Michelle Ferguson
E-Mail:  Bryndela@Hotmail.com
Distribution:  Archive anywhere, I'd be honored.  Just please let me know 
where
cause I wanna go see it.
Spoilers: None  
Rating:  PG
Content Warning:  Definitely a 'shipper's story.  If that sort of thing 
dosen't float your boat, I'd sail on to more platonic waters.  
Classification: S, R
Summary:  Mulder and Scully are forced to masquerade as newlyweds at a 
marital retreat.

The Winklers (1/4)

Assistant Director Walter Skinner propped his feet up on his newly polished 
desk, and smiled mischieviously.  This plan was diabolical, it was perfect, 
and it was scheduled to go into work in  precisely ten minutes.  He picked up 
one of the two identical brochures before him and read it over again.  
Harmony Retreat:  Building Better Relationships since 1985.  Walter 
snickered.  Boy, were his two favorite agents going to be suprised. It was 
going to be pure entertainment watching them trying to finagle their way out 
of this one.  Luckily, he had a case to back himself up.  It seemed the 
Harmony Retreat for married couples, were notorious for sending their 
customers away very happy.  A little too happy.  Of course, it was very 
unlikely that brainwashing  was involved in the program.  But it would at 
least spark the agent's interest.  Mulder's, anyway.

"Assistant Director Skinner--Agents Mulder and Scully are here to see you," 
Mandi, the latest find from the secretarial pool, announced cheerily, peaking 
her head in the door.

"Alright, send them in."  Skinner replied, trying to keep a straight face.  
It was torture being the only one in on the scheme, but Mulder and Scully 
needed this.  They just hadn't been getting along well at all these last few 
weeks.  They were back on the X-Files now, and under his authority, so their 
working relationship needed to be in top shape.

Scully stalked into the Assistant Director's office; a sulking Mulder lagging 
behind.  Skinner noticed that Mulder's hand was missing from Agent Scully's 
back.  It sent a chill down his spine.  This was more urgent than he thought.

"Sit down Agents," Skinner ordered authoritavely.  They did.

"I apologize for being late Sir," Scully said icily.  "But Mulder spilt 
coffee on my blouse."  She stopped to glare at her partner.  Mulder looked 
like he wanted to dissapear. 

Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but shut it abruptly.  What was the use?

"Agent Mulder did you have something to add?"  Skinner asked.  Although it 
sounded casual, Mulder knew it was a demand.  Unbelievable, this took him 
back to his school days.

"I was just going to say, that I turned around with my coffee, and Scully was 
right there.  She was crowding my space.  It startled me, Sir."

Scully rolled her cornflower eyes.  "The office is tiny, I was merely waiting 
for you to get out of my way, so I could get by."

"Moving along," Skinner broke the heated silence that had taken shape in his 
office.  "I called you two up here to deliver a field assignment."

Mulder perked up at this.  Finally something to get them out of their 
paperwork rut.

The Assistant Director eagerly handed them the brochures.  Mulder and Scully 
skimmed it over, and then both looked up in confusion.

"The Harmony Retreat," he explained, "has served married couples in building 
better relationships for ten years."

Scully frowned.  What did this have to do with them?

Skinner continued.  "The couples that come away from the program, never again 
experience any of the problems that are normal for married life.  These are 
people that were on the verge of divorce, mind you."

"Sounds like whoever's in charge does a real bang-up job," Mulder quipped.  
"But it's hardly an X-File."

Scully slowly nodded her head in agreement.  For once her partner saw her way 
of things.

"That's where you're wrong agents.  I'm as big as a skeptic as they come, 
but...reviewing the evidence at hand--I'd say the case is worthy of your 
immediate attention.  The possibilities of mind control are present here."

If Mulder had said he was suprised, it would have been the understatement of 
the year.  "You mean the owners of this place brainwash the couples that go 
through their program?"  He found it incredible.  Not the whole brainwashing 
part, but the fact that his no-nonsense, pain in the ass boss believed it.  
Just incredible.

"Turning them into love zombies."  Skinner added, nodding solemnly.

"Sir, you can't be serious," Scully blurted out, forgetting for a moment wo 
she was speaking to.  The love zombie nonsense wasn't the real X-File here, 
it was what had gotten into her boss.  She wondered if it wasn't 
overly-estatic Mandi with an 'I', secretary posted outside his door.

"On the contrary, Agent Scully, I am *very* serious about this.  I'm putting 
you and Agent Mulder on this this case immediately."

Mulder gaped.  Scully frowned and looked away.  The Assistant Director was 
enjoying this far more than he thought he would.  "I have you both booked at 
the Harmony Retreat under the assumed identities of Kevin and Anna Winkler 
from Seattle. You're newlyweds.  You have both been unfaithful.  Any 
questions?"

Mulder and Scully kept quiet, slowly processing this information.

"Very well.  Your flight leaves at 8:00 tomarrow morning.  You should be at 
Harmony by 4:00.  You'll find the tickets and other information in there."  
He held out an manilla folder, and after a moment, Scully grudgingly took it. 
 "You have the rest of the day off to prepare.  The retreat lasts a week, but 
I trust you can solve the case before then."

With that, Mulder and Scully knew that they were dismissed.  When they were 
gone, Skinner burst into deep hearty guffaws.  I am so good, he thought, 
folding his hands deviously.



Scully was pissed.  Not just because Skinner had sprung this assignment on 
Mulder and her at the last minute, but because of the nature of the 
assignment.  Mind control?  Love zombies?  She and Mulder masquerading as 
newlyweds at a marital retreat?  It was all too much.  How could she be 
falsely married to Mulder?

She folded up a pair of jeans and put them in her floral suitcase.  It wasn't 
as if the idea of marrige to Mulder repulsed her.  Infact, he was the only 
man she could imagine herself with.  She was just scared.  Terrified.  
Petrified.  They would have to share a room, which shouldn't be a problem.  
After all, they were two reasonable adults, who had a solid and very platonic 
relationship.  Unfortunately, everytime Scully tried to tell herself that, 
visions of Mulder's hallway clouded her good judgement, along with the 
knowledge of exactly why her intense hatred for Diana Fowley existed.  
Telling herself that her relationship with Mulder was platonic became absurd. 
 It became bullshit.

.No, her and Mulder hadn't been getting along.  Lately, everything he did got 
on her nerves, and vice versa.  She knew that in the long run, she and Mulder 
would be fine.  they would get over whatever it was between them, and things 
would be just like before.  Comfortable.  Safe.  So why didn't that satisfy 
her anymore?

It's no secret that I love Mulder, Sclly acknowledged.  Her firm belief was 
that if there had never been love between them, they never would have made it 
as far as they had.  But, God help her, she was *in* love with the man too.

She loved him like a brother, like a partner.  But she was in love with him 
as a man to a woman.  The differences between the two were huge and 
frightening, and Scully wasn't sure if she would ever be able to go up 
against them.  That's why the next week would be hell.

For the stable, intelligent woman that she was, wondering if Mulder was in 
love with her or not had cost her too many nights of sleep.  And in the 
morning as she tried to conceal the dark circles under her eyes with make-up, 
she felt so pathetic.  It wasn't fun, the transition from night to day to 
night.  In the day, she had Mulder.  Mulder to argue with, Mulder's opinion's 
to question.  Her partner made her feel wanted, whether he was aware of what 
he did to her or not.  Every minute spent with him, she valued more than he 
would ever know.  And she dreaded every empty night without him.  No, being 
in love was no fun at all.  At least she knew how to hide it.

In her wildest fantasies involving Mulder(and there were lots), they were 
married.  Married people leading normal lives.  For the next week, they were 
going to fit that profile perfectly.  Marrige:  In her dreams it seemed real, 
in the days to come it would appear real.

Scully flopped back on her bed and hugged herself, a bitter lump forming in 
her throat.  Would it ever *be* real?



"I think this is the place Mulder," Scully said, looking out of the window of 
their rental car.

"Thanks for telling me Scully.  It would have been helpful had I not seen the 
same looming sign you did, announcing that it was the place."  Mulder said 
sarcastically.  As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them 
back.  Scully had only been trying to help.

Instead of getting offended and saying something she would regret, Scully 
refused to stoop to his level.  She sat back, bit her lip, and fumed.

Mulder barely managed to keep his eyes on the road, as he watched Scully out 
of the corner of his eye.  Saw her teeth sliding on and off of her moist 
bottom lip.  What he wouldn't give to have those lips on him.  Mulder shook 
his head, trying to snap out of it.  These were the exact thoughts he'd been 
trying to avoid all night.  Not to mention the past six years.

But his efforts were once again futile, and the fact that he couldn't control 
what came in an out of his head where Scully was concerned angered him.  He 
tried to do them both a favor so many times, by keeping his filthy mind off 
of her.  I see it now, Mulder thought grimly.  'Hi, my name is Fox Mulder, 
and I lust after my partner.'  Let them find a twelve step program for that.

Scully sighed.  Mulder knew she wanted him to apologize, she just wouldn't 
say anything.  Scully was stubborn, but then again so was he, (although he 
found his reserve getting weaker by the minute).  Finally he couldn't stand 
it anymore.  "Look Scully, I'm sorry okay."  He blurted out.  "I didn't mean 
to be such a prick.  Can you forgive me?"

"Mulder..." Scully started, "just don't."

He'd gone to far with his attitude.  She was really upset.

"I don't know what else to say, Scully," he continued despite her growing 
death glare.  "Only that sometimes I wonder why you put up with me at all."

Scully looked at him venomously.  "That's funny, I wonder the same thing."

Mulder grinned, despite the  wrenching panic in the pit of his stomach.  Did 
she wonder sometimes?  "Cheap shots aren't your style Scully."

His partner's mouth twitched, then much to his delight Scully gave a 
begrudging smile. "Alright Mulder.  Since we may be here a while, I suppose 
it would be in our best interest to try and get along."

"Halleluja," Mulder declared in mock prayer.

They pulled into a parking lot infront of a rustic log cabin that said, 
Registration, in bold red letters.  Mulder turned off the car and looked at 
Scully. "Are you ready, Mrs. Winkler?" He teased.

"Just remember not to pull out you badge as soon as we get in there, 
Mul...honey" Scully replied with a shudder.

"Ooh, 'honey.'  You should call me that more often."

"We're here because our marrige is in trouble.  Don't count on it."

As soon as they entered the building, a tall, tan, woman with long hair 
resembling burnished wheat, came sauntering up to them.  "Hi. You must be the 
Winklers."

Scully smiled at the Barbiesque welcome wagon.  "I'm Dr. Anna Winkler and 
this is my husband Kevin." She resisted the urge to look around for Ken and 
the dream house, as she watched Mulder all too eagerly shake the woman's hand.

"I'm Gretta Valentine, my husband and I run this place," she said in a sultry 
voice.  Scully wondered how a woman named Gretta Valentine with those looks 
and that voice could manage preschool, much less running a prosperous 
business.  I can't believe Mulder's buying into that Marilyn Monroe bit, 
Scully thought, tugging his arm.  

"C'mon dear, let's go get the key to our room."  She ordered.

"Well, cheerio everyone.  See you around Kev."

Mulder tore his eyes away from Gretta as she sashayed into her office, and 
walked with Scully to the front desk.  "We have a reservation.  Room 12, for 
Kevin and Anna Winkler," he said to a young woman filing her nails behind the 
desk.  She wore a navy blue polo shirt with the word, Harmony, in red 
stitching.  A staff nametag read, "Gina."

After quite a lengthy amount of time spent trying to get her attention, Gina 
the receptionist looked up.  "Can I help you?"  She asked blankly.  Scully 
clenched her fists at her side, her Irish temper barely restrained.  "We have 
a reservation for Kevin and Anna Winkler.  We would like, the key to our 
cabin.  That is all, just that.  Can you do that?"

Gina rolled her eyes in disbelief.  "Geez lady.  I don't think the marrige is 
the problem."

Mulder snorted, as his seething partner snatched a key and itenerary out of 
the receptionist's hand.  "Have a nice time Mrs. Winkler,"  Gina called after 
Scully as she stalked away.  "May God have mercy on your soul, Mr. Winkler," 
she said sympathetically.  

Mulder chuckled and nodded.  "I better go get our bags."



Damn false advertising, Scully thought bitterly, glancing at the brochure, 
then back to the stark reality of their actual cabin.  The pamplet describe 
the cabin as, "a spacious stay for two with country charm and most modern 
comforts of home."  She hadn't seen any country charm, only about a million 
varieties of insects.  And while an air conditioning unit did occupy one 
window, the temperature was about fifty degrees too cold.  Scully tried to 
adjust it, and the knob broke off in her hand.  Atleast they had brought a 
ton of blankets.

A full size bed dominated much of the room.  It was flanked by two night 
stands.  A small dresser and two huge windows made up most of another wall.  
There was just enough space for a mini fridge, closet, and a small bathroom, 
with no medicine cabinet.  All in all, they weren't lying about it being 
spacious.  The worst thing about the cabin was the lack of privacy.  There 
was no bathroom door, with struck Scully as being very odd.

She was considering hanging an extra blanket over the doorway to the 
bathroom, when there was a knock at the screen door.  A girl stood outside 
waiting.  She was pretty, in a teenage sort of way.  Long blonde hair that 
was a little too brassy to be natural, brown eyes, a smal pointed nose and 
wide mouth.  Scully guessed that she couldn't be over twenty-five.

"Can I help you?" She asked, letting the girl in.

"I'm, Becky Platt, my husband David and I are staying in the cabin next to 
you," the woman began.

"Dr. Anna Winkler," Scully introduced with a rather forced smile.  She wasn't 
quite over the horrible last name Skinner had decided for them.  "What can I 
do for you?"

"Oh, no I didn't need anything.  I was just metting the other couples, that's 
all."

"Well, my husband," Scully paused.  She hadn't expected to be able to say 
that word with such ease.  Especially since the husband-in-question was 
Mulder.  "My husband, Kevin, should be here any minute.  I suspect he ran 
into to Gretta Valentine and got side-tracked."  Although the sarcasm was 
supposed to be that one a woman who's husband had cheated, her suspicions of 
his whereabouts were very real.  Unless Mulder had stumbled onto some wild 
mystery, there shouldn't be anything keeping him this long.

Becky rolled her eyes.  "You mean Miss Playmate of the Month?  Gimme a break. 
 'I'm Gretta.  I run this place,' she mocked in a perfect imitation of Mrs. 
Valentine.  "David couldn't keep his eyes off the bitch.  I swear, she's 
gotta be a phone sex operator in her spare time." 

Scully laughed, something she hadn't done in a while.  It felt good.  However 
young the woman was, she certainly had a way with words.  "If you don't mind 
me asking, why are you and your husband here?  What went wrong?"

Becky's smile dissapeared fast.  "I got married the day after my eighteenth 
birthday, I was pregnant with his kid.  I'm twenty-one now, and...I dunno.  I 
guess we're just not as passionate as we used to be.  David's much older than 
me, fifteen years actually."

Scully quickly calculated it.  Just a little younger than Mulder.  She 
wondered how long they dated before they got married.  The part of her that 
promised to obey and uphold the law wondered if her husband had been aware of 
the penalty for statutory rape at the time.

"I just found out I was pregnant with our second child, and it's been hell 
between us ever since.  David didn't want any children to begin with, he can 
barely tolerate David Jr. as it is.  We have to try to work things out 
though, for the kid's sake.  He was the one who suggested this.  It suprised 
me, I never thought David would go for something like this."

Scully was teetering on the verge of informing her new friend that working it 
out wasn't the healthiest option for her or her kids, when the door banged 
open.  Mulder stood outside precariously balancing Scully's mammoth floral 
tapesty suitcase and Mack trunk, her usual over-night bag, and the huge 
briefcase needed to conceal both their laptops and necessary files. One of 
the rules of the retreat was that anything job-related should be left at 
home.  His one lone bag, the biggest he'd ever traveled with on a case, was 
slung painfully around his neck, along with a smaller black case that 
contained the surveilance euipment they probably wouldn't need.

"Jeez do you think you packed enough Scu..." Mulder retracted his words when 
he saw they had company.  "Uh, Anna."

Scully saw the look of puzzlement in the younger woman's eyes, and quickly 
tried to cover up her partner's mistake.  "I was beginning to worry about you 
Kevin," she announced, going to help him with the luggage.  "You could have 
taken more than one trip to the car you know."

Mulder glared at his pseudo-wife.  "I know."

Becky laughed.  "Why don't I leave you two harmonious love birds alone and go 
see what my own husband is up to.  Pleased to meet you Mr. Winkler," she 
said, delicately avoiding the pile of luggage surrounding Mulder as she went 
towards the door.

"Call me Kevin." He called after her, collapsing on the mattress.

"She's a nice girl," Scully said, trying to haul her suitcase out from under 
Mulder's bag.  "Oh by the way, I did a sweep of the cabin for cameras and 
listening devices before you got here.  It's clean."

Mulder nodded without opening his eyes.  "I ran into Lewis Valentine on my 
way to the car.  He's about ninety years old.  Talk about a May/December 
romance.  Scully--I'm not one to take things at face value, but something 
tells me this is one big waste of taxpayers money."

"I agree.  I don't know what's gotten into Skinner.  By the way, dinner is at 
6:30, and at 8:00, we have to be in the discussion room at the Lodge for our 
first group couples therapy.  That's according to the itenerary."

"Yeah, Valentine said he'd see us there."

Scully frowned.  "Mulder, could I ask you a question?"

"You can ask me anything Scully...though I may not have the answer," he threw 
in hastily when she raised a skeptic brow.

"Alright.  Mulder, what was it about Gretta Valentine that you found so 
appealing?  You were obviously attracted to her."

Mulder sat up and stared at Scully with incredulous hazel eyes.  "What makes 
you think I was attracted to her?"

"Please, Mulder, spare me.  I saw the way you ogled her."  

"I don't know what you're talking about.  For one thing we're investigating 
her for fraud and mind control.  For another thing she's a married woman.  
And contrary to what you may think, I didn't find her very 'appealing' at 
all." Mulder declared.

Scully smiled, a sad smile.  "Nice try partner but I've seen the movies you 
watch.  She's your fantasy woman."

He wanted so bad to say right at that moment, "You're wrong Scully, you're 
the only fantasy I've had for a long time," but the same old fear held him 
back.  Someday he hoped that with clarity and wisdom, he could tell someone 
in the same position as him, that there is nothing to fear but fear itself, 
and then go home to Scully.  He didn't forsee that happening anytime in the 
near future, however much he dreamed.

Scully took Mulder's silence as the answer she had been dreading.  Damn you, 
she silently cursed him.  "Look, I'm gonna go take a walk.  I'll see you 
later."

Mulder knew not to protest, she was pissed and needed time alone.  Although 
it was a little(okay, very) flattering to know that Scully was jealous of his 
ghost-feelings for Gretta Valentine, they were really just that: nonexistent. 
 If he wanted someone with those attributes, he'd watch another all-night 
Blonde Bombshell marathon on the Spice Channel.  In reality, Gretta was hot, 
but he just wasn't interested.

What was not flattering was knowing that he'd succeeded, once again, in 
hurting Scully.  She'd came to him on the subject of his love life (another 
nonexistent part of his life), in all honesty.  And what did you do, 
shit-head? He asked himself with contempt.  You made her believe that you 
were interested in that Gretta-creature.  For a psychologist, sometimes he 
felt just plain stupid.

Mulder rubbed his temples and looked around the cabin for the first time.  
Knotty pine walls, pine furniture, a pine floor.  A pine aroma hung in the 
abnormally chilly air.  He got up to open the windows and found himself 
staring straight into the bathroom at the bathtub.  Either the pine door 
blended a little too well into it's matching wall, or there just wasn't one.  
"Now that should be an X-File," Mulder said aloud.

Granted, it would be very interesting to see the things transpire between 
them with no door, but he knew that Scully would insist they rig something up 
as a replacement.  Thinking it would slightly make amends with her if he 
unpacked and fixed things up for them, Mulder dug around in Scully's trunk 
for a blanket to hang over the doorway.  Now if only he had some nails.  And 
maybe a hammer.

The Winklers (2/4)
Michele Ferguson
Disclaimer in first part


Scully hurried as fast as she could with the buttons of her shirt.  Mulder 
promised he'd wait behind the blanket while she changed, but there was no 
telling.  Leaving the top button undone she called to Mulder, "You can come 
out now."

Mulder emerged wearing a plain white dress shirt and khaki pants.  He looked 
at Scully's elbow length white blouse and short, dark denim skirt and 
smirked.  "I don't care what anyone says Scully.  We're the best damn Gap ads 
around."

Scully smiled, a half smile.  She wasn't really angry at her partner, just 
annoyed.  At that made her annoyed at herself.  It shouldn't bother her that 
Mulder drooled at the mention of Mrs.Valentine's name.  It's not like she had 
staked any claim to him, not one that people were aware of anyway.  It wasn't 
fair to assume that he would steer clear of anything with estrogen, while he 
was left to play guessing games about her feelings towards him.  She secretly 
hoped he would discover the truth on his own, but so far she'd done a really 
good job of hiding it. Then again so had he.  Eventually, meaning when he or 
she died--God forbid, Scully would accept that their love was doomed.  Until 
then, there was always hope.

"Let me get my shoes on and then we can go," Scully offered, reaching for a 
pair of clunky white Keds and slipping them on.

Mulder stared at her sensible shoes and wondered why she didn't wear those on 
field assignments.  They seemed to make more sense than the high heels she 
frequently ended up running in.  He decided not to ask.  It was bad enough 
Scully knew about his porn collection.  He didn't want to sound like an 
expert on woman's shoes, too.  She may equate the two together, and then what 
would she think of him?

The Harmony Marital Retreat's cafeteria, was not so much a cafeteria, as a 
small resturaunt with a large buffet of assorted foods.  For the most part, 
the three other couples had buddied up, pushing their small, two person 
tables together.

Although Becky waved from across the room, she made no attempt to join them.  
Scully guessed that it had something to do with her husband, David.  The man 
didn't exactly radiate jovial warmth and kindness.  Instead, he created a 
rather dark, disturbing presence in the room.

Mulder watched Scully pick at her chocolate cake, uninterested.  He'd already 
went through two dishes of the same dessert.  "Everything alright?"

Scully looked up.  "I was thinking about something, that's all."

"Care to fill me in?"

Scully pushed her plate aside and concentrated on her cup of coffee.  "It's 
Becky Platt, you know, the woman that I was talking to when you came in 
today."

Mulder lowered his voice to a near-whisper.  "Does she have suspicions about 
the Valentines?"

"Not to my knowledge.  She wants to reconcile with her husband."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Scully nodded slowly.  "Under normal circumstances, yes.  But I have a bad 
feeling about David Platt."

"Well...it is her life," Mulder said cautiously.

"I'm aware of that."  Scully muttered defensively.

"Look.  If this is bothering you that much, why don't you run a background 
check on him?"

Before Scully had time to form a reply, Mulder pushed out his chair and stood 
up.  "Looks like we're finished here," he said, gesturing towards the door.  
A staff member held open the fancy french doors, making small talk with the 
people as they filed out.

"If everyone would follow me, I'll lead you to the meeting room," 

The meeting room, was a large, homey area of the lodge with ten fold-up 
chairs set up in a circle in the center of the room.  Although the decorum 
had a slightly romantic feel, Mulder felt as if he'd stumbled upon the 
setting for an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

Scully was scanning the room for hidden cameras, when she spotted the 
Valentines in the corner, talking.  Gretta towered over her shriveled, 
ancient, husband.  For his sake, Scully hoped he had a pre-nup.

"Alright everyone, if you could take a seat we'll get started." Gretta 
breathed, walking briskly as her significant other hobbled on his cane, his 
breathing laboured.

Mulder and Scully sat down last, in the two remaining seats in between the 
Platts and an elderly couple.

"Hey you guys.  David, this is Anna and Kevin Winkler, from the cabin next to 
us," Becky introduced to her husband, who was scowling at something in the 
distance.  "Anna's a surgeon, and Kevin's a..."

"An accountant.  Pleased to meet you," Mulder said, shaking a very limp, 
sweaty hand.  He resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his shirt, all the 
while thinking that Scully was right.  David Platt was downright creepy.

"David's does work for private clients," Becky said.  Which could mean any 
number of things, Mulder and Scully thought at the same time.

"Settle, settle."  Gretta clasped her hands together waiting for complete 
silence.  When everyone was still, she spoke.  "I hoped you enjoyed dinner.  
For those of you who have not yet met me or my husband, we are the Valentines 
and we run this place."

Scully and Becky rolled their eyes at the same time, a synchronized show of 
annoyance.  Mulder couldn't help but wonder if they'd practiced that.  He'd 
never seen Scully truly get along with a woman before.

"Most of you are here because you've hit a rough spot in your marrige.  And 
some of you are in a lifeless rut, and are just looking to spice up your 
routine, whether it be in daily life or the bedroom."

The elderly couple next to Mulder joined hands and nodded enthusiastically on 
the last prospect.  Mulder shuddered, and forced more than a few unwanted 
images out of his head. 

"In a moment we'll start our first group therapy session.  But first I want 
to go aroud the circle with some questions, so we can all get to know each 
other a little better.  Let's start with you guys," Gretta decided pointing 
at a big burly man in a flannel shirt, and his petite wife.

Lumberjack, or maybe a truck driver, Mulder predicted, staring at the man as 
he introduced himself.

"Rusty Threadgill, and this is my wife Jan.  Ya see, Mr. Valentine..."

Scully watched humiliation flash across Gretta's face.  She was clearly the 
one in charge, but Mr. Threadgill chose to address her husband.  Sexist 
bastard.

"I'm the mayor of a small town in Texas, and..."

Mulder's eyes widened.  Mayor?

"And Jan's problem is that..."

"Mr. Threadgill," Gretta interrupted.  "If you are about to inform us of a 
problem you have with your wife, then it is your problem, not hers, and in 
this room, she's allowed to speak for herself.  Any mutural problem the two 
of you share, need to be referred to as 'ours.'  Please keep that in mind."

She sat back in smug satisfaction, and a tiny smile spread across Mrs. 
Threadgill's face.  Scully half-expected Gretta to pump her fist in the air 
and whoop.

Rusty lowered his head to study his feet for a moment.  His balding scalp was 
glowing red, and when he looked back up bashfully, his face was the same 
color.  "Ah, well, okay.  I have a problem with the way Jan presents herself 
to my public.  A first lady shouldn't be shy and awkward around her 
supporters, it's just not right."

Mulder snorted, recieving a stern glance from Scully.  He couldn't help it.  
First lady?

Gretta stared at Mr. Threadgill in disbelief for a moment, then turned to his 
wife with a gentle smile.  "What's your feelings in all of this, Mrs. 
Threadgill."

Jan took a deep breath.  "I don't want to hurt Rusty's political career, but, 
well..."

"At the same time you resent him for constantly putting you in the spotlight, 
when he knows it's difficult for you."

Mulder glanced at Scully with a heavy heart, knowing that she must resent him 
for all the tradgedies in her life.

"Yes...well, yes I guess that's it," Jan mumbled.

"We were both divorcees when we got together.  I remember her during her 
first marrige.  She was so out-going.  Den mother, Sunday school teacher, 
head of the PTA--everything.  Something happened, that changed all that."  
Rusty added.

Scully noticed Becky visibly stiffen, but didn't say anything.  All the talk 
of children probably reminded her of her little boy back home. 

"Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of it.  Let's move on," Gretta 
suggested, pointing at Mulder and Scully.

Scully cleared her throat.  "I'm Dr. Anna Winkler, and this is my husband 
Kevin.  We're from Seattle."

Gretta looked down at her clipboard.  "It says you've only been married four 
months, but you've both committed adultery. Well, I'm glad you took this step 
towards saving your marrige.  I would imagine a lot of your friends have 
advised you both to cut your losses and move on."

Mulder took Scully's hand, and gripped it in his own.  "She's the best thing 
that ever happened to me.  I can't lose her."

Scully's heart lurched forward.  Oh God, she wanted so bad for that to not 
just be an act he put on to keep up their cover.  "I feel the same way, "she 
managed weakly, and it was the truth.

"Let me ask you something.  Your extra-marital affairs, how were they 
initiated?"

Scully smiled bitterly.  "An old flame came back into Kevin's life.  They 
worked together many years ago, and shared more, I suppose, than he and I 
ever had.  He always had a place for her in his heart, and I guess, in the 
end, gave in to the temptation."

Mulder stared at Scully with wide eyes. Did she think he was in love with 
Diana Fowley?

"Anna wasn't quite as satisfied with her life with me as I hoped she would 
be. At a medical conference in Philadelphia, she met someone who offered her 
a chance to be wild, and...she took it."

Scully frowned. He was never going to believed that she never slept with Ed, 
no matter how hard she tried to convince him differently.  To be honest, she 
had never actually tried.  But then again Mulder did the same thing, letting 
her draw her own conclusions where Diana Fowley was concerned.

"The important thing is that you have a chance to put those indiscretions 
behind you." Gretta said.  "Who does that leave?  oh yes, the Garton's.  
What's your story..."



Day Two

Scully pounded away at her laptop in frustration.  They'd been at the retreat 
for two days now, and there was still absolutely no evidence to give 
relevance to the current case.  No suspicious buildings that were off limits 
to the guests, no evasive staff, or wrong-doings of any kind.  There wasn't 
so much as a pine needle out of place on the camp grounds.  So what the hell 
were her and Mulder still doing there?

They couldn't leave until a complete report was written for Skinner, and a 
case solved.  If weird things didn't start happening fast, they would 
probably be there for the duration of the program.

"I had to go all the way to the office just to find this" Mulder announced 
irritatedly, barging into the cabin with two steaming styrofoam cups of 
coffee.  "Is it just my imagination, or did it get colder in here?

"I talked to a staff member earlier today, on my walk, and he said that all 
the cabins' air conditioners tend to go haywire once in a while, and get a 
little colder than neccessary.  But if you ask me, I thing they planned it, 
so people in the cabin are forced to snuggle up together."

"I can think of one way to conserve our body heat, Scully," Mulder said 
mischieviously.  "What do you say?"

"Sorry, Mulder, but it's gonna have to be colder than this."  Scully took a 
huge leap of faith, "Because you know how much heat we could generate 
together."

"Scully!" Mulder exclaimed in shock.  "Are you serious?"

Scully's smile vanished.  "No, I guess I'm not.  I was kidding."

"Oh," Mulder tried to conceal his extreme dissapointment.  "Scully, why?  You 
never joke around with me, not in the way you just did."  As if the thought 
of them being hot together were a joke.

"I thought, well, I guess I assumed, um," Scully wished thecould pull the 
blanket that was draped over her shoulders, over her head, as she searched 
for the right words to explain her stupidity.  "The first night we were here, 
our first group session, and then the one today...when I describe the woman 
you had an affair with, it's Diana Fowley."

"I noticed."

"Well, what I've said about you sharing more with her than me, it's the 
truth.  We work together, that's it.  So, I decided that since you've been 
throwing these sexual innuendos my way for six years now, I could do it too.  
Sort of like an inside joke, and it's better than nothing." Scully fumbled 
through the explanation.

Mulder was insulted.  "You think that's all we have together?  A bunch of 
files, a basement office, and sleazy banter?"

"No, that's not...I'm sorry.  I'm acting ridiculous."  Scully muttered.

Mulder smiled poingnantly.  "No you're not, you're acting insecure.  But it 
is a little ridiculous to be insecure about Diana.  She's got nothing on you."

Scully didn't look convinced.  "Mulder, you and she discovered the X-Files 
together, you trusted her from the beginning, I mean, for God's Sake you call 
each other by your first name, and this is the FBI Mulder.  The FBI!"

"Do you want me to call you Dana, Scully?  Because I will if that's what you 
want."

"No, that's not what I want.  I want...nevermind.  Forget it Mulder," Scully 
looked away dejectedly.

"Scully we can't leave it like this," Mulder persisted.  "Not when I know 
there's a problem, and not after everything that has happened."

"Geez Mulder, you sound like we really are married trying to patch things 
up."  Scully said, getting off the bed in their cabin.  She went and stood by 
the window, staring into the moonlight through the cloudy panes. 

Mulder followed her with his gaze.  Damn, she's beautiful, he thought.  "It 
feels that way sometimes."

Scully spun around exasperated.  He always managed to dance on her heart when 
she least expected it, not to mention her nerves.  "What's that supposed to 
mean?  Huh, Mulder?  We're not trying to save our marrige here.  This is a 
ruse; a cover-up, or has the case gone to your head?  We're not a married 
couple, Mulder.  We don't love each other."

Scully met his unguarded eyes and saw the raw emotion there.  The truth, that 
had only been real in her dreams, until that moment.  He'd said the words 
once, and she didn't believe him...

"Scully, I think you know how I feel..."  Before he could continue, they were 
interrupted by frantic knocking.

Scully went to the door, as Mulder slowly withdrew his gun from the 
nightstand drawer.  When it was safely out of view, he nodded grimly to 
Scully, and she pulled open the door.

Becky Platt stould outside, her brown eyes as big as saucers.  "Anna you'll 
never believe this!  It's Gretta Valentine--she's dead!"

The Winklers (3/4)
Michelle Ferguson
Disclaimer in first part


Day Three

"Alright Sir--yes, we'll keep you posted," Scully assured Skinner, before 
snapping her cell phone shut.  She surveyed the courtyard for Mulder, and 
spotted him next to the pond, talking to a detective.

Staying awake all night handling an unexpected murder had taken it's toll on 
her partner's physical appearence.  Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he 
walked slouched over, as opposed to his usual stellar posture.  He wasn't the 
only one.  She couldn't stop yawning.  

They were no strangers to all-nighters and fatigue, but this was different.  
Normally, she had one thing on her mind during a case--solving it.  But one 
thing kept playing over and over again in her head, her heated conversation 
with Mulder, right before they got wrapped up in this damn murder mystery.

She had tried ordering her self to take her mind off of her relationship with 
Mulder.  Oh God, am I really calling it that now?, she asked herself with 
dread.

"Well, I talked to the police department and they agreed to leave it up to 
us.  I guess we're just two feds in the right place at the right time." 
Mulder said as he came sauntering up out of no where.  I am tired, Scully 
thought, blinking at her partner.

"Skinner wasn't very surprised that something like this would happen.  He 
said the unexplainable must travel with us."

Mulder shook his head.  "No, I'm pretty sure this is no X-File.  Just your 
typical murder.  The only questions now are who, and why."

Scully smirked.  "That narrows it down."

"I talked to Mr. Lewis earlier, when you were interviewing the, uh, the..."  
Mulder fumbled for name.

"The Gartons," Scully filled in.

"Yes, the elderly couple.  By the way, I hope Mr. Garton can get to point in 
his life where he isn't ashamed to be impotent."  Mulder said genuinely.

"Remember, Gretta's last advice was 'Try Viagra, Mr. Garton.  It works 
wonders for Lewie and I.'  If Lewis Valentine is as reluctant to talk about 
his problem as Mr. Garton was, I can definitely see a motive there."

Mulder smiled.  Scully's so great, he thought, and then felt like slapping 
himself upside the head.  Concentrate, he ordered himself.  "Mr. Valentine 
was pretty shaken up about his wife's death, he was crying by the time I 
finished speaking to him.  He's a nice old man, and he genuinely seems 
clueless about her murder.  I really can't see luring his wife to the woods 
and then shooting her in the head."

"That's nice Mulder but we can't catch our man, or woman, or rule out any 
suspects, on intuition alone."

"No there's something else.  Gretta Valentine was shot last night, between 
the time the group session ended and Mark Deluca, a staff member  heard 
Gretta's dog, Sampson, barking in the woods.  Either way it was dark outside 
with only the moon, and the lights of the camp in the distance.  If Gretta 
had her dog with her, and there was no struggle, then the shooting couldn't 
have been at close range."

"So it was somebody with a flashlight, or someone who knew their way around 
those woods, like Mr. Valentine for instance, or somebody with a good eye.  
Or I don't know, maybe they wore night-vision goggles."

"Something tells me Mr. Valentine didn't go on many long walks in the woods; 
he could barely take three steps without collasping in exhaustion.  Plus with 
all his loud weezing and that cane, he wasn't exactly light on his feet.   
She and her dog could have heard him lurking in the distance a mile away.  
Gretta would have noticed any strange lights besides her own flashlight, so 
that rules out the possiblity of the murderer carrying one."

Scully was quickly catching on.  It was becoming impossible to pinpoint Lewis 
Valentine as the gunmen.  "Not to mention his shaky hand," she said, 
recalling that Gretta had asked her opinion on a new medication her husband 
was taking, that made his movements jittery.

"And the fact that he's as blind as a bat.  I saw the prescription for his 
eyeglasses, and confirmed it with a call to his doctor.  He's on the verge of 
being legally blind."  Mulder added.

"Okay so Lewis Valentine didn't pull the trigger.  That dosen't mean he 
couldn't have hired a proffessional hitman to take his wife out, for whatever 
the reason."

"That's a possibility.  It's going to be hell getting answers out of him, 
though, now that he has family flying in.  From what I've heard, he's the 
oldest Valentine out there, and his family is very protective and very 
dissaproving of his marrige to Gretta."

Scully gritted her teeth, but couldn't keep in her yawn.  Mulder grinned. 
"Long night huh?"

Scully nodded.  "I hate to admit it, but if I don't get a caffeine boost 
soon, I'm gonna bite the dust."

"There's probably still a fresh pot in the office.  C'mon, I'll walk with 
you."  Mulder offered.

Scully thought about telling him in no uncertain terms that she could walk by 
herself, but then decided against it.  Why start a fight now, when they had 
enough to think about already.  So she said nothing, and let Mulder's gentle 
touch on the small of her back guide her, as it had for so many years.

When they got to the office, Scully saw Gina the staff member weeping, as she 
gave the Platts paperwork to fill out, so they could get a refund in the 
mail.  Becky held up her hands in mock surrender.  "Don't shoot, we're 
unarmed."  She had really gotten a kick out of learning that her new friend 
was really an undercover FBI Agent.

"I-I wonder if th-that's what Gre-Gretta said?" Gina cried, before bursting 
into another fit of tears.

David glared at his wife, and Becky's expression turned sheepish.  "Geez, I'm 
sorry, uh..." she squinted at the name tag, "Gina."

"N-no that's okay.  Mrs. Valen-Mrs. Valentine would ha-have wanted her 
employees to be friend-friendly and pro-professional.  You can fill this out 
o-o-over there," she said, pointing to two chairs in the corner.

As David turned in the key and Mulder got coffee, Scully sat with Becky as 
she filled out the neccesary forms.

"It's really a shame that the retreat had to end this way," Scully said.  "I 
was hoping Agent Mulder and I could go back to D.C. with a far different 
report than this."

"I feel like such a bitch Dana.  I take back every mean thing I ever said 
about Gretta.  She was too fucking pretty to get my respect, and acted like 
she was too innocent to be such a threat to my marrige, but she didn't 
deserve to be shot down while taking her dog for a piss."

Scully flinched slightly at her language.  "I'm sorry, I can be pretty blunt 
when I get upset."

Scully was a little bothered by her words.  If she thought Gretta Valentine 
was too dangerous to be around her already crumbling marrige, how far would 
she go to keep her away?  "That's alright, I think we're all a little upset 
right now.  But Becky, you said that she was a threat to your marrige.  Did 
Gretta do anything, to make you think that?"

Becky frowned.  "When it was just the three of us, in the private theropy 
sessions, things were a little tense.  And David was so eager to come up 
here...I don't know, I've just had this little nagging suspicion to deal 
with."

Scully nodded.  "I see."

Suddenly Becky's eyes grew wide.  "Oh shit, don't tell I just made myself a 
suspect to that poor woman's murder!  You've got to be kidding."

"My partner and I have to investigate all angles, even the unlikely ones.  
It's our job."

"Look, Miss FBI," Becky said angrily, raising her voice.  "I may be a jealous 
wife, but I'm no murderer.  And David's not either.  So stop accusing us of 
crimes we didn't commit."

By then she had everyone's full attention, including the sobbing 
receptionist's.  Something flashed in David's eyes that to Mulder looked like 
sheer panic for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by anger.  He stalked 
to where the two women stood, and used himself as a barrier between them.  
"What exactly are our charges, Agent Scully?" He asked icily.

"I haven't charged your wife nor you with anything, Mr. Platt.  I asked her a 
few questions and she assumed the worst."

"And you let her?!" David demanded.  "My wife is pregnant, a very delicate 
condition you'd know, if you've ever experienced it yourself."  He paused, 
remembering something she'd said in group.  A wicked grin spread across his 
face.  "Oh that's right, you never will."

Before Scully had time to muster up a dignified reply, Mulder took care of 
it.  With a swift, knuckle-cracking blow to David Platt's smug face.



Mulder held the cold washrag to his knuckles, and cursed.  He'd meant to 
teach David Platt a lesson in respect, not mangle his own right hand into a 
bloody pulp.  Well, at any rate, the asswhole deserved it.  After what Platt 
did, he'd never seen that look on Scully's face before.  She was...crushed.  
That's the only word he could use to describe it.  He hit him twice, though 
the second time was when Platt took a swing back at him.  Mulder would have 
done more, had Gina the receptionist not flew out from behind her desk like a 
deranged, mental hospital escapee, brandishing a stapler and screaming that 
if they didn't stop the fight in Gretta's office, she'd stop it for them.

They broke it off, and Mulder hadn't seen the Platts since.  His guess was 
that they were off somewhere, filing a lawsuit.  He had thrown the first 
punch after all.  But not without just provocation.  No one was going hurt 
Scully that way, and expect to get away with it.  He'd done things to hurt 
her too, maybe not deliberately, but they still left their painful imprint on 
her already fragile heart.  Mulder wasn't going to pretend he hadn't been the 
cause of most of her dispairs, but he was paying for it dearly.  Hell, he 
practically lived his life in guilt and lonliness.  But he deserved it, and 
it even suited him to some degree.

Not being able to conceive children was maybe the greatest tragedy in 
Scully's life, with the exception of Emily.  It was secretly his worst 
nightmare, but if she ever found a way out of the mad career she had been 
swept into on account of him, if she ever got a chance to settle down with a 
family and a real home, her life would still never be complete.

Although he dreaded it, more and more he'd seen Scully ache for the American 
dream.  He wanted so bad for her to have that.  But at the same time, the day 
they parted ways for good would be his ultimate undoing.

"What a selfish bastard I am," he remarked, just waiting for the Cigarette 
Smoking Man and his cronies to show up.  He deserved a good lynching, and it 
was the perfect way to end his pointless life.  Hey, at least Scully would 
get some peace.

"I woun't call you a selfish bastard," Scully said behind him, yanking him 
out of the depths of his lugubrious thoughts.

"Thanks for getting that ice pack Scully," Mulder said, with only a trace of 
woefulness still lingering in his voice.

"That was out of line back there Mulder."  Scully said, gently prying the 
washrag out of his grasp, and applying the ice pack to his damaged knuckes.

She handled him like a child, and Mulder was briefly reminded of Florence 
Nightengale, offering comfort to dying soldiers.  Snap out of it, he silently 
ordered himself.  "Tell me about it.  He knew the minute those words left his 
mouth that he had it coming.

Scully shot his disbelieving look.  "I was talking about you, Mulder."

Mulder lept to his feet, suprised.  "Me?  I put that--that slime in his 
place."

"You started a fistfight in there, Mulder.  What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking," he mocked her superior tone, "that I was willing to defend 
you to the death if I had too."  He exclaimed with bravado that could have 
belonged to Odysseus himself.

To Scully, it just sounded pig-headed.  "Don't you see though?  You didn't 
have to defend me.  I can take care of myself."

"Your idea of taking care of yourself is letting every insult and wisecrack 
dumbasses like Platt throw at you go.  You can't tell me you can shrug that 
off so easily, especially when its personal, like your inability to have 
children."

"Of course it gets to me Mulder.  I'm human, how could it not?  But I'd 
rather not give people the satisfaction of knowing that.  *That's* my 
revenge."

"Okay say you were in the cafeteria at work," Mulder challenged.  "Say you 
heard two people--I don't know, ah, Skinner's secretary and Agent Hawkins 
from the crime lab making jokes about how everything we stand for and 
investigate is a joke."

She didn't look impressed.  "People have said that for years, I don't let it 
bother me anymore."

"Okay then.  Say that you overheard them talking about my sister, and they 
said that Samantha wasn't abducted, she just ran away from home to get away 
from Spooky Mulder."

This time her powder blue eyes shone with the fierce light of battle.  "I'd 
rip them apart."

Mulder looked supremely pleased.  "My point exactly."

"With words, Mulder.  Sharp, intelligent words.  Not my fists.  You know, 
you're lucky you didn't  need stitches."

He sighed in exasperation.  "How was I suppose to know his face had been 
practically chiseled out of rock?"

Scully decided to lay the present conversation to rest.  "At any rate, did 
you notice how fast the Platts were to assume that they were about to be 
arrested for Gretta's murder.  Becky got very defensive.  I haven't known her 
long, but from what I've seen, she's never normally like that."

"When Becky started making a commotion about being unlawfully accused, David 
panicked.  You could see it in his eyes.  He got very tense."

"As much as I hate to think of Becky being involved in all of this, I think 
the Platts are our best lead at this point.  I can't figure out why she'd 
murder Gretta, no matter how jealous she was."

"Jealous?" Mulder asked.  "Did she think that David and Gretta were lovers?  
Were they aquainted with the Valentines before coming here?"

Scully shrugged, and put a stray lock of copper hair behind her ear, a 
gesture that drove Mulder wild.  He ducked his head to hide his awestruck 
expression.  "I don't know.  Becky did say that the retreat was David's idea 
and he was eager to get here, when these things aren't normally his cup of 
tea.  She also mentioned that things were uncomfortable when it was just the 
three of them."

"I think it's time to pay the Platts another visit.  We should also talk to 
Valentine again."

Scully studied Mulder's busted knuckles.  It looked painful, but her 
partner'd been through worse.  "I'm going to go and try to make peace with 
the Platts.  But, ah, Mulder.  I don't think it would a very good idea if you 
came," she hedged.  "The battle scars between you and Platt are still pretty 
raw."

She waited for a protest, but Mulder only smiled.  "I agree.  I'm gonna take 
off, and go get our hotel rooms.  Who knows how long we'll be in town."

Scully eyed him suspiciously for a minute, trying to tell if he was 
deliberately forgetting to mention any other plans.  She decided he wasn't 
and smiled.  "Okay, see you later," Scully called over her shoulder, the 
screen door banging behind her.

Mulder watched her walk into the sunlight, it's golden rays turning her hair 
to fire.  He rarely got to see her dressed so casually, in well-worn Levi's, 
a plain, white, v-neck t-shirt, and running shoes.  Although he knew she 
carried her badge and gun and she was nothing less than alert and 
proffessional, he was still happy she wasn't in one of those suits.  Hell, 
the only reason she wasn't was because she hadnt had time to change clothes.  
But that didn't matter.  It was as if she'd let her hair down, metaphorically 
speaking.  Maybe it had something to do with their talk the night before.  
Right before Becky came banging on their door, he was ready to confess his 
feelings for her.  Scully knew it, too.  Perhaps because of that, she felt 
more--well, liberated. 

'Long shot,' a voice in his head sneered.  It was probably right.  



Scully walked into the main office to find Gina putting the contents of her 
desk into a cardboard box.  "Mr. Valentine hasn't said anything official, but 
I'm getting a head start.  There's nothing left for me here," she admitted.

"Um, Gina.  I went to smooth things over with the Platts just now, and 
they're gone."

"The Platts?  Oh they checked out about twenty minutes ago.  They were in a 
big hurry.  I guess they want to beat the traffic to the airport or 
something."

"Could you give me their address please?" 

Gina perked up, as if she was asked to participate in official police 
business.  "Sure Agent Scully.  But you know, if you want to send them an 
apology card, I wouldn't.  I heard what Mr. Platt said, he really dosen't 
deserve it.  Gretta didn't like him either."

Yes, Scully thought.  Some answers.  "Did she happen to tell you why she 
didn't like David Platt?"

"Yeah.  We were talking about all of the couples yesterday afternoon.  She 
said that it felt like she'd seen him before, and he was always watching her 
while he and his wife were there.  Plus, she told me that she was going to 
check on her husband the day everyone showed up, and Mr. Valentine was having 
a very private conversation with Mr. Platt.  She didn't catch what they were 
saying, but when she asked what they were talking about, they got very 
secretive, and what Mr. Valentine told her was a lie.  She said she could 
always tell when Mr. Valentine lied, that's how she knew."

"So he is involved," Scully said aloud.

"Whoa, whoa.  You think that Mr. Valentine and Mr. Platt murdered Gretta?"

"I don't know anything for sure yet.  Listen Gina, this is very important.  
Did Gretta confide anything else with you?  Anything about trouble between 
she and Lewis?  Any little thing could mean something very big."

Gina twirled strand of dark brown hair around her finger.  "Uh, not really.  
He was a low-maintenance husband.  Gretta could pretty much do as she pleased 
without a protest."

But for how long? Scully wondered.  Everyone has their breaking point.  Maybe 
Gretta had done something that pushed Lewis Valentine to his.  It still 
didn't explain David's connection.  Unless...suddenly she remembered being 
introduced to David.  Becky said that he did work for private clients.  
Scully had harbored bad feelings about him since she first laid eyes on him.  
And he was eager to get to the retreat.  She deduced the facts in her head, 
and came out with the solution she'd dreaded, for Becky's sake.  Lewis 
Valentine must have hired David to kill Gretta.  A sniper's bullet killed 
Gretta, a hitman's bullet.

They'd need something.  Contracts, bank statements confirming the transfer of 
funds, a murder weapon.  It could take her and Mulder days to get enough 
evidence for a warrant, but she was almost certain David Platt was her man.  
Along with Valentine of course.

"Um...Agent Scully?"  Gina said, bringing her out of her train of thought.  
"Don't you need that address?"

"Oh yes, thank-you," Scully said, pulling out her cell phone and dialing 
Mulder, to tell him her theory.

One ring, two rings, Gina handed her the address on a piece of paper, and 
Scully walked outside with it.  Three rings, four...Something wasn't right.  
When Mulder didn't answer his phone it meant one of two things.  Either he 
was unconscious and bleeding in some unusual location with little 
recollection of how he got there, or he'd run out on her to go on some wild 
lead, and he knew she wring him out if she got a hold of him.

Although the mere thought of him ditching her made her blood boil, she chose 
to believe the latter.  The thought of Mulder hurt and unconscious was 
terrifying.  As she'd learned from past experiences, where Mulder was 
concerned, fury was more assuring than terror.

On the seventh ring, a woman's voice answered.  "Hello?"

A wave of nausea hit Scully head on.  The voice belonged to a female, a woman 
that sounded just like Gretta.  Of course it wasn't her, just her type.  
Tall, beautiful.  Everything Mulder desired.

"Ah, I'm looking for Agent Mulder," Scully said awkwardly.  Her face burned.  
She felt like a fool.

"He's out at the moment," the quiet voice whispered.  It sounded familiar 
somehow.

She didn't neccesarily want the answer, but she had to ask.  "Who is this?"

"Um...yes, thank-you good-bye."

"Wait!  Hello, hello?  Is anyone there?"

Something was definitely wrong.  Scully hit redial, and waited.

"We're sorry.  The cellular customer you are trying to reach is not..."

"Shit!" She yelled, snapping her phone shut and chunking it into her bag.  
She sprinted all the way to the parking lot, and spotted their gold Taurus 
rental.  The driver side door was wide open and the keys were in the ignition 
with the car running, but there was no sign of Mulder.  She spun around to 
check in the cabin, and ran smack into David Platt, sending her flailing on 
her ass.

The Winklers (4/4)
Michelle Ferguson
Disclaimer in first part



Mulder fought off another awful urge to scratch his nose and sighed.  He 
wasn't going to be handling any itches, not while his own handcuffs were 
being used to keep his hands behind the hard wooden chair he was confined to. 
 It had taken fifteen minutes of making every noise possible, just to get Jan 
to take the duct tape off of his mouth.  She'd finally ripped it off 
painfully, sending burning, stinging pain all through his face, but not 
before hanging up on Scully and turning off the his phone. 

He tried the rope again.  Nope, it was still securley around his feet.  Jan 
Threadgill ain't no ameture, he thought in annoyance.

He and Scully were off base on their suspect.  Way off base.  He'd only 
thought of the Threadgills once since Gretta's murder, but he could't see any 
connection whatsoever, and so he let them fade into the background.  That was 
until he was getting ready to back out of the parking lot of the Harmony 
Retreat and saw someone in the woods nearby.  He jumped out of the car 
without even shutting the door, ran into the woods towards the movement, and 
stopped.  There was nothing there. Or so he thought, because the next thing 
he knew he was handcuffed and tied to a chair in a hotel room With Jan 
Threadgill pointing his own weapon at his head.  It was much harder to solve 
a case when it didn't deal with the paranormal, or mutants, or ghosts, or 
other freakish beings or phenomenons.  This was simply a tragic case of being 
in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing good would come out of it, no 
madmen would be behind bars.  Well, maybe one madwoman.

"What do I do?  What do I do?"  Jan paced the hotel room, back and fourth, 
swiping the occasional tear.

"It'll work out," Mulder said, rather boredly.  This just didn't have the 
flare his usual hostage situations did.  

Jan looked at him as if was him who went insane, and not her.  "How can you 
say that?  My kids, my husband...oh God, his political career.  I've ruined 
him!"

Mulder glanced to where Rusty Threadgill lay on the hotel bed snoring, 
heavily drugged with sleeping pills.  He wasn't going to be waking up anytime 
soon, and when he did, boy was he in for a surprise.  Mulder sort of felt 
sorry for the poor guy.

"Rusty'll understand, Jan.  It was an honest mistake.  He loves you."

He thought of the love of his life.  There was no doubt it was Scully trying 
to call him, and by now she'd be searching all over for him.  Hopefully, 
Becky and David wouldn't have run scared all the way back to Houston.  Scully 
needed Becky right then, more than she realized.

"I had know way of knowing it was her.  It was so dark, I didn't have a 
flashlight."  Jan cried in her soft, guilt-ridden voice.  "I saw the blonde 
hair, I assumed it was her.  I, I..."

"You didn't know it would be Gretta there, in the woods, and not Becky," 
Mulder finished for her.

At the mention of Becky, Jan's eyes turned dark, hate raging in their depths. 
 "That little tramp took everything I had away from me.  She was sixteen and 
she stold my husband.  My dignity.  I lost my sense of reality.  I hated the 
world."

Mulder tried to look concerned, but the truth is, he was getting a little 
hungry.  "I understand your pain, Mrs. Threadgill."

Jan laughed a loud, a bitter sound that sent a chill up Mulder's spine.  "You 
understand?  Ha!  No one can understand, Agent Mulder."

"Try me."

Jan gazed at him cautiously, then nodded.  "Okay.  Tell me this.  Have you 
ever had something you cherished more than life itself stolen from you?  Have 
you ever blamed yourself for so long that you have this self-image of 
complete hate for yourself?  And have you ever mourned your loss for so long, 
that you began to forget what's reality, and what's just another nightmare?"

Mulder closed his eyes, the pain of sleeples, lonley nights and years of 
dead-ends keeping him mute.  Samantha.  The name, descrption, or just a young 
girl on the street with a slight resemblance, could bring back the memories.  
Ones he struggled to remember, ones he would spend a life-time trying to 
forget.  The memory of the night she was taken was forever etched in his 
brain, a reminder of why he got up every morning to face the angry mob he 
called life.

He wasn't so different from Jan Threadgill.  They'd both lost something 
irreplacable and in many ways it destroyed them beyond repair.  The only 
difference was that Mulder was still braving the current, the storm.  Jan had 
thrown in her oars and let the sea of insanity take her completely.

But seeing her pace the room, the blood of an innocent person on her hands, 
only reaffirmed to him, how closely he walked the edge of sanity.  He would 
have slipped, plummeted down to depths of dispair forever, if it hadn't been 
for one person.  Scully.  And if he got free, no, when he got free, he 
intended to let her know how much she meant to him.  Once and for all.



"David look where you're going once in a while, huh?"  Becky said, as David 
Platt hauled Scully to her feet.  She immeditately whipped out her gun and 
aimed at his chest.

"Where's Mulder?"

"Your partner?"  David asked quizacally.

"Don't play dumb with me, I know you murdered Gretta Valentine.  Now where is 
he?"

"Murder?!  David didn't murder anyone Dana!"  Becky exclaimed frantically, 
trying to save the man she loved.  "But in a way I did."

Scully's eyes widened.  "What do you mean?"

"Becky I told you it's not your fault," David said.  "You were a different 
person back then."

"Honey, if it'll help catch the person that murdered Gretta..."

"I still don't think it's a good idea..."

"Somebody better start talking!" Scully bellowed, interrupting their moral 
debate.

Becky took a deep breath and looked glumly at Scully.  "I'm not the same 
person I used to be, Dana.  I've changed, mellowed out.  You should know that 
first."

Scully nodded, willing her to go on.

"When I was sixteen, I fell in love with an older, married man.  I stold him 
away from his wife, and they ended up getting divorced over me.  They had 
kids and everything.  His wife went off the deep end.  She started stalking 
me and my family, threatening and harassing us, so we moved to Houston to get 
away.  I felt really bad.  I always have.

"I'm a jealous wife now because I was a husband stealer then. I thought I put 
it out of my life, driving that poor woman to insanity.  Anyway, now she's 
back.  And I think she killed Gretta Valentine out there in the woods, 
thinking it was me.  Fuck, I would have wanted to kill me too, you know?"

Scully processed this information.   "Who, Becky?"

Becky sighed.  "If it's true, I've ruined her life again.  Her last name was 
Jennings when I knew, well, knew of her.  Jan Jennings.  It's Threadgill now."

The voice on Mulder's cell phone.  It was familiar to her.  Soft, shy.  The 
voice of Jan Threadgill.

"Becky thank-you.  You may have just saved my partner."

"I think you can point that gun somewhere else now, Agent Scully," David said 
staring into the barrel of the gun with a pale face.

The gun didn't waver.  "What exactly is your involvement with Lewis 
Valentine, Mr.Platt?" She demanded.

"Simple.  He hired me as his private eye.  To investigate his wife."

"For what?"

"Well it was the most idiotic asinine reason for which I found no proof or 
reason to believe that..."

"For what?"  She repeated, losing patience.

David cleared his throat.  "Brainwashing."

Scully lowered her gun and lowered her head, and laughed.  What a royal 
fuck-up of a case, on she and Mulder's part.  Had it not been for the Platts, 
this would have put quite an embarrassing blemish on their solve rate record.

She had an idea of why they handled this case so badly.  Distraction.  They 
were a distraction to each other.  Always wondering what each other were 
thinking, she'd caught him gazing at her more than once, and she'd been 
caught a few times too.  

When it came down to it, it was time to stop beating around the bush.  To 
stop acting like coy fourteen year olds, and get down to the point.  She 
wanted him, he wanted her.  Well, she was pretty sure he wanted her too.  She 
was hopeful.

"Well if hope is all I have to go on, then dammit let's go."  She declared 
fiercely, feeling proud to love such a special man.

"That's the spirit!" Becky cheered enthusiastically, totally oblivious to 
Scully's real meaning.  "Don't worry, you'll get him back."



Exactly four hours after Mulder had been taken hostage, he heard a sound at 
the door that was music to his ears.  Of course Jan wouldn't be able to hear 
anything, before police bursted in to anywhere, they had a habit of being as 
quiet as possible.  Mulder had been in these situations numerous times, and 
the sound was unmistakable.  The rustling of uniforms, quiet whispers going 
over the plan of attack one more time.

Mulder could visualize the countdown that was being mouthed right outside the 
door, and though he couldn't tell for sure, he had a feeling that it was 
being led by Scully.  He took a fleeting glance at Jan, and wished her all 
the help she needed.

Four...three...two...and then finally in a burst of shouts and orders, he was 
saved.  As the police were handcuffing a shell-shocked Jan, Scully came to 
wear Mulder was sitting, and smiled.

"You know, I thought I heard someone at the door," Mulder teased, as she 
silently undid his handcuffs.

He flexed his wrists and stretched.  The excrutiating throbbing in his head 
had been reduced to a dull ache, thanks to the Advil that Jan had generously 
fed him with a glss of water.  "Are you all right Mulder?" Scully asked, 
gingerly touching the back of his head.  "This is a pretty nasty bump.  You 
could have a concussion."

"I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced, as she felt his forehead.  "Any dizziness?  
Nausea?  Drifting in and out of consciousness?"

"Scully, I said I was fine," Mulder snapped.

She took her hand away immediately, as if she'd been bit at while trying to 
feed a stray dog.  You're fucking this up, Mulder's inner voice said.  "I'm 
sorry," he apologized.  "I've just been sitting in this chair for four hours 
with a pounding headache."

"It would have been hours longer, had Becky and David not come back to the 
retreat to tell us about her affair with Jan's first husband.  After they had 
me convinced, it was just a matter of making some calls.  Locating Jan.  
Orchestrating a bust. We were way off on this case Mulder.  David Platt was a 
private investigator hired by Lewis Valentine.  He was investigating Gretta 
for suspicion of mind-control.  Just like us."

Mulder stood up, his feet now free of the rope that bound them together.  He 
gathered Scully in his arms and hugged her tightly.  He was thankful to have 
her in his life, no matter what role she played.  "Mind-control huh?  Well, 
the mind is a terrible thing to waste." 

Scully tilted her head, so that her eyes met his.  There was no turning back 
now.  "Love is a terrible thing to waste."



One Week later

"So that's it?  I presume Jan Threadgill is in jail, awaiting trial," Skinner 
said, skimming over their official report for the second time.

Mulder nodded.  "We turned our evidence over to the Forest Grove police 
department, and they took it from there.  After spending the night in a 
motel..." he paused and met Scully's eyes, remembering the night of 
discoveries, promise, and love.  "We checked out the next morning, and took 
the first available flight back to D.C."

Skinner studied them closely.  Something had changed between his two 
impossible agents.  They seemed--happier, closer.  Job well done Walter ol' 
boy, he congratulated himself silently.

"Good work," said simply.  "You're dismissed.  Oh and feel free to take the 
rest of the day off.  You've certainly earned it."

Mulder and Scully got up quietly, and walked out of the office.  Skinner 
noticed the guiding touch on Scully's back.  Praise the lord they were back 
in business.

When they got to their own office, Scully turned to Mulder.  "I think I'm 
going to take Skinner up on his offer and head home.  It's been a long week."

Mulder looked disapointed for a moment, but it quickly disappeared.  "Oh, 
okay.  Go ahead.  I'l finish up here."

Scully chuckled awkwardly.  She'd hoped he would have read between the lines. 
 Their relationship was new.  It was easy to miss things.  "Um, are you sure?"

Mulder barely glanced up from his computer screen.  He'd been sent an 
anonymous e-mail, regarding a mysterious string of fishing deaths in Montana. 
 "Yeah, sure.  Go ahead."

She picked up her briefcase, blinking back inexplicable tears.  "See you 
later, then."

Scully was in the parking garage unlocking her door when she heard frantic 
footsteps behind her.  She turned around to see Mulder running towards her.  
"Hey Scully wait up!"

"Mulder," she said, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.

He stopped a few feet away from her, an apologetic expression on his face 
that took her breath away  He knew he really didn't deserve her, but how had 
he managed to screw up this fast?  "I took the day off...to spend with you."

"Mulder you didn't have to do that," Scully offered, but she was silently 
thrilled, and it shown on her face.

Mulder took a step forward, so that they were a hairsbreath apart.  "I wanted 
too," he said simply, caressing her silken face with the palm of his hand.

And then he kissed her.


End.  So what do you think?