Title:  Desert Nights
Author: Angela W.
Tapw63@hotmail.com
Category: MSR/Mytharc/Crossover (Mulder/Scully
married)
Rating: R
Summary: Mulder and Scully investigate a mysterious
death on the Navajo Indian Reservation. Crossover with
characters from the novels of Tony Hillerman.
Timeline/Spoilers: Major spoilers for mytharc
episodes through Season Seven, including "Amor Fati"
and "Closure". In the "real" X-Files world, this would
come somewhere after Season Seven. In the series of
"married" fanfics I'm writing, this comes after
"Turnabout is Fair Play".
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story
belong to me. Mulder, Scully, Skinner and anyone else
from "The X-Files" are the property of Chris Carter
and1013 Productions. Jim Chee, Joe Leaphorn,
Bernadette Manuelito and anyone else from the Navajo
Tribal Police novels are the property of Tony
Hillerman.
Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere!
Feeback: If it's nice or contains *constructive*
criticism, feedback is valued. I'd especially
appreciate feedback from anyone who is familiar with
Hillerman's mystery novels.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder were in
their basement office at F.B.I. headquarters. They
were trying to finish up the paperwork from a
consulting case they'd done with the violent crimes
squad when the phone rang.
Scully glanced at her partner - and husband - with a
raised eyebrow. They'd deliberately come into the
office early to work without interuption. Looked like
they weren't the only early birds at the bureau.
Mulder grabbed the phone. "Mulder," he said tersely,
hoping it wasn't another agent with yet another inane
question about his profiling work.
"I need you two in my office immediately," Skinner
snapped.
"We'll be right there." Hanging up, he turned to his
wife. "Skinner. Wants us in his office pronto!"
The hour was still too early for Skinner's secretary
to be at her usual positon at the desk in the outer
office, so the agents walked straight through. "Close
the door," Skinner said as they entered.
Taking their customary seats, Scully and Mulder
looked at their boss. "Eric Begay is dead," Skinner
said.
It took a moment for the name to click, but Skinner
watched in satisfaction as it registered with first
Mulder then with Scully. "Albert Hosteen's grandson,"
Scully said. Albert Hosteen - and, to a lesser extent,
his grandson - had figured in one of their most
intriguing and heartbreaking cases. A Navajo who had
worked as a code talker during World War II, Hosteen
had helped them decode a tape that had contained
information about the government's knowledge of
extraterrestrials, as well as information on medical
experiments conducted by the government. During their
investigation of the case, both Mulder's father and
Scully's sister had been killed. Mulder had been near
death himself, saved only by Hosteen's healing skills.
Finally, Mulder asked, "Do we know how he died?"
"We know NOTHING, agents! Despite my explicit
instructions to the F.B.I. field offices in
Alburquerque, Phoenix and Salt Lake City - that I was
to be informed if anything happened involving any of
the Hosteen's relatives - we didn't even hear this
from the other feds! It was reported to me by a man I
made friends with years ago, a retired captain with
the Navajo Tribal Police. His name is Joe Leaphorn,"
Skinner said.
"Should we go out there and talk to him?" Mulder
asked.
"You two need to go out there, but Leaphorn's not the
one you need to talk to. He was only acting as a
middleman, passing the information along to me. The
investigating officers are Acting Lieutenant Jim Chee
and Officer Bernadette Manuelito, both of the Navajo
Tribal Police. You should be aware that Chee has
something of a. . .reputation," Skinner said.
"What sort of reputation?" Scully asked.
"He doesn't follow protocol and he once set up the
F.B.I. agents from the local field office in some sort
of sting. I don't know all the details but it involved
an illegal - or, at the very least, unethical - tape
recording of a phone conversation he had with one of
them. They can't stand him and apparently there's
nobody Chee holds in lower regard than the fed from
the local field office; except maybe feds who come out
from bureau headquarters," Skinner said.
"Why do we have to work with him?" Mulder asked.
"Because, not only is he the official investigating
officer, according to Leaphorn he's also brave, smart
and one of the best - if not THE best - tracker in the
whole Navajo nation. If our cigarette-smoking friend
is behind this - and if he left so much as a half a
footprint, a broken match ora cigarette stub to mark
his presence - Chee will find it."
"What about this Officer Manuelito? Is she any easier
to work with?" Scully asked.
"Leaphorn didn't know much about her. She's quite
young; only in her mid-twenties. She probably doesn't
have as much of a personal grudge against the bureau
as Chee does, but he's her superior officer. She's
likely to follow his lead, not only because he's her
boss, but because. . .well, I'm getting into third
hand gossip now, but Leaphorn thinks she and Chee
might be involved on a personal level as well."
Mulder and Scully just nodded. Nobody knew better
than they the perils - and joys - of two law
enforcement officials becoming romantically involved
with each other.
"If they've opened an investigation, certainly Eric's
death must have been unusual in some way; enough to
arouse suspiscions," Scully said.
"Presumably, yes," Skinner replied. "Get out there as
soon as you can, agents. Take a plane to Alburquerque
and rent a vehicle there; be sure to get something
that can handle a rough terrain. Also, you'd better
buy yourself some camping equipment, just to be on the
safe side. From what I understand, lodging facilities
are few and far between on the reservation. My guess
is, Chee's not going to offer to put you up at his
place."
Skinner pushed the relevant paperwork toward the
agents. "We're on our way," Mulder said.

Several hours later, Mulder and Scully loaded their
personal belongings, as well as the tent, sleeping
bags and other camping gear they'd purchased at a
local discount store, into the cargo hold of their
rented Jeep. It had been nearly noon when they'd left
Washington, D.C., but because they'd gained time on
the flight west, it was only mid-afternoon now.
"We want to head up in this direction," Mulder said,
pointing to a northwest section of the map of New
Mexico Scully was holding. "We probably won't be able
to make it to Eric's place tonight, but we'll get as
close as we can before daylight fades, then set up
camp."
"Look like another romp in the wilderness for us.
Hopefully the sunny Southwest will prove more
enjoyable than Alaska, northern Florida and some of
the other cold, wet places we've been to before."
"Gee, Scully, I thought the night we spent in the
Florida woods was pretty fun! Besides, this time we've
got the sleeping bags!"
"That mean you think you're going to get lucky,
Mulder?"
Mulder glanced out the windshield. They were on an
empty stretch of highway, with only flat sand and
sagebrush in every direction. Taking advantage of that
fact, he reached over and hooked a hand behind
Scully's neck, bringing her mouth to his for a quick
kiss.
"I'm counting on it, Scully," he murmured huskily.
"Drive the car, Mulder," she replied. He noticed with
amusement, however, that she scooted closer to him and
rested her hand on his thigh.

As the last rays of the sun lit up the western sky in
a spectacular display of color, Mulder pulled over to
a small mesa rising slightly above the desert floor.
"Let's go ahead and set up camp now; that way we can
get an early start in the morning."
"Okay. I'm about ready for a break from driving
anyway."
As they loaded their gear, he said, "Unless you
really want me to, I wasn't even going to bother with
the tent. I figure we can just sleep out under the
stars."
"Fine by me, nature boy. Oh, and Mulder?"
"Yeah, Scully?"
"You might as well only unload one of those sleeping
bags."
"Why, Agent Scully! Are you coming onto me?"
"Well, somebody once told me that the best way to
conserve body heat was to crawl naked into a sleeping
bag with somebody else who was already naked. I just
don't want you to get cold. Temperatures drop fast
once the sun sets in the desert. I'm speaking
medically, of course."
Mulder got up from where he was crouched by their
gear and made his way slowly over to his wife. She
giggled and backed up against the vehicle. Damn! She
looked so small and sexy like that, smiling up at him.
He placed his hands on either side of her and lowered
his head until their lips were touching, but without
any other point of contact between their bodies. He
kissed her gently at first, then with increasing
passion, slipping his tongue into her mouth, but still
keeping his body just a fraction of an inch away from
her. Finally, she moaned into his mouth and reached
her hands around to grab his rear, pulling him tightly
against her.
When the finally came up for air, Mulder said, "I
think we need to build a campfire and cook supper
first. From the way you're behaving, I'm going to need
some nourishment!"
Scully smiled and slowly slipped out of his arms,
walking with an exaggerated wiggle toward the campsite
a few yards away from their vehicle.
Later, after they'd eaten, Mulder was unusually
quiet, staring up at the spectacular array of stars
visible in the clear desert night.
"Are you thinking about her?" Scully asked softly.
"Who? Oh, Samantha? No, not really. I was thinking
about you. Us. Our marriage."
"Wanna share?"
"I'm really glad we had the second ceremony last
weekend. I mean, when you first suggested a religious
wedding as a follow-up to our civil ceremony, I
thought it seemed sort of silly; I just agreed to it
because it obviously meant so much to you. But it was.
. .nice. You looked so beautiful! I know your mother
was really glad to have a chance to see it, too. And
having the ceremony performed by a priest - well, even
I have to admit that made it seem more lating than tha
JP who dressed like Elvis and performed our wedding in
Vegas!"
"It does mean a lot to me, Mulder. Not that I didn't
feel married to you before."
"Dana, I've felt married to you for years. We've
certainly lived the "in sickness and health, for
better or worse" part more fully than most couples
who've been married for decades! But I'm still amazed
at how much you get into this wife stuff."
"What do you mean?"
"You're just so. . .open. So loving. All the time! I
knew marrying you was going to change my life for the
better, but I didn't expect it to be this MUCH
better!"
"Glad I'm exceeding expectations," she said with a
smile.
"Anyway," he said with a sigh, "what you said
earlier, about Samantha. Do you feel that all the
years of my life - and a fair number of years of your
life, too - that I spent looking for her were all a
waste?"
"No, Fox, I don't. In a way, she brought us together.
Your love for your sister, your devotion to searching
for her. . .it defined you. For better or worse, her
abduction made you the man you are today; the man I
love."
Mulder smiled and gathered her closer. She was
sitting between hs legs, his thighs straddling her
hips.
"I love you so much," he whispered against her hair.
Scully leaned her head back for a kiss. When they
broke it off, she murmured, "It's getting to be, uh,
obvious how much you love me, Fox." She wiggled her
hips against him, leaving no room for doubt as to what
she meant.
He sighed. "This is kind of embarrassing."
"Why?"
"Because here I am, attempting to be all spirtual
about how much you mean to me and my hormones have
other ideas!"
"There's no reason to be embarrassed, Mulder. It's
the way God designed men to show their wives how much
they're loved."
"You wanna try out the sleeping bag, sweetheart?"
"Mmmhmm. Exactly how are we going to work out the
logistics of this?"
"I think it will work best if I strip down and climb
in first, then you can climb in on top of me."
"Okay." Scully shivered slightly as Mulder stood up;
the night air was chilly after the warmth of his
embrace. He slid off his windbreaker and removed his
holster, then quickly yanked off his T-shirt. He sat
down to remove his shoes and socks, then divested
himself of belt, jeans and boxer-briefs in one quick
movement. Unzipping the sleeping bag, he quickly
crawled inside.
Scully opted for a slighly more unorthodox way of
disrobing. Rising to her knes, she undid her jeans and
pushed them down along with her panties, then sat back
down on the end of the sleeping bag to kick off her
shoes and pull her clothes and socks off. She supposed
she looked faintly silly, naked from the waist down,
but still wearing her bra, tank top and hooded
sweatshirt on top. The look on Mulder's face made it
worth it, though. Obviously, he had been expecting her
to start and the top and work her way down, the way he
had. Reaching under both shirts, she undid her bra so
she could pull all three garments off in one smooth
move. Then, shivering, she slid into the sleeping bag
and lay flat on top of her husband, her legs
straddling his hips.
Mulder zipped the sleeping bag back up, then yelped
as Scully ran her hands down his sides. "Geez, Dana,
your hands are like ice!"
"Well, warm me up then. Isn't that supposed to be the
whole purpose of us being in the same sleeping bag
together?"
"Oh, I'll keep you warm all right," he answered,
bringing her face down to his for a quick kiss. "Hot,
as a matter of fact. And wet. And very, very happy."
"You always make me very, very happy, lover."
Smiling up at her, Mulder ran his hands down her arms
so that their fingers could meet and link. He rubbed
and kneaded her hands with his until they were no
longer cold, then slid his hands back up to her
shoulders. He caressed her back with excrutiating
slowness, tracing abstract patterns along her smooth,
soft skin. When he reached her bottom, he began to
squeeze, causing her to gasp and wiggle against him.
"This sleeping bag's kind of a tight fit," he
murmured.
"You ought to be used to that by now, Fox."
"What?"
"A tight fit."
He grinned up at her. "Oh, I am. Very tight. And very
hot. And very wet." He slid one finger down between
her legs and began to play with her, just tracing the
very edges of her center of desire. He slid the other
hand back up to her neck and kissed her again. There
was nothing quick about it this time. The kiss was
long and leisurely; he moved his tongue slowly around
inside her mouth, his finger mimicking the same
actions somewhere lower.
Scully moaned softly into his mouth. He hadn't
touched her breasts - couldn't, really, in the
confines of the sleeping bag - but she could feel her
nipples becoming erect from the friction provided by
the contact with the wiry hair on his chest. She was
also becoming incredibly aroused and beginning to
crave more stimulation than just that one, teasing
finger. She could feel his erection, but not where she
wanted it; for their faces to be close enough to kiss
he had to pull her further up his body, so that his
arousal was somewhere down near the middle of her
thighs.
Finally he broke the kiss and smiled. "You are so
incredibly beautiful. That look on your face and the
starry sky behind you. . .it's just amazing!"
"I'm glad you think I'm beautiful, Fox. But right now
I need you inside me. All of you."
He nodded and helped her manuver lower, so that he
was sheathed inside her. She gasped with pleasure at
the sheer size of him. Was it possible he was even
larger than he usually was? Maybe it was just the fact
that the sleeping bag kept her so tight against him,
not allowing for the freedom of movement that sheets
did.
"You're so big," she moaned.
"Too big, babe? I can pull partially out."
"Don't you dare! It feels great! It's just. .
.different, being tucked in so tight by the sleeping
bag."
Mulder lifted his hips off the ground and bucked into
her, causing her to moan again. She begin to wiggle on
him, kissing his chest and neck, the only parts of his
body she could reach. He let his hands wander across
her thighs, pulling her legs open as far as they could
go in that confined space.
Their erotic dance went on and on, eventually
resulting in a shattering climax for her, followed
only moments later his own, equally powerful.
Scully smiled sleepily and kissed his chest. "I love
you," she murmured as they drifted off to sleep.

When the woke up, the first rays of dawn were just
beginning to tint the eastern sky a pastel pink.
Scully noted with a mixture of amusement, pride and
passion that her husband was erect again. She had
pulled up enough so that she could pillow her head on
his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around her and
she could feel the hot, hard length of him along the
top of her inner thigh.
"AGAIN, Mulder?" she asked with small smile.
"Scul-lee! You're lying on top of me, naked! What
kind of reaction am I supposed to have?"
"Oh, according to my medical training, you're having
exactly the right reaction. I'm not complaining. I'm
just impressed!"
"What should we do about it?"
"Well," she said slowly, making it seem as if she
were giving the matter serious consideraton, "since
there's probably not a shower - cold or otherwise -
within a hundred miles of here, that option's out. And
you obviously can't meet with local law enforcement or
concentrate on a possible homicide investigation in
that condition. So I guess we'll have to handle it the
same way we did last night; it's the only logical
solution."
"And my partner, the ever rational Dr. Dana Scully,
always opts for the logical solution!"
"Exactly. How do you want it? Maybe we could wiggle
around so that I'm underneath you."
"No, sweetheart. The ground's too hard and I'm too
heavy."
"Same way, then?"
"What I really want is you on top of the sleeping
bag, not in it. Up on your hands and knees."
"I'll be cold," she mock-protested.
"Not for long," he assured her.
He was right. His hands seemed to be everywhere,
touching and caressing her breasts, belly and face as
his body warmed her from behind. Normally she wasn't a
huge fan of this position, but there was something
about being like this outside that made it seem
primitive and incredibly arousing. They both had a
quick, intense orgasm, then moved to put their clothes
back on.
After they'd eaten a fast breakfast of campfire
coffee and granola bars, they reloaded the Jeep and
were back on the road by the time it was full
daylight.

On another part of the Navajo reservation, Acting
Lieutenant Jim Chee scowled at the request in front of
him.
"Come on, Jim, whatever it is can't be THAT bad!"
Chee looked up with a start. He hadn't even heard her
come in. Officer Bernadette Manuelito was as
soft-footed as she was soft-spoken. One of those
people, he thought wryly, who contributes to all those
stories about Indians being able to move through the
landscape without making a sound. He liked Bernadette,
he really did. What he didn't like were all the rumors
that the two of them were more than friends. What he
liked even less was the sneaking suspiscion that
Bernadette would like to make the rumors come true.
Chee hadn't had much luck in his life with romantic
relationships. The last two women he had been involved
with had dumped him. The first one hadn't been so bad,
really; a nice Anglo elementary school teacher who had
simply decided that the cultural differences between
them were too great. But his relationship with Janet
Pete, a lawyer and fellow Navajo, had blown up
spectacularly in his face, fueled by what he couldn't
help but think of as her betrayal of him just when
they were reaching the point of talking marriage. The
last thing he was interested in was another romantic
relationship anytime soon. Especially with someone who
worked with him. Or, to be technical about it, worked
FOR him, which was even worse.
Chee turned his attention back to the paperwork.
Amazingly, considering its content, it was actually
less nerve-wracking to contemplate than his love life.
"Oh, I don't know, Bernie," Chee said slowly. "It's
from the Federal Bureau of Ineptitude. Informing us
that they're interested in the suspicious
circumstances involving the death of Eric Begay."
"Don't the field agents have enough to do? Eric got
drunk, floundered into a canyon, fell down and broke
his neck." Bernadette said. "It's sad, but it
happens."
"Oh, it's not the local feds, Bernie. We're being
graced by a couple of special investigators from
headquarters. Their names are Mulder and Scully."
"Weren't they the ones that Eric's grandfather - you
know, old Albert Hosteen - did the translating or code
breaking or whatever it was, for a couple of years
ago?"
Chee was silent for a moment. "I think you're right,
Bernie. I didn't make the connection at first. Let me
make some phone calls, to the family and the feds'
field office, then we need to get out to his place.
They want us to meethem there sometime today."
"Us?"
Chee sighed. "You'd better come with me, Bernie. I
know that, spread as thin as we are, the force can't
really afford to send both of us to the same place.
But you tend to have a calming influence on me."
Bernadette smiled. "Translation: you're less likely
to get arrested for assaulting a federal agent if I'm
there to rein you in."
"Something like that," he admitted.

It was almost noon when Mulder and Scully finally
reached Eric Begay's family compound. No one seemed to
be around, as there was no answer to their repeated
knocks and shouts.
"What do you think we should do?" Mulder asked. "If
this Chee is as good as Skinner claims he is, we
probably shouldn't look around too much. Might mess up
any tracks or clues there are to be found around
here."
Scully turned around slowly, scanning the vast, arid
landscape. She spotted something at the edge of the
horizon. "I think there's someone coming," she said.
Several minutes later, a Navajo Tribal Police car
pulled up and parked alongside the agents' rented
Jeep. Scully looked at the pair of officers who
emerged. The man - Chee, presumably - was about her
own age and an inch or two shorter than Mulder. He and
Mulder were much the same body type, actually, she
thought; long legs and leanly muscled torsos. The
woman was seven or eight years younger and just the
teeniest bit on the plump side. Both had the jet black
hair, dark eyes and burnished skin tone of all members
of the Navajo nation.
Neither of them were smiling, but Chee blinked as he
walked toward them. "I've never seen a female fed
before," he said.
"I'm Mulder; she's Scully."
"I know who you are," Chee replied.
"I'm Officer Bernadette Manuelito," the younger woman
said. "And this is Acting Lieutenant Jim Chee."
Chee sighed. The sooner they could get this over
with, the sooner he could get back to solving actual
crimes.
"I've heard about you," he said, staring at Mulder.
"Which versions and from whom?"
"Both versions. The ones the fibbies from the local
field office tell - about how you're known in the
bureau as "Spooky" Mulder. How you - and for the past
few years, her, too - chase around the country looking
for little green men, vampires, killers with ESP and
all kinds of other nonsense. According to them, you're
simply insane."
"And the other version?"
"The one from the family of Albert Hosteen and Eric
Begay. How you accepted a Blessing Way when you were
near death a couple of years ago, instead of demanding
they take you to a hospital where you could get modern
medical treatment. How you're working on some sort of
quest involving your sister's disappearance and your
father's honor. According to them, you're one of the
few belagana who actually respects our beliefs, is
willing to try to learn from us."
"Belagana?" Scully asked.
"It's our word for," Bernadette paused as she tried
to phrase it properly, "we're the Dineh, the people.
All Navajos. The people - tribes, you'd call them, I
guess - who've lived near us for centuries have names.
Hopi, Zuni, Ute, whatever. Everyone else - outlanders
- is a belagana."
"I've heard both versions about you, too," Mulder
said to Chee.
"I didn't know there was more than one," Chee said,
slightly startled.
"Oh, yeah. The local - fibbies, I believe you called
them - consider you a loose cannon.
A law enforcement official who doesn't always follow
the book. A man willing to bend the rules, even break
the law if has to, in order to see that his own
version of justice is served. They don't like you."
"I'm aware of that."
"There's also another version," Mulder continued.
"The one our boss got from a man he knows slightly, a
retired Navajo Police Officer by the name of Leaphorn.
According to him, you're smarter than the feds and
that pisses them off. You're also brave. Most
importantly, at least for our purposes, you're one of
the best trackers in the Southwest."
"The old 'Indian as Scout' idea, huh?" Chee asked
cynically.
"I'm just reporting what I've been told. Since it
came from Leaphorn, you'd have to take up the
steroetyping with him."
"Jim, you are good," Bernadette said. "Not because of
your genetic makeup, but because you've spent so many
years learning. All that time with your uncle, all
those tracking missions on your own."
"So what do you want from me?" Chee asked.
"We want you to look around," Scully replied. "Read
the crime scene - if there's even been a crime
committed, which we don't know for sure yet - and
tells us if anything is out of the ordinary."
"You can't do that yourselves?"
"To a certain extent we could," Mulder answered. "But
we're not familiar with the terrain, so I'm not sure
we'd notice something odd even if it was staring us
right in the face. Although we've had training in
reading crime scenes, it's not an area of expertise
for either of us."
"What are your areas of expertise?" Bernadette asked.
"I've got a degree in psychology. I've made my name -
such as it is - as a profiler. I deal better with
internal clues than external ones," Mulder said.
"I'm a scientist, a medical doctor," Scully chimed
in. "Once we find something, I can analyze it,
identify it, whatever. But first we have to find it."
Chee sighed. "It's going to be a long, slow search,
agents."
"We'll wait."

Several hours later, Chee came up to the car where
Bernadette, Scully and Mulder were sitting. They had
the windows and doors open to catch any slight breeze
that was drifting by.
"He didn't die here. He was brought here afterwards."
"You're sure?" Mulder asked.
"Absolutely. The signs are unmistakable if you know
what to look for. Footprints, the marks of a body
being dragged into the canyon. Which leads me to
believe that his death probably wasn't accidental,"
Chee said, "because why would anybody go to that much
trouble to cover up a simple drunken tumble?"
"So where do we go from here?" Bernadette asked.
"Would it be possible for me to autopsy the body?"
Scully asked. "I'm not familiar with your culture's
beliefs on that sort of thing. Would an autopsy be
considered some sort of sacrilege?"
"Not really," Chee answered slowly. "Our basic belief
about dead bodies is to have nothing to do with them.
We don't really care what others do with the bodies of
our people."
"Do you know where it is?" Mulder asked.
"Yes," Bernadette answered. "It's at the morgue in
Farmington."
"I guess that's my next step, then," said Scully.
"You two go do that," suggested Chee. "I've got an
idea, based on something I just saw, that Bernie and I
are going to check out. Let's all meet for dinner at,
say, seven. There's a Mexican restaurant directly
across the street from the Farmington Police Station.
We'll see you there."
"Okay," Mulder agreed.

"What'd you think of them?" Mulder asked Scully as he
manuvered their vehicle back down the narrow, rutted
road that would eventually connect them to the
two-lane highway that would lead them to Farmington.
"I like her," Scully answered promptly. She had found
Bernadette a lovely mixture of friendship and
professionalism. She had also appreciated the fact
that Bernadette was too busy watching Chee to make a
play for Mulder. In fact, although they had known each
other only a few hours, Scully would be hard pressed
to name another female law enforcement officer she'd
ever established a better rapport with than the young
Navajo woman.
"And him?"
"I don't know. He's obviously a damned good tracker.
I can't say I care for his attitude, but I can't say I
exactly blame him for it, either. Apparently the feds
have been a thorn in his side for years."
"I like him, Scully. Not exactly in the sense that I
can see the two of us going out to shoot hoops and
drink beer together. But - and I know this is going to
sound strange, coming from me - I do feel we can trust
him. He's not going to bullshit us or disregard us. He
may not enjoy working with us, but I think he feels
that's all the more incentive to give us as much help
as he can so we get out of his hair."

Desert Nights, Part 2
Summarized, disclaimed, etc. in Part 1

"What'd you think of them?" Chee asked Bernadette as
he manuvered their car over a gravel road parallel to
the one the federal agents were on.
"I like her," Bernadette answered promptly. "We got
to talking while you were out tracking. She takes her
job seriously and she's also a person of deep
religious faith, which I always respect."
"Which faith?"
"Christian. Catholic Christian."
"And him?"
"You asking me if I like him or if I know his
religious beliefs?"
"Either. Both."
"He didn't mention his beliefs, so I don't know. As
far as liking him. . .I don't know. I haven't dealt
with nearly as many feds as you have, of course, but
he seems better than most."
Chee chuckled at that. "You're damning the man with
faint praise, Bernadette."

Later that day, the two couples met at the restaurant
they had agreed on. After all four had ordered, and
the waitress had brought their drinks and bowls of
chips and salsa for them to snack on, they began to
discuss the case.
"Well, what did you find out from your examination?"
Chee asked, turning his attention to Scully.
Bernadette noticed with amusement that Mulder's arm
snaked along the back of the booth behind Scully's
shoulders when Chee was speaking. It was as if the
agent was subtly staking a claim. Bernadette could
have told him he had nothing to worry about. First,
she didn't think Jim was interested in dating anybody
at the moment; he was still recovering from his affair
with Janet Pete. Secondly, after what had happened in
a previous relationship, she doubted he'd ever
seriously consider a romance with anyone other than a
Navajo woman. Thirdly, a female F.B.I. agent would be
the last person in the world Jim would get involved
with, no matter how attractive she was. Bernadette
admitted to herself that the woman sitting across the
table was attractive. Of course, so was her male
partner. Bernadette was a traditional Navajo who would
never want to actually get involved with a belagana,
but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate gazing at
a good-looking man of another race.
"It's difficult to say. He died from internal
injuries which could have been sustained during a fall
into a rocky canyon. They also could have been the
result of a severe beating, probably by more than one
person. Even if it was the result of a fall, he could
have been pushed," Scully said.
"So there was nothing out of the ordinary?"
Bernadette asked.
"Well, there was one odd detail. I noticed a tiny
pinprick on his wrist. As if he'd been injected with
something there."
"Agent Scully are you suggesting he was drugged, then
pushed into a canyon or beaten to death?" Chee asked.
"I'm saying it's a possibility we need to consider,"
Scully replied.
"We talked to some of his relatives," Chee said. "I
think I know where he was when he died. Bernadette and
I are going to check it out tomorrow. You two are
welcome to go with us, but we'll need to get an early
start and it might turn into an overnight trip."
"We've got the gear for that," Mulder said. "We
camped out last night."
"There's a motel just down the block," Bernadette
said. "A relative of mine manages it. It's not fancy,
but the rooms are clean and the rates are reasonable.
You two could stay there tonight and Jim and I could
pick you up first thing in the morning."
"Sounds good to me," said Scully. "Believe me, clean
and well-managed is better than I've come to expect in
a motel. You should see some of the rattraps we've
stayed in over the years."
"Do you travel a lot in your work?" Bernadette ask.
Since they had exhausted all possible avenues
concerning the case until tomorrow morning, she
thought it might be nice to turn the conversation over
to more general matters. Maybe she could even pretend
that she and Jim were a couple, meeting friends for
dinner. That would be a laugh, she admitted to
herself. Jim had kindly, but clearly, indicated he
thought of her more as a younger sister than a sexy
woman. And he certainly wouldn't have chose to have
dinner with a couple of feds it it were a purely
social occasion.
"Extensively," Scully said. "We've racked up more
frequent flyer miles than most pilots!"
"I wouldn't like that," Bernadette said, almost
shyly. "I could imagine being away from Navajo land
very long."
"It must be nice to have that sort of connection to a
place," Scully said. "I never have."
"Where'd you grow up, Agent Scully?" Chee asked
grudginly, aware that Bernadette was going to kick him
if he didn't make some attempt to be sociable.
"All over. I was a Navy brat. The sound of waves or
the smell of saltwater makes me homesick, but not for
any particular place."
Chee turned to the other man. What he was about to
say might impress the agents if he was right. On the
other hand, if he was wrong, it would just confirm his
reputation as Chee-the-moron among the feds. "You grew
up in New England, right?"
"Yeah," Mulder answered, surprised. "How'd you know?"
"I dated a woman who was from there. Went back with
her once, to visit her folks. I thought I detected a
trace of the accent, that's all."
Mulder had been impressed earlier by Chee's visual
acuity. He was doubly impressed now, realizing that
the man used all his senses to anaylze and catalog
information.
After they had eaten and were leaving the restaurant,
Chee said, "Early means EARLY, agents. There's a
coffee shop next to the motel. It opens at five. Meet
us there then. We'll all grab a quick bite to eat and
be on our way."
"Will do," Mulder answered.

Arriving at the motel, Mulder didn't even bother to
go through the rigamarole of requesting two separate
rooms. They were, as far as he could figure, about 297
miles away from the nearest F.B.I. field office and he
sincerely doubted that the 12-unit cinderblock motel
ran to rooms with connecting doors. Anyway, Skinner
knew they were married and he was the one who approved
their expense accounts.
Once they got inside their room, Scully collapsed on
the bed and sighed. "I don't know what I want first;
to take a shower or take a nap in an actual bed."
"It's too late for a nap, babe. Let's take a shower
now, work on the case or watch TV for a while, then go
to bed."
"Are you suggesting we share the shower, Agent
Mulder?"
"Well, see, the guy at the registration desk said
that all guests are asked to limit their showers to no
more than five minutes, in order to conserve water.
But, the way I figure it, we can stay under for ten
minutes if we only have one shower between us.
Combine my five minutes with your five minutes."
"Is that all you're planning on combining in the
shower?"
"I'll be good, Scully. I promise. Well, at least
while we're in the shower. I make no guarantees for
the rest of the evening," he said with a grin.
Amazingly enough, he kept his promise. Except for a
quick kiss and a long slide down her back and bottom
with his large, soapy hands, Mulder actually behaved
himself while they were in the shower together. Scully
didn't know if she should be relieved he'd kept his
promise or worried that the honeymoon was over.
When they had dried off and gotten dressed, after a
fashion (he was in his black silk boxers and heather
gray T-shirt, she was in her turquoise pajamas),
Mulder sat down in the room's lone chair, by the
rickety table, and began working on his portable
computer.
Scully got her computer out and began working too,
transcribing her hurried autopsy notes into a formal
reporty. After they'd been working for over an hour,
she discovered an anamoly and said, "Hey, Mulder! Come
look at this."
Engrossed in his own work, he ignored her.
"Mulder!"
"In a minute," he murmured.
When a few more minutes had passed, she stomped her
foot and said, impatiently, "Could you pay some
attention to me, please?"
Mulder looked up at that and gave her a smile that
sent Scully's heart into overdrive. Removing his
glasses, he stretched his shoulders and said, "Sure,
Scully. What kind of attention do you want? Husband
attention or partner attention?"
"Um," she gulped.
"I mean, I'll be happy to give you whatever kind of
attention you want - for as long as you want it - but
I just need to know whether I should take my clothes
off or not."
"Right NOW," she said, attempting to make her voice
sound firm and failing miserably, "I am attempting to
have a work-related discussion with you."
"Oh. What?" he asked, coming to sit beside her on the
bed.
"Look at this. It indicates high levels of residusal
nicotine in his hair and nails. As if he'd been a
heavy smoker. But Eric didn't smoke."
"Are you sure?"
"The form the family filled out says he didn't. And
we're not talking about sneaking a quick smoke behind
the barn or whatever. These nicotine levels would
indicate a two- or three-pack a day habit. He'd have
had to be a chain smoker, puffing away almost
continuously, to have this level of nicotine in his
blood."
"You thinking what I'm thinking, Scully?"
"We can't blame Spender Senior for everything but,
yeah, that's what I'm thinking."
"I'm still not making the connection, exactly."
"Well, nicotine can be used as a sedative. Maybe he
was drugged before he was pushed into the canyon. It
would explain where there were no obvious signs of him
being dragged or otherwise putting up a fight."
"We'll need to share this with Chee. Maybe, when we
go out to the site where Chee believes Eric was
actually killed, we can find some sort of evidence."
"Yeah, that seems to be out best hope."
"You about ready to quit working?" he asked.
"Mmmhmm," she replied, shutting her computer. "We
could see what's on TV."
"Well, yeah, we COULD," he agreed, letting his hand
wander up and down her thigh, stroking lightly.
"Or we could go straight to sleep," she suggested,
then gasped when he fastened his mouth onto her neck
and began to nibble and suck.
"Well, yeah, we COULD do that, too," he agreed,
pushing her gently down, so she lay flat on her back,
with him looming over her.
"OR," he suggested, "I could forget I'm an F.B.I.
agent for a while and just remember that I'm a man
with an incredibly beautiful wife and an incredible
hard-on and that we're lying on a bed in a motel room
with hardly any clothes on!"
"Um, I think I like that idea best!"
Mulder smiled and kissed her. Long, slow and deep.
Flaunting his height and strength, all masculine
arrogance and need. Oh, God, she loved this, Scully
thought, not sure, even in her own mind, if she were
cursing or sending up a prayer of thanksgiving.
She could feel him through the double layer of silk -
his shorts and her pajamas - hard and long and
throbbing against her belly. That wasn't good enough,
though, so she snaked a hand between their bodies and
beneath the waistband of his shorts and began to
stroke him.
He groaned into her mouth, then broke the kiss to
bury his face in her hair. He licked her ear, then
blew in it and nipped the lobe lightly. Finally, he
reached down and dislodged her hand, entwining their
fingers together.
"You're too good, Scully. You keep that up any longer
and I'm going to come in your hand. Which will not
only be not as much fun for us, but might be
embarrassing when Bernadette's uncle washes the
sheets!"
She laughed, but the sound turned to a moan as he
quickly undid the buttons of her pajama top and
latched on to one of her breasts. He managed to suck
while, at the same time, flicking her nipple rapidly
with his tongue.
"You are sooo good at that," she murmured. "Back
before we were married I used to watch you sometimes,
with your damned sunflower seeds, and wonder what your
marvelous mouth would feel like on me."
He removed his mouth from her breast just long enough
to murmur, "Oh, I'm only getting started, sweetheart."
Then he transferred his attention to her other breast.
After both breasts were wet and taunt, he began to
move lower, dropping kisses along her abdomen until he
came to the waistband of her pajamas. He paused
briefly to grin at her, then slid them off. Pushing up
one leg so that it was bent at the knee, he lay flat
on his stomach and buried his head between her thighs.
When she felt his lips on her core, Scully jerked.
She wondered dazedly if she would climax this way; she
often did. This time, however, after licking her for
only a brief time, Mulder pulled away. She moaned in
protest.
"Shh! I'm just taking off my clothes, so we can get
to the main event!"
Scully brought her other knee up, so there was room
for him to position himself atop her. Reaching down to
guide him into herself, she gave a smile radiant
enough to light up an entire city. He moved slowly at
first, making sure she was aroused enough to welcome
his length and weight. When she began to whimper, he
picked up the pace.
"Oh yeah! Yeah, Mulder! Please, Fox!"
"You like this, Dana?"
She didn't answer him verbally; she was beyond that.
Instead, she moaned and dug her fingernails into his
biceps as he felt her begin to pulse around him. She
went on and on, but he was happy to wait. When she
finally stopped throbbing, he began moving inside her
again. His own orgasm almost caught him by surprise,
coming after only a few more quick thrusts inside her.
As he positioned them on their sides, spooned next to
each other, so they could sleep, he reached for his
watch on the nightstand.
"Whatcha doing?" she asked sleepily.
"Setting the alarm on my watch for four. We want to
be up, packed and out of here before Chee and
Bernadette arrive at five."
"Yeah, that could prove embarrassing, if they knocked
on the door while we were still getting dressed."
"Do you think they're romantically involved, Dana?"
"Mmm," she said slowly, considering. "No, not yet.
But not because they don't want to be. At least, she
wants them to be. That's obvious. They sort of remind
me of us, like we were a couple of years ago. I can't
figure him out. He certainly cares about her, but I
can't really tell if he doesn't want to get
romantically involved with her because he honestly
doesn't like her in that sense or if there's some
other reason."
"My guess is - some other reason."
"Such as?"
"Well, just for starters, they're not partners like
we are. He's her boss. That's always a tricky
situation for a man, coming onto a woman who works for
him. If it turns out he's misreading the signals,
sexual harrassment charges are a very real
possibility. He might also feel the age difference
between them is somewhat significant; it's not like
he's old enough to be her father or anything, but he's
got to be at least eight years older than she is,
maybe closer to ten. My take on the whole think is
this: he's aware of what she's offering and he'd
really like to take advantage of it; but because he's
her boss and because of the age difference he thinks
that if he did he might be, well, taking advantage of
her."
"In other words, poor Bernadette has found another
one of you guys who keep avoiding the women they love
in a quest to be noble."
"Um, yeah. I guess maybe so."
"I love you. I'm glad you finally stopped being noble
and asked me to marry you."
"So am I. I love you, too. G'night."

When Chee and Bernadette began weeding their way
through the darkened, pre-dawn streets of Farmington,
it was a quarter of an hour before the agreed meeting
time with the agents. Traffic was virtually
non-existant, however, and it was still ten minutes
before five when they arrived at the motel.
"Wonder what rooms the federal agents are in?" Chee
asked sullenly. He didn't like dealing with the F.B.I
and even if Mulder and Scully were better than most
agents, he still wasn't pleased with having them tag
along while he investigated a possible homicide on the
reservation.
"We're early," Bernadette pointed out.
"There's only one room with a light on - that one at
the end," Chee stated. "This does not look good.
Either one of the agents has overslept or one of them
has gone someplace without us. Either way, it's going
to cause problems." He got out of his truck and shut
the door, then walked toward the lighted room.
"Uh, Jim," Bernadette said, hurrying after him. She
could think of a logical reason why there might be
only one light on, but which would account for the
presence of both the agents. She'd seen the way Scully
and Mulder had gazed at each other when the four of
them were having dinner last night. She'd also noticed
some touching that seemed to go just a bit beyond the
"casual friends" level. She doubted that Jim had
noticed. No one was better than he was at noticing
subtle details or abnormalities in the landscape,
which was the reason he was just about the best
tracker in four states. But, as she'd noticed before,
the subtleties of human interactions - particularly
between non-Navajos - were often lost on her boss.
Chee had reached the door and began knocking on it
before Bernadette could catch up with him. After a
brief pause, a startled Agent Fox Mulder opened the
door.
"Is my watch wrong or did I misunderstand you?"
Mulder asked. "I thought we weren't meeting for
another ten minutes and then it was supposed to be at
the coffee shop next door."
"Where's Agent Scully?" Chee demanded.
"We'll be at the coffee shop in just a few minutes,"
Mulder responded.
"Look, either she's not awake yet or she's not at the
motel," Chee said. "This is the only unit with a light
on."
"Agent Scully and I will met you and Officer
Manuelito in the coffee shop at the agreed-upon time,"
Mulder said, beginning to look flustered.
Bernadette felt sorry for Mulder. If he and his
partner wanted to share a motel room, it wasn't any of
her business. Or Chee's. Grabbing onto Jim's arm and
pulling hard, she said, "We'll see you there, Agent
Mulder."

"Honestly, Jim!" Bernadette exploded as they walked
toward the coffee shop. "We finally run into a pair of
feds who treat us with a little bit of dignity, who
actually show some respect for our beliefs, and you
have to go out of your way in an attempt to humiliate
them!"
Chee stared at Bernadette. He couldn't believe she
was yelling at him in public. Like most traditional
Navajos, she was polite almost to a fault. There was
also the fact that she seemed to have a crush on him
and usually went out of her way to be especially nice,
almost flattering, when speaking to him. Not to
mention the fact that he was, at least temporarily,
her superior on the force. Then, of course, there was
the fact that he didn't have the foggiest notion what
she was yelling at him ABOUT, anyway!
"Don't you want to know where Agent Scully is?" he
asked.
"I'm fairly sure I DO know, Jim! She's back there in
that motel room!"
"Why would she be in her partner's motel room at this
hour of the morning?"
Bernadette heaved a put-upon sigh. "For heaven's
sake, Jim! Didn't anyone ever tell you about the birds
and the bees?"
Chee flushed a brick red as understanding finally hit
him. "You mean you think Agent Scully and Agent Mulder
are sleeping together? Just because she's a woman and
he's a man?"
"No, not just because of that! It was fairly obvious
last night; the way they talked, the way they touched,
the way they looked at each other. Women notice these
things. I tried to tell you as we were getting out of
the truck, but you started pounding on the door before
I had a chance!"
"I think the bureau has rules against that sort of
thing," Chee said.
"I'm sure it does," Bernadette answered. "That's
probably why Agent Mulder looked so flustered. They're
probably panicking right now, afraid we're going to
narc on them to their superior."

Dana Scully emerged from the bathroom to look at her
husband. "Chee?" she asked.
"Yeah. And Bernadette. We're busted, Scully."
"Sorry. It's my fault, I guess. If I hadn't insisted
on making one last visit to the bathroom before we
left civilization. . ."
"It was bound to happen sometime, Dana. Do you want
to put our rings back on?" During working hours,
Scully wore both their wedding rings suspended on a
necklace tucked inside her shirt. Just a few minutes
ago, they'd slipped the rings off their fingers and
back onto the chain.
"Why?"
"Because," Mulder answered, "old-fashioned and
chauvanistic as it may sound, if people know we're
sleeping together, I'd just as soon they know we're
married. I don't want people to think you're. . .the
kind of woman who sleeps around."
"I think the word you're looking for is chivalrous,
not chauvanistic, Fox. Let's leave our rings off for a
while. I"ll talk to Bernadette later, explain the
situation."

After an uneasy breakfast, the two pairs of law
enforcement officials drove in their own vehicles
toward the site Chee felt was likely to shed some
light on Eric's death. Because the roads were rough -
in some places little more than tracks in the hard
packed dirt - going was slow and it was several hours
before they reached their destination.
An hour into the investigation, Chee lay flat on his
stomach and peered down into a narrow crevice. "I
think there's something down here, but I need a way to
fish it out. A chain or something. Bernadette, are you
wearing a necklace?"
"No, Jim. I don't usually wear jewelry when I'm
working."
"You, Agent Scully?"
"Uh, yeah, Chee. I've got two necklaces on. How logn
of a chain do you need?"
"Whichever is longer. That'll give me more room to
manuver."
Scully slipped off the longer of her two necklaces
and unfastened it. She slid her own wedding ring on
her finger and handed Chee the necklace, then nudged
Mulder. When he looked at her with a raised eyebrow,
she held out his ring to him, flat on the palm of her
hand. He smiled and put it on.
Later, they looked at what Chee had found. A folded,
empty cigarette package. Morleys. Scully and Mulder
looked at each other and nodded. Cancer Man, aka
Spender Senior.
Chee - with some help from the others - finished his
survey of the crime scene just about dusk. Deciding it
would be too treacherous to navigate the winding
mountain roads after dark, the four agreed to camp
there overnight and leave at dawn.
As they built a fire and cooked quick meal, they
discussed their theories as to who had killed Eric and
why. Suddenly, Bernadette turned her head rapidly from
where she had been looking at Scully to stare at
Mulder. His hands, particularly. The she interrupted
Scully, something a well-bred Navajo such as she
almost never did. "You two are MARRIED to each
other??" she said. It was half-question, half-comment.
"Yes," Scully said.
"Why didn't you mention that yesterday?" Bernadette
demanded, while Chee sat stupefied by this
announcement.
"We usually don't mention our personal relationship
during working hours," Scully said slowly. "To people
we meet professionally, we're partners. I guess we
really ought to have told you two this morning, since
it was fairly obvious that we were sleeping in the
same room last night."
"But, what?" Chee asked, a slightly sarcastic twinge
to his voice. "It's a big secret that only ohter feds
can be let in on? Local law enforcement officers -
especially dumb Indians - can't be trusted with this
knowledge? We don't have the right security
clearance?"
"Almost the exact opposite, actually," Mulder said
slowly. "We don't mind you two knowing. We'd prefer
not to have it broadcast to other members of the
bureau, however, since, technically, what we're doing
is a breach of protocol."
"You mean you're keeping your marriage a secret from
the rest of the bureau?" Bernadette asked.
"I wouldn't use the word 'secret' exactly," Scully
answered. "We informed our immediate superior of our
marriage and he's the one who granted us an exemption
from the policy that usually prohibits married couples
from working as partners. A few of the other bureau
employees know. But the main condition of our
exemption is that we maintain a certain amount of -
well, we prefer to use the word 'discretion' rather
than 'secrecy' as to the exact nature of our personal
relationship. That's why we don't generally wear our
rings during working hours. We've never lied about our
relationship. If people ASK us if we're married, like
you just did, we tell the truth. But we don't. .
.volunteer information."
"When we get busted - and we probably will, sooner or
later," Mulder said, "it's not really going to be our
butts that are on the line. They'll just separate us,
send us off to work in different divisions. I worry
more about how much trouble Skinner - our boss - will
be in for letting us stay together this long."
"What will you do if they assign you to different
parts of the country?" Chee asked. It was the sort of
question that had come up often in his relationship
with Janet Pete. One they had never been able to
resolve to their mutual satisfaction.
"Hopefully, they won't be that. . .vindicative,"
Mulder said. "Before we began working together on the
X-Files, Scully taught out at Quantico and I was on
the violent crimes squad. We're assuming they'll just
send us back to those assignments, which would mean
we'll both still be based in the Washington area."
"Buth they could assign one or both of you to a field
office, couldn't they?" Bernadette asked.
"Yeah," Mulder agreed. "They could."
"And what if they do?" Chee asked.
"Then I go - or stay - wherever Mulder is assigned,"
Scully replied. "If that means I have to turn in my
bade and seek another line of employment. . .well,
then, that's what it means. They tried to separate us
a couple of years ago, before we were married. Wanted
to send me out near here, actually. Salt Lake City. I
told them I would resign from the bureau if they
didn't let me stay in the Washington area. The reason
I gave for wanting to remain there was that my mother,
who is a widow with no other children on the East
Coast, lives in the Washington area. Technically,
that's true, and a desire to stay near her was part of
the reason I wouldn't leave. But, to be honest, if
they'd assigned Mulder and me both to Salt Lake City,
I would have gone. It meant passing up a promotion,
but the bureau is trying to improve its percentage of
women agents and I've got a good record, so they let
me stay."
"Scully, I don't think you should just make these
unconditional offers to put my career ahead of your
own. IF they ever try to send us to opposite ends of
the country, then we can discuss what to do about it,"
Mulder said.
"Sure, we can discuss it," Scully replied. "Then
we'll go wherever they send you."
"What about your Mom? What you said is true; the two
of you are very close," Mulder challenged. "What will
she do if I get assigned to head up the field office
in Anchorage, Alaska or someplace?"
"She could always come with us. I don't mean live in
the same house as we do, but get her own place in the
same city. She was a Navy wife for over 30 years,
Mulder. It's not like she's not used to packing up and
moving when the occasion demands it," Scully replied.
"She followed my Dad all over the world and, if push
comes to shove, I'm not willing to do any less for my
husband than she did for him."
"Yeah, but," Mulder spluttered.
Bernadette let out a good-natured giggle at the
argument the agents were having. She did like Dana,
now more than ever. On the surface, Agent Scully was a
hard-nosed career woman. Underneath, however, it was
obvious that the well-being of those she loved,
particularly her husband and mother, came first with
her.
Chee had followed the conversation between the two
feds with interest and a growing, grudging respect. In
many ways, it was reminiscent of the conversations he
and Janet used to have about their respective
careeers. However, it was different in one fundamental
way. In those conversations, he had wanted what was
best for him and Janet what was best for her. Mulder
and Scully each wanted what was best for their spouse,
even if it meant derailing their own careers. He
supposed that was the difference between actually
LOVING another person and simply feeling a mixture of
affection and - to be honest - lust for a woman. When
it was true love, you wanted what was best for her,
even if it conflicted with your own interests.
As the nigth grew later, they discussed the
ramifications of what they knew and what they
suspected. All four of them agreed a visit to the
F.B.I. field office in Phoenix was next on their
agenda.
Finally, Chee said, "It's getting late. What are we
going to do about sleeping arrangements?" When he had
first issued the invitation for the four of them to
camp together, he had assumed that the women would
sleep on one side of the campfire and the men on the
other. However, that was before he knew Mulder and
Scully were married. One thing that held true in both
the Navajo and white cultures was that married couples
generally liked to sleep next to each other. Which
would leave Bernadette and him in the awkward positon
of sleeping next to each other, as well.
"Well, we've got about eight hours until it will be
light enough for us to break camp and get going,"
Mulder said with a glance at the illuminated dial of
his wristwatch. "Just to be on the safe side, I think
we should take turns keeping watch. I doubt anyone
will be coming back to this site, but we can't be
certain of that. We can do two-hour shifts. I'll take
the first watch, if that's okay, and Scully can take
the second shift."
"No you don't, Mulder," Scully said with a smile. "If
you assign us back-to-back shifts, I know what will
happen. You'll end up taking my watch as well as your
own, letting me get a full night's rest while you're
reduced to only fours hours of sleep!"
"I'll take the second shift, then Bernadette," Chee
suggested. "Agent Scully can go last."
Mulder and Scully spread their sleeping bags out on
one side of the campfire. Chee and Bernadette arranged
theirs in a sort of awkward triangle pattern, where
their feet were near each other and their heads were
wangled toward the federal agents.

"Desert Nights", Part 3
Disclaimed, summarized, etc. in Part 1

Mulder and Chee, then Chee and Bernadette, each
changed shifts without incident. When it came time for
Bernadette to switch with Scully, however, she had to
smile. Although they'd done their best to maintain an
aura of professionalism during working hours, the
agents had slipped up during sleep. Scully had scooted
over - sleeping bag and all - to pillow her head on
Mulder's chest. He had wrapped his arms around her in
a possessive, protective gesture.
"Dana," Bernadette whispered.
"Hmm?" she answerd, burying her face in her husband's
neck.
"It's time for your shift."
"Huh? Oh, yeah."
Scully tried to dislodge herself from Mulder's arms
without waking him, but didn't succeed. She shivered
as she got out of the sleeping bag. As soon as
Bernadette was bedded down, Mulder got up and joined
his wife.
"Go back to sleep, Mulder," Scully said. "I've had
six hours of sleep; you only had four."
"You know I have problems with insomnia, Scully."
"You used to have problems. I haven't noticed too
much wandering around or restless tossing and turning
since our marriage."
"That's because you're beside me. I can't sleep
without you in my arms," he stated this flatly, as a
fact, with none of his usual teasing.
"Mulder, I'll be just over here."
"Doesn't matter. For years you were just on the other
side of a connecting door in all those motels, but I
still couldn't sleep. Only when we're actually in the
same bed. Or sleeping bag."
"You sound like a four-year-old talking about a teddy
bear!"
"Mmm. Well, I like doing things with you that no
preschooler would ever do with a stuffed animal."
"Well, if you're going to stay up, sit so I can lean
back against your chest. We'll be warmer that way."

Jim and Bernadette woke up just before dawn,
apparently by some sort of unspoken signal. Wonder if
they have that same almost-psychic connect with each
other that Scully and I do?" Mulder thought. The two
Navajos moved slightly away from the campsite and
began a series of morning chants or prayers in their
native language.
As the four of them were reloading the two vehicles,
Bernadette said shyly to Scully, "I hope we didn't
make you feel awkward or embarrassed by our morning
rituals. It's a tradition of our people."
"You didn't, at least not in the way you mean. If I'm
embarrassed at all, it's because I'm not as devout in
my own religious practices as you are in yours. It
reminded me of - well, do you know what a rosary is?"
"Beads, right? That Catholic Christiains hold when
they pray?" Bernadette asked.
"Yes. Except, technically, the rosary is the prayers
themselves. The beads are only a way of remembering
which ones you've done and in what order they go in.
Anyway, my mother prays the rosary every night before
she goes to sleep. She always has, ever since I was a
small child; probably since she was a young girl
herself. I should bring the same level of devotion to
my prayers as you and my mother do."
"Excuse me if this next question is too personal, but
your husband. . .he's not Catholic, is he?"
"No. He comes with me to Mass sometimes, but he's not
Catholic."
"That's allowed? For a non-Catholic to attend?"
"Certainly. Anyone is welcome; perhaps you'd like to
attend a Mass yourself one day. Only Catholics can
participate in Communion, however."
"Does it bother you?" Bernadette asked. "I can't
imagine being married to anyone but a traditional
Navajo. And I know lacke of shared beliefs led to the
break-up of at least one romantic relationship for
Jim."
Scully smiled and shook her head. "No. Perhaps it has
something to do with the fact that, as I've said, I'm
not quite as devout as I probably should be. But I
think it has more to do with the fact that - well, I'm
just absolutely sure that Mulder is the man God
intended me to spend my life with. Despite our
differences, that's one thing I'm certain of."
"Look, ladies, this is supposed to be a homicide
investigation, not a gossip session," Chee said,
although the twinkle in his eye belied the sterness of
his words. "Can we get moving?"

Several hours later, the four of them entered the
F.B.I. field office in Phoenix. Scully had called
ahead on her cell phone to let the local agents know
they'd be in and what they wanted.
When they arrived, they were greeted by Carstairs, an
agent Mulder had gone through the academy with and one
who was personal atagonist of Chee's.
"My, my," Carstairs said. "Look who's here. Spooky
Mulder and Jim Chee. Or should I start referring to
you two as The Lone Ranger and Tonto? And you've
brought your little girlfriends with you. Isn't that
sweet?"
"Stow the racist, sexist bullshit!" Mulder snapped.
"Do you have the information we need? Or does being a
jerk keep you too busy to do any actual work?"
Carstairs shoved a computer printout at Mulder and he
sat down at a vacant desk to spread it out so that
Jim, Bernadette and Scully could see the information,
also.
"What do you two," Carstairs indicated Scully and
Bernadette with a sweep of his hand, "see in them
anyway?"
"Oh, I don't know," Scully answered, her tone
deceptively mild. "The fact that they see us as
partners, fellow professionals and friends instead of
their quote little girlfriends unquote, maybe?"
Mulder looked up and gave a wiseass grin at
Carstairs. "You never are going to forgive me for
coming in first - just a few points ahead of you - in
our class at the academy, are you? Be warned, Chee.
The fact that you outsmarted him once has already
pissed him off. The fact that you'll undoubtedly do it
again if he stays in this field office for much longer
may drive him completely around the bend."
"Listen, Spooky," Carstairs began, only to be
interrupted.
"No, you listen!" Mulder snapped, springing out of
his seat. "You don't like me. Fine. At least it's a
personal dislike, based on who I am as an individual.
But I will NOT sit here and listen to you insult my
partner because of her gender or local law enforcment
officers because of their race. One more remark of
that kind and I'm filing an official report againsst
you."
Carstairs mumbled something under his breath, but
shut up.

Later, after a late lunch, the four of them discussed
a strategy for the upcoming evening.
"We want to be here and here," Chee said, indicating
two locations about ten miles apart on his large scale
map of the Navajo reservation. If the information is
accurate, those are the most likely spots for a
meeting."
"Which pair should take which location?" Scully
asked. "And can we stop by a motel or someplace for a
shower and a change of clothes before we go back on
stakeout?"
"We can stop by my place," Bernadette said
unexepectedly. "It's right on the way. Jim can go back
to his own trailer for a little while, but if nobody's
a water hog, there should be just enough pressure for
the three of us to take showers at my cottage."
"Okay," said Chee, slightly embarrassed that he
hadn't made this gesture of hopsitality himself. "As
to who should take which stakeout site. . .you two
here," he pointed to one area, "while Bernadette and I
go here."
"All right," Mulder agreed. "Any particular reason
why?"
"Yeah, a couple. We're going to need to swap out
vehicles. You can drive my pickup truck and we'll take
the rental SUV you guys have. But this location," Chee
indicated the area he had chosen for himself and
Bernadette, "will require us to be out in the open. As
belagana, you two would stick out like sore thumbs.
Bernadette and I will blend right in."
"What about this area where we'll be?" Scully asked.
"You can stay in my truck until or unless you
actually see something. It's a local make-out spot.
Steam up the windows a bit and nobody will be able to
see in. That's the second reason. I figure, since you
two are already married, you won't be embarrassed by
being up there together. You'll need to take my truck
because, generally speaking, anybody who could afford
a vehicle like the one you're driving could afford a
motel room, too."
Bernadette didn't know if she should be amused or
angry. Sure, Jim's reasoning made sense, but did he
actually believe she wouldn't be able to control
herself if they were the ones parking together?
Sometimes she thought, for all of his admirable
qualities, that the man had a bit of an ego problem!

As they dressed in clean clothes in the privacy of
the bedroom, while Bernadette waited for them in the
living room, Mulder pulled a full-cut cotton skirt out
of their suitcase and tossed it on the bed. It was a
pretty garment in a shade of soft teal. Scully had
already put on her underwear and a white,
short-sleeved shirt that buttoned up the front when
she turned around.
"I want you to wear that," Mulder said, gesturing
toward the skirt.
"Mulder, I don't think it's appropriate for our
stakeout. I don't know why I even packed it. I guess
in case we went out to eat at a nice restaurant in
Alberquerque or something during our last night out
here."
"I'd like you to wear it tonight. Please?" Mulder
repeated, giving her a devastating smile.
Scully smiled, sighed and put on the skirt. She was
pretty sure she knew what her husband had in mind, and
was also sure that it would involved activities a
couple of federal agents on stakeout - even agents
married to each other - ought not to be engaging in.
An hour later, as the three of them met up with Chee,
he and Mulder traded keys. "I doubt anything will
happend much before midnight," Chee said. "But if you
don't get up there shortly after dark, you might miss
getting the prime parking spot right at the edge of
the mesa."
"We've been on plenty of stakeouts over the years,
Jim," Scully said. "We know how to handle the routine,
even the boredom."
"Scully, when you get bored, you usually just go to
sleep," Mulder said. "How many times have I had to
wake you up over the years?"
Mulder was treated to the infamous "Scully-look" for
that one. He laughed and let his gaze wander up his
wife's backside as she sauntered to the truck and
climbed in the passenger door.
"Mulder?" said Chee, with a hint of a smirk on his
face.
"Yeah?" Mulder asked warily.
"Try not to get any body fluids on my seat covers,
would you?"
Mulder was startled for a moment. Chee had been so
serious up to now that he was surprised to realize the
other man was actually teasing him. "We won't," Mulder
assured him.
Scully let her eyes slide up her husband's long legs
as he drove toward the stakeout spot. Damn, but he was
absolutely yummy in jeans! During all the years they'd
worked together before their marriage, she'd managed
to keep herself under control, more or less, when he
was wearing a suit. But there were two things that
had almost made her lose it more than once over that
time period. One was when he wore his glasses. That
was an incredible turn-on. The other was when he wore
jeans. She was damned lucky he had never worn jeans
and glasses at the same time; she would have given in
and attacked him!
"What are you thinking about?" Mulder asked as they
parked and shut off the engine.
Scully debated giving him a "that's-for-me-to-know"
type answer, but decided it would be more fun to hit
him with the truth. "Your body," she answered.
"Whew! Scully, I didn't know good little Catholic
girls had thoughts like that!"
"When it's about our own husbands, we're allowed to."
"What particular aspect of my body is drawing your
attention?"
"Just how fabulous you look in jeans. Before we got
married, it wasn't THAT hard to maintain my
professionalism when were at the office and you were
wearing a suit. I mean, you look good in your suits.
Attractive and all that. But in jeans you're so damned
sexy that I almost lost it more than once."
"Really? Such as when?"
"Lots of times. One that pops into my mind right at
the moment is. . .remember that time we went to
investigate the goings-on at a volcano research site
in the Cascade Mountains?"
"Sure. It was right after I got you back. You were
only a week or so out of the hospital and I wasn't
sure you should be going out in the field."
"After a few hours up there, I wasnt sure I should be
either. But I wasn't sick. It was just that. . .you
were being SO sweet to me! Mom and Missy had told me
how you'd barely left my side the whole time I was in
the hospital. And you were were wearing your jeans the
whole time and it took every ounce of self-control I
had not just to reach out and. . "
"And what, Dana?"
"I don't knwo. Grab your ass, nibble on your neck,
press my body up against yours. I just wanted you
BAD!:
Mulder gave her a cat-that-ate-the-canary look. He
knew his wife loved him, wanted him. But she was
rarely this blatant about it; especially about how
LONG she had wanted him.
"Want to know the first time it was really, really
bad for me? I mean, I've always wanted you, since our
first case when you had me check your back for
mysterious marks. But want to know the first time I
came within a hair's breadth of just caving in and
begging you to go to bed for me?"
"Yeah. When?"
"Remember, when they separated us the first time?
Sent you back to Quantico and me back to violent
crimes?"
"Of course."
"Well, there was one evening when you came out and
sat by me on a park bench near the river. I was in
trouble for something and you were just. . .there for
me. I realized then that, no matter what happened
officially, we were always going to be partners. That
it went soul-deep. And I realized I wanted us to be
more than partners, more than friends. I wanted to be
inside your body so bad I was practically shaking with
desire. The thing of it was, we weren't even,
technically, partners anymore. Hell, we weren't even
in the same division! We wouldn't have had to keep it
a secret. We could have moved in together, whatever."
"What stopped you?"
"The fear of losing the best friend I've ever had.
The worry that you didn't feel the same way. Strangely
enough, I wasn'tworred so much that you'd say refuse
me as that you'd say yes, but it would be for the
wrong reasons. Because you felt sorry for me, because
you wanted to comfort me and ease my loneliness. And
the last thing I wanted from you was a pity fuck."
"It would have never been that, Mulder!"
"Yeah, I know that. Now. Hey, Scully," his voice,
which had been serious a moment eariler, took on a
teasing quality.
"Yeah?" she asked warily.
"Did you ever want to make out on a stakeout?"
"Every damned one of them! We did that one time.
Right before we got married. Remember?"
"I'm not likely to forget, Dana! It was the first
time I ever got to hold you on my lap, the first time
I heard you moan in my ear."
"We were pretending to be a couple of high school
students at a local lovers lane. I got jealous, later,
wondering who your high school girlfriend had really
been."
"Want to know the truth?"
"Of course, Mudler. I always want to know the truth."
"I didn't have a girlfriend in high school. I was
considered kind of a geek. I was tall, which was the
one thing I had going for me, so to speak. But back
them I was skinny; I'm still lean, but now I've got
some muscle on me. Also, I was real smart and, even
then, I had some odd ideas about things like aliens
and parapsychology. A lot of the kids knew about my
sister, how she'd just. . .disappeared. All the girls
kind of felt sorry for me, but the few times I
actually worked up the courage to ask one of them out
on a date, they suddenly had plans for the weekend."
"Oh. Is that why you got together with Phoebe once
you hit Oxford?"
"Yeah, I guess so. You know, the funny thing is, I
never LIKED her. I mean, she was always kind of a
bitch and I was always aware of it. But I was a horny
college freshman who'd never so much as kissed a girl
and she was interested in me. I'd filled out some the
summer after I graduated high school and, looking
back, there were probably other girls, nicer girls,
who would have gone out with me at Oxford if I'd asked
them. But, at the time, I figured beggars couldn't be
choosers. I was desperated for some sort of sexual
experience and Phoebe was more than willing to provide
it, so I took what she was offering. What about you?
Who was your high school boyfriend?"
"Are you kidding, Mulder? With two brothers, there
were always boys hanging around our house, but the
only Scully sister they were interested in was
Melissa. She was the pretty one, the popular one. I
was the quiet, gawky-looking, bookish one. I can count
the number of times I went out in high school on one
hand. I didn't have what could really be considered
boyfriend until I started college. And I was a virgin
until I was in my 20s."
"Melissa wasn't prettier than you. I did see her,
Dana. She was pretty; I mean, she was your sister, she
looked sort of like you, so of course she was pretty.
But not like you."
Scully smiled at ther husband. "I'm glad you think
I'm pretty."
"I think you're sexy, too. Why don't you come
closer?"
"Are you coming on to me, Agent Mulder?"
"Big time, Agent Scully."
Mulder reached over and began to unbutton his wife's
blouse and was startled when she began to giggle.
"What?" he asked with a soft smile on his face.
"It's just," she giggled again and and took a moment
to compose herself, "what you just said, and the fact
that we were talking about being in high school and
then looking down at your hands."
"Sorry if I'm being dense here, sweetheart, but I'm
not getting the joke."
"Well, Melissa always said - and I heard this from
other girls, too - that you could tell the size of a
guy's, um, private parts by the size of his hands.
Later, in medical schoo, they assured ust that was
just an old wive's tale. In your case, though, I'd
have to say that generations of teenage girls had it
right and the med school professors had it wrong. I
mean, your hands are HUGE, Mulder. And so is your. .
."
"You know, Scully, if you keep complimenting me like
this - telling me I look yummy in jeans, waxing
ecstatic over the size of my organ - you're going to
give me a swollen head!"
"That's not the part of your body I'm hoping is
swollen, Mulder!"
"Scully!" he actually sounded shocked.
She leaned up and kissed him, then began to lean
back, taking him with her. Soon they were stretched
out on the bench seat of the truck, his big body atop
her smaller one.
"Are we really gonna do this?" Mulder muttered into
her ear while raining tiny, nibbling kisses up and
down her neck.
"Do you think we can? I mean, as much as I want to, I
don't want to screw up a homicide investigation just
to indulge our desires."
"I think it's okay. We've got hours yet. And I've got
pretty good stamina, but I don't think I'm capable of
doing it for anywhere near that long."
"Yeah, but we'll be sleepy afterwards," Scully said.
At the same time, she moved her body seductively
against his and ran her hands up and down the muscles
of his back, having already tugged his shirt free from
the waistband of his jeans.
"I'll sit up and crack a window; that will be enough
to keep us awake. You can go ahead and sleep. I mean,
you probably would anyway and this way at least you'll
have a smile on your face."
"That's for damned sure! Fox, do you have any idea
how MUCH I enjoy making love with you?"
"Dana, all I know is that if it's even half as much
as I enjoy it, you're having the time of your life!"
They kissed again then. Long, slow and deep. When
they finally came up for air, Mulder smiled down at
his wife, then finished unbuttoning her blouse. He
popped the front clasp of her bra open and began to
play with her breasts.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"I can't believe we're doing this. I mean, we're in
our 30s, we're federal law enforcment agents and we're
married. Yet here we are, going all the way in the
front seat of a borrowed pickup truck like a couple of
teenagers."
"Do you want to quit?"
"Are you out of your mind?"
"If you keep doing that I will be!"
By this time, Scully had managed to get his shirt
unbuttoned as well, and was running her hands up and
down his back and butt while he carressed her breasts.
At the same time, he lowered his mouth to her neck and
began to suck. Gently at first, then with increasing
pressure.
"Mulder, what are you doing?"
"Giving you a love bite."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I want to. I guess because we're doing
all the stuff we didn't get to do in high school. Want
me to quit?"
"No, but if you do it to me, I get to do it to you."
"Of course, Dana. We're partners, right?"
"In every way, lover."
After a while, though, Mulder got tired of pretending
to be a teenager. He wanted grown-up pleasures and
began moving his mouth down his wife's body.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Scully squealed. "I get to give
you a hickey. We agree. I like your neck too, you
know."
"Okay, okay," Mulder mumbled.
"Can we sort of. . .reposition ourselves? You weren't
kidding when you said you've filled out some since
your high school days. You're heavy, Fox!"
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." He rolled onto his side and braced
one foot against the door of the truck, then finished
flipping them over onto his back. He actually liked
having Dana on top of him better, anyway. She wiggled
up his body and latched her mouth onto his neck. Just
as he had selected a spot far enough back so that her
hair would cover it in most situations, she was
considerated enough to get down low, right at the
juncture of his neck and shoulder, so a shirt would
cover the mark during business hours.
He let his hands wnader down her back to her bottom.
He squeezed it, first through the material of her
skirt. Then he let his hand go even lower, to her
knees, and begin wandering back up her legs under
skirt. When he reached her bottom, he began molding it
again, this time with only the skimpy material of her
panties between their skin.
Then he slipped one finger beneath the panties,
between her legs, and she responded by biting down
gently on the place where she had been sucking. He
smiled and slipped another finger in. She lifted her
head and smiled down into his eyes, wiggling back
against his hand. Her breasts rubbed against the hair
on his chest, the friction delighting both of them. He
continued to play with her until she climaxed, gasping
and moaning with her face buried in his neck.
"Wow, Mulder!"
"Oh, that was just a preview, Scully. Now we get to
the main event."
She smiled. "You want back on top?"
He shook his head. "No. I like it like this. Why
don't you sit up for a minute and unzip me?"
Scully complied, backing up until she was straddling
his thighs, then slipping off her own sandals and
panties. After which, she unbuckled, unsnapped and
unzipped him, being careful of his already raging
erection. When she tugged at hs jeans and
boxer-briefs, he lifted his hips to help her. Grasping
his arousal, she crawled back up his body and guided
him into her.
They made love for a long time, despite the cramped
conditions. Mulder was determined to hold out long
enough to bring her to a second climax and he could
tell she was getting close from the rapid sound of her
breathing and the fluttering of her internal muscles.
"Mulder, you're spoiling the make-believe of us being
a couple of teenagers, you know," she whispered in a
teasing tone.
"How's that?"
"Well, I don't have any personal experience having
sex with teenage boys, but I don't think they ever
last this long!"
"Some things improve with age, Scully."
She didn't answer; just whimpered, moaned and, to his
delight, came. He followed almost immediately
afterwards.
"Come on, Scully," he murmured a few minutes later.
"What?" she asked sleepily.
"We need to sit up and get all our clothes back on.
Then you can go to sleep and I'll keep watch."
"Oh. Yeah. Okay."
Within a few minutes, she was nestled in his arms and
he was sitting up, having cracked the window a bit.
Mulder divided his time between scanning the horizon
and gazing down at his wife. The scenery was
spectacular, but she was much more beautiful.

Several miles away, Chee and Bernadette were hanging
around the outskirts of a cermonial being performed
for one of her distant relatives. These events were
part religious ceremony and part social get-together
for the Navajos. The two officers weren't in uniform
and they blended right in. Chee did feel vaguely
guilty, though. Showing up here like this with
Bernadette - out of uniform and in a purely social
situation - was only likely to strengthen the rumors
that they were involved with each other in a romantic
sense. It was the Navajo equivalent of a belagana
couple attending a wedding together. Still, it was
necessary for them to remain undercover, at least
until they could determine whether or not a meeting
was taking place.
It was almost midnight when Chee noticed something.
It was doubtful anyone else would. Just shadows,
really, in the moonlight. About halfway between where
the Navajo officers were and where the feds were
stationed. He flipped out the cell phone he'd borrowed
from headquarters and punched in Mulder's number.
"Mulder."
"I think we have something. About three miles
south-southwest of where you two are."
"Okay. How do we get there?"
"About a mile south of where you are right now
there's a road - well, what passes for a road out
here, anyway - more like a gravel path. You can take
that for another mile. You'll have to walk the last
mile, both because the road becomes inacessible at
that point and because bringing the vehicle closer
might alert them by the sound. Bernie and I will come
up the other way and do the same thing. Can you
recognize the sound of an owl? I mean the actual sound
the real bird makes, not the "whoo, whoo" they do in
cartoons?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. I'll make that sound - twice - when Bernie and
I are in position."
"Deal."

Something went wrong however; some misstep of timing
or misjudgment of the consequences by the
sometimes-impetuous Chee. Because, by the time Scully
and Mulder slipped slowly up the side of the mesa, the
two Navajo officers were already there. Chee was
standing with his back to them, his weapon on the
ground a few feet in front of him, as if he had tossed
it. Another Navajo was facing him, holding a knife to
Bernadette's throat. In the background, the agents
could just make out the glowing tip of a cigarette.
Mulder looked at Scully, then motioned with a
sweeping movement of his hand. She nodded. They would
circle around; Mulder toward the Smoking Man and
Scully behind the man who had Bernadette hostage.
Chee was talking in a calm, rational voice. "Come on,
Martin, you don't want to do this. You know you don't
want to hurt Bernadette. You've just had a little too
much to drink."
"I'm not drunk, Chee," the other man answered. "I
want to know what the hell you two are doing out
here?"
"We told you," Chee replied.
"Yeah, I heard. Looking for a place to make out. From
anybody else - any other Navajo on the whole rez - I
just might believe that. But not you, Chee. At least,
not with her. You wouldn't take advantage of a woman
who worked for you. You're too damned noble."
"Jim," Bernadette whispered. She was frightened.
She'd only been with the police force a couple of
years and she'd never befor been in a situation this
dangerous. She was amazed to realize that what
frightened her most was not that she might be killed
but that Jim might be forced to witness it, powerless
to save her life.
Mulder came up to the place where Smoking Man had
been, only to find out that the bastard had vanished.
Again. Well, maybe now they could at least pin
something on him, if the Navajo would talk. Scully
slipped up behind Martin and said quietly, "Drop the
knife. I'm a federal agent and I'm armed."
At the same moment, as Mulder joined Scully in
disarming and cuffing the suspect, Chee moved forward
to take Bernadette in his arms.
"I'm all right," Bernadette said, trying to move away
from his embrace. For both personal and professional
reasons, she tried to resist the almost overwhelming
urge to let herself relax against his strong, lean
body.
"Yeah, well, I'm not," Chee growled. Then, regardless
of the fact that they had an audience, he lowered his
mouth to hers in a long, sweet kiss.

The next morning, the four of them met at the jail
located in Navajo Tribal Police headquarters. So far,
the only thing they had on Martin was his attack on
Bernadette. They hadn't - yet - been able to link him
to Eric's death.


"Desert Nights" (Part 4)
Disclaimed, summarized, etc. in Part 1

"It's up to you," Mulder said reluctantly to Chee.
"The name of the man we saw with Martin last night is
C.B.G. Spender. At least, that's the name we know him
under. Quite possibly, it's an alias. I'd like nothing
more than to have Martin testify to Spender's
conspiracy in Eric's death. It would be our first
chance to actually nail the bastard. But to do that,
we'd probably have to offer Martin a deal. Probably
immunity from prosecution in his attack on Bernadette.
And she's your. . .officer. I'll understand if you're
not willing to make the deal."
Chee was surprised. In his experience, the feds made
announcements, not requests. "I'll have to think about
it; talk to Bernadette about it. You say yu've
encountered this Spender before?"
"Yes," Scully replied grimly. "But he always manages
to slip through our fingers. We've never been able to
find anyone willing to testify against him."
"We'll be in touch," Chee responded.
"I'm going to go on out, say goodbye to Bernadette,"
Scully said. "I'll meet you back out at the car,
Mulder."
When the two men were left alone, Chee said, "It's
been a pleasure working with you two. And believe me,
that's not something I usually say to F.B.I. agents."
"Thanks," Mulder answered. "We've enjoyed working
with you and Bernadette, as well. Look, Chee, if I'm
out of line here, forgive me, but based on your
actions last night, I assume you have more than just
professional feelings for Bernadette?"
"I. . .don't know. I think I shocked myself more than
I shocked her."
"All I know is, I spent a lot of years bending over
backwards not to become involved with Scully in a
romantic way. Not because I didn't want to, but
because I thought I was protecting her, being noble by
not asking to become her husband or lover. Because I
thought having her as my partner and best friend was
already way better than I deserved. The thing of it
is. . .all I was doing was upsetting and confusing
her. So, all I'm saying is - if you have feelings for
Bernadette, don't think you're doing her a favor by
not acting on them."
"I'll take the matter under consideration."
"Right. Goodbye."

In the outer office, Scully leaned close to
Bernadette.
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," Bernadette reassured her. "I mean, aside
from the fact that I'm going to kill Jim."
"Don't be too hard on him, Bernadette."
"But it's so confusing! For over a year, he's
rejected any offers I've made to ease our relationship
into even slightly more personal territory. Then, out
of nowhere, he starts kissing me like. . ."
"I know. I'm not saying it's easy. All I know is, it
was the same way with Mulder and me. Three steps
forward and two steps back. For years. Hang in there.
For me, it was worth the wait. I have the feeling it
would be for you, too. Jim's one of the very few men
I've ever met who matches up to Mulder's level of
integrity and decency. There aren't a lot of them out
there. I think that's probably just as true among the
Navajo as among the rest of the world."
"You're right, Dana. There aren't. I'll be in touch.
Bye."

Mulder and Scully walked out ot the station smiling
at each other, then got in their vehicle to head home.

Author's e-mail address: tapw63@yahoo.com