Dana opened one eye. There wasn't even a faint gleam of light below the heavy, vinyl-lined hotel curtains. She moaned and turned over, looking at the clock. Five forty-eight. It wasn't fair. Here she was, safe, sound, fed, and warm, and she hadn't slept for more than half an hour at a time all night. She'd slept better in the cold, damp shed. Of course, there was one major difference. There was no one in this room to hold her, no one to make sure she was safe.

All night long she'd dozed, only to wake up with a rush of adrenalin, thinking she heard a noise, or seen a shadow. Once she'd dreamed of a strange, white place, and pain, and fear. She tried not to think about that. She knew Mulder was just across the hall, but she didn't even know if he'd bother to come if she called. He'd been acting like an incredible jerk lately. Or maybe it wasn't lately. Maybe he'd acted like that all along, and it had just taken her this long to realize that she didn't have to put up with it.

She grabbed the extra pillow and put it over her eyes. It made her nose itch, so she took it off again, throwing it across the room with a muttered curse that would have appalled her father, and required a dollar donation to the Cuss Bank. She said it three more times, just for good measure. She thought about the offices at the VCTF. She thought about her own office. What own office? She didn't have an office, she didn't have a desk, she didn't even have a nameplate on the door. After four years. It was as if not only everything in the office, but she too, were somehow Mulder's property. She thought about the digital display George had used to highlight her bruise to all and sundry, then about the twenty-five year-old slide projector she made do with. It rankled. She'd joined the FBI to become someone like Grace Alvarez, not Mulder's sidekick.

She felt more dissatisfied than she could ever remember feeling. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to give in to impulse and make love with Bailey Malone. It had just shown her exactly how much she was missing. She had no life of her own. All she had was Mulder's life. Mulder's quest. And what had it cost her? Three months of her life, gone as if they had never been, her sister, her belief in her government, and her peace of mind. All gone.

A knock at the door froze her in place for a moment. Dana looked at the clock again. Only six minutes had passed since she'd last checked it. She knew, somehow, that it wasn't Mulder. Sudden fear stung her. What if Jack had found her, wanting to finish what he'd started? She got up, quietly drew her gun from its holster that was hung, with her suit, next to the door. Standing at ready, she took a deep breath.

"Who is it?" She didn't open the door first. The hotel walls were thin, and the sound would travel easily through them.

"Room service," her visitor announced. A man's voice.

She frowned. She hadn't ordered... suddenly a grin spread across her face as the voice really registered on her. She drew the bolt and unlocked the door, throwing it open so hard it banged the wall opposite. "Bailey!"

In his left hand he held a cardboard drink tray with two Styrofoam cups in it. Two tan bags with red and yellow lettering on them occupied the other. The smell of coffee, eggs, and sausage mingled tantalizingly in the air.

"I keep my promises," he said solemnly.

Room service. She remembered the exact moment he'd promised that. She closed her eyes for a moment, blinking back tears, and would have hugged him if he hadn't been otherwise occupied. She went to take the coffee from him, and only then remembered her gun. His eyebrows lifted.

"Thought I was Mulder, did you?" he asked drily.

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, Jack." She put the safety back on, and slipped it into its holster, then relieved him of the coffee tray and set it on the bathroom counter. He put the fast- food bags down on the suitcase valet. As soon as he was free, she went into his arms, burying her face against his chest. He was wearing the trench-coat she'd worn for the past two days. It still smelled faintly of woodsmoke. His arms were strong and warm around her. She sighed. "God, I'm glad to see you."

"Same here."

Dana let go of him and stepped back into the 'closet' area so he could get by. "Come on in, before the maid comes by and decides I'm hustling in the halls."

He eyed her sleeping attire, an oversized gray t-shirt, and grinned. "Aren't you? Well, damn."

She laughed, and he stepped inside. She moved the 'do not disturb' sign from the inner knob to the outer one as she closed, and locked the door. He had snagged the coffee tray again, and motioned for her to pick up the food, which she did. One of the bags seemed peculiarly heavy, he must be really hungry.

Bailey took his coat off and settled at the table near the fake sliding-glass door. Taking the coffees out of the tray, he set one in front of him, and the other before the empty chair. She sat down across from him and handed him the heavier bag, assuming the lighter one was her own. He promptly handed it back to her, and took the lighter one. He opened his own bag and took out a Styrofoam container, and nodded for her to follow suit. He was watching her with a faint smile, and a look of expectation which made her wonder what he was up to as she unrolled the top of the bag and looked inside.

There were two boxes in her bag. As she got them out, she realized one of them felt odd. Whatever was inside was heavy, and when she shook it, rolled from side to side with a slight thud and an odd, snaky rustle. She looked at him, then at the box. She set down the lighter box and looked back at him. "Nothing had better jump out at me when I open this," she warned sternly.

He chuckled. "Don't worry."

Cautiously she undid the locking flap on the front of the container. The lid popped up, and there on the pristine white Styrofoam rested the unmistakable red-white-and-silver form of a Swiss Army Knife. It was a small one, and a length of narrow steel chain had been threaded through its carrying-loop. She stared at it, feeling oddly weepy, and wondering what on earth had prompted him to get her a knife that had a toothpick and a pair of tweezers.

"I wanted you to have something appropriate to wear to your next abduction," he said, his voice shaded with both amusement and affection.

Oh, God. She really was blinking back tears now. Unable to speak, she picked it up, her hands shaking a little, and started to put it around her neck. The chain seemed awfully long.

"No, wait." He came over to kneel beside her. "Give it to me."

Puzzled and a little nervous, she put it in his hands. He opened the clasp, slid the chain around her waist, then fastened it again. She shivered a little as the chain settled around her, just below her navel. It was peculiarly erotic.

"There." He touched the knife, dangling like a charm on her belly. "I don't think your average crook is going to check here for anything. I would have gotten wire cutters but I couldn't find any small enough to not leave a bulge. It's not really big enough to be used as a weapon, but at least you can cut the tops off of water bottles with ease."

She stared down at it for a long moment, awash in a strange swirl of emotions; the fiery glow of sexual arousal, mixed with lump-in-throat tenderness. She leaned forward and put her hands on either side of his face. "It's the nicest present anyone ever gave me," she whispered because her voice wouldn't work any other way, and she kissed him to punctuate her words.

He kissed her back, a wonderfully sensual kiss that when it ended, left her thinking of that quote from 'Bull Durham' about "...long slow, deep, soft wet kisses that last three days." She looked at the unopened breakfast-box on the table, then at the bed. Damn.

"When do we have to be back at work?" she asked thoughtfully.

He grinned. "Not for hours yet."

"You planned this," she accused, good naturedly.

"Who me? I just brought breakfast."

"Mmmhmm... seducing me with fine cuisine. I know your type. My mother warned me about men like you."

"Hey, if it works..." His fingers were straying from the chain at her waist, moving down her thigh. She shuddered with reaction, closing her eyes. The smell of the dratted sausage-and-egg biscuit was making her almost as crazy as his hand on her skin, and the knowledge that he was just inches away. Decisions, decisions... she opened her eyes again, and reached over to grab the box on the table with one hand, and to catch his hand with the other.

"I hope you don't mind crumbs," she said, pulling him with her as she headed for the bed.

* * *

Stunned, Mulder stood at the door to his room, still staring into the hall even though there wasn't anything to see now. He'd heard a knock that sounded like it was on Scully's door, and being the paranoid type, he'd gone to make sure she wasn't getting a visit from the friendly neighborhood serial killer. He'd relaxed when he saw who stood there, but then his curiosity had gotten the best of him. What was Bailey Malone doing here at this hour? Wondering if it had something to do with Jack, he'd waited, the door open only a crack. He got his answer, and it had nothing to do with business.

He still couldn't believe what he'd just seen. He could believe in little Grey men, morphing alien bounty-hunters, and mutant humanoid flukes, but not Scully letting a man into her room at screech-o-clock in the morning. She hadn't just let him in, she'd practically attacked him in the hallway. Okay, so that was a bit of an exaggeration, they'd only hugged, but she clearly hadn't been bothered by the fact that all she had on was a t-shirt. This was a part of Scully he'd only seen once before, and even then, she'd been 'under the influence,' so to speak. He closed the door, quietly, and sat down on his bed, staring blankly off into space. Maybe it was a good thing they were scheduled to go back to Washington in two days.

Finis

Julia and I would like to thank Paula Vitaris for her invaluable help in setting the Atlanta scene, Celli Lane & Beth Arritt for their help with "Profiler" details, and the folks at Fox and NBC who created these two shows and made it all possible.

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