All Best Laid Plans Of FBI Agents...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Mulder, can I take this blindfold off yet?"
"Huh-uh - just a little longer. You know, for a woman so dependant on waiting for the hard, cold facts to be presented with scientific evidence, you're very impatient!"
"I waited six years to hear the words ‘I love you' from your lips - think that proves my patience level as quite admirable!"
Mulder smiled and squeezed her shoulders as he guided his partner into the warmly-lit restaurant. "Pfft, please! I had to wait another two for you to return the favor, so that's nothing in comparison."
After so many years of botched attempts at spending a peaceful, stress\hassle\injury-free Valentine's Day together, he'd booked their ‘vacation' time off work for the week and secretly reserved a table for them at the most romantic - certainly, in his guessing, the most expensive - and beautiful eatery in the whole of D.C. He'd even insisted that they both keep their cell phones switched off all night, playfully daring that he could last a lot longer without the little device than her.
No interruptions from *anybody* - not her mom, the Gunmen, Skinner, some crackpot; no ghost hunts or mutant chases or profiling; no hospital vigils or hostage negotiations.
Just the two of them.
The thought alone made him feel warm inside, and it took a moment for Mulder to realise the Maitre D' was approaching - opening his mouth to welcome them. Quickly, the FBI agent raised a silencing hand, pointed briefly to his blindfolded partner and then reached into his pocket to withdraw his ID.
"Mulder?"
"Shhh, we're nearly there."
The other man nodded his acknowledgement after checking the reservations log, and then gestured for them to follow him to their table, which was tucked away in a quiet corner. As Mulder pulled out a chair and sat Scully down on it, the head waiter carefully leant over to light the two candlesticks.
With a quick appraising glance, Mulder smiled, nodded, and then crouched down to whisper in his partner's ear, "We're here."
Slowly, he lifted the fabric from her face. "Happy Valentine's Day."
Dishonesty was not something that belonged anywhere within a ten mile radius of their relationship, but as Dana blinked several times to focus and let her eyes adjust to the light, she would have to confess that she'd been lying earlier when she'd tried to assure him that they didn't need any ‘plans' for the day or that he didn't need to pamper her. Considering the hell they'd been through, why shouldn't they be allowed to kick back, treat themselves and do something ‘normal'?
The flicker of the candlelight in the dimness came into view first, shortly followed by the dining set - the reflection of the small flames dancing across the smooth surfaces. And as corny as it sounded, Scully's heart actually skipped a beat.
While she struggled to find words, Mulder took his place opposite her, and the Maitre D' poured each of them a glass of pre-ordered wine, explaining "Your waiter will be along shortly to take your order," before leaving them alone.
"So," Mulder started, picking up the menu and staring at her expression of wide-eyed wonder, "What d'you think? Does it pass the Scully Standard?"
More blinking, until finally she managed to choke out, "How--? When--?...We can't afford this!"
"Yes we can - it's not as if we do stuff like this every day. So?"
What was that about being pampered? To hell with that: it was just a night out at a restaurant, but compared to what they normally did, right now she felt like a queen!
"It's perfect."
And just knowing he'd put that smile of pure delight on her face made Mulder a king, silently vowing that they should switch their phones off more often.
XxXxXxXxX
ABANDONED BUILDING
Still. Intent.
In the blackness, two eyes shielded by glass watched as the two agents entered the restaurant next door. Joy only tampered by the haunting memories of them arresting him seven months ago exploded inside, and the figure turned away from the window to stare agreeably at the collection of fifteen tall white and red gas canisters and four petrol cans.
He would have his revenge.
XxXxXxXxX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON D.C.
7:45 PM
Skinner was just putting his jacket on, ready to finally leave for the day, when the frantic knocking came at his office door.
"Come in!"
At his behest, the door swung open and a young agent - tie askew - rushed in, waving several sheets of pair in front of the assistant director's face. "Sir, earlier today Ryan Oluvetty escaped from his cell, and - we have reason to believe - hijacked a truck transporting highly flammable chemicals."
"Ryan Oluvetty?" The name rang a bell, but Skinner frowned and shook his head in confusion.
"Agents Mulder and Scully helped Violent Crimes track him down last year after a string of bizarre arson attacks and murders."
"'Bizarre'?"
"I don't know the details, sir. I just know Oluvetty's cell was tossed and they found a slip of paper under his mattress with their up-to-date home address scrawled on it. An investigation's been opened to determine who provided the information and how it was not discovered earlier." The agent paused and watched as his superior sharply straightened his coat and rushed to pick up the phone receiver. "Uh, sir, we've already tried to reach them on their cellphones and home line but got no response from any of them."
‘Just me, Scully and a candlelit dinner - we deserve that, and I can't risk depriving her of that simple thing again.'
"*Dammit*!" Skinner exclaimed, slamming the receiver back down into its cradle as Mulder‘s words echoed in his mind. "Of all the times to finally get your act together, you do it now." He turned back to face the other man. "The truck driver made a positive ID, Agent--?"
"Agent Evan Phillips. And, no, the driver was left dead on the sidewalk with his throat slit, but a witness who recognized him from his mugshot reports seeing Oluvetty in the area around the time of the murder. We sent a DCPD squad car over to their house, but they weren't there."
Walter began to pace the room, desperately trying to recall if Mulder had indicated where he was taking his partner. When no knowledge sprang forward though, he knew there was only one option left and moved back to the phone on his desk. "Agent Phillips, if you haven't already, put out an APB on both Ryan Oluvetty and the truck, and then report back to me," he barked out, beginning to dial the number for the only resource that could hold the key to Mulder and Scully's survival. "And I guarantee, if anything happens to my agents, I'll be opening an investigation of my own to find out why the *hell* nobody brought this to my attention a *lot* damn sooner!"
Loosening his tie even more, Evan agreed, apologized, and then made a quick exit from the office.
"Lone Gunmen."
"It's Skinner." He cast a glance around the room to check there was nobody else present, and then sighed, "They're in danger. Where did they go?"
XxXxXxXxX
Using the diffused light from the lamppost across the street to see what he was doing, Ryan Oluvetty placed the final cylinder against the wall that separated this building from the restaurant, paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his left hand, and then pulled a gas mask up to cover his face.
In the large, empty vacuum of silence, it was possible to just faintly hear the orchestral music and chattering voices from next door.
It mattered very little, however - soon the air would be filled by a very different, much louder, sound.
Unwilling to put it off any longer, the fugitive reached out to open the release valve on the first canister of compressed gas.
XxXxXxXxX
DINO TORTELL'S RESTAURANT
7:48 PM
Scully took a sip of her soup but paused mid-slurp when she realized Mulder was silently staring at her - that familiar goofy grin lifting his left cheek as high as it would go. She returned the smile and stretched her arm out across the table so that they could join hands. They'd only been here twenty minutes, but already the evening - mostly spent, thus far, in companionable silence - was promising to be the best they'd been able to spend together for a long time, if not ever.
Except, there was something still niggling away at her.
"Seriously, Mulder," she began, withdrawing her hand from his grasp, "how'd you get a table here on Valentine's Day?"
"You know, contrary to popular belief, I can actually wash myself, clothe myself and make arrangements eight months in advance!" he retorted with a chuckle. "I felt so bad about last year's fiasco, a couple months after I finally got out of the hospital I decided to start planning ahead....with the tiniest amount of help from Frohike."
Dana was about to make a quip about the Gunmen figuring somewhere into the whole equation when suddenly the Maitre D' appeared beside their table.
"Excuse me, but, Mr. Mulder, there is a phone call for you at the front desk."
Removing the napkin from his lap, putting it back down on the tabletop beside his bowl of rapidly cooling soup, and then standing, the male agent frowned and raised a questioning eyebrow at his partner. The only person that knew exactly where they were was Frohike, and he doubted very much the little man would interrupt their night out unless it was the greatest of importance or most urgent emergency.
Not wanting to worry her too much, he leant down, placed a quick kiss on her lips and then headed to the other side of the restaurant.
~~~~~
Skinner's car sped along the streets as fast as possible with several police vehicles, FBI fleet sedans and two fire trucks in close pursuit. The chances were very slim that anybody would be evacuated in enough time to get a safe distance away, but with adrenaline and pure fear coursing through his veins - killing off all abilities to produce rational thought - the only thing he could do when he heard the male agent's voice answer at the other end of the phone line was yell, "*Get the hell out of there!*"
~~~~~
Ten minutes.
That should be long enough.
There were sirens approaching, anyway, so there was no time to wait any longer. They couldn't, *wouldn't* take him back again, ever, He withdrew the book of matches from his pocket, took one out, raised his head to stare at the ceiling in a silent prayer and struck once, twice, and--
~~~~~
"Sir?"
Mulder shifted from one foot to the other. But then the line went dead, there was a blinding flash of yellow, the power went out and the force of a thousand elephants charging at him sent his body flying and slamming into the wall ten feet behind him and then to the floor, all within the space of half a second.
The deafening sound of the explosion and resulting screams didn't shatter the air until a millisecond after overwhelming pain had sent him into oblivion.
~~~~~
The car careened across the road and then spun out of control. When it finally came to a stop, all Walter Skinner could do was watch in horror as the blast sent the truck that had been parked outside the abandoned building into the air and then rolling into the front of the closed store on the opposite side of the street, where it instantly exploded into a ball of flames.
An endless shower of glass and debris fell on the fleeing citizens, while fire and thick, black smoke reached for the heavens. And as the vehicles that had followed him here rushed ahead to tackle the devastation, the assistant director felt all traces of hope die within him.
XxXxXxXxX
OFFICES OF THE LONE GUNMEN
TACOMA PARK
10:22 PM
Frohike wiped a shaky hand across his dry mouth whilst the other kept a firm, tight hold on the telephone handset - frantically waiting for Mulder and Scully's boss to call with an update. He'd managed to hack into a surveillance camera on K street and watch the explosion just before static filled the screen, and after thanking God for Mulder not being completely secretive about his plans, he wished Byers and Langly were here to calm him down.
As if answering his plea, the door opened and Langly excitedly rushed in, shortly followed by Byers - both clearly well inebriated.
"Whoa, dude, did you hear the news? A bomb or something went off downtown - they've got all the emergency services down there an--...
What?"
"Where the hell have you been?" Frohike snapped, stepping right up in front of his long-haired friend and straightening his back to its full height. "I've been waiting for you to get back for ages!"
Langly regarded the shorter man and then side-stepped around him.
"Jeez, who needs a mother or wife with you around? Anyway, I'm wondering if the military might have some involvment, 'cos--"
"You moron, Mulder and Scully were in that explosion!"
XxXxXxXxX
‘It's perfect - I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop...for some poltergeist to throw the tables across the room or-'
'You shouldn't joke about stuff like that, Scully; it's been known to happen before and could again.'
Very distant screams and moans - almost like down a long tunnel - sifted through Mulder's memories and tried to summon him back to the place where something heavy was pushing down on him, he couldn't breathe, and the pain--
No. He was okay here, at the other end of the tunnel where nothing could get to him.
*Mulder, you have to breathe. Please, just breathe...*
Scully. Beautiful Scully sat across the table from him, smiling and brushing back some errant hair from her face... He'd walked away to answer the phone and left her sitting there alone...
*You can't give up now - not now. Just breathe and everything will be okay*
His senses are filled by the overpowering smell of smoke and the cries of pain become clearer, nearer, but still he tries to back away. He'd left her behind, and now she was out there somewhere in the middle of those screams, alone - how could he have done that to her?
*Don't give up*
He had to find her, save her, make it up to her...
Everything came closer and he felt himself swiftly pulled down the dark tunnel - like an object sucked into orbit. Smell, sound, the taste of blood in the back of his throat, and the vice-like grip on his chest, all constantly gaining in intensity until he finally flung his eyelids open wide and snatched in his first breath in two minutes.
"He's alive!"
"Okay, let's try lift this off him and then get him onto a stretcher ASAP."
Wait, neither of those were Scully! What the hell--?
Still struggling to get any air into his lungs, Mulder blinked several times and then focused on the figure looming over him just as an air mask was placed over his mouth,
"Sc...l....ee... S--" He coughed hard and blood trickled out of the side of his mouth.
"It's okay, sir - we're here to help. Just take it easy," the voice from above assured. "Can you tell me what your name is?"
No, he couldn't. He just wanted Scully, dammit!
"Sc--...S...eee... H...tss..."
A hand appeared from the darkness and started to rummage through his suit jacket until it came across his ID wallet.
"'FBI Agent Fox Mulder'," the second stranger from his left read out.
"FBI? Isn't there a director or whatever from there looking for two of his agents?"
Skinner? Skinner was here, too? Maybe he knew where she was...
Mulder's mouth opened to try say his partner's name again, but an unbearable surge of pain wracked his body, and then...the weight was gone from his chest.
"He's free. Come on, let's get him out of here!"
XxXxXxXxX
"Assistant Director?"
Skinner put down a piece of the rubble he'd been helping to clear and turned to see a young paramedic standing behind him with something clasped in his hands.
"Yes?"
"Is this one of your agents?"
The dusty, torn and singed item was held out to him, and Walter snatched in a breath when he realized what it was. Slowly, he opened it and stared at Mulder's Bureau photograph. "Have..." He coughed and strained to find his voice. It was his job and responsibility to be concerned about the health of everybody here as opposed to any particular individual or individuals, but after almost three hours and digging out four dead, seven injured bodies, worry for the status of his two friends had only increased in precedence. "H-have you found him?"
"He's just being loaded into that ambulance over there." The paramedic pointed toward the vehicle forty feet behind him, and began to say something more, but Skinner was already running away in that direction.
XxXxXxXxX
TACOMA PARK
10:39 PM
The phone rang to life and Frohike answered before it had chance to complete the first trill. "Skinner?"
Byers and Langly moved closer to listen in too.
"Yeah," came the unsteady response down the line. "They just found Mulder, and he's on his way to the hospital."
All three Gunmen glanced at each other and swallowed hard. Byers was the first to dare ask, "How is he?"
"Not very good, but he was conscious when I saw him. He's having a lot of problems breathing, and they're worried one of his broken ribs has punctured a lung." Pause and deep breath. "They've taken him to D.C General...Can you--..."
"Don't worry," John assured, knowing the assistant director couldn't speak the question out loud for fear of his job, especially not in a public place. "We'll keep an eye on his progress and check they're giving him the right medication."
"Thanks."
Frohike took that as his chance to jump in, and quickly queried,
"What about Agent Scully? Wasn't she with him?"
There was a long, silent pause.
"Walt?"
"No, he wasn't with her," Skinner finally sighed. "I was on the phone, telling him to get out of there..."
At the other end of the connection, the assistant director removed his glasses and lowered to sit on the curb. He kept hearing the clatter and then the mighty boom just before the line had gone dead over and over in his head, like a broken record. But, as he looked back over at the volunteers that had come, even at this time of night, all helping to clear the debris and save lives, Walter knew there was no time to dwell on that or let it haunt him.
...Especially when there was still one more thing he had to do...
He thanked the guys again for their help, hung up, and then dialed another familiar number. There were a lot more rings this time, but finally, sleepily, a voice at the other end coughed, "Hello?"
"Mrs. Scully, it's Walter Skinner..."
XxXxXxXxX
Maggie had arrived the following day at the site of the explosion, where a new shift of helpers (as well as some still from the night before) had been doing all they could to not let hope die for those buried under the rubble. Feeling useless, though, she'd then made her way to the hospital to keep vigil at Mulder's bedside in place of her daughter.
A week later, Dana still hadn't been rescued, and Fox had barely gained consciousness for long enough to remember what his name was, let alone what had happened.
"I promise you, I'm keeping completely on top of this twenty-four seven," Skinner sighed, preparing to take another large swig from the plastic cup of coffee as he and Mrs. Scully sat in the almost- empty hospital cafeteria. And he was telling the truth - he'd hardly had any sleep at all over the last eight days. "If I could snap my fingers and reverse time or have Dana walk through that door, you know I would."
The older woman nodded, but no amount of assurances or promises would calm her soul. Her daughter was missing, and all she kept hearing on the news and from the police was that the longer those buried remained there, the less likely they were to come out alive.
"When...When I saw the destruction--... The thought of her trapped alone under all that debris in pain, unable to move..." Smoke still rising from the leveled ruins, the fire across the street under control but still not completely out, body bags waiting expectantly to be filled on the sidewalk, and bloodied bodies--.... It was stuff she'd seen on the news and in the movies hundreds of times, but to have actually stood there in the middle of it all, knowing her youngest daughter was under there somewhere, made the reality hit home far too painfully. "P-part of me prayed that...that she died instantly...to stop her suffering... W-what kind of m-m-mother does that make m-me?"
Skinner lowered his head for a moment as he contemplated his next words, and then lifted it again to reply, "What kind of mother would it make you if you hadn't prayed for that?"
Both fell silent in thought.
XxXxXxXxX
D.C GENERAL HOSPITAL
FEBRUARY 23rd, 2006
2:16 PM
So thirsty.
So tired...
Dark dankness surrounded him, but he couldn't move - something had him pinned down - and his head hurt like hell. There were voices and the sound of movement somewhere nearby, but the blackness made it impossible to see, so he tried to call out to them... Only to find his voice wouldn't work.
If only...Mulder were here?
"Scully!"
Maggie sharply looked up at the scratched, unused voice's exclamation, and stared wide-eyed at the figure sitting bolt-upright in the hospital bed. "Fox! Oh, my God..." She quickly stood up and tentatively combed a hand through his hair.
"I'll go get the doctor."
She was out the door, tears beginning to well in her eyes, before he could ask any questions
Mulder slumped back against the pillow - the sharp stab ripping through his left shoulder making him wish he'd been more gentle.
What was going on? What had happened? He remembers watching Scully as she'd slurped at spoonful after spoonful of soup, and then feeling his heart lift to unknown heights when she'd sensed the direction of his unwavering gaze and looked up with that beautiful smile. He remembers the head waiter spoiling the moment by turning up at their table and announcing there was a phone call for him.
Walking away, but casting one last glance over his shoulder before he got too far.
Picking up the receiver and hearing Skinner's frantic order over the line.
And then....nothing but excruciating, torturous pain searing through his whole body.
He thinks there might have been something after that about somebody stealing his FBI badge, but that might just be the Demerol working overtime...
Eyes slip shut. The fact that Maggie had been at his bedside instead of Scully only heightens his panic and desire to shut out the world.
...They'd been celebrating Valentine‘s Day...how the hell had it gone so wrong?
XxXxXxXxX
"Broken leg, ribs, dislocated shoulder, fractured pelvis, Haemothorax, a black eye, smoke and dust inhalation...Man, are you trying to get some kind of record for injuries? They shot you full of so many different types of drugs, we were worried you might get addicted!"
Mulder gave a half-hearted smile at Langly's comment, but he didn't reply - not even with the kind of quip he would have returned by instinct any other day. Instead, he let out a deep sigh and stared longingly at the room's entrance. The last twenty-four hours had brought doctors, nurses, more glorious Demerol, Skinner, Karen Kosseff ‘suggesting' (though, more like ‘demanding‘, in his opinion) he make an appointment to see her upon his release from the hospital, the Gunmen, news reporters that had gotten past security, interrogating FBI agents, confirmation of the discovery of Ryan Oluvetty's dismembered remains, and unadulterated boredom...but no Scully or news of her.
‘You can't give up hope,' Skinner had insisted in the dark, early hours of this morning.
He wouldn't give up, but trying to be strong for both himself and Mrs. Scully was taking its rapid toll on his injured soul.
Suddenly, the door swung open and his boss rushed into the room, panting, "They've found her, and she's alive!"
Despite his incapacitating injuries, Mulder pulled the bed covers back with his good arm, and struggled to remove his cast-clad leg from the suspended rest. All three Gunmen and Skinner quickly moved to stop him, though, and a brief struggle ensued.
"I have to see her!"
"And you will," the A.D choked out, "but slowly."
XxXxXxXxX
FEBRUARY 24th, 2006
6:15 PM
Both the doctor and Maggie Scully looked up as Mulder's wheel chair was carefully-but-urgently pushed into Scully's room by Skinner (the Gunmen shortly behind, but hanging back to wait at the entranceway).
"What's wrong with her?" the injured agent's quiet, strained voice asked.
Dana lay unconscious, her head bandaged and a respiration mask over her mouth. Apart from a few cuts and abrasions, and casts on both feet, there didn't seem to be any other injuries, but he knew to expect differently...
"She's very, *very* lucky," Dr. Drummond assured, watching as Mulder - now carefully positioned at the bedside - tightly clasped Scully's left hand in both of his own and then tenderly kissed her palm.
"She's suffering from dehydration, hypothermia and serious smoke/ dirt inhalation, both ankles are broken, and there's a nasty bump to her head, but, otherwise, she's doing okay. All X-rays have given me no reason to believe there's any internal damage, and I've scheduled an MRI for tomorrow morning but expect that to be normal as well. I'd go as far as to call it a miracle considering how long she was trapped there; If it hadn't been for the partition that pinned her down shielding her from flying debris, and the water in the toilet bowl--... Well, I'm sure I don't really need to tell you."
Maggie gave a silent nod and closed her eyes as she thanked God for the millionth time.
Mulder was confused, though, as he backtracked over what Drummond had said. ‘Toilet bowl'? ‘Partition'? That made no sense - he'd left her at the table...His memory may be foggy, but that he *could* remember with clarity.
"Toilet?"
"She was dug out from what remained of the restroom," Skinner cut in to explain.
"But... B-but..."
"Even...FBI agents...need...to use the...little girls'...room...from ...time to...time, Mul-der..."
Maggie, Mulder, Skinner and the Gunmen all snatched in a breath at the sound of Dana's whispered, choked retort from behind the plastic mask. She smiled at their reaction and fixed her eyes on her partner's - silently asking if he was okay, and reassuring him that she was. When he gave an imperceptible nod that practically yelled ‘now that I know you are' to nobody but her, she visibly relaxed and then shifted to glance at her mother, who returned the smile she received.
Fifty-two people had died in the explosion, but somehow - by Fate or Chance or pure luck - they were still kicking back... Miracles were so underrated.
XxXxXxXxX
---------------
EPILOGUE
---------------
K STREET
MARCH 17th, 2006
11:22 AM
Walter Skinner's car pulled up at the end of the street, but the three figures remained inside for a contemplative moment. Due to a sudden chest infection that had endangered the stitches in Mulder's lung and left him barely able to breathe, the hospital had kept him in for the next three weeks. Scully had been given her release papers the week earlier, but had remained constant and vigilant at her partner's side.
Today was his release day, though, and here was where they knew they had to come before finally heading home.
While Mulder awkwardly slipped out of the car and rested himself comfortably on the hospital-issued crutches, Skinner pulled out the folded wheelchair, opened it, and then helped Scully get into it.
"You sure you don't want me to go with you?" their boss asked, placing a small bouquet of flowers on Dana's lap.
Both agents cast a glance in the direction of where the restaurant had stood, and then shared an agreeing nod.
"We need to do this," Dana sighed, gripping the wheels of the chair in both hands.
It had been the first time they'd seen the destruction, apart from on TV. Burnt, bent scaffolding and minimal rubble was all that was left to indicate there had ever been anything there, whilst nothing remained of what had been the abandoned building next door. The store opposite had hardly faired any better.
They didn't need to close their eyes to hear the screams and moans echoing in their heads.
"Cupid's arrow must have ricocheted off of something and hit the gas tank," Mulder lamely joked. When she didn't respond, he quickly added - more seriously, "You know, the annoying thing is, I don't even remember who Ryan Oluvetty was!"
"Whether we do or don't, it doesn't really matter," Dana sighed after a pause. "We can't stop arresting people in case they come back for revenge. It wasn't our fault...It wasn't *your* fault."
She pinned him with her ice blue glare. "I know you keep blaming yourself, but you have to stop. I checked the casefile: he didn't just want us - he wanted to take as many people out as possible. If it hadn't been the fifty-two in there" - a hand shot out to point at the shattered bricks and several burnt, upturned tables - "it could have very easily been one hundred and fifty-two elsewhere on another day."
"If we'd taken our cellphones--"
"It was Valentine's Day! We deserve to have our own time, and we know the only way to do that is completely cut ourselves off from the FBI, my om...everything... It was such a beautiful evening, and that was the only reason why I went to the restroom - for once we were like a normal couple, and the thought moved me to tears, so when you went to answer the phone, I thought it would be best to touch up my make-up. If I hadn't been in there when the blast went off--"
"I know."
There were emotions and memories and theories tearing away at their senses that needed to be shared and talked out, but the physical and mental pains were still too raw. Mulder realized then, as he watched Scully lean over to place the bouquet down on the sidewalk amongst the other tributes, that maybe the Bureau counselor's demand for an appointment wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"So," he coughed, trying to lighten the mood a fraction, "Home and pizza next Valentine's?"
Scully glanced down at his plastered leg and let out a small burst of laughter before staring back up at him. "How about we leave the plans til last minute?"
"Yeah...That's probably best..."
Planning to celebrate both their love and their lives as soon as they got home, the couple turned away from the crime scene and slowly - side-by-side - made their way back to Skinner's parked vehicle.
"Happy Belated Valentine's Day, Scully."
"Happy Valentine's Day, partner."
THE END
13X05-Valentine's Special --Revised January 30, 2006
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