Yes, Mulder is attractive. But no, I would never fall 
for him. Not in a hundred million years.
I cannot tell how many times I have said something to 
this effect. To my mother, mostly. To Missy, who used 
to enjoy teasing me about him. To my friend Ellen, to 
my godson Trent, to the other women at the Bureau. With 
shocked propriety to the occasional question from 
Skinner or Blevins or less savory inquirers. And it 
was never less than the truth.
Sure. So why am I not sleeping the sleep of the just 
this Friday night (or technically, Saturday morning). 
Why am I sitting at my computer, desperately trying to 
formulate some reasoned view of what happened?
It is not fear keeping me awake. Eddie Van Blundht is 
safely in custody. He is charged with rape. I am not 
sure this is the correct category for his crime; his 
victims consented, although it was not an informed 
consent. Still, he clearly committed some kind of 
sexual offense, and this is the closest we are likely 
to get in the current penal code. The officers were 
duly impressed by my insistence on the need for muscle 
relaxant to be administered to him because of his
unique abilities.
I think I remained calm and professional in my 
demeanor throughout. Why not? Eddie was not as 
frightening a criminal as many of the serial killers we 
have come across.
But he has disturbed me just as much as they did, on a 
number of levels none of them ever managed to reach. 
After Eddie was out of our sight, I met each officer 
with a moment of suspicion, wondering if Eddie had 
somehow managed to escape again. I know he has 
disturbed Mulder. Neither of us wanted to talk, even 
after we took Eddie down to the station. We could 
cover our embarrassment with professionalism in his 
presence, but we could not hide it from each other. 
Mulder did say one thing. "It's just like they warned 
us in the Academy. Some criminals are masterful 
manipulators. It's difficult to prepare for the 
amount of control they exert over those who cross 
their paths."
I nodded. I recognized the phrasing from the class on 
profiling serial killers, when the ongoing project of 
interviewing them in prison was explained. Agents were 
never sent in alone and only the most experienced 
would be sent. Even so, some agents would find it 
impossible to continue due to stress, and other agents 
had been manipulated into sending sensitive materials 
to the killers they'd interviewed. 
It helped a little to have the problem labeled. I'd 
been tricked before by such persons. But nobody had 
ever tricked me as thoroughly as Van Blundht. Or as 
I try so hard to keep my personal life safely 
separate from my life as an agent. I decided when I 
was transferred out of Quantico that I would not 
allow the Bureau to co-opt every part of my life. Too 
many of my fellow instructors had warned me of how 
easy it was to lose oneself in the job. So I marked 
out times and places and people which were reserved 
for myself alone and had nothing to do with Special 
Agent Dana K. Scully.
Dana K. Scully. My official Bureau name. The very 
concept still strikes me as humorous, that each 
agent must have a unique designation, as if we were 
actors. I was told in my first class at Quantico that 
I could no longer sign myself simply as Dana Scully, 
because there was already an agent of that name 
somewhere in the Bureau. I could use my first name 
and middle initial, both first and middle names, 
first initial and middle name, or simply drop my 
first name entirely. But I could not use the name I 
most thought of as my own.
Once I stopped giggling at the thought of being D. 
Katherine Scully, I decided a Bureau name was a 
useful division between my previous life and my 
new-and-paternally-disapproved one. I have since 
used it as another barrier to protect my personal 
life. Not that I need it, since Mulder is the only 
person who has ever called me Scully.
Did Eddie ever call me Scully? I don't remember 
him doing so. 
No, of course he didn't. He never called me by any 
name, did he? The better to fool me. It must be one 
of his techniques. I feel a little better. Even if I 
didn't notice it at the time, one of the divisions 
in my life was left alone. 
But here we are, back to Van Blundht. He did violate 
my personal life. I have thrown open my apartment 
windows in some sort of attempt to purify my air of 
his presence. The occasional siren in the distance 
is a comfortingly normal sound at the moment. I am 
still not sure if I should keep the wine bottle as 
evidence, so I bagged it up. But I cannot bag my 
couch. I cannot contain in any Zip-Loc the fact that, 
a few hours prior, I nearly kissed what I thought 
was my partner on the strength of nothing more than 
a little wine and a few questions.
Because, of course, Eddie told me nothing of his 
life in exchange for all I said about mine. Another 
classic technique -- let the victim do the talking.
But all classic cons depend on one thing -- letting 
the victim think they have the better of the deal. 
I was enjoying his questions, just as, earlier today, 
I'd enjoyed Mulder asking me who I'd like to be. 
Well, perhaps 'enjoyed' is not the word. 'Been 
bemused by'. Usually, one does not ask personal 
questions when one is walking up to the suspect's 
father's door. But that was Mulder. I did my best to 
walk around his question and then gave him an answer 
he didn't expect. So of course he claimed that was 
against the rules. A tactic I would have expected out 
of my brothers, actually. When they were in junior 
high. But that's Mulder.
And now I'm back where I started, hours ago, when I 
became resigned to the fact that I could not sleep, 
and the couch was definitely not going to work
tonight. Or for many nights to come. I can't clean 
memories off. I am never going to forget that I was, 
God help me, about to kiss Mulder when Mulder 
walked in. 
There is no easy way to decide what happened here. 
I cannot say that I was under the influence of the 
wine. That much wine would never make me drunk.
Tipsy, perhaps, but fully responsible for my own 
actions. I cannot simply say that I was manipulated 
by Eddie. For all that I liked that new side of 
Mulder, I would surely not have answered such 
questions from a stranger as unguardedly as I did.
No, not even from Ed Jerse. When I spoke to him, I 
cast my autobiography into stories with clear morals, 
telling him only what I wished to reveal -- although 
admittedly that was a great deal. I certainly never 
told him about Marcus, or admitted he was once the 
love of my life. I only told that story because I was 
sure that Mulder would enjoy hearing how his proper 
partner ended up riding home from the prom on a 
pumper truck.
I was unprepared, when Eddie made Mulder's face 
give me that look. It even horrified me for a moment. 
But only for a moment. Not a very long moment,
frankly. I looked into the hazel eyes I knew so well 
and made a decision. Years of trust and friendship 
led me to that moment. And, had it been the real 
Fine. Admit it. Had it really been him, he might 
still be here, or I might have sent him home. Either 
way, I probably would still be awake, but I would
be a great deal more happy about it.
But it is the guilt that hurts the most. After all 
the years of partnership, after all the years with 
the highest solve rate in the Bureau and the smug 
assertion that we knew each other better than 
anyone in the world, I didn't figure it out. Not 
even when he said he'd decided it wasn't an 
X-File. I left the hospital in the company of Van 
Blundht, while Mulder was being held prisoner. At 
least I don't have to feel, as Mulder would, that I 
should somehow have 'sensed' a problem. But dealing 
with my stupidity and amenity to manipulation is bad 
We're due for a big case. I hope we don't get one 
tomorrow; I've only going to get 3 or 4 hours of 
sleep at this rate. Oh, and I do not look forward 
to explaining this case to Skinner. Maybe he won't 
be too hard on me, considering that he didn't figure 
it out either. At least the apprehension will help 
me stay awake.
But there's one good thing about being exhausted. 
You don't dream much. Especially not about your 
I can't believe I'm reacting like this. I keep trying 
to flashback to all his annoying habits and all the 
times he's ditched me. But I can't seem to turn off 
my hormones tonight, and I know there's even more to 
it than that. But I have to get some sleep. So I'll 
permit myself one sappy statement and refuse to feel
guilt. Then I'll turn this darn thing off and go to bed.
I would never fall for Mulder. Not in a hundred 
million years.
Not unless he asked.