TITLE: Intellectual Pursuit AUTHOR: KatyBlue SPOILERS: None, season-8-free-zone CLASSIFICATION: MSR RATING: R or NC-17 (mild sexual situation) ARCHIVE: Anywhere is welcome. Just let me know. DISCLAIMER: He finally tipped his hat to the shippers in S8. As the saying goes, better late than never. Thanks 1013 and company. You may now share. AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my version of what 'A day in the real life of the Mulder and Scully relationship' would be like. Let's face it...these two combined know entirely too much information and can spout it verbatim and at will. In my mind, they'd have to be putting some fairly MAJOR reading time into this pursuit (no small potatoes here!). In my twisted pondering of the time problems this would create in a relationship, up popped this little vignette... ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: This one is for Meredith, my editor and friend, into infinity. Thank you for indulging me for the past several years. I promise I'll find it in me soon to write again. Prepare yourself . ********************************************************************* The room is warm. Mulder pads toward the kitchen on bare feet, foraging in search of some form of supper. Scully glances up at the clock for a brief moment, and then at his passage by. He's wearing a pair of jeans without a shirt. She likes the pattern of hair on his chest. His toes grip her hardwood floor with a characteristic little curl, and she worries she might have a foot fetish for a brief second as she realizes how often she notices his feet. He stubs his toe on the way to the kitchen on one of the dining table chairs and she hears his muttered curses travel back to her. "You okay?" He keeps going, limping slightly and throwing back an "I'm fine," over his shoulder. "You sure, Mulder? I am a doctor..." "I'm aware of that fact, Scully," he disappears into the kitchen. "Although medically, even if it's broken, I couldn't do much more than give you a few aspirin for the anti- inflammatory properties contained therein," she calls out. "If I want you to make me feel better, I'll request something that has very little to do with your medical skills," he sends back. She hears the refrigerator door opening and closing. Smiling to herself, she returns to her reading. "Would you like to partake of a feast with me, Scully?" he calls out a minute later. She rolls her eyes. It is her house, so it would be nice if he'd include her. "Just don't try to put two frozen dinners in the microwave at once, Mulder. It doesn't work..." He reappears in the doorway, where he stands contemplating her decadent recline on the couch. "It seemed logical at the time," is the light protest he offers. She notes that he still has his reading glasses on and his hair is tousled. For a second, she loses all interest in the journal she has propped up on her legs at the sight of him. "Anything in there I shouldn't use for any reason?" he asks, pointing back in the general direction of the kitchen. "Remember, this *is* my apartment, Mulder. You don't even have to check the expiration dates." He chuckles and stands there for a second more, scratching his stomach. She finds this endearing. She hears herself saying, "What's mine is yours, Mulder." "Oh really?" Instead of going back into the kitchen, he moves toward her. Leaning over the back of the couch, he captures her mouth in a sound kiss before standing back up. But he keeps his fingers lightly on her shoulder, trailing them there as if keeping his options open. "What are you reading?" She shows him the cover of 'Science' and opens it back up to her article. He reads the title aloud over her shoulder. "'Step-by-Step Engineered Multiparticle Entanglement'. Sounds fascinating, Scully. A woman who knows her particles turns me on. How do sandwiches sound? I'm all microwaved out." "Sounds fine." He points to the magazine. "Can I have that when you're done with it?" "Of course. Like I said, what's mine is yours." "A whole issue dedicated to cloning and you're reading about molecules," he remarks in disbelief on the way back to the kitchen. "That was the last issue and I've already read those particular articles, Mulder," she shoots back. "For me, it was mostly review." She's teasing him and he comes back at her bravely. "No need to be cruel. We're at opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to interpretation anyway, Scully. So I don't think a comparison of our knowledge is possible." She smiles to herself again and returns to the article. She and Mulder have a unique parallel approach to one another's intellect, where others might become competitive. It suits them. They're learning together. Mulder comes out from the kitchen with sandwiches. He sets the plates on the coffee table and then lies down on top of her. She makes a declaration of distress as she manages to rescue the journal she's immersed in from being crushed by the weight of his body. "Mulder!" she wails. His lips are suddenly at her neck, sucking on her skin. She effectively disengages him with a sharp elbow into his side. "Ow!" He rubs at it reflexively but doesn't get off her. "No fair, Scully." "No hickeys, Mulder. I think at our age we're beyond that. And I'm hungry." "Who's talking hickeys? I just like the way you taste." He climbs off her abruptly and grabs hold of her legs, pulling her into a sitting position with a grin and plopping down immediately beside her. His hip is up against hers, wedging her in against her side of the couch, but she doesn't mind. She likes this new closeness. A whole room and they choose to sit practically on top of each other. This is something she marvels at. He hands her a plate with a mile-high turkey sandwich on it and she peers at it dubiously. "What the hell did you put in here, Mulder?" "A little bit of everything, Scully. I love your refrigerator. It needs to mate with mine and bestow nuptial gifts of food like those damselflies do." Dubiously, she eyes the greens piled under a layer of bread. "I think this sandwich contains what was slated to be the contents of my lunch for the next three days." "Live a little, Scully." He bites into his heartily. "And next time you're at the store, get some potato chips, would you?" She rolls her eyes. "Tell me...besides raiding my kitchen of a week's worth of food...what exactly have you been doing on, or perhaps to, my computer for the past two hours, Mulder?" He smiles mysteriously. "Well, other than lamenting the fact that you're a Mac person, not much. I did find a great new NASA High Energy Astrophysics Science Archive and Research Center website. How does this grab you, Scully...satellite data, including hour by hour observations of an x-ray observing probe as well as instructions for getting raw data from the Compton Gamma Ray Observatory and a few other high-powered telescopes." "Sounds interesting. Anything else, Mulder?" she asks curiously. "Did they accidentally divulge any government secrets or alien sightings on the website?" "No, but there's something called 'Skyview' where you can call up any part of the sky at different wavelengths. I'm going to sit you down in front of it with a bottle of wine and some cheese later." He grins widely at her inelegant snort. "It also has...you'll like this part...a calculator for converting solar mass to ergs or any other quantitative measure you can imagine." He leans closer and puts his lips up against her ear. It tickles. "Maybe you can fill me in later on what ergs are, Scully." She's dismayed to hear the squeak come out of her at the sensation of his voice vibrating against her skin and she shies away. "You probably already know what they are. You'd also better know how to perform the Heimlich, Mulder. I'm trying to eat here." "So am I," he answers innocently enough. "And I'll Heimlich you any way you'd like, Scully." Leaning forward he picks up his sandwich and then opens the top journal from the stack on the coffee table. It's not a pretty picture that comes in view. He grimaces and flips the page. Up pops another gory sight. At a glance, it appears to be part of a small intestine covered with lesions. With a sigh, he shuts it and stares at the cover. The American Journal of Pathology. "I suppose you read this one cover to cover?" "Of course." "You worry me sometimes, Scully." "That's ripe, coming from you." He picks up the next. The Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report. "This is more like it," he states, opening the cover and delving into the weekly accounting of any and all deaths caused by contagious or infectious disease. She knows he's only interested in those more perplexing and unexplained cases. But with Mulder occupied, she can turn her attention back to her own reading. Having finished for the most part with 'Science', she moves on to 'Nature'. They grow quiet, reading and eating in companionable silence. Surfacing only to note something that the other might find interesting. Mulder knows her areas of interest and she responds in kind. "New book you should read, Mulder," she remarks. "It's called 'Voodoo Science, The Road from Foolishness to Fraud'." "Are you making fun of me again?" he says, giving her that pout that's guaranteed to make her feel guilty. "No! Really. It's right up your alley. The author is described as an 'articulate and skeptical voice of reason about science'." He gives her a slightly dubious look and tosses down the Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, opening the New England Journal of Medicine and glancing at its contents. "Why don't you just get these online, Scully?" "I prefer hard copies, Mulder. They're easier to read. And I won't have degenerating eyesight at some tender age from staring at a flickering computer screen for far too many hours a day." "Here's a good one," he announces, reading the title aloud. "'The End of Barium Enemas?'. Sheesh. I'm going to have to ask you to summarize this one for me, Scully -- I can't stomach reading it." "Ha ha." She snatches the journal out of his hands and replaces it with the issue of 'Science' he'd requested. "Shutup, Mulder, I'm trying to read." He scoots over onto the opposite end of the couch and settles in. Perversely distracted by his feet again, she leans down to inspect his toes. "Which one did you stub, Mulder?" He wiggles them all. "Kiss it and make it better?" he moues hopefully. Where did he learn this kind of manipulation? The expression on his face is priceless. She wants to lean across and pull those glasses right off of him but controls herself. She returns her examination to his toes. "This one, Mulder?" "Ow!" he complains as she discovers the offending and obviously uncoordinated digit due to its slight but telling discoloration, and she wiggles it experimentally. "Just bruised," she pronounces after carefully palpating along each small tarsal bone and joint. When she's finished, she runs her nails along the bottom of his foot lightly and he jumps at the tickle. She grabs onto the appendage before he can pull it away, ignoring his protests. "Hold still." Leaning over, she makes a big show of kissing the injured toe. When she looks up, Mulder is grinning at her and relaxing back into the couch. His legs fall loosely apart. "Keep going, Scully..." "In your dreams, Mulder." She tucks her own feet up onto the sofa and returns to 'Nature'. Mulder pushes his feet up against hers as she starts to read, matching them sole to sole, as much as they can be matched with the size discrepancy. He curls his toes around hers. It's comforting, having him there. It should make her unable to concentrate, but she can actually concentrate better. She sinks back down to her reading at the molecular level and lets their feet fuse into arrested motion. Mulder is lost within seconds in the aforementioned review article about the state of cloning from genesis to the present day. She interrupts herself to imagine if he is wondering as she did what isn't written down on the pages about advances that have been made. "Hey, Scully, have you heard of the Missyplicity project?" he asks at one point, breaking her train of thought completely. She sighs, wishing the name didn't remind her of her sister rather than the attempted cloning of a dog that the article is referring to. "I told you I've already read that one, Mulder." "Did you ever save a lock of hair or a chunk of skin from that little flesh-eating mutt of yours?" "Queequeg, Mulder." She can hear the annoyance in her tone. "His name was Queequeg." "Well, if this wealthy individual has his way, his donation of thousands of dollars and his beloved dog to science could get you back a clone of that little beast for no more than five thousand dollars at some point in the future." "He was eaten by an alligator, Mulder. I have no DNA." "Damn." He's trying not to laugh as he reaches down and squeezes her foot in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Scully." "Yeah, right." She picks up the New England Journal of Medicine that she took from him earlier. Trying to distract herself from more bizarre thoughts of cloning her dog or her sister by deciding whether to read about lessons from Iceland on human genetic variation, the role of women physicians in academic medicine, or electric razors as a potential risk for viral hepatitis. "Here's one for you, Mulder..." she interjects. "Drug Therapy for Erectile Dysfunction." She knows this is pure silliness on her part. But she's never really been able to indulge in this type of behavior until Mulder and she revels in the opportunity to make light of all the hard work it has taken them to collectively to gather this knowledge. He looks up in mock horror. "Scully, how can you even suggest that?" In another second, he's tossed 'Science' onto the coffee table and is sliding his body on top of hers. She can already feel the familiar response beginning to take shape. She tries not to laugh at his immediate offense to her suggestion. "What I meant is that they might have something for *overactivity* in here..." she counters. "That hurts me even more," he pouts. She can't help her growing amusement at his feigned distress. And she reaches up and gently removes his glasses. He falls motionless for this ministration, and his look turns to one of quiet anticipation. Leaning upward, she touches her lips to his. Electrons fly into strong attraction as his tongue merges with hers in a feat that must defy some rule of the metaphysical world. "Mmmmmm..." is the monosyllabic response he hums into her mouth at the sensation. She tries to respond to this but the impression of Mulder's lips against hers seems to have rendered her speechless. Instead, she concentrates on memorizing the feel of their movement, sliding her own lips to a new angle in order to capture the fullness of that delicious lower one of his between both of hers. He, in turn, is trying madly to fully cover hers with his attentions. She hears herself moan finally. Mulder's completely normal erectile function is hard pressed against her thigh and she pushes up against it shamelessly. "I watched a movie about black holes on that website, Scully." Mulder mumbles against her mouth. "Mulder, I don't know whether to be discouraged by that comment or tell you that I know...I heard you watching it fifty times," she pants back. "Three times, Scully." In a completely Neanderthal way, he's captured her wrists and is pinning her arms up over her head with only one of his hands. The other is around her waist, his fingers fanning out as he pulls her lower body as tightly as he can against him. "I missed part of it...and it was only three times." "Recite it to me, Mulder. I'm sure you've got it memorized by now," she breathes. "Later," he grunts. He's attempting to push her shirt up now with the hand that's around her waist, and she finally manages to free her wrists and wrap her arms around him to give him some maneuverability. She chooses to stabilize her position by latching onto his impressive gluteus muscles, which she's stared at more than a couple of times tonight as he moved around her apartment in those perfectly fitting jeans. They part at some point for oxygen consumption. "Mulder..." she says, feeling the moment turning contemplative as it often does between them. She can see that he's noting this. His frenzied action slows until his body rests heavily atop hers, paused in its baser intent in light of her foray into the serious. "What?" he prompts gently. "Do you ever wonder where we're going with all this?" Mulder can't seem to help himself. He grins. "I think you'd have to go all the way back to volume one in the annals of psychology for that one, Scully. 'Scientists discover proof that the sexual act is actually pleasurable'." "Mulder..." She's slightly wounded until he recaptures her mouth and tries to show, instead of tell her how he feels. The kiss is serious. She realizes this time, the scientists in his statement aren't meant to refer to her. He's being very gentle now. He barely touches their lips together, bestowing the lightest of pressure that somehow manages to render the sensation that much more erotic. "We're going somewhere, Scully," he whispers into her ear. "I promise." His hands retake up their exploration of various parts of her anatomy. Consequently, she finds her long range questions stymied by the return of desire as her own hands move to the one specific part of him that never ceases to amaze her. She strokes up and down the length of him, encouraging the increasing rigidity through denim. Mulder groans. "Careful, Scully. I'm reaching the point of no return." He glances in the direction of the clock. "What time is it?" "Nine o'clock," she murmurs. "Can't you read that? See...already your eyesight is going from staring too long at that computer screen." "No -- your mouth was in the way," he argues. And then, "Damn!" He disconnects abruptly, jumping to his feet in order to cross the room and turn on the television. "Mulder!" She can't help but be insulted by his sudden departure and she sits up. "What are you doing?" He returns to his spot beside her after finding the proper channel. "Mulder!" He ignores her, attention captured now by the glowing screen. "Hey!" Feeling juvenile, she punches his arm to get his attention. He glances over. "What?" "What's so interesting?" "NOVA...it's either the one on time travel or the Lochness monster and I missed both of those when they first aired." It could have been worse. It could have been the one titled 'Kidnapped by UFOs'. She can't even pretend to sit through that one easily again. She sighs and lays her hand into his lap in resignation. He takes it and presses it up against his deflating interest. "See, I was right," she remarks tightly. "Maybe you should read that article..." He turns and kisses her. "Watch this with me, Scully," he whispers. He maneuvers behind her on the couch and slides down into a position on his side, pulling her along to lie with him. "Mulder..." she protests, but follows. While the opening credits begin to roll, Mulder fits his body behind hers. He wraps his arms and then his legs around her and rests his chin on her shoulder, releasing his brain willingly to a layman's version of what's currently known about time travel. She sighs and picks randomly from the table, losing herself in her old friend, the Journal of Pathology. At points in the show that he finds interesting, Mulder pokes her and she surfaces, attempting to absorb the material he's trying to share with her before returning to the subject she's ingesting by choice. She knows watching this show will be likely to prompt at least one entire day of library research into the phenomenon of time travel. Mulder is single-minded when it comes to learning about all aspects of a subject. Thank god for his near photographic memory or she'd never see him. Her knowledge is gained with a little more effort but aided, time-wise at least, by a less eclectic focus. By the time the end credits grace the screen, she's made it through the abstracts of all of the pathology articles that held any interest for her this month. Mulder is likewise detaching himself from his t.v. show and attacking her neck again. "We should watch the news..." she mutters. He makes a noise that connotes the negative. His lips find that little spot of nerve endings that are connected to some unspecified point on her lower back. The spot on her that she imagines must be that rather non-scientific entity known as the erogenous zone. The application of even the lightest pressure makes her scrunch her neck involuntarily as the tingle travels deliciously downward along further nerve synapses. Shivering, she turns into Mulder's embrace, unable to endure it further. His attention is one hundred percent back again and harder than before as he presses her into the couch with his body and buries his tongue in her mouth with abandon. She lets her defenses fall, enjoying the one situation that allows her to lose control and still feel safe. Mulder's intentions when it comes to her body are single-minded but completely respectful. The pleasure principle pushes to the forefront. His dedication to the cause is admirable. He wants to please her much more than he wants to please himself. She usually has to insist that he not be so completely unselfish. The intensity of his attention sometimes unnerves her. Besides that, she enjoys seeing Mulder lose control as well. It seems amazing to her that she can deliver him into this state. She gets as much satisfaction out of coaxing him to completely let go as he seems to receive from doing the same to her. "Scully," he whispers against her mouth. "Help me with this damn bra clasp." His fingers are fumbling at her back though she can't recall how they got there. "It's in the front, Mulder." He laughs against her. "Figures." She tugs at the waistband of his jeans. "Here. Let me help you with that," he offers. Maybe he isn't completely lacking self-interest in the process. He deserts the bra to pop open the button on his jeans and push at the offending material. "My couch, Mulder..." she murmurs. "What?" "I'd rather not be forced to have it re-upholstered." "Your practicality is disheartening, Scully." "Nevertheless, could we move this to the bedroom?" "Your wish is my command," he says, enthusiasm remaining evident despite the interruption. And for a second, she's overwhelmed by it all. This has been happening to her lately, though she can't pinpoint why. She takes his face in her hands and holds him there, arresting their forward motion as she stares at this man she's come to care about entirely too much. Mulder freezes, no doubt trying to read her thoughts. She hopes he can't. It's a dangerous thing, love. So fragile. And once its tenacious hold is unerringly bestowed, the object of love is too easily taken away by chance or circumstance. One can be left with love, yet lose the cherished object of its attention. "Don't ever leave me, Mulder." She knows where this statement has come from, but it is a terrifying declaration of need that she would have bitten back fiercely had she known that it was about to come out of her mouth. Mulder looks startled. "Scully..." "I'm sorry," she breathes, horrified and filling in the ensuing silence quickly, before it can stretch. "I didn't mean that..." He takes her face into his own hands and makes her look at him until it becomes almost uncomfortable. "I will never leave you, Scully," he says solemnly. "Even if I die. And no matter where I go." This statement terrifies her even more. "What the hell does that mean, Mulder?" She's trying to sit up from under him. The lighter mood brought about by their physical explorations is quickly fleeing due to a mounting unease at this verbal exchange. His face falls. "It means what it means, Scully," he insists quietly. They stare at one another. Scully suddenly finds her mind running distractedly through articles she's taken note of during the course of the night. 'Advances in Cancer Research' was one she'd forced herself to read with entirely too much trepidation. The frivolous title of another pops into her head, of note due only to its odd disclosure of the quirkier side of intellectual pursuit -- 'Gone with the Wind: The Origin of Galaxies in Clusters'. Both in their own way had brought to mind the presence of Mulder. His steadfast attentiveness into her life. His sometimes maddening absence. She wants to believe. On the other hand, she knows she can never expect to hold him down from wherever he might be going in that fertile brain of his. Nor does she want to. They have merged, finally, into as much of a single functioning unit as two people can. They have finally accomplished the whole- hearted embrace of a physical union of their two souls. But while their hearts may be in the same place, she wonders often about their divergent minds. "It means something more," she says quietly. He looks uncomfortable. "It means I love you as much as it's possible to love you in this universe I live in," he answers, staring unhappily down at his hands. She reaches out and pulls this fractured soul back to her, uncaring of the couch. She kisses him until the furrow in his brow goes away. Still, he sulks, his eyes closed but accepting the press of her lips almost reverently. She pushes him onto his back, raining kisses over exposed skin until she feels him begin to relax. Until she feels him let go of the unease that she's stirred up for no explainable reason. "I'm sorry, Mulder." He puts a hand up to her lips. "No apologies necessary, Scully. You deserve better than I can ever give you." "Oh, for pete's sake, Mulder!" She's angered by these words. They're certainly not very reassuring in light of how far they've managed to come. "You can't always choose who you love," she admonishes him. "Sometimes, it just happens. It's a package deal. We deserve each other," she states firmly, "and I mean that in the most positive light," she adds gently. He's picking up a little. "I like your package," he mumbles. She kisses him to stop any further crude puns, stretching her body along his. Playing at his lips with hers until he lets her in. Wrapping her legs around him and pulling uninhibitedly at the fly of his jeans, hoping this will rally him and bring him back from whatever dark place he was heading in his mind. "I take back what I said about erectile dysfunction, Mulder." She slides her hand down and then up until he begins to stir under her focus. "Your couch, Scully..." "It needs a new look anyway, Mulder." He sighs and closes his eyes, letting her continue her fascination with his body for a moment longer. Then he moves carefully out from underneath her, leaning over to pull her up with him. "Bedroom, Scully. I don't want you obsessing about what we did to the slipcover all night." She follows his lead, content to let him take her where she wanted to go in the first place. It's more comfortable in the bed anyway. She wants to keep him inside her all night. She wants to fall asleep in the circle of his arms with him warm and holding on. It makes her feel complete, falling asleep and waking to discover him still in her bed. "Mulder?" "Mmmm?" He's looking where he's going rather than at her. "An erg is a centimeter-gram-second unit of energy or work. It's equal to the work done by a force of one dyne acting over a distance of one centimeter." "No one likes a math geek, Scully." "Look who's talking, know-it-all." "What's a dyne, Scully?" he grins. "I'm not telling you, after that previous remark." She lets him guide her into the bedroom. "Tomorrow's Saturday, Mulder," she says contentedly. "What do we have planned?" he asks easily, pulling her toward the bed with him. "Well, I need to hit the library at some point but I thought you might coordinate your activities with me. We could meet somewhere in the stacks at a designated point in time." They reach the bed. He falls back and pulls her down on top of him, burying his face in her neck as he wraps her in his arms. "Ahhh...the woman of my dreams," he murmurs into her hair. "Have I ever told you how sexy intelligence is to me, Scully?" "Likewise, Mulder." His lips move down her body until they are worshipping against her cleavage. She is mesmerized by his concentration for a bit. Until she realizes that he's saying something. Not just mumbling meaningless erotic whispers to her breasts, but speaking to her. She strains to hear him. "I'll never leave you, Scully," is what he's murmuring. Over and over her heart. *************************************************************** THE END This is dedicated to all shippers the world over... AUTHOR'S NOTES: As Meredith can attest, I pulled this straight off the spot where it was languishing on my hard drive. I dusted it off, propped it up, and sent it out there to console you all. Feedback much appreciated at katy2blue@aol.com, where it is admired, appreciated and finally, with much gratitude, sent back with thanks for the enjoyment of its company in my inbox for weeks or months on end. Apologies to anyone who's written me after the past few stories and not gotten a response -- my inbox turned briefly into a literal black hole (you've gotta love that AOL automatic delete). Some of the feedback so lovingly sent to me was swallowed by the great, hoary beast of aol-cyberspace, never to be properly thanked. You know who you are out there - and, as always, I thank you for reading most sincerely! You guys are truly my reason for writing. The Journals in this article are all actual publications and I've taken the liberty of using titles and topics from actual issues during the month this story was written (I believe it was June or July of 2000!). You can visit all of these journals on the web - 'Science' and 'Nature' are the bibles of the scientific world and a 'must read' by all scientists. The websites Mulder was visiting were all found in a neat little section of Science called 'netwatch'. The other journals mentioned are 'The Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report' - enjoyed by microbiologists around the world, this is a fascinating look at what infectious diseases people have died from each week, with frightening statistics on overall deaths from infectious disease. MMWR is a government publication put out by the CDC (Center for Disease Control). Strangely enough, I got three phone calls for participation in a survey about childhood vaccinations after visiting their website, as well as a letter with a CDC return address which turned out to be a completely empty envelope - no kidding! (isn't that a completely, conspiracy-type, x-files cool enigma? ;) Who says big brother isn't watching?) But seriously, whatever mailing list I got put on, I'm sure it's for a good purpose . The New England Journal of Medicine is a well-known medical journal, mostly published for and read by clinicians and doctors. And the Journal of Pathology is no doubt what our favorite pathologist peruses in her spare time. Extra credit points for anyone who visits their website and can understand any given title in its entirety. And who doesn't watch NOVA? I'd like to think that Mulder must, and offer in support of this claim his recent voice over of 'the miracle of birth', a wonderful NOVA program (or was it Nature?). Oh well... How much time do YOU think it would take to memorize the collective amount of knowledge Mulder and Scully have stored up there? Send feedback and let me know what you think! :) Go Gently and be strong fellow x-philes! KatyBlue :)