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Chapter Text

Delilah approaches the hospital bed with trepidation. As many times as she has heard them, the sounds of life support never fail to unnerve her. It’s so unnatural, so… sad.

“I’m so sorry,” Delilah whispers, reaching out to smooth a strand of the comatose woman’s long blonde hair. “I swear that this is the last time I’m going to do this.”

She means it. She can’t keep changing everything about herself for a man. It’s exhausting for one, and the guilt is excruciating when she allows herself to entertain it. Delilah has left quite the trail of broken hearts in her wake.

“I promise I’ll be good to him,” she tells the unconscious woman. “It’s going to be different this time.”

It has to be different this time.

It’s not going to be easy, but he’s worth it. This life is worth it. Delilah won’t screw it up.

As if on cue, he enters the hospital room and joins her at the blonde woman’s bedside. Delilah gives him a sad little smile and reaches out to squeeze his hand.

“It’s not your fault,” she tells him, sensing his guilt. “Whatever this is, there’s nothing you could have done to stop it.”

“She came to me for help and look what it got her,” he scoffs, his hazel eyes full of regret at the sight of the woman in the coma.

“You did help her, Mulder,” Delilah says softly. More than you’ll ever know, she thinks.

He nods, but he doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“We should get going,” Delilah tells him. “Our flight is at 3:30.”

“Can you pull the car around front?” He hands her the keys. “There’s something I want to ask the nurse.”

“Sure, Mulder,” she says with a sympathetic smile. It really is so sweet how much he cares about people that he barely even knows. Delilah meets his eyes and this time he smiles back at her.

“Thanks, Scully.”

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Five days earlier, Dana Scully enters The X-Files office as usual, expecting to see her partner alone at his desk. She does not expect him to be deep in conversation with a mysterious blonde woman.

“Mulder?” Scully asks, not at all sorry to be interrupting whatever the hell this is.

“Oh hey, Scully,” he greets her as if nothing is unusual. “This is Delaney Matthews. Miss Matthews, this is my partner, Dana Scully.”

“So, what brings you in to see us?” Scully asks, giving her a perfunctory smile. God, she hopes this is related to a case and not a social visit. Of course, it’s unlikely that Mulder would have called her “Miss Matthews” if she was a friend or potential love interest.

“I’m afraid my life is in danger,” Delaney informs her, her voice trembling slightly. “I received this message.”

Scully steps forward to take a piece of paper from Delaney’s hand.

“You have seven days to live,” Scully reads aloud. As death threats go, it’s a bit understated. Scully’s eyes narrow in suspicion and concern that Mulder is about to be played by a phony damsel in distress.

“Her sister got the same note in her mailbox six months ago,” Mulder adds.

“And now she’s in a coma,” Delaney sobs, suddenly overcome with emotion. “She’s been in a coma since one week after she received the letter—and now the same thing is going to happen to me. I just know it.”

She buries her face in her hands, crying noisily and with abandon. Scully grabs a tissue and hands it to her.

“Thank you,” Delaney says, blowing her nose. All the tears have made her face puffy, and the snot has gone a long way towards negating the femme fatale vibes.

“Is there anyone who might want to hurt you and your sister?” Scully asks, already planning to look at the sister’s medical records for information on what caused the coma.

“I can’t be sure,” Delaney sniffs. “The doctors say there’s no reason for her to even be in a coma. It’s like we’re cursed or something.”

Scully shoots Mulder a look. Cursed? Is that the angle here? Oh brother.

“Agent Scully and I are going to help you,” Mulder assures Delaney, standing up to guide her out of the office. “We will be in touch.”

He makes sure the tearful woman makes it onto the elevator before heading back to the office to go over the case with Scully.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says when he re-enters the office. “This doesn’t sound like an X-File.”

Scully had been thinking that, but she doesn’t want to let him know that.

“You believe it is?” Scully asks, knowing the answer.

“I do,” Mulder confirms. “What Miss Matthews doesn’t know is that she and her sister are the sixth and seventh women to receive this exact note since 1994. Take a guess what happened to the first five women.”

“They’re all in comas?” Scully asks, her interest piqued.

“Six women in unexplainable comas,” he tells her, handing her a file. “and if we don’t stop it, in five days Delaney Matthews will make seven.”

Chapter Text

“We should start by running that note to the lab,” Scully suggests, gesturing towards the vaguely threatening note.

“I have a pretty good idea what they’ll find,” Mulder tells her in a tone which tells her he’s a withholding. She sighs.

“And what is it they’ll find?” Scully asks, mildly irritated at being led through the story by breadcrumbs.

“There’s a local police officer working the case who has been especially invested,” Mulder tells her, not actually answering her question.

“And you think this officer is involved?” Scully guesses.

“He’s involved, but not in the way you’re thinking,” Mulder replies, leaning back in his chair. Scully frowns. He’s enjoying this.

“So who do you think wrote the note?” Scully asks, trying to cut through the build up. She much prefers it when they both have the full details. Making uneducated guesses leaves her feeling foolish, though she knows that it isn’t Mulder’s intention.

“Delaney Matthews wrote the note to herself,” Mulder reveals. “In fact, the officer believes all the women wrote their notes themselves.”

Mulder pulls out a few black and white photos taken from security footage and hands them to Scully.

“That’s the second victim, Amber Casey, at her local library,” Mulder says, getting up from the desk to stand behind her and look over her shoulder. “She accidentally printed several copies of the note and left all but one of them behind. The librarian was concerned enough to file a police report.”

“That doesn’t seem like something the D.C. police would have time to investigate,” Scully muses. “At least not enough to go through the footage to see who printed the notes.”

“They didn’t at first,” Mulder agrees, still standing so impossibly close that she can feel his breath in her neck. “But the officer on duty when the librarian filed her report happened to be on duty when Amber Casey brought the note in, claiming that she had found it in her mailbox.”

“So these women threaten themselves, report the threat to the police, and what? Put themselves into comas? For what possible purpose?” Scully turns to the side so that she and Mulder are face to face.

“I don’t have it all figured out yet,” Mulder admits. “I think our next step is talking to the officer who took Amber Casey’s report. The case has become a bit of an obsession for him.”

“And why is he so interested in a case that doesn’t seem to include an actual crime or a perpetrator?” Scully inquires, sensing that Mulder is still withholding information.

“Because six months after Amber Casey fell into a coma, Officer James Fitzpatrick’s fiancé became the third victim.”

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Delilah doesn’t like to think of herself as fickle. More like—chronically disappointed. The careers she tries are never as fun as they look. The men she dates are never as charming behind closed doors. The grass really isn’t greener on the other side, and yet… what if the seventh time is the charm?

She sits in the back corner of a Starbucks, thinking over her past mistakes and what she hopes will be her future bliss. She twists a finger through her long blonde hair, a nervous habit she picked up back in high school.

In five days, she’s going to have to say goodbye to the long blonde locks. She’s going to have something sleeker, more polished and professional. Delilah feels ready to take on that role, that of the brilliant and serious woman. She wants a completely different life. A kindergarten teacher had sounded like a sweet little profession, but it turns out that kids are a lot of work.

Her phone buzzes on the table. It’s Harrison. Of course.

“Hello?” Delilah answers, bored of the conversation before it begins.

“Where are you?” Harrison demands. “Everyone has been looking for you. The school said you didn’t call for a sub, you just didn’t show. I’ve been going crazy with worry. You can’t just disappear, Delaney.”

Delilah really wishes she had noticed how clingy Harrison was before she started dating him. She wants love and devotion, yes, but this kind of attention is just smothering.

“I’m sorry to worry you,” she says, faking a sniffle. “I was visiting my sister in the hospital and I turned my phone off. I just felt this pull to see her today. I think it’s our twin connection. Oh Harrison, I could just tell that she needed me.”

She’s full on sobbing now, setting the phone down while Harrison’s muffled voice tries desperately to apologize and console her. In her eighth life, she really ought to try being an actress. No, what is she saying? There’s not going to be an eighth life. She’s finally, finally found someone who has it all: beauty, a medical degree, a cool and exciting job, and a handsome partner who looks at her as if she’s the smartest, most interesting woman in the world.

She’s not going to need to change this time.

She’s going to be Dana Scully forever.

Chapter Text

Mulder and Scully arrange a meeting at the home of Officer James Fitzpatrick to get more information on the case. When they arrive, he welcomes them with such great enthusiasm that Scully’s concern about his mental fitness increases by several degrees.

She does not feel any better when they enter his office, where three bulletin boards display pictures of the six victims as well as his interview notes and other bits of information. He may have been an ordinary beat cop before his fiancé’s tragic lapse into a coma, but Scully can see that he has since become quite the conspiracy theorist.

Scully studies the board as James talks excitedly to Mulder. All the women are attractive in different ways. There are pictures of them on their own and with their husbands or boyfriends. All very cute, happy couples. Scully notices an extra name on the board with a zero in front of it.

0 Delilah Stone, 1 Sandy Petruski, 2 Amber Casey, 3 Mary Flannery, 4 Danielle Williams, 5 Devi Gupta, 6 Darcy Matthews

“Who’s Delilah Stone?” Scully asks, pointing to a picture of a pretty woman with long dark hair in her late twenties. It’s the only picture not accompanied by a couple’s photo. “I didn’t see her name on any reports.”

“That’s exactly the right question,” James replies, turning his attention from Mulder to Scully. “Delilah Stone wasn’t on anyone’s radar, but she has got to be connected to this. She and Sandy Petruski worked together until May 1993, when Delilah was found unresponsive and comatose in her apartment.”

“Did she report a threatening note before it happened?” Scully inquires.

“If she did, she didn’t tell anyone about it. Nothing like that was found in her apartment,” James explains. “One year later, Sandy Petruski does get a note. Within a week, she was in the same mysterious coma as her old co-worker Delilah.”

Mulder examines the board and notes the thread connecting Delilah and Sandy.

“Are those two the only ones who knew each other?” Mulder asks.

“As far as I can gather, yes,” James answers. “I think it realized that it was going to get caught if it followed a pattern too closely.”

“It?” Scully questions. Now there’s an it?

“I think what we’re dealing with here is some kind of demon,” James tells them. Scully can’t hide her disappointment. This guy obviously has a few too many screws loose. She looks to Mulder, but he seems intent on studying the board.

“You Irish Catholic?” James asks. “Cause I am, and I don’t know about you, but I believe the church teaching that demons are real.”

“I’m sorry, that seems like a bit of a stretch,” Scully says as kindly as she can. “What makes you think these women were possessed?”

Scully may love The Exorcist, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to jump on this farfetched hypothesis.

“Well, my first clue was our dog,” James recalls. “It was right after I found out that Amber Casey had been admitted to the hospital in a coma. Same day. Mary comes home and Houlihan—that’s our dog—he starts barking like crazy. Growling and everything. This dog loved Mary. He had never growled at her ever in his life.”

“And you think the dog sensed she was possessed by a demon?” Scully can see the leap in logic, but it’s really not enough to go on. At all.

“ That was the start of it,” James tells them. “Houlihan never got used to her. I had to give him to my sister. It wasn’t just the dog though. She was different after that day. It was just in little ways that weren’t quite right. It was like she was someone trying to be Mary, but she didn’t have it quite right. Then a few months later, she was on life support.”

Scully doesn’t want to be insensitive, but someone being a little “off” does not a demonic possession make.

“Did any of the other partners report strange behaviors in the months before the comas?” Mulder asks. Scully can see him processing all of this, and she’s just hoping he has a better idea than demonic possession.

“They all did,” James says with a nod. “Especially the first one, Sandy Petrusich’s boyfriend. He worked with Delilah and Sandy, and he had some interesting ideas.”

“Let’s hope he’s up for sharing them with us,” Mulder replies, touching Scully’s shoulder and indicating that they’re about to leave. He drops his hand to her lower back and ushers them out the door.

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Seven months ago, Delilah made a terrible error in judgement. She had been living her life as pretty, perky Darcy Matthews—and it wasn’t half bad. Darcy owned a cute little bakery with pastel walls and a display case full of equally pastel cakes and treats. Darcy had a cute fire fighter boyfriend, and a calico cat named Snickers. It should have been satisfying being Darcy.

It was satisfying being Darcy with her little rom com life until Darcy’s twin sister Delaney arrived home from her summer in Paris. It was all too clear that Delaney’s life was the superior one. Her clothes were more expensive, her boyfriend Harrison was a trust fund baby managing multiple successful hedge funds, and she didn’t have a stupid cat. Even though they were twins, Delaney’s hair was somehow shinier and her complexion more luminous.

How was she expected to be satisfied being Darcy when Delaney was better in every way? So she broke her own rule about not swapping with people who know one another. It was a mistake, she sees that now, but at the time it seemed very sensible.

Everything was finally going to be perfect, but it turned out that Delaney’s life was not nearly as fun as it looked from the outside. Harrison was handsome and rich, but he was also so needy and insecure. Also, being a kindergarten teacher was simply not for her. The children were so… sticky. And boring.

So, about three months ago, Delilah began looking for something completely different. She was determined to get it right, to find someone whose life would never be dull. This proved trickier than she ever imagined, until that fateful day she saw them. They were eating lunch, and he reached out to wipe a smudge of salad dressing from her mouth. Somehow they made it look like the sexiest, most intimate gesture imaginable.

Determined not to repeat past mistakes, Delilah engaged in some light stalking. She ate lunch at the same restaurant as them a few times a week. She sat outside their apartments every now and then. She befriended a chatty FBI secretary who gave her stories of daring rescues and office gossip. To Delilah’s surprise, it quickly became apparent that these two don’t even kiss. They stare, they gaze, they stand closer than is socially acceptable, but they don’t cross that line.

The sexual tension those two emanated was a powerful drug. Delilah had been stepping into the lives of women in established relationships, and it had been deeply unsatisfying. What she really needed was a relationship about to begin.

It became clear that Delilah needed to get in there, but she also knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. She would have to pass as a medical doctor and an FBI agent, but she wasn’t worried. She was a nurse before all this started, and she knows how to shoot a gun. She would buy a few low cut blouses, invite Mulder over for drinks, and resolve that sexual tension within a week.

She could be a better Dana Scully than the current Dana Scully could ever imagine.

Chapter Text

The next day marks four days until, as far as Mulder and Scully know, Delaney Matthews falls into an unexplained coma. They arrange to meet with Mark Summers, a hospital administrator at Sibley Memorial who was romantically involved with the first victim.

Scully isn’t entirely sure what Mr. Summers could possibly tell them that will be of any use, but she also doesn’t have any better ideas so here they are.

Mark Summers has a nice office on the third floor with windows that let in a good amount of light. The office is sparse and clean, and basically it’s the exact opposite of their basement office.

“I only dated Delilah for a few months,” Mark Summers explains. “She was nice enough, but she was constantly needing reassurance that I thought she was more attractive and interesting than anyone else. She thought I was going to cheat on her.”

“So you broke it off?” Scully asks.

“Well, I actually did end up cheating on her, so it was kind of a mutual decision,” Mark admits a bit guiltily. “I met Sandy, and we just clicked. It was a little awkward at first since we all worked together, but Delilah took it surprisingly well.”

“Until she mysteriously fell into a coma?” Mulder asks nonchalantly, his focus seemingly on the knick knacks on Mark’s desk.

“Right, but you can’t think I had anything to do with that,” Mark insists. “The police cleared me.”

“Was there anything unusual about Delilah when you were seeing her? Did she express any interest in witchcraft, demonology, the occult, or perhaps a special interest in the ideas of reincarnation or transmigration?” Mulder asks.

“She mostly talked about shopping,” Mark says with a shrug.

“Did things change with Sandy after that?” Scully inquires, trying to get the story they were promised. Mark’s face contorts at the question.

“You could say that,” he replies. “At first, she seemed to feel guilty about Delilah all the time. She was always putting herself down, saying that we must have caused Delilah’s coma by breaking her heart with our cheating.”

“And after that?” Scully asks. Unless he reports that Sandy started projectile vomiting pea soup or speaking in Latin, it’s not sounding a thing like demonic possession.

“After that, it was like she became Delilah. She thought like Delilah. She talked like Delilah. I thought it was some weird guilt thing, so I just kept waiting for her to snap out of it.”

“But she didn’t,” Scully concludes.

“No, and the next thing I know she was showing me some creepy note she received about only having seven days to live,” Mark says, his face showing regret. “I didn’t take it seriously.”

“I’m sure there was nothing you could have done, Mr. Summers,” Scully offers kindly.

Scully looks to Mulder to see if he has anything to add. She can see him thinking, and she admits to herself that she’s curious about his hypothesis. She’s never heard of anyone so overcome with grief that they took on the personality of the deceased (or comatose) person. Could Delilah have somehow faked a coma and become Sandy? God, please let this not be another Eddie Van Blundht situation.

When they get outside, Scully hopes that Mulder is ready to tell her what he’s thinking. She feels that she has been very patient, but enough is enough.

“All right, I know you have a theory,” she says. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m not sure it’s a theory exactly,” Mulder says. “I don’t think Delilah took the breakup as well as Mr. Summers thinks.”

“You think Delilah somehow replaced Sandy so that she could… what? Get her boyfriend back? Punish Sandy for cheating with him in the first place?”

They make their way across the hospital parking lot, continuing the conversation as they both get in the car.

“Maybe both. I think Delilah may have transferred her consciousness somehow. You know, some religions refer to the concept of transmigration, the transfer of one’s soul to another body after death,” Mulder hypothesizes.

“But she wasn’t dead,” Scully points out. “She’s technically still alive even now. Her file says the family has paid to keep her on life support in a nursing home for the past six years.”

“There’s a concept in New Age philosophy of so-called ‘walk-ins’ who are souls that take over someone else’s body. Supposedly the two souls make an agreement,” Mulder informs her. “Maybe Sandy did feel so guilty that she allowed Delilah’s soul to take over her body.”

Scully doesn’t buy it. For one, Delilah and Mark dated for a few months. It could not have been that serious. Secondly, souls cannot up and leave the body and jump into another body—although that may explain what happened that time her ex-boyfriend insisted he was a dead criminal and chained her to a radiator. Wow, she hasn’t thought about that in a while. It really is amazing how low that incident ranks on her sliding scale of trauma.

“Let’s say that were true,” Scully offers generously. “Did Delilah swap souls with the other five women? And wouldn’t that mean that Delaney Matthews is really Delilah?”

Mulder seems to be thinking it over.

“Maybe she loses a bit more of herself with each swap,” he suggests. “It could be that Delaney is so far removed from the original soul that she doesn’t even know she’s Delilah.”

“Or she’s conning us for some reason,” Scully retorts.

Scully loves how much Mulder wants to help people, except when it is clear to her that an attractive woman is playing him for a fool. It’s not always women. He’s been led astray by plenty of male informants. It’s just that Scully happens to have a bit of a sixth sense for disingenuous women who want Mulder—sorry, Mulder’s help. They want Mulder’s help.

“I think we should speak to Delaney again,” Mulder suggests. “I would like to meet her fiancé as well to see if he’s noticed any changes in her.”

Scully’s mood improves slightly at the mention of Delilah’s fiancé, although she can’t imagine why it should make a difference.

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Delilah is beyond thrilled when Mulder calls to set up another interview. It’s a bit of a nuisance to include Harrison at the meeting, but she appreciates what a thorough investigator Fox is. (She’s hoping to end this “we call each other by our last names” nonsense.)

Delilah also looks forward to studying Dana Scully’s mannerisms up close. She wants to get this right, and the devil is in the details. She knows the basics. When Dana is nervous, she licks her lips. When she feels unheard or disrespected, she crosses her arms. When she wants to get his attention and reestablish connection, she takes his hand in hers.

It’s going to be difficult not to flirt with Fox because she knows she loves him already, but she doesn’t want to seduce him in Delaney’s body. That would never work anyway. He’s so clearly in love with his partner. That’s why the only logical conclusion is to become his beloved Scully in every way.

And how hard can it be, really?

Chapter Text

Mulder does not have this case entirely figured out, but so far he genuinely believes that Delaney Matthews is in danger. There are now only three days left until she is rendered mysteriously comatose like the others. He has to figure this out before that happens. She’s putting all her faith in him to do so.

Mulder doesn’t entirely discount Scully’s concern that Delaney is conning him, but what would she have to gain? She seemed genuinely afraid for her life when she was in the office two days ago. He can’t just ignore that.

Besides, Scully has been known to be slightly overprotective of him. It’s one of her many endearing qualities, but it can be a bit insulting when she asks him to discount his own instincts. He gets the impression that Scully finds him a bit naive or easily led at times, particularly when it comes to women in need of assistance. Mulder can’t recall giving her a single reason to think this of him, but she still insists that he has a blind spot.

When they arrive at the rather impressive penthouse apartment of Harrison Prescott III, Mulder feels a tiny twinge of envy. It’s not that he wants any of this for himself, but he can tell that—in some subtle way—Scully is impressed. He knows that she’s not the materialistic type, but what if she sees this place and decides that she should be dating some successful Wall Street type? Hasn’t she said something recently about settling down? Did he brush that off too quickly?

He’s spiraling a bit, and he knows it’s ridiculous. He and Scully are on the same page; they are devoted to the quest. Also, he’s pretty sure that she is aware of their unspoken agreement that someday, in a hazy future without a solid timeline, they will be “together.” Details to be worked out later when such a time comes.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about his relationship with Scully right now because they’re on a case. Besides, it’s not like this Harrison Prescott III guy is going to dump his potentially possessed fiancé and immediately ask out Scully. Well, he could…

“Welcome,” Delaney greets them in the foyer. “Harrison is waiting for us in the sitting room.”

She leads them to a very modern room devoid of any personal effects. Delaney indicates that they should sit on a very sleek, not particularly comfortable couch. She and Harrison sit across from them on large leather wingback chairs. Mulder half expects one of them to push a button that lowers their minimalistic coffee table into the floor to reveal some sort of secret lair.

In short, it’s a weird home for a kindergarten teacher.

“Delaney has brought me up to speed on the situation,” Harrison begins. “I have to admit that I was worried about her the past few days. She wasn’t quite herself.”

He reaches out to take Delaney’s hand while they smile at one another adoringly. The chances of him running off with Scully are getting slimmer by the minute.

“Obviously I want to do everything I can to make sure Delaney is safe,” Harrison continues. “Whatever it costs, I’m willing to pay it.”

“We don’t charge for our services,” Scully corrects him. “We have Bureau resources available.”

Mulder very much doubts that money or resources are the issue here. He needs to figure out the rules of this particular body swap situation. For that, he needs to know if Delaney’s entire personality has changed recently.

“Delaney, would you mind if I speak to Harrison privately for a few minutes?” Mulder asks. “I believe Agent Scully has a few questions she would like to ask you privately as well.”

Scully shoots him a look, presumably for not discussing this with her in advance. He returns the look with an apologetic smile.

“Of course,” Delaney says, smiling. “Agent Scully, let’s go into the study.”

Delaney seems so pleased to have the FBI agents taking her claims seriously. Mulder takes that as a sign that she is telling the truth. Hopefully he and Scully will be on the same page about Delaney’s innocence after their interviews.

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The study looks like a movie set. The book shelves are carefully curated. The desk is real oak and obviously expensive. Delaney offers Scully a seat on an ornate loveseat while she takes the oversized leather chair.

“Delaney, can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you? Maybe someone who also wanted to hurt your sister?” Scully asks, hoping against hope that there’s a simple human solution to all this.

“I really can’t,” Delaney replies, wide eyed and thoughtful. “My sister owned a bakery, and I’m a kindergarten teacher. I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt us.”

Something about Delaney strikes Scully as false. Maybe she knows more than she’s saying but is afraid to name the suspect for one reason or another.

“Anyone at all who we can question?” Scully asks. “A disgruntled co-worker or a former boyfriend maybe?”

Delaney appears to think it over before replying, “I’ve always had really amicable breakups, and I get along great with everyone at work. I’m sorry, Agent Scully. I don’t think I’m going to be any help.”

Scully hopes that Mulder is doing better than she is at getting anywhere. Maybe she’s not asking the right questions. How can she get Delaney to crack? Before she can come up with anything, Delaney has a question of her own.

“You and Agent Mulder are such a cute couple,” Delaney gushes. “Are you two married or just dating?”

“Uh, neither actually,” Scully says before taking a deep breath. “We are strictly work partners.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for saying anything,” Delaney groans, though Scully doesn’t find her apology especially convincing. “I swear I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just how Agent Mulder was looking at you, I thought you must be…”

“Looking at me how?” Scully asks, immediately curious to know he looks at her from someone objective. She immediately mentally berates herself for being so transparent in her interest.

“Like you’re the most wonderful person he’s ever met,” Delaney smiles. “It’s clear he adores you.”

Scully wonders if she’s blushing. God, she probably is. She needs to take control back of this interview. Time to change the subject.

“How about your sister’s boyfriend?” Scully asks. “I see he’s a firefighter. Was there any tension between them?”

“Oh, Patrick couldn’t be involved,” Delaney dismisses the idea. “He’s a teddy bear.”

“And things have been going well with your fiancé?” Scully inquires. They certainly seemed amorous in the other room,

“Oh, there’s nothing of interest with Harrison, we’re just happy and boing,” Delaney insists. “Now, with you and Agent Mulder, I’m so curious to know what’s stopping you two from just going for it?”

Why do people keep asking them this? Of course, it’s not like Scully hasn’t asked herself the same question a million times.

“We’re friends,” Scully says simply.

“But you’d like to be more, right? You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it,” Delaney says, her voice dropping an octave. She moves from the chair to sit directly next to Scully on the loveseat. If Scully didn’t know better she might even call the move “seductive.”

“Please, I’m dying for some girl gossip,” Delaney says conspiratorially, back to her normal tone. “I really miss talking to my sister about this stuff.”

Visions of Melissa immediately come to mind. Scully would love to be able to have these chats with her own sister. Still, this is a case. She’s a professional.

“We are very committed to our work,” Scully shrugs off the idea. “No gossip.”

“I’m betting you could make time for work and fun,” Delaney says, twirling a few strands of her hair playfully while making unrelenting eye contact. “I bet you two would be electric.”

Jesus Christ, are Delaney and Harrison swingers? Is that what this is? Is Harrison in the other room right now quizzing Mulder about their partnership? And why isn’t this woman more concerned about her impending coma?

“Oh my God, that was wrong of me to say. I’m so sorry,” Delaney blurts out, her countenance changing from sexy to embarrassed in a matter of seconds. “I made you uncomfortable, didn’t I? I’m not usually like this, I swear.”

“It’s okay,” Scully says half heartedly.

“No, it isn’t, I’m just so crazy with worry about that note and what’s going to happen if you and Agent Mulder can’t stop me from ending up in a coma like my sister,” Delaney cries, tears now running her cheeks.

“It’s fine,” Scully says, feeling a bit guilty that she had just been mentally accusing the woman of not being concerned about the possible coma.

Please let Mulder’s interview with Harrison have gone better than this, Scully prays.

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Delilah knows that she probably made “Delaney” look a bit unstable just now, but it doesn’t really matter. She has three days until her next—and final—body swap. She’s thrilled with herself for finding a way to directly interact Fox and Dana before the swap. She studied every single micro expression on Dana Scully’s horrified face during their awkward conversation, and she realized something very important:

Dana Scully needs to get laid.

Chapter Text

During his interview with Harrison Prescott III, Mulder has learned three things about the case. First, up until a few days ago, Delaney Matthews showed no signs of demonic possession nor any other type of soul transference.

Second, Harrison Prescott III would love to manage Mulder’s stock portfolio. He could really maximize his dividends.

Third, Harrison wants to pay both Mulder and Scully each $5K plus hotel and airfare to act as Delaney’s unofficial safe house guardians. He is convinced that all she needs to do is get out of town for the next three days. If there’s some crazy vigilante after her, they are unlikely to follow her across the country.

Mulder grew up knowing quite a few people who believed they could buy their way out of pretty much anything. He tries to educate Harrison about the philosophy of transmigration of the soul. Mulder tries to insist that a change of location may not be enough to stop a malevolent soul from putting Delaney into a coma.

In the end, because he doesn’t really have any better ideas, Mulder decides to take a few vacation days and work as Delaney’s unofficial guard. Now he just needs to get Scully on board.

“Absolutely not,” Scully tells him when they’re in the car driving home.

“Scully, the woman is going to be comatose in three days if we don’t stop it,” he reminds her. “We have no way of preventing that except to watch her around the clock. If we start to see signs of possession, maybe we can intervene.”

“How? Are you going to be standing over her with a cross saying ‘The power of Christ compels you’?” Scully retorts.

“Whatever works,” Mulder shrugs with a smile. “Plus it’s Vegas, Scully. Think of all the Elvis impersonators.”

“That’s not the selling point you think it is,” Scully informs him.

“C’mon Scully, live a little,” he teases. “The glitz and kitsch of Las Vegas is calling us. This is the perfect opportunity to debut any sequins miniskirts you have hiding in your closet.”

Mulder imagines convincing Scully to stay an extra day after the case. They could hit the strip, take in a show, he can tease her about the two of them getting married in an Elvis themed wedding chapel… There are literally no downsides.

As is often the case, in the end, Mulder convinces Scully to take a nice little trip to the desert.

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It’s Friday morning, and Scully still isn’t sure how Mulder convinced her to use two vacation days for a long weekend in Las Vegas. Well, that’s not entirely true. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be.

So, here she is, in the Wizard of Oz themed lobby of the MGM Grand. Costumed characters keep trying to engage with her, which feels embarrassing on some visceral level. She’s hiding out in an area that seems safe from actors quoting lines from the movie at her.

“Follow the yellow brick road, Scully,” a familiar voice whispers in her ear. She brushes him off in a good natured gesture, giving him a wan smile.

“Isn’t this place fun?” Delaney asks, clearly more enthused about being in a faux Emerald City than Scully. “I love The Wizard of Oz.”

“Very fun,” Scully agrees, her tone not quite matching the sentiment. “Are our rooms ready?”

Harrison had paid for two very large suites with a connecting door. Each room contains two Queen sized beds with emerald green bedspreads, a small kitchen, a sitting area, and bathrooms with sparkling showers next to jetted bathtubs. Aside from the 40 x 60 inch double portrait of Judy Garland by Andy Warhol above the bed, the accommodations are less garish than Scully had expected.

Mulder and Scully had decided to share one suite so Delaney could have her own. Of course, this decision contains no potential for impropriety because the stipulation is that one of them will be with Delaney at all times. They will never be in the suite alone together. No fraternization concerns whatsoever.

It’s a very good thing that Scully is a professional who understands the importance of proper boundaries. When she saw that oversized bathtub, she most certainly did not think about how it could easily fit two people. When perusing the room service menu, she quickly skipped over the champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. Who wants to lounge around in plush bathrobes, sipping champagne, watching him licking chocolate off of a plump, juicy strawberry?

Not Scully, that’s for sure. She’s here to work.

Mulder takes the first shift guarding Delaney from demons (or curses or soul snatchers—at this point Scully has no idea what they’re supposedly up against). This allows Scully time to test out the jetted bathtub.

She walks into the bathroom and looks at herself in the full length mirror. She looks a bit tired, probably from their early flight. She thinks of Delaney with her long golden hair and sun-kissed skin. Something about the woman reminds her of high school, of wasted time comparing herself to cheerleaders.

Scully shakes off the thought. She has no reason to feel inadequate, and Delaney certainly isn’t trying to make her feel that way. Quite the opposite actually. Delaney seems to find her fascinating, hanging on her every word.

On the airplane this morning, there was a Mulder had excused himself to the restroom. Delaney had leaned over to whisper, “You two are so cute together. When this is over, please tell me you’re going to make a move.”

“We’re just friends,” Scully reminded her.

“We’ll see,” Delaney had said with a smile and a slight sing song in her voice.

It made her think of Melissa, who probably would have forced the issue long before now. She can practically hear Melissa telling her to be brave, that she was given another lease on life after her cancer, what on Earth is she waiting for? Of course, Melissa and Delaney could never understand how Scully has devoted her life to something bigger than herself and her own insignificant little love life. Who needs romance when you’re taking down a global conspiracy, right?

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Delilah will give Harrison credit for one thing; he didn’t skimp on the hotel. Delilah, in her current role of “Delaney,” sits on the bed furthest from the door, her back propped up by luxury pillows against the headboard.

She finds it funny and perhaps a bit sad that Harrison had elected not to join them in Las Vegas. She was ready with a list of reasons for him not to come, but she hadn’t needed it.

“Have fun and don’t die, babe,” Harrison had said with a quick kiss when she left for the airport this morning. Honestly, she cannot get out of this relationship fast enough.

She looks to the other bed to see her future boyfriend, Special Agent Fox Mulder, eating sunflower seeds and watching some stupid old movie on TV. She’s pretending to watch it too, but she would be hard pressed to answer any questions about it.

Delilah closes her eyes, ready to call it an early night. She’s been gathering great intel on Dana Scully all day, and she deserves a little rest. She wants to make sure she’s awake for Dana’s turn “guarding” her. After all, she only has two days to collect firsthand information from Dana herself. This is precious time. Spending time with Fox isn’t the priority right now.

She has the rest of her life for that.

Chapter Text

After her bath, Scully decides that she should nap before relieving Mulder from demon watch. She puts on clean pajamas and climbs into bed, feeling more at home than she usually does when they’re on a case. This is much nicer than the Benjamin Franklin Econolodge or wherever they stayed on their last case.

Dana Scully rarely has difficulty falling asleep, and this afternoon is no exception. For the most part, she assumes her dreams are boring and innocuous. She has completed entire reports in her sleep only to have to do them all over again when she wakes up.

Does she have nightmares upon occasion? Of course. They tend to be related to a handful of especially disturbing cases, and she tries not to dwell on them when she wakes up. They’re a perfectly normal brain function, and they cannot hurt her.

What happens during this particular afternoon nap is not her normal sleep experience.

She’s sitting in an empty movie theater. There’s a sense of unease when the screen lights up with static, like a television set between channels. She whirls around to look at the film projector. There is someone up there, a hooded figure, but it’s impossible to tell who it is.

Show me something, Dana. Something you don’t share with just anyone.

The feminine voice sounds ominous, artificial somehow. Scully turns back to the movie screen and, to her horror, sees herself in full technicolor on the big screen. She seems to be in the throes of passion, her face twisting in ecstasy. It’s unsettling to see herself in this manner. The scene zooms out, revealing that this is a memory from that ill advised night at the tattoo parlor.

“I don’t want to see this,” she yells up to the figure behind the projector.

A brief flash of a black screen and the picture shifts. Ed Jerse has her pinned against the wall, staring into her eyes with desire and barely contained sexual aggression. The Scully on the screen gives him the proverbial green light, and they begin kissing furiously, pulling clothes off of each other while stumbling towards the sofa.

“I really don’t care to see this,” she repeats loudly. “Please turn this off!”

The next scene is The X-Files office. Mulder is there. Oh, thank God. All that unpleasantness is about to—

“All this because I didn’t get you a desk?”

Damn it.

“Not everything is about you, Mulder,” Onscreen Scully replies. “This is my life.”

“Yes, but it’s b—“

“Hello?” Scully stands up now, waving her arms to get the attention of the mysterious person manning the projector. “Could you please turn this off?”

She tries to leave the theater, but she only gets to the end of the row. It’s like there’s an invisible fence or force field keeping her in.

How did that make you feel, Dana?

How did that make her feel? Violated? Angry? Embarrassed?

“I would like to leave now,” she tells the voice.

Of course, Dana.

Remarkably, the voice listens to her. She is instantly transported to her own warmly lit apartment. Finally, this weird dream is—

“We never really, uh, talk much, do we?”

For the love of God.

She’s looking into Mulder’s eyes, his face sweet and sincere, but she now knows that it wasn’t really him. It was the manipulative sexual predator, Eddie Van Blundht. It makes her sick to look at him wearing Mulder’s face.

“You mean like really talk?” The voice is her own, but she can’t control what she’s saying. “No, no we don’t, Mulder.”

This is worse than the movie theater. She’s actually in the scene, and she really, really doesn’t want to be.

She hears herself recounting goofy high school memories. This is so embarrassing to relive. She would voluntarily erase this from her memory if she could, that’s how much she does not want to think about this.

Eddie is leaning in for the kiss. She would like to punch him in the face, but she is frozen. At least she knows it’s about to be interrupted, although it’s a very short lived relief.

Mulder bursts through the door, looking stunned at what he walked in on. Scully scrambles away from Eddie, who relaxes into his true form and gives an infuriating little shrug.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he jokes, looking back and forth between Mulder and Scully.

Mulder breaks out of his trance, his confusion turning to rage. He lunges for Eddie, who rolls off the couch and curls himself into a ball.

Mulder’s short-lived rage turns to disgust at Eddie’s pathetic response. He recites Eddie’s Miranda rites and cuffs him to one of her kitchen chairs.

“I’ll call it in,” he tells her, not meeting her eyes. The scene fades, and she’s back in the empty movie theater where she started this stupid nightmare.

Why is her brain torturing her with bad memories? What’s next? Her embarrassing Spelling Bee loss from seventh grade? That time she was rejected for the Sadie Hawkins dance her freshman year of high school? The shame of being the “other woman” in Daniel’s marriage?

Not to mention all those other X-Files cases that she doesn’t want to think about.

I want to know you, Dana, the voice booms.

On the screen, she sees herself open her motel room door for the Alien Bounty Hunter disguised as Mulder. She sees the look of understanding on her own face when the real Mulder called her phone at just that moment. She watches him slam her into the wall, choke her, pick her up and throw her—all while wearing Mulder’s face.

“Why are you showing me all this?” Scully cries, distressed at this trip down memory lane.

You know why.

The hooded figure enters the theater, walking slowly towards her. Furious at all these unpleasant memories, Scully rushes towards her tormentor and violently pushes the cloak off the woman’s face.

It’s… her own face.

“There’s no villain here,” the woman tells her with a dismissive smirk. “You’re your own worst enemy.”

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Delilah knew she was special from an early age. It wasn’t even a question. However, she didn’t fully embrace how special she was until her freshman year of college. A few of the nursing students went to a palm reader named Lady Crystal for fun on a Friday night, and Delilah went along with them.

When it was Delilah’s turn for a palm reading, Lady Crystal’s face turned gray and her expression soured into something unreadable.

“I’m afraid I can’t do any more readings tonight,” Lady Crystal informed the young women. A couple of girls grumbled about not getting a turn, but Lady Crystal was too busy hastily closing up shop.

Her interest piqued, Delilah returned the next day and demanded answers. What she learned about herself was invaluable. She discovered that she possesses the kind of raw psychic energy that someone like Lady Crystal could only dream of harnessing. She can truly do almost anything if she puts her mind to it.

One such skill is telepathic lucid dreaming. She can control not only her own dreams, but the dreams of anyone else she deems interesting.

Dana Scully is interesting.

Delilah pops a kernel of popcorn into her mouth, her feet propped up on the control panel next to the movie projector.

“The truth will save you, Scully,” Mulder says over the big screen. “I think it’ll save both of us.”

“This is so good,” Delilah says to no one, her mouth full of popcorn. “The leather jacket? The forehead kiss? Come on.”

She takes a long drink of Cherry Coke. One of the perks of dreaming is that the calories don’t count. She can sit here for hours watching “The Dana Scully Story” while eating popcorn and Reese’s Pieces and never gain a pound.

Before she got really good at this whole body swapping thing, she used to just go in blind and hope for the best. It was a foolhardy strategy and probably 9/10ths of the reason for so many failures.

You can’t just take over someone’s life without knowing the intimate details. It’s amateurish. Unfortunately, most sober adults are unwilling to just give you their innermost thoughts and memories, which is why getting into someone’s brain while they’re sleeping is so genius.

The screen is blank. She’s gotten a lot of information, but she can’t know too much. Any cherished pets she should know about? She accesses a short film titled “Queequeg” and puts it on, opening a box of Junior Mints and popping one in her mouth.

“Flesh eating dog gets eaten by alligator,” she muses at the end. “Dana Scully, you will never be boring.”

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Mulder isn’t tired, not really, but he’s a tiny bit bored. Delaney has been lightly snoring for the past hour. No signs of demonic possession except for the occasional girlish giggle in her sleep.

Mulder quietly gets himself off the bed and heads for the adjoining door. He opens it quietly in case Scully is sleeping. Hovering between both rooms, he confirms that Scully is, in fact, asleep. From the sound of it, her dream is not entirely pleasant.

It breaks his heart to hear her little sounds of distress and agitation.

“Scully, wake up,” he whispers hoarsely from the doorway, not wanting to leave Delaney unprotected.

Another little chuckle emanates from Delaney’s direction. It occurs to him how much happier Scully’s dreams would probably be without his influence on her life. Delaney’s life as a carefree kindergarten teacher—with the pleasant dreams to match—contrast so harshly with Scully’s role on The X-Files that it hurts to think about it. Scully deserves all the good things that this world has to offer.

He slides down to sit in the doorway connecting the two rooms. He may be obligated to watch over Delaney but his heart is always with Scully.

Chapter Text

Dana Scully may have gotten a bath and a four hour nap on a very nice mattress, but she does not feel refreshed. She feels worse somehow, but she cannot imagine why.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t sleep well,” Delaney says with concern. She sits cross-legged on the hotel bed, looking at Scully with wide, innocent eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” Scully assures her.

“You probably just need to eat,” Delaney replies, handing Scully the room service menu. “Harrison’s paying for everything, so go nuts.”

Something about the way that Delaney refers to Harrison doesn’t add up to Scully. She decides to gently investigate.

“Are you upset he’s not here?” Scully asks softly.

“Who?” Delaney asks, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Harrison,” Scully replies. “He’s paying for everything, but he’s not here.”

A flash of recognition passes over Delaney’s face, and Scully feels a tiny feeling of victory that her insight has proven correct.

“Harrison can be very romantic,” Delaney begins, each word slow and deliberate. “Sometimes he makes me feel like the most special and important person in the world.”

Scully nods, encouraging Delaney to continue.

“And I know he cares about me so much, but I know there’s always going to be something he cares about more than me: the work.”

Always coming in second to the work? Scully knows this particular little stab of pain all too well. It’s one of the main reasons she hasn’t been more… assertive in her relationship with Mulder.

“That must be difficult,” Scully says sincerely.

“I just don’t think he really sees me,” Delaney continues, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m always there for him, but sometimes I feel like he takes it for granted that I’ll always be here—and now with this coma threat, I may not be.”

Scully gets up to bring Delaney a box of tissues. Delaney pulls one out of the box and dabs delicately around her eye. Scully sits down edge of on the bed, ready to provide emotional support.

“I’m sorry,” Delaney says with an embarrassed little laugh. “I’m so worried that my life is about to be over, and Harrison will never even know how sorry I am that I can’t… I don’t know, continue this journey with him, or something like that.”

Scully is touched. She can’t help but see parallels to how she felt with her cancer diagnosis.

“You know, it might help for you to write down your thoughts and feelings,” Scully suggests. “We could get you a journal.”

“Is that what you would do?” Delaney sniffles.

“It’s what I did do, actually,” Scully confirms. “When I found out I had a terminal cancer…”

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Delilah’s second order of business after becoming Dana Scully? Getting this poor girl some female friends!

“Delaney” listens as Scully commiserates with her about how hard it is to face one’s mortality and the possibility of leaving behind a caring, work-obsessed partner. Poor Dana is just so hard up for someone to talk to that she can’t see through Delilah’s facade. She thinks she’s found someone who understands how much she worried about what her death would do to her partner.

In reality, Harrison could walk into oncoming traffic for all Delilah cares.

Listening to Dana speak with such compassion, Delilah feels just the teeniest tiniest smidgeon of guilt that she’s going to use all this information to more effectively take over Dana’s life. Between the information she received from the lucid dreaming and this heartfelt girl talk, Delilah feels more than capable of being a convincing Dana Scully.

It’s not Delilah’s fault that they apparently don’t teach Stranger Danger at the FBI Academy.

After an hour of data collection, Delaney needs a break. She claps her hands and turns to Scully.

“Do you know what would be fun?” she asks. “A makeover!”

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It’s Friday night in Las Vegas and Mulder feels antsy. He can’t sleep, and it’s not technically time for him to change shifts with Scully, but he’s bored. He wants to see his favorite person.

Mulder knocks lightly on the connecting door. Scully opens the door, and he’s taken aback by how different she looks from when he saw her three hours earlier.

He knows his eyes must be just about popping out of their sockets as he takes in the voluminous waves in her hair, the expertly defined eyes, and the uncovered beauty mark above her lip. She is the hottest woman on the entire planet, an actual goddess, and he wants nothing more than to fall before her in worship.

“Someone’s been busy,” he says, quickly deciding that light teasing is more in line with their actual relationship than informing her that she’s a walking dream.

“There was nothing on TV,” Scully smiles a little self consciously. “Delaney insisted.”

“Doesn’t she look great?” Delaney asks from the bed, as Scully steps aside to allow Mulder into the room. “I told her she could do this every day.”

“I couldn’t go to work like this,” Scully replies with a shake of her head. “Maybe for a night out.”

Mulder’s mind churns through the possibilities of Scully going out to the bar looking like that. She would have the attention of every man in the building. They would probably call their friends and tell them to get down to the bar because the sexiest woman in the world is there. The bar would go past max capacity. Police would be called. There would be rioting in the streets.

Or… he could ask her out himself. People would be much less likely to stare if she’s with him. Ipso facto, Mulder asking Scully on a date prevents the destruction of property and threat of injury that would result from an angry mob. It’s actually his civic duty to take Scully for a night on the town.

“Mulder? You okay?”

Back to reality, Mulder realizes that Scully must have been talking to him.

Scully frowns. She reaches up to check his forehead for fever. It’s something she’s done dozens of times, but she’s never looked so sultry while doing it. Mulder feels lightheaded.

“You’re a little clammy,” Scully diagnoses. “Let’s order some food. You haven’t eaten since the airport.”

Mulder isn’t sure that a burger and fries will satisfy his current brand of hunger, but they couldn’t hurt. Once the room service arrives and everyone is done eating, Scully excuses herself to go remove her makeup and get a few hours of sleep. Mulder internally laments the loss of this sex siren version of Scully, but the truth is that she’s always beautiful.

“You need to tell her how you feel,” Delaney advises, taking a bite of cheesecake. She had practically ordered the entire menu, which Mulder assumes is her way of enjoying life to the fullest in what could be her last days.

“She knows she’s my best friend,” Mulder deflects, grabbing the remote. Scully and Delaney may not have found something to watch, but Mulder feels confident in his ability to find something to entertain them. He would prefer a black and white sci-fi disaster flick or a nature documentary, but he’s open to something more mainstream out of consideration to Delaney.

Plus he would very much like her to stop asking about his relationship with Scully.

“Well, your best friend is hot,” Delaney continues. “If you don’t make a move, one of these days someone else will.”

Mulder considers this. In five years of partnership—not acknowledging Philadelphia—he’s never known Scully to do more than accept the occasional set-up from a friend or her mother. She has not gone out with anyone that he knows of since her cancer and remission.

“I’m very happy with my friendship with Scully,” he says, which is about the tenth time he’s had to use this line. (Thirtieth if you count Frohike.) Delaney is not exactly the first person to ask him what in God’s name he’s waiting for when it comes to romancing Scully.

“Whatever you say,” Delaney says in a tone that lets him know she isn’t buying it.

Well, too bad. He’s not exactly dying to admit his dangerously unprofessional feelings for Scully to a practical stranger.

He turns on When Stunts Go Bad on the Fox Network.

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Delilah feels really good about the progress she’s made today. She’s set the stage to introduce the world to a slightly more glamorous Dana Scully. She made Fox salivate over her future self. She learned all kinds of personal information that she can use to convince everyone that she’s genuine. She got to eat whatever she wanted because she’s ditching this body soon anyway.

A productive day all around.

It’s going to be such a relief to leave the Delaney persona behind. It’s exhausting being this cheerful and sunny. Of course, she plans to help Scully be a little bit lighter and happier. Not to an obnoxious level, but enough.

She closes her eyes and imagines herself sitting in the theater projector room. She pulls Dana’s dream consciousness back into the auditorium. Delilah pulls up childhood memories, watching them play out in rapt attention.

“You’re such a crybaby,” Bill Scully Jr. teases his little sister in the flashback. “I barely pushed you.”

What an asshole.

“You can’t let him see you cry, Dana,” Melissa advises later. “He wants you to cry. Don’t give him what he wants.”

The story flashes forward to an adult Dana and Melissa. They sit in Dana’s living room.

“I’m getting emotional. I’m sorry,” Dana apologizes, wiping a tear from her watery eyes. She laughs at herself for the display.

“It’s natural to cry,” Melissa tells her gently. “You don’t have to hide your emotions from me, Dana. I don’t know why you think you do.”

Poor, poor Dana, Delilah thinks. I’m going to fix all of this. Don’t worry. Your life is in good hands.

Chapter Text

It’s Saturday morning and Scully’s night was rough. This time she has a hazy memory of bad dream, maybe something from childhood involving being bullied by Bill. Whatever her subconscious dreamed up has left her drained and in desperate need of coffee.

“Maybe we should trade rooms tonight,” Delaney suggests, taking another bite of a cheese danish. “I’m sleeping great in this bed. You should try it.”

“I’m fine,” Scully assures her. She will be fine. She just needs more coffee.

“There’s an I Dream of Jeannie marathon starting soon,” Delaney informs her. “I loved that show as a kid.”

“Sounds good,” Scully says with a smile. She was more of a Bewitched fan, but it could be worse.

Scully’s phone rings and she excuses herself to the far corner of the room.

“Scully,” she answers.

“Hey Scully, did you know that Elvis performed 636 shows during his Vegas residency?” Mulder asks by way of greeting.

“I can’t say that I did,” Scully replies. “Where are you, Mulder?”

“The Clark County Library. I’m doing a little more reading about the concept of soul swapping in different cultures,” he explains. “I found a book on Indonesian spirituality that discusses how the soul or roh can leave the body, which sometimes allows walk-ins to enter another person.”

“So if that’s true, Mulder,” Scully says, “how do we stop it? You’re talking about a formless, transient, malevolent soul who also happens to work on a very specific seven day timeline.”

She chances a glance in Delaney’s direction, but Delaney seems very focused on eating pastries and watching I Dream of Jeannie. Scully isn’t sure what she would do if she thought she only had twenty-four hours to live, but baked goods and re-runs would fare low on her priority list.

“That seven day timeline might work to our advantage actually,” Mulder says. “A body is more susceptible to a walk-in if it’s in a weakened or vulnerable state. If we can make it through tomorrow keeping Delaney awake and in good spirits, we may be able to avoid the switch.”

“Most people need sleep, Mulder,” Scully reminds him. “If she stays up for twenty-four hours, she’s not going to be in ‘good spirits’ the whole time”

“I don’t know, Scully. You two seemed to have fun yesterday. Maybe tomorrow she could braid your hair, play truth or dare. Promise you’ll invite me if you decide to play spin the bottle?”

“I’m hanging up now,” she responds, but she can’t help smiling a little.

True to her word, Scully hangs up and returns to sit on the bed opposite Delaney’s.

“It’s the one with where Jeannie’s evil twin traps her in her bottle and pretends to be her,” Delaney says, her mouth full of blueberry muffin. Scully can’t believe how much food Delaney seems to be packing into her long, lithe body.

Scully turns her attention to the television, where Jeannie has just been tricked by her sister into thinking Major Nelson is trapped in the bottle. When she goes in to save him, her evil twin (also named Jeannie) puts the topper on the bottle, trapping her sister.

”You can forget about your Major Nelson, Sweetheart,” Barbara Eden says with a villainous laugh, . “You won’t be seeing him again.”

“I love a good evil twin storyline, don’t you?” Delaney asks, sipping orange juice.

Scully has never really thought about it, since evil twins are generally relegated to the nonsense of soap operas and mid-century sitcoms. She suddenly remembers that Delaney is a twin.

“I’m surprised you like the idea, being a twin,” Scully says lightly. She watches Delaney, whose face registers surprise for only a microsecond.

“My sister loved them too actually,” Delaney tells her. “We would joke about which one of us was the ‘good twin’ but truthfully we both were.”

The commercial break ends. Major Nelson threatens to break up with Jeannie if she doesn’t drop the new personality, not realizing that it’s the evil twin. He demands that she get back in her bottle, and Scully remembers one of the reasons she preferred Bewitched. It irritated her when Major Nelson treated Jeannie like a naughty child he could send to her room. Plus the idea of calling any man “Master” never sat right with her, even as a seven year old.

Scully zones out a bit, desperate for some actual rest since sleep doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Her lids feel heavy, but she’s supposed to be making sure Delaney stays awake. She shakes her head and opens her eyes wide, willing herself to stay alert. Fortunately, Delaney seems intent on conversing.

“If you were a genie trapped in a bottle for a thousand years, what would you want the inside of the bottle to be like?” Delaney asks. “I think I would lean into the Middle Eastern motif like they do on the show, but I would go with blues and greens.”

Once again, this is not a typical question that Scully would ask herself. The thought of being stuck anywhere for a thousand years makes her squirm.

“I guess I’d want it to be like my living room at home,” she concedes, thankful that this is an entirely hypothetical situation.

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea,” Delaney nods, looking at Scully seriously. “You could pull off blonde hair, you know.”

“I don’t think so,” Scully demures, uncomfortable being the center of Delaney’s constant attention.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the red,” Delaney says quickly. “I mean for Halloween or something—ooh, you would look great in a genie costume, although that would probably kill poor Mulder.”

Scully blushes, embarrassed at the mere suggestion of wearing a harem girl outfit in front of Mulder—although she’s certain he wouldn’t respond in the way that Delaney is imagining. He doesn’t think about her that way.

“I haven’t dressed for Halloween in years,” Scully dismisses.

“I’m a big fan,” Delaney reveals. “Naughty Nurse, Naughty French Maid, Naughty School Girl… I’ve never tried Naughty Genie though. That would be a great icebreaker at the bar actually. Who wants to rub my lamp?”

Scully laughs uncomfortably, wanting this conversation to end soon. She looks to the clock and realizes she has several more hours of this. Mulder’s probably still at the library. She’s way too tired to keep answering questions.

“Hey, you look exhausted,” Delaney says, giving Scully a compassionate expression. “Why don’t you try napping on that bed? Nothing’s going to happen today anyway. It’s only Day Six.”

“I’m fine,” Scully replies, though she feels even sleepier all of a sudden.

“Go ahead and sleep,” Delaney tells her. “I wouldn’t mind a nap myself.”

Despite her best efforts, Scully sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Inspired by the show, Delilah decides to play out a little Evil Twin fantasy in the Dream Realm. She’s disguised as Dana and she’s wearing the Jeannie outfit, complete with braided blonde wig and pink headpiece.

She’s in Dana’s living room, and the real Dana is currently looking at her in horror.

“Who are you?” Dana asks, confused.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Delilah asks. “I’m your evil twin, silly.”

“Why are you dressed like that?” Dana asks, seemingly more upset about the costume choice than the existence of an evil twin.

“For Fox, of course,” Delilah says. Just then, there’s a knock on the door. “FYI, he can’t see you or hear you.”

Delaney saunters over to the door and opens it with a dramatic flourish to reveal Mulder in an Air Force uniform.

“Wow, Scully,” he says, his eyes roaming up and down her body. “I think it’s safe to say we’re winning the costume contest tonight.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Delilah purrs, putting her hand on his chest. “I thought maybe we could skip the party. I think we could have more fun just the two of us.”

“You’re sure?” Mulder asks, a little squeak in his voice. He is clearly affected by her.

“Okay, that’s enough,” the real Dana interrupts, trying to get between Delilah and Mulder. He doesn’t acknowledge her.

“I’m sure if you are, Master,” Delilah says in a low, sultry voice. Mulder grins and leans down to kiss her. Delilah hops up and wraps her legs around Mulder’s waist, clasping her hands behind his neck. He catches her easily, which makes sense since she’s controlling the dream.

“For the record, I would not say that,” Dana grumbles.

Delilah and Mulder fall onto her couch, where she begins hastily undressing him.

“This is not our relationship,” Dana insists. “This would never happen.”

“You’ve dreamed about it,” Delilah replies between kisses.

“God, yes, I have,” Mulder answers.

“He hasn’t,” Dana corrects. “This is all wrong. He sees me as a co-worker, a friend.”

“Are you that deep in denial or are you actually this clueless?” Delilah asks. Honestly, at this point, she’s embarrassed for Dana. How many signals has she missed that the man is crazy about her?

“Huh?” Dream Mulder asks, coming up for air.

“Not you, Baby,” Delilah assures him.

“I would never call him Baby,” Dana gripes.

“God, Scully, I love you,” Mulder moans.

Delilah relishes these moments. She cannot wait to recreate them in real life. The passion of newly realized love is so much hotter than her past relationships. She likes Dana, she really does, but Dana would probably waste the opportunity for all this sex and romance for a few more years. Dana really isn’t living life to the fullest.

“I’d like to wake up now,” Dana calls, looking around for some sort of help.

“Quit complaining and enjoy the show,” Delilah instructs her. “It’s not every day you get to see yourself having hot sex with your co-worker.”

Delilah congratulates herself for her generosity, letting Dana get to see this. After tomorrow, all she’ll have is her memories.

May as well send her off with a hot one.

Chapter Text

Mulder returns from the library, convinced that they can help Delaney avoid possession—as long as she is happy, well rested, and confident, Delaney should be strong enough to fight off a walk-in soul.

He knocks on the connecting door and no one answers for a minute. He’s about to panic when Scully appears, looking completely bedraggled. She’s much too pale, with shadows under her eyes, and it seems to have been quite an effort for her to come to the door.

“Hey Mulder,” she says without enthusiasm, flopping back down on the bed.

“I think she’s coming down with something,” Delaney explains. “I ordered chicken soup.”

Mulder nods, looking worriedly at Scully. It’s only been a few months since her cancer went into remission. Could it already be back? Maybe the chip he found only bought her a few extra months. The thought terrifies him.

“I’m sleep deprived, not sick,” Scully mumbles, as if she guessed where his thoughts were going.

Sleep deprivation is a much better option than cancer. Mulder wants to believe that there’s nothing wrong her that a good nap couldn’t fix.

“Why don’t you go rest?” Mulder suggests.

Scully sights and scoots to the edge of the bed. Mulder thinks it’s so cute how her feet dangle, although he knows better than to ever mention it.

“I’ll try,” she mumbles as she shuffles out the door.

“Should we wake you when the soup gets here?” Delaney asks cheerfully, holding a turkey bacon lettuce sandwich. Scully shakes her head in the negative and leaves the room.

Mulder looks around at all the room service trays, thankful that Harrison is paying for this trip. The FBI accounting department would lose their minds.

“Sleep sounds good, I think I’ll nap too,” Delaney announces brightly.

Too brightly? Something about Delaney’s chipper demeanor doesn’t add up to Mulder. A few days ago she seemed terrified for her life, and now she’s a happily snacking bundle of energy.

“Actually, I thought I might go over my research with you,” Mulder says. He feels a little guilty when she looks stricken at the thought of postponing her nap.

“I’m pretty tired,” she replies, even though nothing about her appearance, body language, or tone of voice indicates that this is true.

“Humor me for a few minutes,” he insists. “Don’t worry, you’ll get that nap.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She’s been playing this wrong.

Delilah has been so focused on befriending Dana that she didn’t even notice that she was losing Fox. He had hung on her every word when she’d done the whole damsel in distress routine, but now he’s looking at her with the tiniest hint of suspicion. To pull this off, that cannot happen.

She quickly pivots.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, her face falling. “Throughout my life, when things get difficult, I have this pattern of distracting myself. I think, If I act happy enough, everything will be okay, and I go into a bit of denial.”

She closes her eyes and hangs her head. She sets down the sandwich.

“I tend to overeat when I’m nervous,” she explains, hoping that she looks suitably ashamed and sympathetic. Delilah chances a peek up to see if he’s buying it.

“That’s a perfectly understandable response,” he says kindly, all trace of suspicion seemingly erased. “The good news is that I think staying positive is going to be critical to beating this thing.”

Delilah nods along eagerly as Mulder explains how she needs to stay strong and positive the next day.

“So sleeping now is exactly what you should be doing,” Mulder concludes. “We will wake you up before midnight, and then tomorrow we are going to act like everything is great, keep it positive, and Agent Scully and I will be with you every step of the way.”

Delilah tearfully thanks him and excuses herself to the restroom to clean up. In the large mirror, she grins at the smeared mascara under her eyes and her puffy face. God, she’s good at this. Being alert and flexible is absolutely key to pulling off a good body swap.

She looks down at the Cartier wristwatch that Harrison had given the original Delaney on their third date. Oh, Rose Gold Cartier Tonneau wristwatch with the lizard grade leather band, I think I’ll miss you most of all, she thinks. Maybe she could gift it to Dana before she completes the switch so that she can continue to wear it… but no. She mustn’t. No baggage from the past. It’s a fresh start.

She washes the makeup from her face and applies toner and moisturizer for Delaney’s combination skin before remembering that she’s ditching this face the following day. By this time tomorrow, she’ll be using Dana’s slightly less luxurious but admittedly just as effective skincare routine.

Dana Scully cares about active ingredients, not name brands and attractive bottles. Dana Scully is smart and efficient. Delilah admires that. She’s going to be smart and efficient as well.

Fox wasn’t completely wrong that a happy, strong body is more difficult to gain control of than a tired, weak one. Dana is often sleepy, but she’s not weak. That’s the beauty of this little getaway. Delilah can assure an easy transfer by wearing Dana down with some mildly upsetting dreams (though she maintains that the costumed sex dream could have been enjoyable if Dana wasn’t so uptight). She can monitor her success firsthand and amp up the nightmares if needed.

Seriously, only if needed. She’s not a monster.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully is dreaming peacefully for the first time since they got on the plane to Vegas early on Friday morning. It’s only Saturday evening, but Scully’s bad dreams have been taking a toll.

It’s smooth sailing right now though.

She’s on an empty beach, the waves are gentle, the sky a perfect shade of blue, and she swears she can feel the warmth of the sun on her skin. No creepy movie theaters replaying her least favorite memories. No unrealistic upside down fantasies about an evil twin seducing Mulder.

Just Scully and the ocean.

And so it goes, for a very tranquil thirty minutes or so. She walks along the shore, occasionally spotting an interesting shell, but mostly just enjoying the sand under her toes and the gentle flow of the tide.

“Scuuulllllllllaaaay!”

There’s only one person in history that has screamed her name in such a fashion.

“Mulder!” she calls back. “Mulder, where are you?”

She looks frantically around the beach, but there’s no one there. Movement catches her eye; someone is thrashing in the water about a quarter mile from shore. Without a second thought, Scully runs into the water and begins swimming with determined precision towards Mulder.

As she gets closer, Scully can see that he’s struggling, as though something is repeatedly yanking him down and letting go.

Scully’s only a few yards away when a second figure pops out of the water right next to Mulder. Scully stops, treading water as she processes what is happening. The mysterious figure moves quickly, wrapping delicate hands around Mulder’s torso from behind before beginning a backwards glide towards shore.

Caught between gratitude at the mysterious rescuer and confusion at the entire situation, Scully follows them to the shore. She’s not as quick as the stranger, but she makes good time catching up to them.

“Mulder, are you okay?” Scully rushes to check on him, ignoring the other woman at his side.

“He’s going to be just fine,” the mystery woman says in a very familiar voice.

It’s herself. Again. Only this time she’s competing with herself as a freaking mermaid.

“What were you doing out there, Mulder?” Scully asks him, unwilling to acknowledge her fishy doppelgänger.

“I heard singing,” he says, dazed. “I heard the most beautiful singing.”

“Did it sound like this?” The mermaid sings a few bars of the 1970 hit “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night, but unlike Scully’s flat rendition in the Florida forest, the mermaid sounds like a thousand tinkling crystals blessed by angels.

It’s… disconcerting.

“That was the sound,” Mulder says excitedly. “I was out there looking for you.”

“And you found me,” the mermaid with an uncannily identical face to Scully’s gushes, taking his arm.

“Don’t sirens use their beautiful singing voices to lure sailors to their deaths?” Scully asks, suspicious of this entire scenario. What was pulling Mulder’s leg out there? Probably the same thing that sang to him and then performed a phony “rescue.”

“Sirens are originally depicted as birdlike creatures,” Mulder informs them. “They’ve only been conflated with mermaids more recently.”

“Oh Fox, I love when you discuss cryptids,” the mermaid flirts, stroking his bicep. “Tell me you know how to transform me into a human so that we can be together.”

Oh, good God.

“Mulder, we should get you checked out at a hospital,” Scully advises very sensibly, not just because she wants to leave this creepy mermaid behind.

“Is there a way?” Mulder asks the mermaid, completely ignoring Scully’s sound medical advice. He covers her hand with his own.

“I’ve heard of one way,” the mermaid replies, looking down bashfully. “If a human woman offers to trade places, I could have legs and she could live her life in the ocean.”

“Yes, well, no one’s taking that deal,” Scully quickly dismisses. “Let’s get you to that hospital, Mulder.”

“But Scully, you love the ocean,” Mulder says in an all too calm voice. “You should trade with her. Please trade with her, Scully.”

This isn’t Mulder. This isn’t real.

Mulder would never exchange her for a mythical version of herself with a better singing voice, superior swimming skills, and apparently a passion for hearing him talk about cryptids.

“He likes me better,” the mermaid says with a predatory gleam in her eye. “I’m more fun.”

“You’re not real,” Scully responds with stubborn pride. “This is just a dream. I’m dreaming.”

“Then you won’t mind giving me your legs,” the mermaid smiles, moving closer. “I can make the switch right now if you agree. You’ll get to explore the ocean in ways you’ve only imagined.”

“Go with her Scully,” Mulder coaxes. “Let her show you.”

They’re both looking at her with that same awful expression, and Scully knows she needs to leave. She turns to do just that when the mermaid’s deceptively strong arm grabs her by the ankle and deftly pulls her into the water.

She’s underwater and the mermaid isn’t letting go. Scully kicks and tries to scream for Mulder, but all she gets for her trouble is mouthfuls of salt water.

“Just let go,” the mermaid advises. “Let me in.”

“Muuuulderr!” Scully’s underwater scream is muffled and garbled, and she vaguely recalls that Mulder was uncharacteristically okay with the mermaid’s plan, but every cell in her body is on fire with the need for his assistance right now.

“Scully, wake up,” she can hear him say from somewhere outside. “Scully, you’re having a bad dream. Wake up.”

With renewed strength, Scully kicks the mermaid off of her and begins swimming towards Mulder’s voice and—

“Mulder,” she breathes in relief, opening her eyes to a Las Vegas hotel room. He’s standing by her bedside, looking concerned. Scully looks to the adjoining door and sees Delaney standing there with a worried expression on her face.

“I’m okay,” Scully quickly confirms, feeling embarrassment set in. The dream is already fading from memory, leaving just some vague impressions of ocean water and something pulling her down.

“You sure?” Mulder doesn’t look convinced.

“Yes,” Scully says less shakily. “It was just a silly dream. I’m sorry for alarming you.”

She looks over to Delaney, who flashes a sympathetic expression. Get it together, Scully scolds herself. Delaney is the one in actual danger, and you’ve got her worrying about you when it should be the other way around .

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Delilah got a little overzealous there.

She can see that in review.

When she entered Dana’s dream and saw the beach setting, it seemed like a really fun idea to splash around as a mermaid. Who hasn’t wanted to be a mermaid?

It seems like, despite her very good intentions, she can’t quite fight that tiny little sadistic streak that makes her jump from “pretend to be a mermaid” to “pretend that Fox openly prefers her to Dana by highlighting some of Dana’s insecurities followed by attempting to murder Dana by drowning her.”

It’s a fine line.

Anyway, it’s a good thing that Dana’s cries woke them both up. It’s almost Sunday morning, which means no more time for dreams. Delilah will just have to find something else to pass the time.

Chapter Text

Despite a rather long history of being described as jealous and insecure, Delilah believes wholeheartedly that she is neither of those things. If she were, would she make it today’s mission to push Fox and Dana into advancing their relationship before she makes the transfer?

She thinks not.

Yes, there is some benefit for her. Fox is more likely to suspect something is amiss if Dana goes from 0 to 10 after “Delaney” falls into a mysterious coma. If the real Dana has already given the green light, the transition will be all the better.

Delilah will even let Dana get the first kiss. Would a selfish person do that? Again, Delilah must argue that no, she would not. True enough, Delilah plans to take all kisses and everything else going forward. That’s not completely selfless by most people’s definition.

Then again, Delilah rationalizes, doesn’t Fox deserve to be loved completely in every way, including romantically and sexually? Dana’s not about to give him that. Even though he’s clearly decided to wait for her, why should he have to?

The answer is simple. He shouldn’t.

So, really, Delilah is doing everyone a favor. She’s certain that, in time, even Dana will enjoy the solitude of… wherever it is one goes when stuck in a comatose body.

Delilah has read accounts of people who woke up from comas, and it actually sounds not half bad. There’s a good chance that Dana won’t even know she’s in a coma. She’ll just keep on working cases that her brain invents to keep her busy.

Delilah hopes that Dana’s soul goes someplace nice. She really does. It may not seem like it based on the nightmares she caused, but Delilah doesn’t want to torture Dana. She hates the idea that Dana could end up in some sort of metaphysical prison, trapped and screaming Mulder’s name without hope of rescue for all eternity.

Or until someone pulls the plug on Delaney’s life support—but it’s best not to dwell on that.

Delilah is most certainly not the kind of person to get a tiny thrill from cruelty, no matter what that child psychiatrist said. It gives her no pleasure to imagine herself making love to Fox while Dana is hidden away like the proverbial genie in a bottle, buried hundreds of feet in the sand in the middle of a desolate wasteland.

She shakes off the thought. Dana will be fine, and Delilah is a good person who wants her to be happy—as long as she’s happy in a way that doesn’t interfere with Delilah’s plan to steal her life. Not steal, Delilah corrects herself. Improve upon through drastic measures.

And it will most definitely be an improvement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Maybe we should leave the hotel room today,” Delaney suggests. “If there is some sort of demon or evil spirit out there, it’s probably not going to strike at the craps table.”

“Let me think about it,” Scully says, pulling out a legal pad to get her thoughts on paper. Is it actually safe to leave the room? That depends entirely on who they’re protecting Delaney from.

Scully doesn’t really believe this is a demon. There doesn’t seem to be a religious connection at all.

Is it even a case of possession at all? Could someone actually switch bodies? It seems ludicrous.

Scully can speculate on why someone might switch bodies. An old person might want to regain youth. A sick person wants a healthy body. However, the pattern makes no sense. All the victims are attractive women in their late twenties to early thirties. None of them were in poor health.

Weirder yet, Darcy and Delaney are twins. Why would a soul hopping spirit want to jump into an identical body? And where is the evil spirit hiding right now? It is inside the comatose Darcy, just waiting to jump into Delaney?

It’s all so fantastical. There has to be a slightly more realistic option. It could be that these women are being manipulated by someone with powers of persuasion. That would explain why they can’t remember typing and printing their own threatening notes. Maybe a serial killer gets the women to print the notes through hypnosis, then poisons them in the days leading up to the coma. If that’s the case, the perp is probably fuming back in D.C. that his timeline had been disrupted.

Unless Delaney has already been poisoned…

Scully sighs. Not for the first time, she wishes this was a more straightforward protective custody situation. Why couldn’t Delaney be running from the mob or something? What she wouldn’t give for a good old “protect the whistleblower so she can safely testify against a major corporation’s environmental crimes” assignment.

So much easier to navigate.

“I’ll talk to Agent Mulder, but I’m thinking the absolute safest option is to stay put,” Scully says, putting the notepad behind her.

Delaney perks up at the mention of Mulder, bolting upright from her lounging position.

“I just thought of what would make me happy today,” she says, clapping her hands together and grinning. “Let me play matchmaker.”

Scully briefly wonders if she is in another nightmare.

“Nothing crazy,” Delaney assures her. “I’m talking very subtle. Maybe mood lighting? A romantic movie? Those strawberries and champagne on the room service menu? I think that’s the only thing I haven’t ordered yet.”

Nope. None of that will be happening. How to shut this down tactfully…

“Delaney, that’s very sweet,” Scully says. “However, that’s not how things are with Mulder and myself. We are good friends and work partners.”

“But you wouldn’t be opposed to more, right?” Delaney persists. “If you knew he was interested?”

Scully glances nervously at the cracked door to the other room. She can faintly hear the television on, and she assumes he must be watching.

“My feelings are irrelevant. It’s not going to happen,” Scully says quietly, trying to imbue her words with a finality that makes her sad if she thinks too deeply about it.

“But why is it not going to happen? It’s obvious there’s something between you. Is he married or something?” Delaney asks, her face scrunched up in confusion.

“No, he’s not married,” Scully answers. Married to his work maybe. Completely dedicated to the quest.

“Then I don’t see the issue,” Delaney replies, grabbing the room service menu. “I’m going to order the champagne and strawberries for 6:00. Ooh. They have oysters. They’re a natural aphrodisiac, you know.” She gives a suggestive wink.

What can Scully say to stop this from happening? Tell Delaney the embarrassing truth that Mulder most likely sees her as a tagalong kid sister replacement and not a potential romantic partner? Reveal that Mulder is into confident, tall brunettes and the occasional tall, confident blonde? Maybe the real heart of the matter is that Mulder isn’t seriously looking for anyone.

“I may have dismissed going to the casino too quickly,” Scully suggests rather desperately. “I bet we could figure out how to do it safely.”

“No, you were right,” Delaney says. “There’s only nine hours left of the day. No sense risking it now. I like this idea better anyway.”

Scully taps her foot on the side of the bed, her tired body now full of nervous energy. Of course, she could always tell Mulder that this was all Delaney’s crazy idea. Roll her eyes and shrug her shoulders as if to say, “Let’s humor her.”

“This will keep you happy?” Scully asks, her eyebrow lifting quizzically and her tone half hopeful for a reprieve, even though she can plainly see how giddy Delaney is at the prospect of playing Cupid.

“Very happy,” Delaney confirms.

“Keep your expectations low,” Scully warns, as she mentally calculates exactly how she can warn Mulder about this insanity.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Delaney says with conviction. “I have very good instincts about these things.”

Scully does not feel good about this. At all.

“Let’s call the concierge,” Delaney squeals. “We’re getting a personal shopper.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder did not intend to eavesdrop.

He fully intended to enter the other room and announce himself.

“That’s not how things are with Mulder and myself. We are good friends and work partners.”

“But you wouldn’t be opposed to more, right? If you knew he was interested?”

“My feelings are irrelevant. It’s not going to happen.”

Mulder backs away quietly. He knows Scully would be very upset to find out he heard this conversation.

He has a pretty good idea how this awkward situation came to be. Delaney had tried the same routine with him on Friday night. His answer was pretty similar to Scully’s.

“You need to tell her how you feel.”

“She knows she’s my best friend.”

“Well, your best friend is hot. If you don’t make a move, one of these days someone else will.”

He had quickly shut down the conversation, which is what he’s assuming that Scully is doing in the other room right now. Still, her wording strikes him as peculiar.

“My feelings are irrelevant,” she had said.

Does she actually believe that? Is it possible that she thinks her feelings would be unwelcome? The romantic in him is horrified.

There’s another part of him that wonders if she might be right. Not that her feelings are irrelevant, of course, but admitting them would change everything.

Is he ready to change everything?

More importantly, is Scully?

Chapter Text

Mulder takes a walk to clear his head, but the dings and trills of the slot machines downstairs do very little to give him peace. Outside on the strip isn’t much better, but at least it doesn’t reek of cigarette smoke quite so boldly.

In his short walk, he has passed by no less than twenty beautiful women. Some are on the arms of wealthy older men, others are on girls’ trips, and a few seem to be employed by the casinos in entertainment roles. He accidentally makes eye contact with a woman dressed like Cleopatra, who gives him a wink. He nods and keeps walking.

Scully’s face pops into his mind, the way she looked the previous day with soft curls and smokey eyes. He can’t even pretend to be interested in a Vegas showgirl when his imagination can conjure up Scully. Would it be risky to get romantically involved with his best friend and partner? Obviously, yes, which is why he had not pursued it.

He has screwed up every important relationship in his life, except for this one. If he were to be a disappointing romantic partner to Scully, which he is sure he would be, he could lose everything. However, Delaney may have a point that someone else could offer Scully the life she deserves, and he would lose her anyway.

It’s a fairly circular argument, and it’s one that Mulder tries not to entertain too often. He keeps busy with paranormal research that he turns into power point presentations for Scully, cases that he investigates with Scully, and occasionally—when Scully is unavailable —card games with the Gunmen.

So it’s not like he’s sitting around pining for Scully.

He heads back towards the hotel, convinced as usual that the best course of action is to stay the course. Everything is perfect with Scully, and nothing needs to change in their relationship. He thinks he knows her well enough to know that she’s not about to push the issue either, so there’s absolutely no need to continue thinking about it.

Mulder goes up to their floor and enters his own room, crossing to knock on the adjoining room’s door. It is quickly opened by a very bubbly Delaney, who looks objectively beautiful in a sparkly emerald green dress.

“You like the dress?” Delaney twirls, tossing her long blonde hair behind her. “I told Dana that I wanted to be twins.”

It takes Mulder only a fraction of a second to realize what her statement infers, and his head whips to the side to look at Scully on the other side of the room.

If Delaney looks beautiful, Dana Scully looks gorgeous. Stunning. Mind blowingly hot. Her hair is curled again but pulled into some kind of updo with a few little pieces framing her face.

He had just told himself moments earlier that he was happy with their platonic relationship, and this is what he returns to? Clearly the universe mocks him.

“Isn’t she just a dream?” Delaney gushes, walking over to Scully and linking arms to lead her closer to Mulder. “I told her green is her color.”

Scully looks embarrassed. She keeps looking at him as if she is trying to telepathically communicate that this was not her idea and that she feels ridiculous. He wishes he thought she looked ridiculous, but she doesn’t. She looks… she looks…

Mulder knows he should say something. He should definitely say she looks nice, in a way that will not get him sanctioned by Human Resources or make her request a transfer. What is the professional way to tell your platonic coworker that she’s so unbelievably sexy that you think you may actually die if you can’t be with her immediately?

Great dress, let’s go in the other room and take it off you.. No, can’t say that. Your neck looks cold, you want me to warm it up with my mouth? That probably crosses a line…

“You see that, Dana? He’s speechless,” Delaney grins. There’s a knock on the door.

“I bet that’s our champagne and strawberries,” Delaney says with a clap. Scully makes a move to go to the door, but Mulder has enough brain power left to step in and wave her off. No sense letting the delivery boy see Scully like this and fall in love.

It’s not just champagne and strawberries. It’s also oysters, steamed asparagus, and an assortment of figs, pomegranates, and berries. All natural aphrodisiacs.

Mulder looks around the room, noticing that the lights are dimmed. The hotel bedspreads are now covered in thick purple velvet blankets with an assortment of new throw pillows. A small candle is lit on the nightstand. He walks towards it and sees that the scent is labeled sensual jasmine.

“Delaney sent the concierge on some missions to make the room more ‘comfortable,’” Scully explains as Delaney shuffles items around the room, now sitting on the opposite bed. “I think she needed the distraction.”

Soft jazz music begins playing. Delaney turns up the volume on the portable CD player she procured, before insistently shoving glasses of champagne into Mulder and Scully’s hands.

“Cheers,” she says, holding up her own glass.

“We probably shouldn’t,” Mulder says, putting the glass down. “We need to keep all of our faculties.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Delaney teases. She reaches out to physically move Scully’s glass towards her mouth, which Scully moves to avoid.

“Mulder’s right,” Scully gently tells her. “We’re here to protect you. We have to be awake and sober.”

“Fine, how about just one sip? Just for the cheers?” Delaney pouts.

“One sip,” Mulder agrees. “Cheers.”

Mulder takes a small drink of champagne and watches as Scully does the same. Delaney then hands them each a small plate with a chocolate covered strawberry on it. This is starting to feel like torture. Mulder thinks he might actually spontaneously combust watching Scully bring the strawberry to her lips. Why is everything so sensual all of a sudden?

Maybe Delaney is a demon. She seems to be doing everything she can think of to set them up for sex, even though she must know that they couldn’t possibly consummate anything tonight.

“The front desk brought up a VCR player so that we can watch some movies,” Delaney informs them, holding up a video case from Blockbuster. “I think we’ll start with When Harry Met Sally.”

Oh, great. A movie about how a pair of friends would be better off as lovers. Subtle, Delaney.

She’s definitely pushing them together for some reason. Boredom? Her own amusement? Mulder shoots her a look to let her know he’s onto her. She ignores him.

“Dana, why don’t you sit on the bed next to Mulder?” Delaney suggests. “That will give me room to spread out over here.”

To Mulder’s surprise, Scully goes along with Delaney’s proposal. She pulls herself up on the bed next to him, leaving a few inches between them.

“I’ll tell you later,” she murmurs by way of explanation. Mulder tries very hard to watch the movie and not take advantage of the rare opportunity to peek at Scully’s seldom seen cleavage.

Before Meg Ryan can even fake an orgasm, Scully is asleep on his shoulder. Mulder looks down at her with affection. She really is wonderful. He closes his eyes for a moment, just to take in the feeling of being here with her. He never expects to fall asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible,” Delilah recites along with Billy Crystal.

So true.

She looks over at the sleeping FBI agents. Poor things. All this romance and they’re both asleep before they can even kiss. Maybe she shouldn’t have drugged their champagne, but there’s no time for could’ve, would’ve, should’ve.

Delilah empties the champagne glasses down the sink and flushes the rest of the prescription sleep medication. She brushes her teeth and washes her makeup off.

She returns to the beds and looks down at Fox and Dana, who are curled into each other in sleep. Adorable. She can’t wait to wake up in Dana’s body tomorrow morning. It’s going to feel so good to be held like that.

Sure, there will be a bit of a commotion when he realizes he fell asleep on the job and that “Delaney” isn’t waking up, but that will pass. Delilah will comfort him in that strong, sage Scully way. They will leave this case behind, and Delilah’s new and exciting life will finally begin.

Now all she has to do is enter the dream realm and make the swap. Go to sleep as Delaney, wake up as Dana. Easy as pie.

Delilah closes her eyes and sets out to find Dana one last time.

Chapter Text

Scully dreams in black and white this time. She’s walking down a dirt path surrounded by farmland. A glance down reveals a gingham dress and a picnic basket in her hand.

She sighs. This is what happens when you stay in a Wizard of Oz themed hotel. Your subconscious turns you into Judy Garland.

She sets down the picnic basket, which prompts the small dog inside to hop out.

“Queequeg!”

Scully chases after her former pet, running down the dirt path and calling his name. The dog stops suddenly and she nearly bumps into him. Queequeg growls at something in the distance.

“What is it, boy?” Scully asks, bending to scratch behind his ears. That’s when she sees it: a massive cyclone heading straight towards them.

Acting on instinct, Scully grabs her dog and runs. A house comes into view, and Scully scrambles to get inside for shelter. No sooner has she shut the door behind her than the cyclone lifts the entire structure off the ground.

This is a dream, she tells herself, refusing to look out the window as the little house spins round and around in the cyclone. She sits on the floor with her head down, hoping that she will wake up any moment. The house tilts and she’s sliding across the floor to the wall, poor Queequeg following suit.

The dizzying experience of being knocked around in the little house as it spins within the cyclone goes on far longer than she recalls it taking in the film. Over and over again, she is flung about the room. Why are her dreams so damned aggressive in Las Vegas?

All at once, everything halts for one second before the house free falls into the ground. Battered and dizzy, Scully slowly stands up and walks towards the door. It stands to reason that she should be about to enter a munchkin filled world of technicolor. If that’s the case, she might as well get it over with.

As Scully steps out of the house, her hypothesis is proven correct. Everything is colorful, and there’s even a yellow brick road. She looks back at the house and sees that, sure enough, it seems to have landed on the striped socks wearing Wicked Witch of the East.

Ding dong, the witch is dead. Scully looks to see if anyone is around to start singing, but it’s just Queequeg and herself here.

Scully scans the area for any sign of life, but the only movement seems to be coming from a large pink bubble headed in her direction. Scully has a bad feeling about this bubble.

The bubble arrives and transforms into a small woman in a large pink dress. Scully groans as she recognizes the woman’s face to be her own. Again.

“Are you good witch or bad witch?” Her Glinda doppelgänger asks in a theatrical voice, waving a wand around to punctuate each syllable.

“I’m an FBI Agent actually,” Scully sighs, “as well as a medical doctor, and I’m ready to wake up now.”

“You’d like to go home?” The woman asks with false sweetness. “Why, that’s no problem at all!”

Scully mentally prepares herself for a big production of putting on ruby slippers and clicking her heels together, but apparently this Glinda is in a hurry because she simply waives the wand to transport them to Scully’s apartment.

“Here you are,” Glinda stretches out her arm to showcase the location. “This is where I must bid you a fond farewell. Please enjoy the stack of books on the end table. There are bagels with real cream cheese in the kitchen. The television should work if you get bored.”

Before Scully can respond, the lookalike in the poofy dress disappears. Probably for the best, Scully thinks. The other dream doppelgängers were nothing but trouble.

She sits down on her sofa and waits to wake up. Any minute now she will wake up in Vegas. Possibly drooling on Mulder, which will be embarrassing. Still preferable to these awful dreams though. Yes, any minute now,

Any minute…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Delilah wakes up in bed with Fox Mulder.

Yes, yes, yes, it worked beautifully.

The cyclone was quite inspired if Delilah does say so herself. Dana was transported out of her body and into Delaney’s without a hiccup. Plus Delilah had very thoughtfully brought Dana to her own apartment so that she will be very comfortable in her coma.

Now all her hard work is about to pay off. Finally! She looks at Fox’s sleeping face and stifles a squeal of excitement. He’s going to make her so happy. He’s so much better than those other men. She can’t wait for him to wake up and look at her with barely contained yearning.

She gives him a little shove to speed up the process. His eyes fly open, more with surprise than love, but he quickly focuses on his surroundings.

“We fell asleep,” he frowns. “Delaney!”

He scrambles off the bed and rushes to check on the woman they were supposed to protect. He shakes Delaney’s shoulders and calls her name.

“Scully, she’s got a pulse, but I can’t wake her,” he reports, sounding frantic. Delilah knows she has to match his level of concern, and she’s been mentally preparing for this moment. She quickly takes over the song and dance of checking on Delaney, using an authoritative voice to try to wake the comatose body.

“Mulder, we need to get her to a hospital,” Delilah says in a very serious tone. He nods and calls for an ambulance.

When Mulder finally leaves the room to guide the paramedics upstairs, Delilah falls back onto the bed in relief. This has gone perfectly. She’s certain that she hasn’t given him a single indication that anything is amiss. Now all she has to do is keep up this little concerned routine at the hospital, and they’ll be flying back to D.C. before dinnertime.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As expected, the body of Delaney Matthews has entered an unexplained coma. The scan shows brain activity, which the doctors find optimistic. Delilah is comforted by the news as well, seeing it as confirmation that Dana’s soul lives on. Based on reports from those who have woken up from their comas, Dana can possibly even hear her if she says something…

Delilah approaches the hospital bed with trepidation. As many times as she has heard them, the sounds of life support never fail to unnerve her. It’s so unnatural, so… sad. Delilah hates dwelling on the unpleasant aspects of her schemes.

“I’m so sorry,” Delilah whispers, reaching out to smooth a strand of the Delaney’s long blonde hair. “I swear that this is the last time I’m going to do this. I promise I’ll be good to him. It’s going to be different this time.”

An exhausted looking Mulder enters the room and joins her at the bedside. Delilah gives him a sad little smile and reaches out to squeeze his hand.

“It’s not your fault,” she tells him, sensing his guilt. “Whatever this is, there’s nothing you could have done to stop it.”

“She came to me for help and look what it got her,” he scoffs, his hazel eyes full of regret at the sight of the woman in the coma.

“You did help her, Mulder,” Delilah says softly. More than you’ll ever know, she thinks.

He nods, but he doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“We should get going,” Delilah tells him. “Our flight is at 3:30.”

“Can you pull the car around front?” He hands her the keys. “There’s something I want to ask the nurse.”

“Sure, Mulder,” she says with a sympathetic smile. It really is so sweet how much he cares about people that he barely even knows. Delilah meets his eyes and this time he smiles back at her.

“Thanks, Scully.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder feels like the worst person in the world. He had been so certain that he and Scully would somehow stop Delaney Matthews from falling into a mysterious coma, and he had failed.

Falling asleep on the job? It was so unlike him, but he thinks he knows why it happened. Being snuggled up to Scully was too cozy, too comfortable. He had lost sight of the objective, all because his feelings for Scully had made him complacent.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells Delaney, desperately sincere. He takes her hand and is surprised to feel a spark of connection. Odd. He hadn’t felt particularly in tune with her over the past five days of knowing her, but now that she’s in this coma… there’s this inexplicable pull to stay by her side.

Why does the thought of walking away from her feel so wrong? Mulder dismisses the thought, quickly dropping Delaney’s hand and breaking the connection. He feels guilty, that’s all. He doesn’t like to admit defeat, and he certainly isn’t look forward to the repercussions they may face from the woman’s wealthy fiancé. Somehow he doubts that Harrison Prescott III will be very understanding.

Without thinking, he takes Delaney’s hand again and rubs his thumb gently over her knuckles. He lets go again as soon as he realizes what he’s doing. Stop touching the coma victim, what is wrong with you? He feels like a creep.

“Hi, I’m here to get Miss Matthews ready for transfer,” a nurse says briskly as she walks in. Mulder nods. He had been told that Delaney would receive medical transport back to D.C. to continue treatment alongside her twin sister.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Mulder says, giving one last sorrowful look at Delaney. He gets a wild impulse to kiss her forehead, which seems as good a cue as any to get the hell out of there.

He hurries out of the hospital to meet Scully. They need to debrief and figure out what to do next. There has to be something more they can do, and Scully is the best person to help him figure out what that is.

This can’t be the end.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The apartment door is locked from the outside.

The windows are sealed shut.

The books are blank inside .

Is this some sort of purgatory? Hell? Or something even more sinister?

Scully started to doubt that she was simply dreaming a few hours ago. At least, it feels like she has been here for hours. It’s impossible to know. Since then, she’s been trying to figure out what could possibly be happening—and she doesn’t like what she’s been coming up with.

As time ticks by, Scully becomes more and more convinced that Delaney Matthews is responsible for her current predicament. In retrospect, the woman’s outgoing personality and fast friendship seem suspicious.

Scully had thought Delaney was simply acting out of fear for her own life as well as mourning her twin. Now Scully believes that it was all a ruse, but for what possible purpose? To steal her life? It makes absolutely no sense.

Delaney Matthews has money, good looks, a doting fiancé… why would anyone trade that to become Scully? Scully knows she’s moderately attractive, but not exactly a blonde bombshell like Delaney. Her FBI earnings are adequate but not wildly impressive. Scully has no dating prospects, unless one counts Mulder—who is by no means a safe bet.

Of all the people in the world, there are undoubtedly people with better lives to steal—but, then again, she’s the only one with constant access to Mulder. That must be it. Is she using my body to get to Mulder? Could this be some sort of plot to ruin their partnership and close The X-Files? No, she’s getting ahead of herself.

It’s more likely that Delaney wants Mulder romantically. It would be funny if it wasn’t so awful. It’s just so over the top and embarrassingly unnecessary. Delaney could have used her own body if she wanted to date Mulder. She would have actually had an easier time of it. Why on earth would Delaney think she needed to be Scully to get Mulder’s attention?

Or maybe this is just a bad dream.

That’s still a possibility.

Please let this be a bad dream.

Unfortunately, she soon learns that it is all too real.

Chapter Text

Mulder gets in the passenger seat of the rental car, ready to brainstorm their next move on this case. He’s not sure what he believes about souls, but it felt like there was something calling out to him when he looked at Delaney in that hospital bed. Every cell in his body is telling him that it is absolutely imperative to get her out of that coma. He excitedly tells Scully as much.

“We have to talk to Officer Fitzpatrick again,” Mulder concludes, thinking about Fitzpatrick’s bulletin boards of evidence. “I know you don’t buy the demon theory, Scully, but he’s our best shot of figuring out what to do next.”

Scully drives and listens, her face impassive and unreadable.

“Mulder, this case is closed,” Scully says gently. “This was a long shot at best, and we have no suspects, no new evidence to justify keeping this open…”

She trails off, flashing apologetic blue eyes in his direction before turning back to watch the road.

“She’s still in there, Scully,” he pleads. “I could practically hear her asking for my help.”

“You could?” Scully seems alarmed, and Mulder assumes that she’s concerned about his sanity.

“I’m not imagining things,” he insists. “You were there when the doctor told us about her brain activity. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that she could be trying to communicate. I’m telling you, I felt a pull. To comfort her, touch her—“

“Touch her?” Scully frowns. “Mulder, you’re worrying me.”

Mulder immediately regrets his candor. He doesn’t want to give Scully the impression that he has a romantic interest in anyone else, but these impulses feel significant.

“I didn’t mean touching her inappropriately,” Mulder clarifies. “Forget that part. Just please come with me to see Officer Fitzpatrick tonight.”

“Tonight??” Scully groans, and he can picture her deciding between this and her vision of a bubble bath and a good night’s sleep.

“We need as much information as we can before facing Skinner’s wrath tomorrow,” he reminds her. “I’m sure he’s going to get an earful from Harrison Prescott III.”

“All right,” Scully concedes, her shoulders sagging. “I guess I’ll just sleep on the plane then.”

“Don’t you always?” Mulder teases.

Scully laughs a little awkwardly, and Mulder berates himself for the joke. Yes, make fun of her for always falling asleep right after you fail your protection detail when you both fall asleep on the job. Perfect timing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully has indeed heard the apologies from Delaney and Mulder in the hospital room. Delaney’s confession provokes some obscenities out of her. She keeps replaying the words in her mind:

”I’m so sorry. I swear that this is the last time I’m going to do this. I promise I’ll be good to him. It’s going to be different this time.”

An apology. An admission that this isn’t the first time she’s done this. A promise to take care of Mulder? That’s the only “him” that makes sense. A goal to presumably do better at this body switching scheme than previous attempts.

Everything about this worries Scully. If Delaney does a good job of being Scully, it means that Mulder will never even know that she needs his help. He’ll move on with a fake Scully and be none the wiser. That’s impossible, she thinks. She’s nothing like me. She’ll never pull it off.

Unfortunately, if the pattern is to believed, Delaney ditching Scully’s body will not result in a happy ending either. Scully’s discarded body will go into a coma, presumably holding the consciousness of whoever Delaney decides to be next.

This crazy, entitled woman is playing musical chairs with people’s lives. It’s absolutely infuriating, made even worse by the realization that Delaney had been friendly to get information from her. Hell, even the makeover and the nonsense date with Mulder was just Delaney setting the stage for herself.

Scully wants to strangle her, although Delaney is in her body so it would be like attacking herself. Plus she’d have to figure out how to get Delaney’s body out of the coma and use it to enact her vengeance, and she has not a single idea how to do that.

When Delaney leaves and Mulder arrives, she hears his short but heart wrenching apology. She tries desperately to get his attention. She bangs pots and pans together, screams his name, begs him not to leave. She can somehow feel it when he holds her hand, and she implores him not to let go, to please not give up on her.

It feels very cold when he leaves.

After a good crying spell, Scully goes to her desk and is relieved to find a working pen. Grabbing one of the disappointing blank novels, she begins writing down her thoughts and ideas. She tries to recreate those bulletin boards that the obsessed police officer had put together. It occurs to her that she had never really met Delaney Matthews. Delaney is just the latest in a long line of stolen lives. The first woman on the bulletin board must be the actual thief. What was her name? She searches her mind.

“Delilah,” Scully says aloud. “That was it. Delilah did this.”

“Wow, you’re good,” a familiar voice replies. Scully drops her pen in surprise. She looks up to see… herself.

The dreams come rushing back to her. The movie theater. The genie. The mermaid. Glinda.

“You,” Scully growls, off the couch in a flash and stalking towards Delilah. “You’ve been in my head. You took my memories. You took my life.”

Delilah stops her in her tracks with the flick of a finger. Scully tries to move, but whatever Delilah is doing is preventing her from getting any closer.

“Can we skip this part?” Delilah asks, yawning dramatically. “You’ve figured it out. Congratulations. You’re so smart.”

“Shut up!” Scully screams, enraged and struggling to move.

“Look, I’m just here to talk,” Delilah says, holding her hands up to show she means no harm. “I need a few tips on handling Fox.”

“Stay away from him, you crazy bitch,” Scully spits.

“I’m trying to convince him to drop this case, but he’s insisting it’s not over,” Delilah continues as if Scully hadn’t spoken. “He wants to go see my cop ex-boyfriend tonight, which is going to be awkward to say the least…”

Mulder knows something is wrong. Scully feels a little bit of hope. Mulder wouldn’t go back to Officer Fitzpatrick if he didn’t suspect something, would he? Could he have heard her after all?

“So how do I get him to drop it? What would you do?” Delilah asks, as if they’re just a couple of gal pals exchanging relationship advice.

“I’m never going to help you,” Scully scoffs.

Something darkens in Delilah’s eyes.

“Oh, I think you will,” she says, sauntering closer to an immobilized Scully. “Those nightmares I gave you? That was me being nice. Trust me, honey. You don’t want to see what happens when I get mean.”

Scully glares at her, not wanting to acknowledge how much the idea of Delilah’s torture frightens her. Delilah reaches up to stroke her face, and it infuriates her that she can’t move to slap her hand away. Delilah leans in close.

“Maybe you need a little taste of what I can do to you,” Delilah whispers in her ear. She snaps her fingers and releases Scully from her hold. With a waive of her hand, Delilah sends Scully crashing into the far wall of her apartment.

Scully groans, unhappy to discover that the pain feels very real in this false world. She pulls herself up to a sitting position.

“I won’t help you,” Scully repeats. “You’ll just have to kill me.”

Delilah rolls her eyes.

“God, Dana, don’t be so dramatic,” she admonishes, inspecting her manicure before looking up to establish eye contact. “What would I get out of killing you? You’re a treasure trove of memory and information.”

Scully stands up, desperately wanting to attack but smart enough to know that doing so will only get her slammed into a wall again. She needs to get a message to Mulder. This woman is her chance to do just that.

“Okay,” Scully says, feigning defeat. “I’ll tell you how to get Mulder to drop the case. I’ll help you with whatever you need to know.”

Delilah smiles, but Scully doesn’t find it very reassuring. Make her believe you, damn it.

“But I won’t do anything that would hurt Mulder,” Scully adds, hoping this addition makes her sound more believable

Please let her believe me. I need her to take a message for Mulder.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Delilah fell asleep on the plane, she wasn’t even sure that she could still reach Dana. She had never tried to go back and visit any of the others, but she also hadn’t provided any of them with a place to stay like she had for Dana.

Dana.

Ungrateful, childish Dana.

Delilah was shocked when Dana had tried to attack her. Hadn’t they been friends? Does she need to make a montage recapping all the fun they had with Dana’s makeover set to an upbeat pop song?

If anyone should be mad, it’s Delilah.

Now her former friend is lying to her face, trying to give her bad advice. Trying to get her caught. Delilah tries not to give herself away as Dana nervously tries to “advise” her on getting Fox off the case.

“You have to cry,” Scully says, licking her lips. “He can’t stand seeing me cry. I don’t do it all the time, but if I really need him to listen I cry.”

“Just turn on the waterworks, he does what you want?” Delilah asks, knowing full well that this has literally never happened.

“And call him Fox,” Dana says quickly. “I only use his first name in special circumstances.”

Ugh, is she going to have to keep calling him Mulder? Dana wouldn’t tell her to call him Fox if it was an option. Damn.

“Cry and call him Fox. Got it,” Delilah repeats back to her as if she’s eating up this information. She can see the spark of hope in Dana’s eyes, and she wonders if she should squash it now or later. She quickly decides to let Dana think she’s won this round. The longer Delilah lets her believe that there’s hope, the worse it will feel when she realizes she’s never getting out of here.

Of course, Dana will still have to be punished for her attempt to ruin everything. Delilah can deal with that next time.

Patience is one of her many virtues.

Chapter Text

Delilah stands in front of Dana Scully’s building, checking her watch (sadly not the one from Cartier she used to wear) to confirm that Fox Mulder is running late. He was supposed to pick her up at 7:00 so they can go talk to Officer James Fitzpatrick, but it is 7:06.

It’s completely fine. It’s not like she’s looking forward to this interview.

James is a man who she is already intimately acquainted with from that brief period in which she replaced his fiancé, Mary. It was a bit of a disaster and remains one of her least favorite relationships. From what Fox—Mulder, she’s got to start thinking of him as Mulder—said, James has spent the past years obsessing over what happened to Mary.

Pathetic.

For one thing, Mary wasn’t that great. Sure, she was sweet and pretty. “My soft place to land” is what James used to call her, but guess what? Delilah is more than some beat cop’s soft hearted girlfriend. She’s much more suited towards being a heroic FBI Agent. Plus their dog was an absolute nightmare.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mulder says with a sheepish grin when he pulls up. Delilah gives him a bemused smile that she has seen Dana give him many times. She gets in the passenger seat.

“So, what are you hoping that James Fitzpatrick can tell us? I’m assuming he has something new,” Delilah asks, congratulating herself for the smooth blend of curiosity and incredulity.

“Your assumption is correct, Scully,” Mulder replies with enthusiasm. “He told me he’s found someone who can bust this whole case wide open.”

“And who would that be?” Delilah smirks a little, confident that no such person exists.

“Just keep in mind that I want you to withhold your judgment until we talk to her,” Mulder says.

“Her name, Mulder?” Affectionate exasperation. Nailed it.

“Okay, okay. She’s a psychic medium called Lady Crystal—but let’s just hear her out.”

Mulder keeps talking, but Delilah freezes. Lady Crystal? How the Hell did James find Lady Crystal? Delilah has not seen Crystal in years, but the fact remains that this woman is the only person who knows about her special abilities.

Delilah laments her inaction all those years ago. She should have gotten rid of Crystal. Damn it, why must she be so big hearted?

Don’t spiral. Stay positive. There’s a very important upside to Crystal knowing all about Delilah; she’ll know exactly what Delilah can do if she betrays her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder guides Scully up the walkway to James Fitzpatrick’s house. He’s close enough to smell the new perfume she’s wearing. He prefers her old scent, but it’s not like he has any right to tell her to go back to the old perfume.

“Welcome, come in. Lady Crystal is already in my office,” James says as soon as they arrive at the door.

Mulder and Scully follow him down the hallway to his office. An eccentrically dressed woman in her late forties crosses the room for introductions.

“Lady Crystal, these are Agents Mulder and Scully from the FBI,” James announces, clearly proud to be bringing them all together.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Mulder,” Lady Crystal says warmly, shaking his hand.

“And Agent Scully,” Lady Crystal reaches for Scully’s hand. Lady Crystal lets out a little yelp when she makes contact.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Scully says with an embarrassed laugh. “There must have been a build up of static. I think I shocked you.”

“No problem,” Lady Crystal replies a bit uncertainly, rubbing at her hand. Mulder tries to make eye contact with Scully to make sure she’s okay, but her focus is on the psychic.

“I found Lady Crystal on Craigslist,” James informs them. “I’ve been trying to find someone with information on Delilah Stone for months, and she was the only one who replied to my ad. I think you’ll be very interested in what she has to say.”

Lady Crystal clears her throat, which Mulder takes as a good sign that she’s about to launch into a long story full of twists and turns.

“Well, first of all, Delilah isn’t a demon,” Lady Crystal begins. “She’s a human being with unusually powerful psychic abilities, her strongest being astral projection and dream telepathy. When I last saw her in April 1993, she wanted my help taking her power to the next level.”

“Dream telepathy? So she can, what? See other people’s dreams while they’re sleeping?” Scully asks, clearly unfamiliar with the terminology. Mulder rushes to get her up to speed.

“It usually refers to the ability to communicate with another person through dreaming, in some cases to actually enter and affect the dream,” Mulder answers. Lady Crystal nods along in agreement.

“Delilah was exceptionally good at it,” Lady Crystal continues. “I told her that she could practice on me, I would let her into my dreams. It was a horrible mistake.”

“Why was that?” Mulder asks, completely transfixed in the story.

“I knew she was powerful, but I didn’t know she was a sociopath,” Lady Crystal says with a shudder. “She turned my dreams into a nightmarish hellscape for her own amusement.”

Mulder looks to Scully, who seems disturbed by the story. He knows that she probably doesn’t believe that Delilah Stone ever entered this woman’s dreams, but she is clearly affected by the woman’s fear and pain. He’s certain she believes Lady Crystal is delusional, but Scully has compassion for all suffering.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Delilah cannot believe this bitch.

Sociopath? Nightmarish hellscape? Those dreams were good natured jokes at best, haunted house level scares at worst. How was she to know how freaking sensitive Crystal was?

“She told me about the dreams,” James pipes up. “Some sick, twisted stuff.”

Or maybe you’re just boring, James.

“Do you feel comfortable talking about them? They might give me some insight into who we’re dealing with,” Mulder asks gently.

“They weren’t like any dreams I’ve had before or since,” Crystal sniffs, laying it on thick in Delilah’s estimation.

“In one of them, the room around me was oversized, except I realized the room wasn’t big. I was small. I looked down and my body wasn’t my own, I was a… a mouse.”

Delilah does her best to stay in character, and she’s pretty sure that Dana Scully wouldn’t point out that, so far, the dream doesn’t sound like a nightmarish hellscape. Dramatic much, Crystal?

“And then Delilah was there, with me, in the dream,” Crystal says, letting out a little sob as if the whole thing was so traumatic. Delilah spies a tissue box and grabs one for her, feeling that Dana would do the same.

“What did Delilah do?” Mulder asks, his focus completely on Crystal. Delilah has the tiniest twinge of jealousy that he’s not looking at her. She wonders if he even noticed how she got the tissue for Lady Crystal. She’s like a compassionate goddess, being of service to a mere mortal like that.

“Delilah was a cat,” Crystal chokes out. “She was the ugliest, meanest looking cat imaginable. She started chasing me. I’ve never been so scared.”

Wow. Rude and cannot take a joke.

“I can still remember how it felt to be so small, running and hiding, just desperate to get away,” Crystal blubbers. “And then she had me in her claws, and… I saw her teeth, oh God, she… she…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to finish, we get the idea,” Mulder assures her. Delilah could kiss him for having her back like that—and he doesn’t even know it!

“I’m getting off track,” Crystal says, wiping away the last tear. “Even though what she put me through was terrible, she had even worse plans for her co-worker. The one who stole her boyfriend.”

“What kind of plans?” Delilah asks, simply because it feels like Scully’s turn to speak.

“She wanted to project herself into the woman’s body,” Crystal explains. “She thought she could become her and get her boyfriend back.”

“Did she?” Mulder asks, still seemingly captivated.

“I didn’t think so at the time,” Lady Crystal says. “I heard she went into a coma, and I thought she projected herself too far. Got lost, you know?”

“And what do you think now?” Delilah questions.

“I think she did it,” Lady Crystal says. “I think she’s still out there, in some poor, unsuspecting person’s body—and that thought terrifies me.”

They wrap up and Mulder drives her home. Delilah plays the role of Scully, letting the banter and intellectual arguments volley between them. She tries not to think of Lady Crystal’s descriptions of her. God, she was made out to be some sort of monster.

It had been a close call. Crystal could have revealed her true identity if Delilah hadn’t worked so quickly. Crystal’s own psychic powers had not diminished since their last meeting. Crystal had seen through Delilah’s disguise immediately, but fortunately Delilah knows a handful of handy charms and spells. The little electric shock wasn’t supposed to have been so noticeable. Her cloaking charm skills are a bit rusty, but it worked.

It’s late when Mulder drops her off at her apartment. God, she wants to invite him up—but it’s too soon. Besides, she needs a good night’s sleep. Fortunately, she does a lot of her best work while sleeping—

and tonight a certain saboteur needs to face her consequences.

Chapter Text

There’s something off about Scully, and Mulder thinks he knows what’s going on. Driving away from her apartment, it strikes him as so obvious that he’s kicking himself. He’s been so distracted by his own feelings of failure with Delaney’s coma that he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to Scully’s subtle shifts in behavior.

He turns the car around and heads back to her apartment.

He’s wasted enough time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Delilah feels very misunderstood. She is not a sociopathic monster. She’s simply… passionate. Creative. Sometimes a tiny bit destructive, but always well meaning (in that her intentions are always meant to provide herself with a happy ending).

She’s a romantic, damn it.

She stomps around Dana Scully’s apartment, opening and slamming drawers just to burn off some frustration. Seeing Lady Crystal and James makes her feel a mix of emotions, including anxiety and anger.

Maybe guilt? No. Not guilt. Why should she feel guilty? They’re the ones holding meetups to gossip about her. They’re the ones making bulletin boards and obsessing and holding grudges.

She technically hasn’t even committed any crimes, if you don’t count the stalking to learn everything about her hosts. There are no laws specifically saying that a person cannot use psychic powers to take over the body and identity of another person. She looked it up.

Damn them for putting a damper on her mood. She had been thinking of how to teach Dana a little lesson—a completely deserved lesson, mind you—when their accusations crept into her consciousness.

How can she prove that she’s not a horrible, unredeemable villain while also deriving pleasure from punishing the woman whose body she stole and whose consciousness she has displaced in a metaphysical house arrest?

She’s not sure why the two have to be mutually exclusive, but even Delilah experiences cognitive dissonance once in a while. Perhaps she has been a bit… overzealous.

Delilah flops onto Dana’s bed, curling up in a protective ball of reassurance. They’re wrong, she tells herself. I’m going to prove it. I’m going to show Dana my mercy and understanding.

There. That feels good. It feels right. Because she’s a very, very good person.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully prays that Delilah has taken the bait. If “Scully” cries about dropping the case and calls him Fox, Scully has no doubt that Mulder will immediately understand what’s happening and place Delilah under arrest. Even if Delilah doesn’t follow her advice, it’s only a matter of time before Mulder figures it out.

Mulder cannot believe that horrible woman is really her, he just cannot.

It’s nighttime by the time Scully decides to try the television set for the first time. She hadn’t seen the point, since it’s not like any cable provider can connect to… wherever she is.

To her surprise, then fascination and mild horror, the television proves to be functional after all—as a first person view of everything Delilah is seeing and hearing with Scully’s stolen body.

Scully watches in irritation as Delilah carelessly opens and slams her drawers, rummaging around her belongings with indifference. She can sense Delilah’s frustration, and she can’t help but wonder if it’s because Mulder is onto her. As much as Scully hopes for that, she doesn’t want Delilah to take out her frustrations on him. Better to let her abuse Scully’s furniture.

Scully watches as Delilah climbs into Scully’s bed, which means she may soon be arriving in this false reality version of the apartment. Scully turns off the television, uncertain if Delilah even knows that she has provided this window into her activities.

Scully tenses in anticipation of Delilah’s return. It’s clear that Delilah has a mean streak that Scully hadn’t picked up on in Las Vegas with “Delaney.” She had been fun, bubbly, even a bit sisterly. It was a hell of an act. Scully never would have guessed that “Delaney” would be violently slamming her into walls a mere twenty-four hours after insisting they wear matching dresses.

When Delilah enters the room, Scully’s senses are on high alert. It’s especially unnerving because Delilah still wears Scully’s face. She waits for Delilah to speak first.

“Hi Dana,” Delilah says sheepishly. “Sorry for my earlier behavior. I was upset, and I took it out on you. Your friendship means a lot to me, and I hope we can get past it.”

“Get past it?” Scully eyes her warily, fully expecting this to be some sort of a trick.

“You know, be friends again?” Delilah implores. “Like we were at the hotel.”

“Does this mean you’re going to give me my body back?” Scully asks, cautious not to actually sound too hopeful.

“What does that have to do with it?” Delilah looks confused.

“So, let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” Scully begins. “You’re proposing that you’re going to keep pretending to be me, I’m going to stay here indefinitely, but you want us to be friends.”

“That’s more or less what I’m suggesting, yes,” Delilah nods. “If you’re looking for a change in scenery, that’s not a problem. Watch this.”

She snaps her fingers and they’re back in what appears to be the Vegas hotel room.

“Remember how much fun we had? I don’t even needed the curling iron to do our hair,” Delilah says with growing enthusiasm. Another finger snap and they’re both back in the sultry makeup, curled hair, and matching green sparkly dresses.

“This isn’t real, Delilah,” Scully replies with growing desperation. She feels a strange kind of motion sickness from being snapped between locations.

“You’re not getting it. It’s better than real,” Delilah argues. She snaps again, which throws Scully off balance. She lands in a pile of blue and green silk pillows. The round, doorless room is covered in vibrant peacock colors.

“What is this?” Scully groans, feeling an instant headache coming on.

“Remember our I Dream of Jeannie marathon? I told you this is what I would want my genie bottle to look like,” Delilah smiles, as if this had been a really fun memory they shared.

Scully cringes when she notices that Delilah has dressed them both in matching dark blue genie costumes. It reminds her of that awful third person view sex dream that Delilah had cooked up. At least she hasn’t included the blonde wig this time.

“Delilah, this is… fun,” Scully lies out of self-preservation. “However, this isn’t the life I want. I don’t need a fantasy. I like helping people through my work at the FBI. I like having brunch with my mom on Sundays. I like reading medical journals and taking bubble baths.”

Scully’s voice trails off. She tries to see if her plea is getting her anywhere, but Delilah’s face is unreadable. Finally, Delilah lets out a little sigh.

“This is about Mulder, isn’t it?” Delilah demands, her eyes narrowing in anger. She stalks towards Scully and points her finger aggressively in her face. “You don’t think I deserve him.”

“It has nothing to do with you or what you deserve,” Scully sputters. “I want my life back. What you’re offering me is a prison. Can’t you see that?”

Delilah steps back, her eyes wild and unfocused.

“A prison?” Delilah lets out a shocked little laugh. “You feel like you’re in prison.”

The room begins shaking, and Scully realizes she has made an error by trying to reason with this crazy woman. She braces herself for whatever punishment is surely coming.

“You, Dana Scully, want your life back?” Delilah asks, her tone incredulous. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been wasting your life!”

“What are you talking about?” Scully bristles. The room abruptly stops shaking.

“Let’s see,” Delilah begins, counting each point on her fingers. “You have a man who loves you, but you’re too scared to act on it. You’re hot, but you dress like a nun. You have no friends.”

“That’s not—“

“The Lone Gunmen don’t count,” Delilah quickly informs her, rolling her eyes.

“I’m a professional,” Scully says with dignity.

“You’re a bore,” Delilah challenges. “It’s a wonder you’ve held Mulder’s attention at all. You’re lucky he loves you for your mind or he would have lost interest by now.”

“If that’s true, taking my body won’t work,” Scully tries to reason with her. “You’ve don’t have my mind, and he’s never going to believe that you’re me.”

“You don’t know me,” Delilah retorts. “I can be whoever I want to be. You think you know anything about me from the time you spent with happy little Delaney? She was a recreation.”

“You can’t recreate my relationship with Mulder.” Scully’s chin tilts up in defiance.

“Maybe not,” Delilah smirks, “but I can improve it. I can do what you’ve been too much of a coward to try yourself.”

“You can’t,” Scully gasps, dread coming over her. “Delilah, no. Please, you have to leave him alone.”

A buzzing sound from reality breaks the tension. Scully recognizes it as the ring of her own doorbell.

“Who do you think that is?” Delilah grins, triumphant. “Enjoy ‘prison,’ Dana.”

Delilah disappears, leaving Scully alone in the modified version of this damned I Dream of Jeannie set, which means a whole lot of useless throw pillows in a relatively small space. She looks down to confirm that, yep, still wearing this ridiculous genie costume. Meanwhile, Delilah is out there using her body to trick Mulder.

She’s had enough.

I have to get out of here.

Chapter Text

Delilah doesn’t actually know if the person knocking at the door is Mulder, but it’s a safe bet—and, as she discovers upon checking the peephole, a correct one.

She opens the door for him, and he immediately slides past her and into Dana’s apartment.

“Mulder, what’s wrong?” She scrunches her forehead in practiced concern and looks him up and down as if checking for blood or injury. Delilah has seen Dana do the same thing a dozen times.

“I think I should be asking you that,” he says, looking at her meaningfully. Delaney steps back, trying to determine what this could be about.

Does he know? No, I’ve been perfect. He can’t know.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Mulder,” she says, banking on the idea that Dana herself would have no idea what he’s talking about.

“I’ve been so distracted,” he says with a shake of his head. “Ever since we found Delaney unconscious, I’ve been trying to figure out what I missed, what happened.”

He moves further into her apartment as he speaks, settling down at her kitchen table. She follows him with a mix of curiosity and dread. This could be very good or very bad. Like, maybe they’ll kiss—or maybe she’ll knock him unconscious with Dana’s cast iron skillet.

Obviously Delilah doesn’t want to do that, but she has a feeling that Mulder wouldn’t react well to learning that his Scully has been replaced. Delilah does not want to stick around for that conversation.

“It’s understandable that you’ve been focused on the case,” Delilah offers, pulling up a chair next to him at the kitchen table.

“Maybe, but it’s no excuse,” he says, taking her hands in his. “I didn’t even ask you how you felt about it. You two had bonded. You were becoming friends, and I was so caught up in the investigation that I didn’t stop to check in with you.”

“Mulder, it’s okay,” Delilah reassures him, internally cheering her continued success at being a convincing Dana. “I know you, and I know how much you care about helping people.”

“I care about you too,” he says earnestly. “I want you to be able to talk to me, Scully.”

“I talk to you,” Delilah rushes to say, with the tinge of defensiveness that she believes Dana would use.

“We talk about work,” he agrees, pausing to carefully consider his next words. “We talk about theories and ideas and what we want for dinner, but we’re not always so good at talking about our feelings.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Fox Mulder?” Delilah teases, her eyes sparkling with delight at the irony.

“I’m serious, Scully,” he says with a smile. “I want to know how you’re feeling.”

Delilah looks down for a moment, searching her arsenal of mental weaponry for the correct harpoon.

“As silly as I felt letting Delaney do my hair and makeup, it was actually nice,” Delilah tells him, averting her eyes as if it’s an embarrassing admission. “It reminded me a bit of being with Melissa.”

She looks up to meet his eyes, and she can see a flurry of emotions in them: guilt, sorrow, empathy, love. They gaze at each other for a moment, thinking of the significance of lost sisters.

For Delilah, it’s proof that Dana should be playing the dead sister card a whole lot more than she does. It’s basically a Get Out of Jail Free Card with Mulder. Delilah loves being right. There’s no better feeling than figuring out how to pull at a man’s heartstrings.

“We’ll figure out what happened to her,” Mulder promises, and Delilah nods as if she too wishes to know.

Inspiration strikes again, and Delilah decides she can plant a seed or two now without going too fast to be believable.

“You know, she did have me thinking about some things,” Delilah says carefully. She notes that Mulder has a flash of panic in his eyes.

“Nothing bad,” she quickly corrects. “Just, you know, it was nice… watching a movie with you.”

She looks up at him, bright eyed and innocent. He instantly relaxes.

“Movie night? I think that could be arranged,” he tells her. “Friday night at my place? You bring the beer, I’ll pick the perfect movie.”

“I would like that,” she smiles, ushering him towards the door, “but right now I need my sleep. I’m going to need my energy for tomorrow when Skinner chews us out for our unauthorized weekend in Vegas.”

“Same, you know how I need my beauty sleep,” Mulder jokes, opening her front door to exit.

“Good night, Mulder,” Delilah smiles, beginning to close the door.

“Night Scully,” Mulder replies as he steps into the hallway.

Delilah locks the door behind him. She leans back against the door and smiles. This is progress! They have a kind of, sort of date on Friday!

As she suspected, she’s been Dana Scully for all of one day, and she’s clearly doing a better job of it than the real Dana ever did. The urge to gloat to Dana about her upcoming date tempts her, but she quickly dismisses it.

Delilah feels too good right now to risk the negative influence of Dana’s incessant complaining.

“I feel like I’m in priiiiisonnnn,” she mocks in a high pitched, whiny tone. “Don’t trick Mulder into jumping my bones, I was planning to hold out another five years.”

So irritating.

She wishes she could just leave Dana in solitary confinement, but it’s back to work tomorrow and Delilah needs a refresher course on being an active FBI agent. She’s watched The Silence of the Lambs like twelve times, so she has a pretty good foundation.

Delilah doesn’t relish the thought of reviewing the more mundane hours of footage in Dana’s memory, but she can’t blow her cover by not knowing where to park or which entrance to use.

When she feels like she can at least get through tomorrow, she’ll find a juicier memory to review as a little treat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Because she has nothing else to do, Scully decides to search the room for any weaknesses or assets. She removes and inspects every single silky throw pillow, of which there are many until, mercifully, she finds something.

It’s a handheld screen in the shape of a heart (against all common design sense) with some sort of dark pink rubber encasing it. There is one single button in the side, which she immediately pushes.

Mulder appears on the screen, and Scully feels her eyes suddenly blurring with unshed tears. She misses him, believes that he will sort this out, but she also worries for him. She doesn’t think that Delilah means to physically harm him, but she also knows that Delilah is unstable (to put it mildly).

She hears Delilah talking to him in Scully’s own voice.

”You know, she did have me thinking about some things… Nothing bad. Just, you know, it was nice… watching a movie with you.”

“Movie night? I think that could be arranged. Friday night at my place? You bring the beer, I’ll pick the perfect movie.”

“I would like that,but right now I need my sleep. I’m going to need my energy for tomorrow when Skinner chews us out for our unauthorized weekend in Vegas.”

“Same, you know how I need my beauty sleep.”

“Good night, Mulder.”

“Night Scully.”

He’s gone then, and Scully clicks off the screen to avoid hearing any more from Delilah. She hides the screen back under the pillow.

Did they just set up a date? They have casually watched movies in hotel rooms on cases, but they have never gone to each other’s apartments with the intention to drink beer and watch a film. What movie will Mulder pick, and will his choice provide a clear signal of his intentions?

It hits her that she’s not actually going to be in attendance. Whatever movie he selects for them will only have consequences for Delilah, not Scully herself. A nagging thought begins to grow stronger. after five years of partnership.

”I can do what you’ve been too much of a coward to try yourself.”

Clearly Delilah, though criminally insane, is braver than Scully when it comes to advancing her relationship with Mulder. Is Delilah correct? Has Scully been wasting her life? It’s only been a few months since her cancer remission, and all those thoughts of second chances at life have already dissipated.

When she was dying of cancer, romance with Mulder took on the tragic significance of a love that could never be. They had missed their chance, and every interaction felt charged with an undercurrent of lost opportunity. Then she was cured, and Mulder’s energy shifted back to friendship. Scully was left wondering if she had imagined Mulder’s romantic overtures out of loneliness, which made her feel particularly pathetic.

What if she was wrong? What if Mulder does see her romantically and Delilah uses that to take advantage of him? The thought makes her sick. She has to get out of this before Friday night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Delilah reviews FBI training videos. She watches weeks of Dana entering the building, walking through the building, using the elevator to go to the basement and upstairs to Walter Skinner’s office. (Is she imaging things or does he sometimes give Dana some bedroom eyes? Delilah could be into it if things don’t work out with Mulder.)

Delilah watches one autopsy video and feels a bit creeped out. It’s one thing to hack into someone’s brain using psychic energy, but is she ready to “slice and dice” as Mulder calls it? How can she get out of that? Can she fake a hand injury? Should she make Dana show her an autopsy in a dream and talk her through it? Would that even work?

Deep breath. There’s no autopsy tomorrow. There’s a meeting with Skinner, which he requested after Mulder called him to tell him about the Delaney situation. Mulder seemed to think they’re going to be spoken to very sternly tomorrow morning. Delilah assumes that Dana bravely sits through these reprimands without crying, which is difficult but ultimately fine. Delilah can handle it.

After completing all her prep work for the next day, Delilah decides to choose one of Dana’s emotionally charged memories and make her relive it.

For research.

Dana’s brain is exceptionally organized, making it easy to find exactly what she’s looking for. There’s a small section of memories associated with extremely negative emotions, tucked in a little corner of the brain (that Dana seems to have intentionally deprioritized) with what she has to assume are last names attached. Barry. Pfaster. Schnauz. A few more. There are files with places on them. Dudley, Arkansas. Allentown, Pennsylvania. Icy Cape, Alaska.

Delilah grabs the closest file. It’s probably going to be entertaining, no need to overthink it. She brings it to the very stylish living space she left Dana in last.

She finds Dana methodically checking the walls, tapping and testing each inch of the space. Poor little thing looks crazed.

“I was only gone for a few hours,” Delilah jokes. “I didn’t expect you to go all Yellow Wallpaper on me.”

Dana jumps at the sound, and Delilah is pleased to see a tiny hint of relief in Dana’s eyes when she realizes that Delilah has returned. Good. She should look forward to these visits. This is the only socialization she’s going to get.

Delilah holds up the file she procured from Dana’s memories.

“You want to join me at the movies?”

Chapter Text

“You want to join me at the movies?” Delilah asks, dangling a file folder in one hand. “I found a little stash of Top Secret Dana Scully Memories.”

Scully’s shoulders slump in resignation. Delilah isn’t really asking, of course, because Delilah never really asks. She does whatever she wants, other people be damned.

“What do you mean by secret memory?” Scully questions. Can Delilah somehow access forgotten childhood humiliations? Some drama from college?

“Come on,” Delilah says, snapping her fingers. 

In a fraction of a second, they’re both in the darkened movie theater wearing matching jeans and gray sweaters. Scully feels pathetically grateful to be out of the genie costume.

“Today’s feature is something labeled Icy Cape, Alaska,” Delilah announces. “I’m assuming you know what this is?

Oh, nothing, just the first time she and Mulder had pulled their guns on one another.

Still, as memories go, this one ended up not being too traumatic. Scully briefly wonders why Delilah called it a “secret” memory. She remembers that case perfectly. They flew up there with three other people. When they arrived, a dog bit the pilot and they discovered a parasite that could only be killed by introducing a second parasite into the host.

There was some back and forth about who was infected and who wasn’t. She and Mulder lived to see another day. Not the stuff normal dreams are made of, but pretty routine. 

“The show’s about to start,” Delilah advises, tossing a popcorn kernel in her mouth. “You better get in there.”

Another finger snap, another jolt to a new location. 

She’s entering a closet. Oh. Ohhhhh. Now she remembers why this memory had to be buried. The heated conversation about trust and safety. The most erotic check for parasites in human history. Their level of sexual tension had skyrocketed past the point of sanity in that closet. It was electric and dangerous, brimming with promise.

Once again, Scully cannot change the words or the actions. Everything happens exactly as it did before, but this time she has known Mulder for much longer. Loves him even more fiercely. Wants him to be real so badly. Hates that Delilah is watching. Can’t think in complete sentences. 

Scully’s world snaps again, and she’s back in the movie theater with Delilah, who is fanning herself dramatically.

“That was so hot,” she grins. “I thought you were going to start going at it right then and there. I could tell you were thinking about it, not that I blame you.”

Scully just glares at her. She’s not about to engage with this lunatic or give her any insight into her feelings for Mulder.

“It’s my turn,” Delilah announces. “I’m pulling another file from that pile.”

In a blink, Delilah disappears and returns with the file marked Dudley, Arkansas. 

“I can’t let you have all the fun,” Delilah laughs.

Scully’s eyes go wide when she recognizes that the file Delilah has pulled refers to that horrific Chaco Chicken cannibal case from three years ago. This time the memory has been buried for a very different reason. 

“Delilah, you don’t want to live that memory,” Scully says without hesitation. Scully wouldn’t wish that ugly incident on anyone, even Delilah. 

Delilah regards her with suspicion.

“Please trust me. You don’t want to be me in this situation. You probably don’t want to be me in a lot of these situations,” Scully pleads. 

She doesn’t particularly want to watch this near death experience on a movie theater screen. Living through it once was enough.

“Greedy, greedy,” Delilah scolds her. “You really have to learn to share.”

Delilah disappears, and the picture on the screen comes to life. Scully pulls her legs up on the movie theater seat, the blaze of the sinister bonfire reflecting off her face.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Delilah opens her eyes, fully expecting some fun and sexy FBI hijinx with Mulder in the same vein as Dana’s sexually charged encounter in the closet. That’s not what appears to be happening here. A mustachioed creep is manhandling her towards a clearing in the woods. 

“What the Hell is this?” she attempts to say, but it comes out all muffled. Something is covering her mouth. Duct tape? For what possible reason? What does Mr. Mustache think he’s doing? Doesn’t he know who she is? She’s Special Agent Dana Scully, damn it! 

They reach the clearing, Mysterious Mustache Man pushing her through a crowd of unfashionable townsfolk. Delilah looks down at her own outfit and realizes, to her horror, that she is dressed unfashionably as well!

“What are you doing to me? Did you put these large fabric buttons on me?” Delilah tries to demand, momentarily forgetting about the duct tape. 

Wilford Brimley must be the mayor or something because everyone listens as he whines about touching someone named Doris. 

Some creep steps forward as the official bonfire spokesperson, suggestively rubbing his lips with a napkin. Is this a sex cult? 

“It’s the outsiders we have to deal with, not one of our own!” Mustache seems distraught. Delilah is so out of her element here that all she can do is watch, desperately trying to figure out what in the world is happening.

“We’ll deal with them all,” the man replies. Does that include Delilah? What do they want her to do? She’s open minded, sure, but this is a rather large group.

They continue arguing, with Creepo upset about an outsider making them all sick. It becomes clear to Delilah what has happened. Mustache must have invited a new member to the sex cult who gave everybody an STD. 

That would explain all the serious faces. No one looks like they’re in the mood for an orgy.

“That’s not your problem anymore, Mr. Chaco.”

Well, that’s ominous.

Everything starts to go wild. Wilder than wild. 

Delilah watches, not entirely sure if the man who appears in a tribal mask with an axe is part of some kinky sex cult activities. Mr. Chaco and his mustache are bent down and strapped into some kind of head harness. 

All of her sex cult theories vanish when the man with the axe separates Mr. Chaco’s head from the rest of him. That man is dead.

Delilah may have delayed instincts, but they return to her now. Fire. Cauldron. Beheading. Are they… they can’t… but they are!

A woman and a man start walking Delilah towards the beheading station, and she can no longer deny what is happening.

This is not a sex cult that wants to “eat” her in a fun way. This is a cannibal cult that wants to literally eat her! This is unbelievable. What a bunch of monsters.

Delilah pauses the scene. She’s seen enough. 

She snaps herself back to the movie theater next to Dana, who is balled up in her seat like a little girl. Delilah actually can’t even make fun because what the fuck.

“This happened to you?” Delilah asks, even though she knows it must have. “How did you get out of there?”

“Mulder,” Dana replies simply.

Delilah lets the rest of the scene play out on the screen for them to watch together. Sure enough, Mulder arrives and shoots the axe man. Mulder frees Dana, gently removing the tape from her mouth and checking on her. Together, the pair on the screen knock the mask off the axe murderer. 

“It was the local sheriff,” Dana adds. “We had been working with him on the case.”

“And he was going to kill you?” Delilah’s jaw drops.

“I was just lucky that Mulder got there when he did,” Dana tells her, sounding numb, “but that’s the job. We’ve both had some close calls. We both do everything in our power to save the other.”

“There are other incidents like this?” Delilah feels horrified at the thought that something so ghastly could have happened more than once. 

“More or less,” Dana shrugs. “This one was pretty disturbing to think about, so I tried not to dwell on it.”

“Tried not to dwell on it,” Delilah repeats, her tone flat. “A few dozen hicks tried to turn you into soup, and you just… didn’t think about it?”

Delilah cannot believe this. Is this Dana trying to scare her? Is this a nightmare she’s trying to pass off as reality so that Delilah won’t want to be her anymore? 

Or, and this is starting to feel like it might be true… is Dana Scully’s life crazier than Delilah ever imagined possible? 

Chapter Text

Delilah doesn’t rest for the big meeting with Skinner. She watches memory after memory, becoming more concerned with Dana’s career (and self-preservation skills) by the minute. By the time Betsy Hagopian dies, both Deliah and Dana are crying in the darkened movie theater.

“All those women,” Delilah says, taking Dana’s hand. “There had been a whole room full of them in Allentown. You’re the only one left. God, what a heavy burden and yet such a privilege, Dana.”

“Now you see how important it is that I continue our work to take down the men who did this,” Dana says, not pulling away. “My life is complicated and dangerous, but I owe it to those women to stop this from happening to anyone else.”

Dana’s face is so full of hope. Delilah wishes she could punch every single Syndicate conspirator in the face for messing with this strong, determined woman. At the very least, she plans to haunt their dreams.

“So, how do we do this?” Dana asks. “Can you switch us back right now?”

“Do what now?” Delilah replies, confused and thrown off by the question. “Switch back?”

Now Dana looks confused.

“Well, yes,” Dana says. “You cannot possibly still want to be me after everything we watched.”

“I told you,” Delilah reminds her, with as much compassion as she can. “I’m going to improve it. If anything, tonight has shown me that you need more help than I ever imagined. You need to get off The X-Files or there’s not going to be a life for us to fight over. This job is going to kill you.”

“I’m not quitting.” Dana looks shocked and hurt, as if Delilah has just kicked her puppy.

“Put that thought on hold,” Delilah feels a swell of pity for her. There’s got to be something she can do. It comes to her instantly. She snaps her fingers, and the two are transported to a large bedroom with a canopy bed.

“I designed this when I was six,” Delilah says, gesturing towards the lavish, girlish room. Porcelein dolls and horse figurines line the top shelves on the lilac striped walls.

“What are we doing here?” Dana asks, wary.

“You, my friend, need a vacation,” Delilah announces, trying to establish that she only has Dana’s best interests at heart.

“This is not a vacation,” Dana immediately responds, looking stressed and anxious—further proof that she needs a break.

“Not with that attitude it’s not,” Delilah teases, becoming increasingly determined to show Dana that giving her identity to Delilah will actually be a relief.

Delilah looks around and begins pointing at areas she wants to change, making subtle alterations to the room to make it more comfortable for a thirty-four year old woman without completely changing the purple-princess-horse-girl vibes.

“I just want to be back in my own body,” Dana complains. “A coma is not a vacation. Delilah, please tell me you understand that.”

Actually, Delilah genuinely does not see what the big deal is.

“You just need to nap for a while so you’re thinking more clearly,” Delilah decides. “No one can hurt you in here.”

“You are hurting me,” Dana nearly yells, obviously delirious. Delilah snaps Dana into some cute pajamas and locks her in place in the center of the bed, propped up very much like a doll.

“Look, I think I already apologized for my insensitive behaviors,” Delilah reminds her, pacing up and down the room. “Watching all those awful men tie you up and put you in trunks and all that made be realize that I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to toss you into walls or lock you in confined spaces ever again. I’m not a villain in this story, Dana. I’m a Fairy Godmother.”

“I don’t want this,” Dana pleads. It breaks Delilah’s heart to see her so sad, it truly does. After watching all those awful memories, Delilah wants nothing more than for Dana to get the rest she so clearly deserves.

“Fairy Godmother knows best,” Delilah says gently but firmly. “Now sleep.”

Snap. Dana is out cold.

Delilah sits on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, watching the gentle rise and fall of Dana’s chest as she breathes in her sleep. So peaceful. Delilah has no interest in giving her nightmares now. No, this will be a dreamless, restorative sleep.

Delilah congratulates herself for her good deed, staying up late to understand and help Dana even if it means going to work tired—and even if Dana herself does not appreciate the sacrifice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Agents, please tell me you did not accept a ten thousand dollar bribe to act as federal bodyguards,” Skinner sighs. The muscle in his neck that Mulder associates with stress looks strained.

“We didn’t, sir,” Mulder replies. “We asked Mr. Prescott to make a charitable donation to the American Cancer Foundation.”

“But you did accept airfare and hotel accommodations,” Skinner states.

Mulder stays quiet. He glances at Scully, who looks exhausted. Still lovely, since it’s Scully and she always looks great to him, but very tired.

“You attempted to prevent Mr. Prescott’s fiancé, a Miss Delaney Matthews, from being targeted by an unknown person who intended to put Miss Matthews into a coma,” Skinner reads off a report of some kind. “Agents Mulder and Scully were unable to prevent the young lady from falling into a coma. Mr. Prescott is insisting that the FBI complete an internal investigation to determine whether negligence on the part of the FBI contributed to Miss Matthews’ condition.”

Skinner puts down the paper and glares at them.

“Agents, I don’t believe I have to tell you how bad this could look for the FBI,” Skinner accuses. “The Director wants me to suspend both of you without pay.”

“Sir, that’s not—” Mulder tries to argue, but Skinner puts one hand up to stop him.

“I convinced him to hold off,” Skinner tells them. “You have one week to figure out what happened and get Mr. Prescott’s fiancé out of that coma. Beyond that, I can’t help you.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Mulder says. He looks to Scully, who looks concerned.

“You’re dismissed,” Skinner says, waving them off.

“Sir, may I speak to you privately for a moment?” Scully asks, speaking up for the first time in this meeting. Mulder tries to read her expression, his eyes asking her for an explanation.

“I’ll be down in just a few minutes,” she says, not giving anything away.

Trying not to feel overly concerned about being asked to leave, Mulder nods and returns to the basement.

He does not obsess about what Scully could possibly be saying to Skinner. It is curious though. She very rarely asks to stay behind without giving a heads up in advance. He’ll admit to that—he does wonder. That’s perfectly natural. What could she be saying?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Mulder leaves the room, Delilah can barely contain herself before pouring out her heart. She has spent the entire night reviewing Dana Scully’s worst work memories, and she refuses to stand idly by as the FBI continues to send her out into the field to be abused by every serial killer or mutant in the greater tristate area.

“Sir, I must ask that this conversation stays between us. I do not wish for Agent Mulder to be aware of all the details,” Delilah begins, her voice wobbling a bit.

“What is it, Agent Scully?” Skinner’s entire demeanor is softer she would have imagined possible after the meeting they just endured.

“Sir, you know that I have always been committed to The X-Files,” Delilah continues, “at great personal cost to myself and my family.”

“You have,” Skinner agrees.

“This weekend away, misguided as it was, reminded me of the life I am missing,” Delilah says, trying to ensure that she sounds noble while also resigned.

“Sir, I know that Agent Mulder will have difficulty accepting this, but I need… a break.”

“What do have in mind, Agent Scully?” Skinner looks concerned.

“Well, unfortunately I have my doubts regarding our ability to help Mr. Prescott’s fiancé,” she sighs, pretending that this is disappointing news. “So when, inevitably, a suspension is enacted, perhaps it could include some time away from field work for me.”

“Do you want me to assign you more autopsies?” Skinner asks kindly, as if dissecting dead people could be construed as a break.

“I was thinking of a temporary leave of absence,” Delilah replies, hiding a shudder.
“I’ll consider it,” Skinner nods.

“Thank you, Sir,” Delilah says before excusing herself. She does not have this all planned out yet, but she is not about to put herself in a position to be kidnapped, maimed, or traumatized. That’s apparently all in a day’s work for the old Dana Scully, but Delilah is fully dedicated to being a new, better version.

When she finally figures out how to get to the basement office, Mulder is already gone. He’s left her a note:

Visiting Delaney. Back by 3. -M

Delilah expected him to continue the investigation, but she didn’t expect him to ditch her. She feels a surge of jealousy, recalling his weird attraction to Dana’s energy in Delaney’s body. It was like his subconscious knew she was in there, and Delilah cannot have that. She grabs her car keys and heads to the parking garage.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harrison Prescott III has never lost anyone. Both sets of grandparents are still alive. His family dogs get retirements at beautiful farms, so he’s never felt the pain of saying goodbye.

He doesn’t intend to say goodbye to Delaney either. She’s everything he ever wanted in a woman: long blonde hair, longer legs, delicate facial features, and a respectable teaching career that doesn’t threaten him in any way. Literally the perfect woman.

He has to give a security code into the intercom that allows the front desk person to buzz him onto Delaney’s floor. This private health facility is costing a fortune already, but it’s worth it to keep Delaney safe until she awakens. He’s also generously paying for her twin sister Darcy’s care.

When Harrison enters the room, it’s difficult to tell which one is Delaney and which is Darcy. He calls in a nurse who makes sure he’s talking to the right sister.

“Delaney, I will never give up on you,” he tells her, holding her cold semi-lifeless hand. “We are getting married, and I will do anything to make that happen. Okay? I promise you.”

He thinks about his conversation with the FBI Director yesterday evening. He had been furious, blaming Agents Mulder and Scully for Delaney’s tragic condition. What kind of FBI Agents can’t keep one little woman safe from a coma?

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he says, kissing her fingers.

When he gets to the reception area, Harrison cannot believe who he sees arguing at the desk.

“Agent Mulder?” Harrison stalks towards the man, half wanting to punch him in the face. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Mr. Prescott, please,” Agent Mulder pleads. “I believe that I can help your fiancé, but I need to see her.”

Harrison wants to tell him to get lost, but he cannot take the chance that he’s passing up on help for Delaney. Plus the agent looks very sincere.

“Okay,” Harrison agrees after a moment of consideration. “But I’m going to be in there, watching you.”

He leads Agent Mulder back to Delaney’s bedside. Harrison watches as Mulder tries a variety of communication ideas. Mulder puts his hands straight out, about a foot above Delaney’s body, trying to do some kind of energy reading or something. Harrison isn’t really sure. He doesn’t see how any of this could possibly help.

Harrison is about to tell Mulder that it’s time to go when Mulder looks up, shocked, saying, “Scully?”

Chapter Text

Delilah flashes her badge with authority, informing the desk staff at the private care facility that she will be joining her partner inside. She has also already used the badge to get out of a speeding ticket on her way here. She cannot wait to test the limits of this badge on everyone from retail workers to easily intimidated criminals.

“Scully?” Mulder asks, seemingly more than a little bit surprised to see her in Delaney’s room.

“I got your note,” Delilah explains. “I wanted to see her.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Mulder says, crossing the room to stand by her. “I’m still feeling that incredibly strong energy that I was telling you about. You know the whole ‘sensing energies’ isn’t usually my style, but I cannot deny that I feel her in there.”

“What’s our next step?” Delilah asks after pondering a moment, trying and failing to come up with a way to shut this down completely. It’s then that she spies Delaney’s useless idiot fiancé Harrison watching them from a chair in the corner. Well, maybe not completely useless.

“I think we should bring Lady Crystal in here,” Mulder replies. Short of him figuring out that it’s actually Dana’s energy he’s feeling so strongly, this is the worst possible scenario. Delilah needs to shut this down quickly without taking the blame.

“Why don’t you make that call? I’d like to sit with Delaney for a minute, and then I’ll meet you out there,” Delilah says, touching his arm. Mulder nods and leaves the room.

Men are all so easy.

You just need to know how to handle each one. Facing the door, Delilah unbuttons the top three buttons of her blouse and takes off her suit jacket. She fixes her face into an expression of sweet feminine anguish, and turns to look down sorrowfully at Delaney.

“She’s so beautiful,” Delilah says, lifting Dana’s baby blue eyes to Harrison.

“Yes, she really is,” he agrees, as if someone has finally started speaking his language. “She’s the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“My partner said the same thing,” Delilah fibs, trying to appear as if she’s not starting trouble.

“He did?” Harrison asks, predictably alarmed.

“I felt like a third wheel in Vegas,” Delilah smiles sadly. “Oh, but don’t get the wrong idea. Delaney was always loyal to you, as far as I know.”

“What do you mean ‘as far as you know’?” Harrison questions, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Well, we took turns sleeping,” Delilah explains. “So they would be alone for… oh, I don’t know, five or six hours at a time.”

Delilah comes closer to him, knowing that he’s a pretty single minded, loyal guy, but his fiancé is in a coma so he won’t be completely immune to Dana’s charms.

“If I were you,” she says, softly, keeping her eyes lowered, “I would do everything I could to make sure Agent Mulder doesn’t have access to Delaney. There’s just no telling what he will do.”

Delilah looks up, giving him the full “big beautiful blue eyes” treatment. Innocent. Helpful. So very sincere. To her delight, Harrison looks flustered.

“He’s not going to ever see her again,” Harrison vows. “He’s not even going to be allowed inside this building.”

“I think that would be best,” Delilah agrees. “He’s already got some crazy idea about bringing a psychic in here to talk to her.”

Harrison’s expression shifts to curiosity, and Delilah could kick herself for the slip up. Of course this dolt would consider a second rate psychic to be an appropriate therapeutic treatment option.

“My fear,” she quickly continues, “is that he might use a psychic he knows to fabricate a message that serves his interests.”

Harrison looks confused. God, she’s glad she doesn’t have to live with him anymore. She always had to dumb herself down.

“He might get the psychic to pretend to speak to Delaney,” she breaks it down slowly, “and then lie and say that Delaney has fallen in love with Agent Mulder.”

Harrison, now getting the picture, looks infuriated. He balls his fists at his sides and looks in the direction of the door.

“That’s not going to happen,” he says and he begins to storm out after Mulder.

“Wait!” Delilah says breathily, doing her best Marilyn Monroe. “Please, don’t let him know I had anything to do with this. I still love him.”

When Harrison exits, Delilah looks at both twins in their matching hospital beds. She had occupied each of these bodies for months at a time, so this is somewhat awkward.

“Hey Delaney,” she says to Darcy’s body, not having much more than that to say. She doesn’t like to think about her past lives.

“Dana, can you hear me?” Delilah asks, peering down at Delaney. “You’re supposed to be resting, not sending out distress signals.”

No change.

“It doesn’t matter,” Delilah whispers, trying to convince herself as much as Dana. “Harrison isn’t going to let Mulder come back here. You can just forget about it.”

Delilah buttons her blouse, puts her jacket back on, and heads out to the hallway to see how the showdown between Mulder and Harrison is playing out.

She completely misses the small movement in Delaney’s right hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scully wakes up, still in Delilah’s childhood dream room. She quickly climbs off the canopy bed, associating it with the creepy feeling of being frozen in place there by Delilah.

She looks around for Delilah, but she appears to be alone. What woke her up? Scully closes her eyes and listens.

Mulder! He’s here—or out there—however this works. She begins screaming his name in earnest.

Nothing.

Scully slumps on the floor, her back against the bed frame. This isn’t working. He can’t hear her. She puts her head in her hands, beyond frustrated. She sits like that for several minutes, unsure what to do next.

“Dana, can you hear me?”

Oh great. She can hear Delilah out there using her voice. That’s just wonderful.

“You’re supposed to be resting, not sending out distress signals.”

“I am distressed, damn it,” Scully yells back.

“It doesn’t matter… Harrison isn’t going to let Mulder come back here. You can just forget about it.”

Scully wants to strangle this woman, she really does. Every time she thinks that maybe, just maybe, Delilah has even a shred of decency, it turns out to be as false as the friendship that “Delaney” offered in Las Vegas.

Don’t give up, Scully tells herself.

Up. Scully isn’t sure why or how, and it could very well be delirium, but “up” feels like some kind of answer.

It’s not completely ridiculous. The sounds are coming from above her. Is there a way to make contact? She needs to go up.

She looks around the room, spotting a chair that looks movable. She pushes it over to the canopy bed and stands up on it, pulling herself up onto the canopy. It holds her weight.

Scully knocks on the ceiling, and it sounds hollow. She looks around the room for something to use instead of her fist. The damned horse figurines are out of reach. She climbs down and pushes the chair towards the shelves.

After some trial and error—in which she curses her lack of height and lack of high heels—she manages to pull one figurine into her possession.

She brings the horse back to the top of the canopy, slamming it into the ceiling over and over until a tiny crack appears. She had no idea what she’ll find on the other side, but sitting around waiting for Delilah is not an option.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder gets Lady Crystal’s phone number from the card she gave him the previous evening. Fortunately, she wants to meet at her shop right away. Since Scully took a separate car when she followed him here, he asks the front desk staff to please let her know that he’s going on ahead to his next meeting.

He vaguely understands that Scully might wish for him to wait, but he doesn’t enjoy waiting when he could be moving forward. So, before either Scully or Harrison come out of Delaney’s room, Mulder is already on his way to Lady Crystal’s small psychic storefront.

“I knew you would call,” Crystal says when he walks through her door. He gives her psychic humor a  placating smile.

“I didn’t feel well when I got home last night,” Crystal tells him, ushering him to a chair in front of her fortune telling table. “I did a little detox and realized I had been charmed.”

“What kind of charm?” Mulder asks, taking a seat.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Crystal replies, “but it has the stink of Delilah all over it.”

“You think she’s following the case closely enough to know you were talking to us?” Mulder asks. It hadn’t occurred to him that he may have already interacted with her.

“You spent the weekend with the latest coma victim, right? Did she seem afraid or was she having fun? Delilah is all about fun. It’s not necessarily fun for other people, but she’s having a good time.”

Mulder’s face must reveal the answer to that question because Crystal nods.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she says.

“So you think Delaney was Delilah the whole time?” Mulder immediately feels bad for Scully, who had seemed to appreciate the female camaraderie. So much for sisterly feelings.

“It makes the most sense to me,” Crystal replies. “The only unknown is whose body did Delilah jump into after leaving Delaney?”

“We were in Las Vegas,” Mulder says. “It could have been anyone.”

“But only one other person was at the meeting last night,” Crystal says carefully. “If I’m correct and Delilah put some sort of charm on me, she would have had to be present.”

“James?” Mulder asks, thoroughly confused.

Lady Crystal gently puts her hand on his.

“Has your partner been acting strangely since Las Vegas, Agent Mulder?”

Chapter Text

“Has your partner been acting strangely since Las Vegas, Agent Mulder?” Lady Crystal asks, her eyes full of misplaced pity.

“No,” Mulder says quickly and confidently. “No, Agent Scully is above reproach.”

“I’m sure she is,” Crystal says kindly. “It’s Delilah who can’t be trusted—and if you look at the most recent victims, their partners didn’t notice any changes in their personalities. I think she’s become good at what she does.”

Mulder thinks over the past couple of days. Scully has been… Scully. Perfectly normal Scully—except for suggesting a movie night on Friday. It would be especially humiliating if the only reason that Scully wanted to spend time with him outside of work was because she wasn’t herself.

Is that how Scully felt after Van Blundht? He hadn’t really thought of it from that angle at the time. His feelings were hurt that she ever thought that Eddie was him at all. He had been convinced that he would know if someone replaced Scully—which he definitely would. Wouldn’t he?

“How could Delilah know enough about a person to trick everyone in that person’s life?” Mulder asks, not really believing that Scully’s body has been invaded by a malevolent entity doing a hell of an impersonation.

“When she was in my dreams, it felt like she was rooting around in my head,” Crystal recalls, grimacing. “The difference is, she wasn’t trying to become me. She was just practicing.”

“And you think there’s a chance she did want to become Scully?”

Mulder cannot believe he’s even entertaining the idea that Scully is not herself, but he has to make sure.

“I’m sure Delilah would see it as being a sexy secret agent,” Crystal muses. “Add a handsome, devoted, crime fighting boyfriend, and sure, I think she would give being your partner a whirl.”

“Crime fighting boyfriend?” Mulder laughs, hiding the fact that he’s inwardly horrified that Scully might have a secret boyfriend that Lady Crystal can sense from her psychic intuition.

“FBI partner slash life partner, whatever you two call it,” Crystal shrugs. “It would seem very exciting to Delilah, until she realizes there’s actual work involved.”

“Agent Scully and I are not romantically involved,” Mulder explains, seconds before remembering a worrying detail. “However, Delaney Matthews seemed strangely obsessed with the two of us getting together.”

Why was she pushing that idea so hard?

“She wanted you two to get together? That would make sense if she was planning to become Agent Scully. She could transition right into a new relationship,” Lady Crystal says, getting excited about putting the pieces together.

Mulder hates this idea.

“You said Delilah hates work?” Mulder asks, steering the conversation back to more comfortable ground.

“It seemed that way to me,” Crystal replies. “I’m guessing your Agent Scully doesn’t mind getting her hands a little dirty?”

“She’s a forensic pathologist,” Mulder informs her. “She’s got nerves of steel.”

“So ask her to do something tough,” Crystal suggests. “Something easy for Scully but nearly impossible for Delilah.”

Mulder still hates this idea.

He is, however, considering it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Scully breaks through the ceiling, she is disappointed to see another room. She was hoping to be back in the land of living, even if that meant borrowing Delaney’s body to track down Delilah and demand her own body back.

Instead, she’s in what appears to be a large kindergarten classroom. This must be a from the real Delaney’s mind, Scully realizes. As she looks around, she can see memories and ideas. They’re displayed very differently than the neatly labeled files that Delilah pulled from Scully.

Scully touches a child’s drawing and immediately becomes immersed in the scene. 

”Miss Matthews, I drew this for you,” a cherub faced little girl says.
“Thank you, Ashley, it’s beautiful,” the original Delaney says. “I’m going to treasure this forever.”

Scully returns abruptly to the classroom. She doesn’t want to touch anything else, concerned about triggering a longer or more upsetting memory. As she looks up and down the walls, she gets the idea that Delaney’s life has been mostly joyful with the occasional negative experience.

She can see why Delilah wanted this life. There are pictures of a summer spent in Paris, adorable children drawing her pictures and picking dandelions for her, Harrison smiling adoringly, and happy pictures with her twin. It’s still a bit of a mystery to Scully why Delilah has traded all this to become her.

She cannot dwell on Delilah’s motives or the possible damage she is causing. Scully must focus on getting out. Unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be any way to break through the next layer of ceiling. It’s too high, even if she stacks a chair onto the teacher’s desk.

If she can’t go up, she’ll try sideways. She takes one of the little, kindergartener-sized chairs and slams it into the wall. Then again. And again.

Finally, the wall gives and Scully can step through to the other side.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After being ditched by Mulder again, Delilah feels frustrated, hurt, and confused. She returns to the basement office to wait for him. Why does he keep running off to chase leads without her? How is she supposed to get her fill of excitement and romance if he’s not even here to entertain her?

It’s rude.

Delilah snoops around the office to cheer herself up. She looks at Scully’s personal file for a couple minutes, but it’s pretty much all things she’s already seen in Dana’s memories. Boring.

She has half a mind to go upstairs and start flirting with someone else out of sheer desperation, but fortunately Mulder returns before it comes to that. Truly her knight in shining armor.

“Hey Scully,” he says with a bit of uncertainty, as if he’s surprised to find her sitting at the desk.

“What happened, Mulder? I got out of Delaney’s room, and they told me you had left,” she replies, trying to sound cool but her genuine irritation comes through.

“I went to talk to Lady Crystal,” Mulder tells her, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh? Did she have anything interesting to say?” Delilah watches him carefully. God only knows what nonsense Crystal spun for him.

“She’s going to try to communicate with Delaney,” he reports, still refusing to look at her.

“Anything else?” Delilah doesn’t like playing other people’s games. He’s clearly not telling her everything.

“Yes,” he says, facing her now. “I talked to Skinner, and there’s an autopsy he needs you to do this afternoon.”

Damn it.

Do not panic. Do not react.

She regards him coolly. He searches her face, and she holds firm.

“Sure,” she says. “No problem.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harrison has been staring at Delaney for the past hour, trying not to think about the possibility of her cheating on him with Agent Mulder. He knows her. He knows she wouldn’t do that—at least he thinks she wouldn’t.

He looks at her hand thoughtfully. One of her nails is chipped. He wonders if this very nice care facility has an in house manicurist. She’s also looking on the pale side. He makes a mental note to have a makeup artist visit regularly, particularly on days that he intends to visit. He tells himself he loves her too much to see her looking sickly.

The nurse had given him a little tub of Vaseline to keep her lips moisturized. He adds a little now. She doesn’t stir. Harrison sighs. This is not fair. They’re supposed to get married and live happily ever after. Nothing bad has ever happened to him, and he genuinely thought it never would.

“Wake up,” he whispers. “We haven’t had our fairytale wedding yet, sweetheart.”

If only fairytales were real… wait!

Harrison’s eyes widen in surprise at having a semi-original thought. What if fairytales are real? What if all Delaney really needs is True Love’s kiss? Those stories are based on some truth, right? It’s as valid a thought as Harrison Prescott III has ever considered.

He leans down and places a chaste kiss on his princess’s moisturized lips. When he pulls back, to his delight, it appears to have actually worked! Her beautiful eyes are open! She’s looking up at him, her eyes unfocused. Her sweet pink lips part, and Harrison is sure she’s about to say something amazing like, “Oh Harrison, you saved me!”

Instead, her voice comes out small and uncertain. She says one word. One very, very wrong word.

“Mulder?”

Chapter Text

Delilah stares at the dead body.

The dead body does not stare back, but Delilah feels it judging her all the same.

She’s standing in a morgue, which is disgusting enough, but she’s also forced to wear these scrubs that completely hide her cute little figure.

Not the time, Delilah, she chastises herself.

Fortunately, no one is here to see her like this. Mulder made a quick exit after giving her the relevant details about who she’s supposed to autopsy and why. As much as she likes spending time with him, she’s glad he didn’t insist on sticking around for this.

She experimentally picks up the tape recorder and hits record.

“I’m beginning with a Y incision,” Delilah announces, still standing a yard away from the body. She clicks the stop button and sighs.

Who is she kidding? She’s not going to pick up a scalpel and cut into a dead person. Why did Dana choose such a gross job? Isn’t there any easier way to figure out how someone died? A little thing called intuition, maybe?

Delilah’s intuition tells her that this man died of old age. He’s old. He’s dead. Seems open and shut.

She takes a step closer to the body… and quickly steps backwards. Nope. No, she cannot do this. Even if Delilah knew how to autopsy a body, she doesn’t want to because everything about this disgusts her.

She won’t do it.

Now that it’s decided, she needs to figure out what she’ll do instead. It’s going to take some real skill to get out of this in a believable way. Her first instinct is to set the morgue on fire, but there seems to be a fairly expensive looking sprinkler system in place.

She looks at the surgical tools on the tray. What to do… and then a spark of a plan begins to form. It will push her psychic transference skills to the absolute limit, but if it works the payoff will be worth it.

Dana Scully won’t have to do an autopsy ever again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder feels guilty, testing Scully like this. Mulder had begged Skinner to find an autopsy—any autopsy—that he could assign to Scully right away. He didn’t explain that Scully might not actually be Scully.

Mulder doesn’t go far from the morgue, vaguely planning to return mid-autopsy to confirm that Scully is herself. He fully believes that everything will be as it should be. Lady Crystal is clearly way off base.

After about thirty minutes, Mulder decides that enough time has passed to confirm that Scully has not been replaced by an evil psychic—not that he really thought she had.

As he’s making his way back towards the morgue, alarm bells start going off and he hears several sets of running footsteps. Mulder breaks into a run, not sure what’s going on but instantly desperate to make sure it doesn’t involve Scully.

He’s almost to the morgue when he is stopped by a security guard, a no nonsense woman named Margie who he has seen dozens of times before. She reminds him of Scully’s sassy Aunt Olive, who he’s had the pleasure of meeting exactly one time.

Margie is five foot four and tough as nails. Her partner Tim is six foot seven with a personality as soft as a baby panda. They’re a comical but effective pair.

“Agent Mulder, wait!” Margie yells. “You can’t just run in there!”

“What’s going on?” Mulder skids to a stop, turning to Margie for answers.

“There’s a hostage situation,” Margie says, and Mulder knows by her tone and kind eyes that it involves Scully. No, no, no, no.

“I need to get in there,” he tells her, immediately turning back towards the hallway leading to the morgue.

“Agent Mulder, the suspect is… it’s Tim,” Margie’s voice breaks as she relays the unsettling news that his beloved partner is currently being held hostage by her beloved partner.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ten minutes earlier, Margie looks at the clock and decides that she had better wake Tim up. Margie doesn’t let people get away with much, but she’s been turning a blind eye to Tim’s break room naps for years.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Margie grouses affectionately, giving her giant partner a little tap on the shoulder. She doesn’t know how he can even sleep on this couch. He doesn’t really fit.

“Timmy, wake up,” she tries again, shaking him harder.

When he opens his eyes, Margie gets the odd feeling that she’s looking at a stranger. He doesn’t seem to recognize her either.

“You okay, Tim?” she asks, concerned more for him than herself.

Tim sits up, looking down at his own hands in wonder. He opens and closes his fists a couple times before acknowledging her presence with an unfamiliar smile.

“I am strong,” he says, grinning as if he was just realizing his own size and brawn for the first time.

“Yes, you are,” Margie replies, wondering if this is a medical emergency. “Tim, are you feeling all right? Do you want me to get you some water?”

Tim stares down at her devoid of his usual warmth, and Margie feels a wave of fear for the first time in their years of partnership. She starts to move towards the door, but Tim moves too fast. His big hands wrap around her arms and lift her into the air. He holds her there for a moment. She watches in shock and horror as her sweet friend, her Big Tim, tosses her into wall above the couch with extreme force. He’s out the door before she even hits the floor.

In physical and psychological pain, Margie doesn’t immediately have the strength or will to get up. Her mind races with betrayal, fear, anger, and confusion. She sees one of the doctors running from the direction of the morgue. She stops him to ask what’s happening.

“Your friend’s gone crazy,” the doctor reports, fear in his voice. “He’s barricaded himself in one of the autopsy suites.”

“Is there anyone in there with him?” Margie asks, praying that there isn’t.

“Dr. Scully is in there,” he says regretfully.

Margie closes her eyes in anguish. If Tim has snapped and taken a doctor hostage, why did it have to be the doctor with the incredibly protective, trigger happy partner?

Tim’s going to get himself killed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Delilah has never been more impressed with herself. It just goes to show that she’s capable of so much more than she ever thought possible. Who would have thought she was strong enough to control two bodies at once?

Okay, that’s a mild exaggeration. She’s keeping Dana’s systems running. Dana’s breathing, her heart’s beating, all the necessities. If Delilah strains, she can do a bit more but it’s not necessary. Dana’s body is just a prop at the moment.

Delilah looks at the scalpel in Tim’s hand. It’s absolutely wild how small it looks now. Everything looks so low to the ground from up here. It took her a minute to get used to it, but being Tim is kind of amazing as a fun little experiment.

She looks down at Dana’s body, thinking about how small and pretty she looks. That’s who Delilah really is: a soft, delicate soul whose actions are all based on a desire for love. Does she like what she’s about to do? Not at all! Sometimes a petite but strong, smart and beautiful woman needs to borrow a big, strong man to hold herself hostage to get out of doing a gross autopsy.

Now she just needs to call Mulder and get this all sorted. She needs to make sure that she triggers his guilt when it’s all over. Questioning her authenticity will be the last thing on his mind. He’ll just be so glad she’s okay, he’ll forget all about Crystal’s machinations.

Also, she needs to be believably traumatized so that she never has to do an autopsy again—but not so traumatized that she has to cancel their upcoming date night.

Actually, Delilah reasons that this incident doesn’t have to top the other traumas (where is she going to find another cannibal cult on such short notice?). No, this can just be a straw that broke the camel’s back situation.

Who would blame her? She can’t even feel safe in the morgue at work? The gentle giant, who has worked here for years without incident, snaps and immediately comes after her? Sounds to Delilah like it’s time for Dana to make some changes that are actually a long time coming.

Briefly reviewing every hostage movie she’s ever seen, Delilah clears her (Tim’s) throat and dials Mulder’s number on Dana’s phone.

“Scully?” he asks, all cute and panicked. Just that one word, and Delilah can hear how much he loves her.

“I’m afraid not,” Delilah growls, using Tim’s deep voice to great effect. She has to stop herself from giggling, but it’s pretty funny.

“Put Scully on,” Mulder demands, pretty predictably.

Delilah decides to give him one tiny taste of Dana’s voice. Her control on Tim lessens its hold momentarily so that she can mumble a dazed “Mulder?” from Dana.

It’s a bit like balancing on two different roller skates, but she’s managing pretty well.

“Scully, are you okay?” Aww. He sounds really anguished, which is so sweet. He’s going to be the best boyfriend.

“That’s all you get,” Delilah informs him. “From here on out, you’re only talking to me.”

“How about we talk face to face?” Mulder requests. “Send Agent Scully out, I’ll come in and talk to you for as long as you like, Tim.”

So selfless, bless his heart.

“I think I like her better,” Delilah teases, knowing his imagination must be going mad.

She absolutely hates to toy with him, but she must if she wants the two of them to live happily ever after. No more autopsies, no more hostage situations… just him adoring her for the rest of their lives.

“I need to know if Dana is hurt, Tim,” Mulder says. “Can we send another doctor in to check on her?”

“Oh, I don’t think the other doctors want to come in here,” Delilah says with a smile. “It’s a private party. Tell everyone to stay out or your partner is as good as dead.”

With that, Delilah snaps the phone shut. She has to milk this situation for as long as possible. Let poor Mulder go a bit insane before giving him the opportunity to play the hero. Good news for him, he’s guaranteed to slay the villain and get the girl.

“Goodbye Tim” and “welcome to the rest of your life, Dana.”

Chapter Text

Scully opens her to eyes to a blurry world. She blinks a few times, but her vision doesn’t quite clear.

What is clear is that she’s in the actual real world, thank God. Even with skewed vision, Scully recognizes that she must be in the hospital. There’s a man standing by her bedside.

“Mulder?” Her voice sounds hoarse and unfamiliar to her own ears. It’s Delaney’s voice, she realizes. She’s actually in someone else’s body. This is happening.

The man moves his face closer to hers. She can make out his features pretty well now. Not Mulder.

“Delaney?” Harrison asks, clearly relieved. “It’s a miracle.”

Without waiting for a response, he swoops in and presses his lips into hers for an extended, very one-sided kiss. Scully tries to push him off, but she’s still getting her bearings from waking up in someone else’s body. She opens her mouth to protest, but he misinterprets the movement as an invitation to insert his tongue.

Scully begins gagging, which leads Harrison to withdraw suddenly. He’s back to being a blurry figure next to her bed.

“Can I have some water?” Scully coughs. What kind of nutcase passionately kisses someone who was just woke up from a coma!

“So it’s true,” Harrison says, sounding cold. “You’ve fallen in love with someone else.”

“Water? Please,” she rasps.

“First you say his name, then you don’t want to kiss me,” Harrison continues, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Agent Scully told me how the two of you carried on in Vegas, but I hoped she was mistaken.”

What is he talking about? Why won’t he get me some water? Scully tries to sit up, but her borrowed body feels stiff and difficult to use.

“Is that why you wanted to go to Vegas? You wanted me to pay for a vacation for you and my replacement?” Harrison rants. “I’m paying a fortune to have you and your sister here in this private suite, and you’re playing me for a fool.”

Good Lord, Scully wishes that Mulder were here instead of Harrison. It’s stressful enough to wake up from a coma without all this relationship drama.

Scully finds a call button attached to her bed and presses it. If Harrison won’t get her water, the medical staff surely will.

“Hello?” A nurse’s voice comes through with a burst of static.

“Water,” Scully croaks into the call button.

“Who am I speaking to?” The nurse seems confused, probably not used to many requests from coma patients. Harrison stops ranting and snatches the call button out of her hand.

“Sorry to bother you, I’ve got it,” Harrison tells the nurse. He begrudgingly pours a cup of room temperature water and shoves it towards her mouth. Scully drinks it, too thirsty to argue logistics.

“There,” Harrison says, removing the now empty cup. “Now tell me what’s going on. Are you having an affair with Agent Mulder?”

Scully has been considering how she would explain this situation. If she tells Harrison that she’s not actually Delaney, there’s a good chance he will think she needs psychiatric help. That’s exactly what she would think if roles were reversed.

Pretending to be Delaney is probably the safer bet, but Scully has never been a convincing liar. No, she won’t pretend to be Delaney. She won’t tell the whole story either. She needs to diffuse the situation with grace and diplomacy.

“Harrison, there is no affair with Agent Mulder,” Scully informs him, determined to handle this with dignity. “Now, does Delaney wear glasses?”

“Babe, you know I don’t like you in glasses,” Harrison pouts, though he does walk over to a small dresser and retrieve them for her. “Wait, why are you asking if you wear glasses?”

“Thank you,” Scully says, putting the glasses on. “Harrison, it is vitally important that you get both Agents Mulder and Scully here right away. I must ask that you do not tell them that I am awake. I can’t give you all the answers right now, but I need to speak to both of them.”

There. It feels good to take charge after spending all that time in her head. Harrison will call Mulder, who will rush over here and help her to make sure Delilah switches them back.

“So… no affair?” Harrison just stares at her.

“No affair,” she confirms, trying to keep her frustration under wraps. “It’s imperative that I am able to speak to both of them, Harrison. There’s a chance that ‘Agent Scully,’ will try to run away once she sees that I’m awake. I need you to make sure she does not leave the building. Can you do that, Harrison?”

His face goes through a range of emotions from uncertain to confused to perplexed and then back to uncertain.

“You still want to marry me?” Harrison questions. “You love me?”

Christ.

“Yes. That… has not changed,” Scully dismisses, not particularly convincingly.

Harrison looks immeasurably relieved. Again, without preamble, he presses his lips to hers before she can protest. This time she is able to quickly push him off.

“There will be time for that later,” Scully quickly tells him, trying not to look as repulsed as she feels. She’s not even sure the original Delaney would want to kiss him five minutes after waking up from a coma.

“Okay, babe, I’m so glad you’re awake,” Harrison smiles. “Why don’t you go brush your teeth and put on some makeup? I’ll see about getting the FBI agents here.”

He invades her space for one more quick peck on the lips, giving her a sideways look.

“I’ll find out what they did with your contacts,” he says solemnly.

Scully just gapes at him, wondering how such a superficial person can even be possible. Harrison gives her lap a reassuring pat and leaves the room. She hopes he remembers to call Mulder and not tip Delilah off that she’s awake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The morgue is cold, sterile, and all around uncomfortable.

Delilah’s had a very long day. She had to show up to work, meet with Skinner, chase after Mulder to Delaney’s bedside, go back to work, attempt an autopsy, take over the body of a large male security guard, engage in a fake hostage negotiation, and now just wait.

Her phone rings. Mulder. Hopefully he’s been able to meet some of her demands. She picks up the phone.

“Okay Tim, we have your pizzas,” Mulder says. “We also have the two bottles of Evian spring water, the latest Us Weekly, a pillow, and a bowl of all green M&Ms.”

“Is the pillow fluffy?” Delilah asks.

A pause.

“I’m told it’s quite fluffy, Tim,” Mulder says quite seriously.

“You better hope they’re right,” Delilah warns, thrilled at how menacing Tim’s voice sounds.

She’s definitely enjoying the power that comes with being on this side of a hostage negotiation, especially since she gets to be both the hostage and hostage taker. That really reduces the stress.

Her only regret is location. It’s too bad this had to happen in the morgue. Next time she tries something like this, she’s going to do it in a luxury hotel room.

“Can I talk to Scully?” Mulder asks.

Delilah has been preparing for this moment. She pulls her concentration more fully into Scully’s body.

“Mulder?” Delilah whimpers, trying to sound especially abused and broken. “Please do what he says, Mulder, I can’t—“

“Listen to the lady,” Delilah says gruffly, making the instant transfer back into Tim’s body. “Put my things on a rolling cart. Send Margie in with the cart. Any funny business and the redhead gets it.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Margie, you don’t have to go in there,” Agent Mulder repeats, but they both know she’s going to. That’s her partner in there too.

“I know him,” she says. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Tim is a good man. I’m not afraid of him.”

Agent Mulder nods, and Margie pushes the cart towards the morgue door. The door slowly opens. Margie pushes the cart into the darkened autopsy suite.

“Tim?” she calls out. The door closes behind her. She turns to see Tim standing there, scalpel in hand. Margie glances around for Agent Scully, but she doesn’t see her.

“You can go now,” Tim dismisses her, gesturing to the door.

“Please end this, Tim,” Margie begs. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you. You’re the kind of man who gives up your seat to old people on the bus. You remember everyone in this building’s name and whether any of their family members are sick. I’ve seen you take spiders outside in a cup when most people would have stepped on them.”

She thinks she might be getting through to him. He looks touched at her impassioned speech on his character. Then, just as quickly, his face shifts and Margie worries that she’s about to be thrown into a wall again.

“You saw what I wanted you to see,” Tim corrects her. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

“If that’s true,” Margie’s voice breaks, “why not just quit? Why hurt people? Is… is Agent Scully hurt, Tim?”

There’s been so sound or motion indicating that Agent Scully is in the room at all. Margie fears that the poor woman is already dead. Tim’s face goes slightly slack.

“Margie?” Agent Scully’s voice calls from a back corner.

“It’s me,” Margie calls back, her eyes still on Tim’s empty expression.

“Tell Mulder I’m fine,” Agent Scully requests, sounding anything but fine.

“Tim, how can we end this?” Margie asks, desperate to get everyone out alive.

“We end it when I say we end it,” Tim responds, his face coming alive again. “Now, get out of here and let me enjoy my pizza.”

Margie sighs in defeat. She slowly exits the room, still unsure how to wrap her mind about Tim’s sudden and severe personality shift. She can’t shake the feeling that this couldn’t be Tim.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“It’s like he was possessed,” Margie says tearfully. Mulder’s eyes widen at the thought, wondering if it could be possible. Maybe Tim is possessed. Maybe Delilah borrowed Tim’s body to get to Scully. Why? How? He doesn’t have that figured out, but—as crazy as it sounds—it makes more sense than a well liked security guard going berserk.

Mulder picks up the phone and dials Scully’s number, becoming increasingly convinced that he understands the situation and how to fix it.

“I’m not done with my pizza,” Tim complains as soon as he picks up the phone. “I don’t like to be interrupted while I’m eating, so this had better be good.”

“I figured it out,” Mulder tells him, sounding confident. “I know who you really are, and I know what you want.”

“Is that so?” Tim’s tone is smug.

“You’re Delilah,” Mulder challenges, “and you want to be Scully. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? Except it’s not going to work, Delilah. Scully’s too strong. You’re never going to possess her.”

Mulder knows he’s taking a big risk, but he truly believes that he can end this without anyone getting hurt.

“Very clever, Fox,” Tim’s voice congratulates him. “You’ve got me all figured out.”

“Your spirit has been going from body to body for too long, Delilah,” Mulder empathizes. “It’s time for you to rest. Leave Tim’s body. You need to cross over.”

It feels like it takes forever for an answer to come through, but the words are exactly what he had hoped to hear.

“You’re a good man, Fox Mulder. Cherish her,” Tim advises. There’s a clatter, which Mulder assumes is Delilah dropping the phone as her spirit exits the body.

Mulder rushes to the autopsy suite door, hearing but ignoring several agents as they yell to stop him.

Mulder sees Tim first, sitting on the hard floor looking confused.

“What am I doing in here?” Tim asks.

Mulder doesn’t have time to explain. There’s a steady stream of Scully, Scully, Scully going through his brain as he tries desperately to locate her.

“Mulder?” a weak voice emerges from a darkened corner. Mulder rushes to her side.

“Are you hurt? Can you walk?” Mulder asks, worried by how groggy and out of it she seems.

“I think so,” she mumbles, letting out a sad little cough. She gingerly tries to lift herself off the floor, not quite finding her balance. She sinks back down.

“I’m going to carry you,” he concludes, expecting an argument.

“That might be for the best,” Scully replies, worrying him with her lack of resistance. If she’s not arguing against being carried in front of other agents, something must be truly wrong.

He lifts her and quickly scoots by the commotion of the other agents arresting Tim, who is protesting his innocence. Mulder will help explain the whole “possessed by an evil soul” defense after he makes sure Scully is all right.

“He got the jump on me,” Scully explains. “I was just about to start the autopsy, and there he was.”

“It’s not your fault, Scully,” Mulder soothes, stroking her cheek. “He’s a big guy, and he had the unfortunate distinction of being the latest person to be possessed by Delilah.”

“Delilah?” Scully’s face scrunches in confusion.

Mulder nods.

“I think she was after you, Scully,” he tells her. “She underestimated how strong you are. That’s why she used Tim to take you hostage, but it was never going to work.”

“No?” Scully gives him a hint of a smile

“No,” he affirms. “No, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. I think she got frustrated that she couldn’t control you, but I also believe I got through to her. I believe she’s found her peace.”

Scully leans in and rests her head on his chest. It feels wonderful to just hold her, happy and safe. He never wants to let go, although he reluctantly does so that the paramedics can check her out.

Guilt starts to creep back in. He never should have set her up to do this autopsy as a test. He should have trusted her, been honest with her about Lady Crystal’s doubts.

His thoughts are interrupted by his ringing phone. Mulder pulls it out and looks to see who’s calling.

Harrison Prescott III. This could be bad.

“Mulder,” he answers, bracing himself for whatever news he’s about to hear.

“Delaney’s awake,” Harrison announces happily. “I’m pretty sure it was my kiss that did it.”

Mulder feels instant relief that Delaney is all right, though he questions the ethics of kissing a woman in a coma.

“She wants to see you and Agent Scully right away,” Harrison informs him. “She’s pretty insistent.”

“Tell her that we would be happy to talk to her in a few days,” Mulder says, thinking about Scully’s need for recovery. “Call back in a week or so.”

“But she really—“

“Harrison, we’ve had a bit of an emergency today,” Mulder interrupts. “In fact, I need to go. See you in the next few weeks.”

He hangs up and silences his phone. Scully needs him to focus on her, not a case. He’s going to give her his undivided attention. He’s glad for Delaney that her coma was so temporary, but she has Harrison to take care of her.

Scully needs him, and he won’t let her down.

Chapter Text

“So, let me get this straight,” Scully says, rubbing her temple. “You told Agent Mulder that I’m awake, even though I asked you not to mention that part—and he told you to call back next week?”

“He sounded like he’s got a lot going on,” Harrison shrugs. “Who cares if he knows you’re awake, though? I don’t know why you’re harping on that.”

Scully cares. She needs to be one step ahead of Delilah for once, and Harrison has likely ruined that. She was very much hoping to get switched back before nightfall.

What happens when she needs to sleep tonight? Scully worries that she’ll have her mind invaded by Delilah again. What if Delilah can pull her back into the coma? God only knows what the rules of this scenario entail.

“I want to call him myself,” Scully asserts, reaching her hand out to take the phone out of Harrison’s hand. He withdraws it before she can, seemingly hesitant to let her have it.

“Delaney, you should know that I spoke to Mother,” Harrison tells her with obvious anxiety. “You know how she is.”

Actually, Scully does not know how Harrison’s mother is, nor does she care to learn.

“Give me the phone,” Scully demands, reaching for it.

“Mother thinks we should be careful,” Harrison continues. “She wasn’t happy when I told her I had already called the FBI.”

“Harrison, if you love Delaney at all, you will give me that phone.” Scully doesn’t have time for Harrison’s overbearing mother.

“See, that’s part of the reason that Mother is worried,” Harrison whines. “You talk like you’re not Delaney. Why would you do that, babe? You know she already had that big engagement announcement in the society papers, and she doesn’t want a scandal to make the family look… imperfect.”

Scully’s face twists in disappointment and disgust. Who cares about family optics? She needs her body back.

“You need to listen to me,” she commands. “I need to talk to Agent Mulder, and I need to do that now. Not later.”

Harrison looks conflicted. Scully prays that he has the good sense to side with his supposed fiancé instead of his image obsessed mother.

To her disappointment but not entire surprise, Harrison heads to the door with the cell phone, making an excuse about checking in with his mother as he flees.

Scully immediately pushes the call button to speak to the nurse.

“This is Age—I mean, this is Delaney Matthews,” she says into the speaker. “I woke up from my coma and I urgently need to make a phone call.”

“I’ll be right there,” the nurse states.

Scully relaxes. The nurse will let her call Mulder. She knows that he will believe her story. There’s no way that he doesn’t suspect something is wrong with Delilah’s version of her.

“Miss Matthews?” A nurse pops her head in the room.

“Yes,” Scully confirms. “Yes, I’m awake and I need to use a telephone.”

The nurse looks uncomfortable, and Scully gets a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Matthews, but the Prescott family has requested that we deny any requests for phone access at this time,” the nurse explains.

“You can’t do that,” Scully responds, her ire rising. “I’m a patient, not a prisoner. You have to let me make a phone call.”

“I’m sorry,” the nurse says, backing out the door back into the hallway. What the Hell?

Scully refuses to take no for an answer. She pulls herself up with difficulty. There’s a partial disconnect between her mind and Delaney’s body, but she’s extremely determined.

It takes an absurd amount of effort to pull Delaney’s legs over the side of the hospital bed. She nearly falls when she tries to stand, but she catches herself on the side of the bed. She carefully makes her way to the rolling tray, using it to help her reach the door.

The door is locked.

How can the door be locked?

Frustrated, she bangs on it. Why would a hospital room be locked from the outside? Why won’t anyone let her make a phone call?

“Hello?” she yells. “Can someone open this door?”

Not one to give up easily, Scully tries to get someone’s attention until her hands are sore and voice hoarse.

When she finally resigns herself that no one is coming—not immediately, anyway—she makes the difficult journey back to the bed and sits down.

Why does everything have to be so damn difficult? Why can’t she catch a break?

Exhausted, she lies down without intending to sleep. Being Scully, she falls asleep anyway.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder has often wished that Scully would let him care for her after a traumatic event. This time, Scully had opened herself up to him in every way. From the moment she shyly asked him to stay the night in her guest room, she has inundated him with requests. He had no idea how exhausting a job it could be.

No, that’s not true. He shakes off the thought. This is a woman who didn’t do so much as ask him to bring her soup for the months she was battling terminal cancer. If she wants to be babied a bit right now, she has more than earned it.

“Mulder, can you find my L’Occitane Shea Butter Hand Cream?” Scully calls from her bedroom.

“Where do you keep it?” Mulder doesn’t know exactly what that is.

“It might be in a bathroom drawer,” Scully says. “Or maybe this side table drawer.”

She motions towards the nightstand, which causes Mulder to briefly consider whether or not she could have reached it herself. He immediately admonishes the uncharitable thought. Clearly Scully has been through a terrible ordeal.

“There’s Neutrogena hand cream,” Mulder announces, looking through the nightstand drawer.

“The L’Occitane is better,” Scully pouts. “Can you check the bathroom?”

Dutifully, Mulder checks the bathroom and manages to find a small silver tube of the desired hand cream.

“You’re the best,” Scully squeals when he hands it to her, before clearing her throat. “I mean, thank you Mulder. I know it seems like a small difference, but this hand cream is very comforting.”

She rubs some on her hands, slowly and… seductively?

“I put too much on,” she announces. “Give me your hands.”

He looks at her with apprehension, but he does as she asks. She begins massaging his hands, rubbing the excess lotion in with slow, strong strokes.

“Does this feel good?” she asks softly.

“Yes,” he replies, feeling both extremely turned on and uncomfortable in equal measure.

“Good,” she says in a near whisper. “I want to make you feel good, Mulder.”

“Uh, thanks,” he says, pulling his hands back. “Hey, I’m going to check in on a couple work things in the other room, okay? I’ll, um, I will be back to see if you need something in just a little while.”

He turns and hurries out the door without looking back to see her expression.

What has gotten into her? Even though he’s had dreams that started this way, it doesn’t feel right in his waking hours. Or maybe it’s just the timing being all wrong. He doesn’t want to do anything she might regret when she’s not freshly traumatized and on pain killers.

He needs to work a bit to take his mind off of Scully. He remembers Delaney and feels guilty for dismissing Harrison so quickly earlier. Delaney waking up breaks the pattern. None of the other victims were able to escape their comas.

He should probably call Harrison back, but he’s still not ready to leave Scully and go interview Delaney. There’s no sense in getting their hopes up.

He calls Lady Crystal instead and tells her about how he thwarted Delilah and that he believes her spirit can finally rest.

“So Delilah just left the guy’s body and crossed over into the afterlife because you… asked nicely?” Lady Crystal doesn’t sound impressed.

“Something like that,” Mulder says. “I think you were right about Delilah wanting to be Scully, except she found out that she couldn’t possess Scully. I think it frustrated her enough to stop.”

“Maybe that’s why happened,” Lady Crystal concedes in the tone that one might use with a five year old who just blamed a newborn for drawing on the wall.

“You don’t think she’s gone?” Mulder deflates slightly.

“I know I asked you this before, but please consider the idea again. Has your partner been acting strangely?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Scully dreams, she finds herself on the beach. No classrooms or childhood dream bedrooms, thank God. No evil mermaids either.

Everything is peaceful.

Such a relief after the past forty-something hours. Still, it’s hard to relax when Delilah might be showing up any minute. Scully does her best to enjoy the calm while it lasts.

It does not last.

The sky turns dark, and the waves grow turbulent. Scully manages her breathing. She’s not going to give Delilah the satisfaction of getting under her skin.

In fact, she plans to turn the tables on Delilah entirely. She’s strong enough to stand up and demand her life back. She feels confident. At this point, Delilah has probably realized that being Dana Scully isn’t what she expected.

She’s still planning her argument when a large reptilian creature emerges from the water, bites her ankle, and swiftly drags her into the depths.

Scully struggles to get a look at it, twisting to free her ankle. With dread, she recognizes the monster in front of her:

Big Blue.

Chapter Text

Delilah settles back in the bed, frowning from Mulder’s perceived rejection. She had suggestively told him wanted to make him “feel good” and he fled the room. Had she come on too strong? How subtle does she need to be? She knows he’s interested. He thinks she’s Scully, after all.

She’s very much enjoyed how he has been at her beck and call all evening, but she wants more overt romance. Maybe staging her own hostage crisis hadn’t been the genius move she had anticipated. Perhaps “victim of a violent crime” didn’t stir up romantic intent, which she begrudgingly admits is probably noble.

Annoying and unnecessary, but noble.

So she’ll wait, maybe even blame her forwardness on her traumatic day. He’ll forgive her because he loves her. Well, he loves Scully—and that’s just fine because she is Scully. Delilah sits with the thought—nay, conviction. She is Dana Scully. She is loved by Fox Mulder. Everything is perfect.

Except… the original Dana Scully isn’t completely neutralized. Delilah senses this, and it gnaws at her in a way that the other times didn’t. She never visited her other victims in their dreams or gave them much thought at all after assuming their identities.

It dawns on Delilah that she cannot fully integrate into her new life while the woman formerly known as Dana Scully plagues her thoughts. It’s time to say goodbye.

Delilah concentrates on visualizing the room she had left Dana in at their last meeting: the purple pony princess room of Delilah’s own childhood dreams. She fades into sleep, fully expecting to see Dana Scully confined to the carefully curated space.

Dana Scully is not there.

Quickly deducing that Dana had stacked the furniture and somehow managed to claw her way through the ceiling like an escaped pet hamster, Delilah goes after her. In seconds, she finds herself in boring Delaney’s kindergarten classroom themed headspace. Interesting. Delilah had never accessed Delaney’s old memories. It hadn’t seemed necessary.

Dana’s not here either.

Now it’s starting to feel personal. What the Hell, Dana? Where are you? Delilah walks around in Delaney’s brain, scoffing at the memories of her ex-fiancé Harrison. Delaney’s brain is nothing but lovey dovey romantic nonsense and earnest devotion to her teaching career.

Then she spots it: an opening. Thank God because she cannot stand being surrounded by Delaney’s sugary memories for one more minute. Delilah pokes her head through the tear in the wall. To her great satisfaction, she finds Dana Scully.

Dana sits on a serene beach of her own conjuring, oblivious to Delilah’s arrival. As grateful as Delilah is to find that Dana hasn’t completely escaped, the whole situation is… irritating, honestly. What gives her the right? Hadn’t Delilah created a nice relaxing space for Dana to have a good long rest? What does she think she’s doing?

Delilah truly doesn’t want to scare Dana, but she doesn’t see that she has any other choice. Dana needs to remember who is in charge—and after that little lesson, she needs to be suitably contained, discarded, and ultimately forgotten.

In a moment of inspiration, Delilah makes the very reasonable decision to transform herself into the sea monster known as Big Blue, drag Dana underwater, and establish dominance once and for all. It seems like a solid plan.

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For a fraction of a moment, Scully feels real fear as the prehistoric sea creature’s teeth bite into her ankle and yank her from the safety of the beach and into the sea. To be fair, most people would be caught off guard. Most people’s fear would only increase as the enormous creature gained speed while never loosening its grip on Scully’s ankle.

Dana Scully’s primary emotion at this point could best be described as primal rage. She’s had it with these ridiculous nightmares and Delilah’s manipulations. No more body swap madness. She is done.

So, using advice that she gleaned from watching Shark Week, Scully punches Big Blue right in the snout. The creature recoils in surprise. Scully doesn’t relent, landing another blow to this dream world version of the creature who may or may not have eaten poor Queequeg. She’s about to strike the monster again when—poof—it disappears, replaced by a very put upon looking Delilah.

Before Scully can fully comprehend the transition, the underwater scene ends and a new location inside a stark white cube begins.

“God, that actually hurt.” Delilah rubs her nose. “I can’t believe you punched me.”

Scully moves to hit her again, ignoring the fact that Delilah wears Scully’s own face. This bitch deserves to be punched. Delilah forces her back before she can make contact.

“You really need to learn to take a joke,” Delilah mutters.

“This isn’t a joke,” Scully spits. “It’s my life. You’ve stolen my life.”

Delilah manages to look both surprised and hurt, as if she is the injured party here.

“You’re done. You’re going to make this right,” Scully continues, her voice filled with urgency and authority. “Do your little tornado trick or whatever it is you have to do. Change us back.”

Delilah’s vulnerable expression disappears, replaced by something darker.

“That’s cute,” Delilah smirks. “You get a couple punches in and suddenly you’re in charge? That’s not how this works, sweetie.”

“I’m not going to be intimidated by you anymore,” Scully informs her. “You can’t hold me in your mental prison. You can’t even keep me in a coma. I am going to tell Mulder everything and he’s going to believe me.”

Scully notes a flash of surprise on Delilah’s face. Mulder must not have told her that “Delaney” woke from her coma, which Scully hopes is a sign that he knows not to trust this imposter.

“I don’t think you will,” Delilah says after consideration. “If I know the Prescott family, they’re not going to let you embarrass them.”

Scully takes a step back, the truth of that statement ringing uncomfortably true.

“Have you met Harrison’s mother yet?” Delilah grins. “If you start talking about being in the wrong body, that heartless witch will have you institutionalized or lobotomized before sunrise.”

“I will speak to Mulder, and he will believe me,” Scully counters, projecting a confidence that she doesn’t entirely possess. “You could save yourself some embarrassment if you swap us back now.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Delilah declares before snapping herself out of the room. Scully folds her arms and waits to wake up.

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Mulder watches Scully sleep, Lady Crystal’s suspicions weighing heavily on him. Is it possible that this woman isn’t actually Scully? If so, where does that leave his Scully? It feels wrong to be suspicious of Scully, and he’s certain that Scully wouldn’t be pleased by the accusation.

On a scale of mild exasperation to turning in her letter of resignation, how offended will Scully be if he questions her identity? That’s the question, and yet he must explore all possibilities. He has to be absolutely certain that his partner is actually herself.

“Mulder?” Scully looks at him with confusion, waking with a start.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

“I had the strangest dream,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “We were visiting Delaney Matthews. She had woken up from her coma, and she was claiming to be me. She—she knew all the right things to say to make you believe her.”

Mulder’s eyes widen slightly, trying to gauge the sincerity of Scully’s words. She certainly seems shaken, but Mulder hasn’t ruled out the possibility that she’s playing him.

“It was just a weird dream,” Scully assures him. “Delaney Matthews is in a coma, and even if she weren’t, you would never believe she was me.”

Mulder wonders if he should tell her that Delaney Matthews is out of her coma, though he has no reason to believe that she’s claiming to be anyone except herself.

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Scully, still stuck in Delaney’s body, wakes up in a hospital bed at the private care facility where Delaney’s fiancé Harrison’s family is basically holding her hostage—at least that’s how it feels with no phone calls.

Emboldened by her conversation with Delilah, Scully decides that she’s done accepting no as an answer. She will talk to Mulder today, and that’s all there is to it.

She buzzes for the nurse. This ends now.

The woman who enters the room a few minutes later is not the nurse. She is tall, thin, with sharp features and expensive clothing.

“Hello Delaney,” the woman says coolly. “I hear you’re a bit… confused.”

From the woman’s tone of disgust, Scully gathers that this is Harrison’s mother, Mrs. Prescott. Delilah’s words ring in Scully’s ears:

”If you start talking about being in the wrong body, that heartless witch will have you institutionalized or lobotomized before sunrise.”

Scully takes a deep breath. She cannot afford a mistake. This woman is the only thing standing between her and a phone call to Mulder. Failure is not an option.

Chapter Text

“It seems we have a problem, Delaney. My son told me that you’re claiming to be possessed or some such nonsense.”

Lydia Prescott closes the door firmly behind her, her eyes narrowing at Scully. She carries the air of a woman who can and will bend others to her will, whether through influence or intimidation. Special Agent Dana Scully would normally be immune to these tactics, protected by her professionalism and her badge.

The Dana Scully stuck inside the stolen body of Delaney Matthews feels ever so slightly less confident—but no less determined. She sits up in the hospital bed with perfect posture, her head held high, her eyes clear and confident.

“Mrs. Prescott, I understand your concern,” Scully states with authority. “I assure you that I have no intention of embarrassing your family. I simply need to speak to Agent Mulder at the FBI, and we can get this cleared up.”

“To tell him you’re actually his partner, Dana Scully?” Lydia Prescott retorts, looking Scully up and down. “An impossible claim made even more unbelievable by the fact that Dana Scully is alive and well. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Delaney, but I advise that you end it immediately.”

Scully’s shoulders sag slightly. Of course this woman doesn’t believe her. Hell, Scully wouldn’t believe it herself if roles were reversed. Still, she cannot give up. She must call Mulder.

“It’s imperative that I speak to Agent Mulder,” Scully reiterates. “As a federal agent, he will display the utmost discretion. Your family’s good name will be entirely safe.”

It looks as though Lydia Prescott may actually be considering it. Scully’s hope increases as Lydia’s dour look becomes begrudgingly more intrigued.

“There is something different about you,” Lydia acknowledges. “It would seem you developed a backbone while in your little coma. I will allow the phone call.”

Oh, thank God.

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Mulder hates how relieved he feels when his phone rings, interrupting a rather… clingy cuddle session with Scully as they watch a cheesy horror movie on her sofa. It’s unnerving how uncomfortable he feels with her arm wrapped possessively around his. None of this feels right, but how can that be? This is Scully. What is wrong with him?

He frees his arm from her gasp and stands to answer the call, gesturing an apology and taking a few steps away.

“Mr. Mulder? This is Lydia Prescott. I believe you met my son Harrison and future daughter-in-law Delaney,” a self-assured voice states as soon as he answers.

“Yes?” Mulder was not expecting Harrison Prescott III’s mother to be calling.

“I was told you were guarding my future daughter-in-law when she had her episode,” Lydia Prescott begins. “You and your partner seem to have made quite the impression on the poor girl because she’s insisting that she must speak to you.”

She is? Oh God, does she blame them for not protecting her? Is she planning to sue the FBI? Mulder’s mouth goes dry.

“That’s not all,” Lydia continues. “My future daughter-in-law believes that she is no longer herself. In fact, she claims to be your partner, Dana Scully.”

“She… what?” Mulder chokes, alarm bells ringing in his head. Part of him immediately recognizes that this must be true. Of course the woman on the couch isn’t Scully. That would go a long way to explain the inconsistencies in her behavior all evening, as well as his own lukewarm reaction.

And yet—what if he’s wrong? Scully went through a traumatic experience today. Sure, she’s gone through worse before and not fallen apart like this. This could be her finally opening up and being vulnerable. If he accuses her of being an imposter, she may never trust him this way again.

“I told her it’s impossible,” Lydia Prescott sighs. “She’s rather insistent. My poor Harrison doesn’t deserve this. I need you to talk some sense into her.”

“When can I see her?” Mulder asks—because of course he’s going to go talk to her. How could he not?

The Scully sitting on the sofa turns to look at him, hurt and surprise apparent on her face.

“See who?” she asks, big blue eyes looking up at him. He can practically hear the unspoken accusation. How could you think of leaving me in my time of need?

Lydia wants him to come first thing in the morning, but he can’t wait.

“I’m on my way,” he declares, hanging up.

“Mulder, where are you going?” Scully—or possibly Not Scully—asks.

“I have to check on something,” he explains.

“Right now?” She lifts an eyebrow. Perfectly Scully.

“I’ll be back soon,” he assures her, not entirely convincingly.

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“I’m coming with you,” Delilah blurts out.

It makes him pause. He seems to be weighing something, but he nods.

“Let me change, and we’ll go,” Delilah smiles.

When she gets to Dana’s bedroom, worry and doubt begin to creep in. Are they on their way to see “Delaney” and is there any way to stop him from talking to her? Maybe she could go in first and… what? Smother her with a pillow? Delilah is pretty sure that will take too long. Jump bodies again? But she likes this one!

She needs a plan—and quickly. She needs to delay this reunion. Crash the car? Fake a medical emergency? One way or another, she’s keeping Mulder’s attention where it belongs: on her.