By Gwendolyn
gwendyn@aol.com
 

Date: Tue, 8 Sep 1998
Rating:   NC-17
Category: A, X, S, R
Spoilers: Movie Spoilers, Spoilers through Season 5
Keywords: Angst, MSR, Mulder/Other (sort of), Krycek (in a supporting role)

Summary:  What if the Well Manicured Man never told Mulder where to find
Scully? It's been seven months since Scully was taken away in the ambulance
and Mulder's still searching for her...
 
 

Archive: Yes, but please let me know you're using it so I can visit.

Disclaimer: Alas, the X-Files and the characters associated with it are not mine
by birth, they belong to CC and 1013.  I have adopted them with love in my heart
and the best of intentions.

Feedback:  Yeah, I dig it...

************************************************
interregnum (n) -  the interval between the end of one reign or regime and the
start of another. -  any interruption, pause, or gap in the continuity of
something.
************************************************

Interregnum
By Gwendolyn
Gwendyn@aol.com
 
 

"He lived then before me; he lived as much as he had ever lived - a shadow
insatiable of splendid appearances, of frightful realities; a shadow darker than
the shadow of the night, and draped nobly in the folds of a gorgeous eloquence."

 -  Joseph Conrad, "Heart of Darkness"

*  *  *  *  *
 
These men, who live in the shadows, whose motives I know only in terms of their
consequences; these men have taken my life from me on a whim. So smug in their
beliefs, so sure of themselves in their appraisal, they have created what I am
today. But as I stand on this hilltop again, looking upward and outward, they
cannot know that I also turn inward.

I need the proof.  If they had laid her corpse in front me, they might have won.
They didn't.  They haven't. The truth in its traditional terms,
in every way that ever mattered to me, means nothing to me now. I suppose that's
what they wanted, for the truth to no longer hold sway over me.

They wanted the wrong thing.

I'm searching now for another truth. Truth infinitely more personal to me and
far more dangerous to them. It's a search fueled by desperate need.
A search for truth best served through vengeance.

Only recently have I learned the real nature of truth.  It is a fluid thing,
given as much weight by a man's desires as by its ideal.

I will find her. I will.

And I will make the bastards pay.

These men, they think they know my motives, but they will come to know them only
in terms of their consequences.

* * * * * * * *

Hampton, Virginia
April 24, 1999
5:21 p.m.

Dana Scully had been missing for seven months, one week and two days when Mulder
walked into The Midnight Hour.  Neon lights of pink and violet proclaimed it a
fifties dance club and restaurant. Inside the lighting was
dull and the small dance floor was vacant.  Elvis Presley's disembodied voice
crooned "Are you Lonesome Tonight?" over the sound system.

Mulder scanned the club with sunken, blood-shot eyes. It wasn't difficult for
him to spot his contact. His informants had become frequent and interchangeable
since Scully had disappeared into the ambulance. A seemingly
inexhaustible supply of older, gray-haired men who left him anonymous
correspondence via email, abrupt phone messages and even hand delivered notes.

Knowing full well that he was being jerked around but incapable of stopping it,
Mulder followed the leads. All of them. Since his resignation from the Bureau
six months earlier, he had used all his resources, all his energy, crossing and
re-crossing the country in pursuit of every clue. The
latest had led him to the club in Hampton, Virginia.

Mulder's easy stride did not betray his turmoil as he approached the man
in the booth. He took his seat without ceremony, searching the man's eyes with
an intense glare as the waitress stopped by to take his order.   As she turned
to leave, the older man spoke for the first time.

"Only iced tea, Agent Mulder? Shouldn't you eat something?"

"I don't have much of an appetite."

He liked to think that his new face, the one he'd worn since Scully was taken
from him again, was hard and unreadable.  But Mulder's eyes still betrayed his
emotions. His frustration, his anger, his yearning and his weariness were all
apparent there.   In the depths of those eyes the older man also saw the
vestiges of hope.

"You look tired," the man commented.

Mulder's voice was low and impatient. "It's been a long trip. I was in Oregon
when you sent your message."

"You drove? That must have taken days. Why didn't you fly?"

"I had a few stops to make along the way. But I'm sure you knew that already."

"Yes. You have been very diligent in your search for Miss Scully. It's been an
exhausting journey.  You should rest."

"I'm fine."

"But how is she?  That's the question, isn't it?"
 
"Yeah, speaking of Scully..." Mulder allowed the words to taper off, quietly
encouraging the man to get to the point while ignoring the twist in his gut at
his casual reference to Scully.

"Patience, Mr. Mulder. In due time she will be returned to you." Mulder noticed
a pale pink scar running the length of his informant's face, from
his right ear to a place slightly below his mouth.  He tried to concentrate on
the scar as a way of maintaining his precarious balance. Silence reigned for a
few tense moments before he gave in and asked the expected question.

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yes, Agent Mulder, I do."

"Where?"

"Surely you realize that I can't give you that information outright."

Mulder leaned back and ran his hand through his hair with a low, harsh laugh.
"Why not? That is, if you really know anything at all."

"You've developed something of a reputation Agent Mulder. Your informants often
wake up dead."

"Then why even contact me?"

"Maybe I'm a romantic."

Both men paused as the waitress returned with Mulder's drink. The scar faced man
turned to her, "I'll be leaving shortly. Please bring me my check."

"Yes sir. And what about you?" she nodded toward Mulder.

"He'll be staying here for a while," the man answered for Mulder who nodded his
assent cautiously as the waitress turned to leave.

"So, what is this? Will the secret to Scully's whereabouts be revealed through a
subliminal message in a Chubby Checker song? Why am I staying here?"

"I've always admired your persistent curiosity, Agent Mulder."

Mulder's voice came in a quick, ragged hiss. "This isn't about curiosity, you
smug son of a bitch. This is about destiny. You're a romantic, huh?
How does this grab you? When I find her...and I *will* find her... I'm coming
after whoever is responsible. I'm not the little boy you and your buddies have
been toying with all these years. Do you understand me? The people who took her
are as good as dead when she's back, including you, unless you can lead me to
her."

Mulder's face was mottled, his breathing heavy and labored. He paused for breath
as he searched the other man's eyes, satisfied to see the flicker of fear there.
 
"The only reason you're alive right now," he spat, "is because you might
be able to help me find her. After she's back, all bets are off."

"If you get her back, revenge might not smell so sweet," the older man remarked.
"What if she wants you to stop your quest for vengeance?  What if she hates you
for what you've become?"

"Scully and I have disagreed on procedural matters before," Mulder replied with
practiced bravado.

"And you're so sure she's even alive?"

"Are you telling me she's not?" It wasn't the first time he had been forced to
ask the question, but it never got any easier.

The scar faced man turned his head as the waitress approached with the check.
Slowly, he removed his wallet from his back pocket and set his money on the edge
of the table.  Mulder slumped back in his seat, realizing that he'd never get a
direct answer, understanding that he already knew the truth. She was alive. She
was alive because she had to be.

The man came to his feet and stood next to the table. He looked at his watch,
then down at Mulder. "Stick around, Agent Mulder, it's almost six o'clock. Time
for a shift change."  With a mock salute he was gone.

With no idea of what to expect from the night's game, Mulder leaned back,
resting his head against the vinyl seat.  He allowed the memories to wash over
him.  It was always the same. Alone in his car, alone in a crowd,
he fixated on images of Scully and of her absence. The images emerged in
their common succession, rolling backward until she was there with him again,
comforting and familiar.

He thought of tonight's events, the familiar pattern of vague clues and double
talk from a questionable source.

Back again to the drive toward Virginia.  He had stopped at his apartment that
afternoon before completing the drive. It was the first time in two months he'd
been back there.  There had been a card from Maggie Scully slipped under his
door that he pocketed but did not read.  When he'd walked through the hallway
where he'd last seen Scully he had willed himself to quicken his pace, staring
straight ahead, hands and jaw clenched.

He envisioned the endless stretch of road before and behind him.  Before
she was gone he had enjoyed the travel that came with the job.  Now the
landscape all seemed the same to him, dark and barren.  Every time he opened the
car door and slid behind the wheel he glanced to his right half expecting to see
her there.  Sometimes, when he was tired enough and hungry enough, he did see
her.  The image and the smell of her were strong and
real to him. Over time, he'd come to cherish his delusions.

The tide rolled back to reveal his last meeting with Skinner.  He had stood
defensively in front of the Assistant Director and proclaimed that there was
nothing left for him at the FBI.  All avenues of investigation offered through
official channels had been exhausted; his only hope of finding her was to work
outside the Bureau.  Skinner had tried to bring him back into the fold, knowing
it was futile. The meeting ended with Skinner telling him to keep in touch, to
call him if he needed anything. Mulder hadn't seen him since. He was a dangerous
man to know these days and to call on his former boss would be to put him at
risk.  He knew that Skinner continued the official search for Agent Scully.

He thought back to Maggie Scully. He had felt compelled to tell Scully's
mother himself that her daughter was missing _again_ and that he had no leads,
no prospects.  The trembling of her chin, the tears in her eyes as
she fought against the truth provided a twisted comfort to him. He drank
in her pain, took it into himself as punishment. He remembered pulling back as
she reached to him for comfort. Remembered her stubborn refusal to
let him go, the fierceness of her embrace as they cried into each other.
 "Find her. Bring her back to me. I promise not to give up hope this time... but
you have to find her.  I need her, Fox, and so do you."

He was trapped in the undertow of memories that carried him back again.
The memory of waking up in the hospital, those first frantic hours of searching.
Coming upon the explosion in the alley, the wail of fire engine sirens as they
dragged the remains of three bodies out of the car. Two remained unidentified.
The third was Kurtzweil's. His only connection to Scully dead within half an
hour of agreeing to meet with him.  He had been sick and frantic.  And utterly
helpless.

Then came the bittersweet memories of Scully. How could his tortured mind ever
hope to conjure the true substance of her?  As real as his illusions seemed to
him, he knew that they were only blurred images and vague memories of sensation.

Her gasp when she was stung, the look in her eyes before that as she moved with
him toward the kiss. Her emotions, held back with painstaking control, as she
told him she'd resigned. "It's done."

He remembered her exasperated stare as they stood on the rooftop in Dallas.  "I
had you big time."  Their shared frustration during the Gibson Praise case.
"This time they may have won."

All the looks and touches over the years were cherished symbols to him now, even
the misunderstandings and disagreements that had plagued much of
their partnership.  Mulder remembered the feel of her body as they danced, her
God-awful singing voice warbling "Joy to the World" as her body pressed to his,
offering warmth and protection.

Memories came of the Cancer that had invaded her body but did not bow her
spirit. Her absolute loyalty in the face of her darkest hour, "Mulder, if I can
save you, let me."

The images flowed over him, memories that carried him back to the first fragile
days of their partnership. The construction of trust he shared only with her.

Mulder's lips were curved at the edges in the slightest of smiles as he
remembered Scully's entry into his world.

"Actually, I'm looking forward to working with you.  I've heard a lot about
you."

"Sir, I'm your new waitress.  I'm sorry to disturb you, but would you like
anything else?"

Mulder knew it was only a trick of his mind that made her voice sound like
Scully's. When he opened his eyes to glance toward her, Scully would be gone.

Pulling himself up slowly, Mulder turned his head and saw her.

Scully. The tide surged.

Her hair was a darker auburn, and longer, but the eyes were the same shade of
blue, the skin the same porcelain hue.  Pad and pen in hand, she watched him
expectantly. He felt the suspension of time as their eyes met.

"Sir. You've been sitting here quite a while. Would you like to order something?
Something else to drink maybe?"

"Scully..." his voice barely registered.

"Sorry, never heard of it, but if you tell me what's in it I'm sure they
can whip it up for you at the bar."

"You." He stared at her dumbly. Mulder tried to stand but clumsily fell back
onto his booth seat, forced down by the table's weight.  His body was flooded
with sensation, her sudden presence felt in every particle.  Closing his eyes
tightly for a moment, he willed this delusion to vanish like the others.  When
he reopened them it was to find the woman gazing at him warily.

Instinct demanded that he rise and face her standing but her obvious unease
convinced Mulder to remain seated.  She looked like Scully but her actions
weren't familiar to him.  The way she held herself, with her head bowed slightly
downward, her feet rolled so that she stood on the outer edges, was almost
girlish.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have disturbed you. Just flag me down if you need
anything." She turned to walk away.

In the instant before she was out of reach, Mulder reached out and grabbed her
hand. Startled, she spun to face him. He felt the slight jerk of her arm as she
attempted to pull away but he tightened his hold, not allowing her escape. He
swiveled his legs around and stood over her.

"Let go, you're hurting me."  Her face was flushed and she glanced behind her,
looking for help. The restaurant was almost deserted and no one but Mulder heard
her over the music.

Stepping in closer, Mulder lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Who are
you?" He asked. "What's your name?"

"Lily."  She found that despite her nervousness, she did not fear the stranger
who watched her so intently as he swayed slightly toward her.  Mesmerized by
eyes that devoured her, she stammered her name again, "L-lily
Jacobs."  She was startled to feel her own fingers wrap more tightly around his.

"Lily Jacobs..." he tested the name hoarsely.  "Lily, do you know me?"

"No. Should I?"

"I don't know. I...." He stopped suddenly, looking down at their hands. She saw
him bite his upper lip with a grimace before looking back up at her; his eyes
glassy with unshed tears. He disentangled his hand from hers
suddenly and stepped back, bumping into the table behind him.  "You have
her hands."

She wondered if she had known him. This man seemed so familiar to her. "Whose
hands?" Sudden realization dawned in her eyes. "Your wife's? Do I remind you
of...." Lily allowed her voice to trail off, leaving the question to linger in
the open space between them.

Mulder bit back a sob, shamed by his own weakness. She did have Scully's
hands. She had Scully's voice, Scully's brow and the freckles that dusted her
face. Every feature, even her scent, was Scully's.  But she didn't know him. She
wasn't Scully.

Unless... he wondered if they could have erased her memory, given her a new
life. It would be a torture to him to have her living and breathing in front him
but forever just out of reach. Scully but not his Scully.

"I'm sorry," he said, willing his voice to remain steady. "No. Not my wife."
Mulder looked down at his feet and ran his fingers through already disheveled
hair, willing his heartbeat to slow to its normal cadence.  When he looked back
up at her, his face was schooled into a placid expression.

"I am sorry.  I'm sorry I startled you, Lily." Giving her a tight, conciliatory
grin, Mulder turned and sat again.

Flustered, Lily reached up to push her dark hair behind her left ear.  "That's
OK. What's your name?"

"Mulder. Fox."  He laughed and waved his hand in a self-deprecating manner.
"Umm, Fox Mulder."

She smiled at his discomfort; glad the tables were turned slightly in her favor.
"Well, Fox is unusual."

"I usually just go by Mulder."

Lily nodded her head decisively before speaking again, "OK, well, Mr. Mulder.
I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to go over to the kitchen and
order you up our grilled chicken platter and I'll bring you some
water and coffee. You look like you could use it."

"Do you take care of all your customers like this or just the demented ones?"

"I prefer the term emotionally challenged," she told him with a compassionate
grin.

"Well, then, I'm your man."

Another wary smile touched her lips and she walked away to put in the order.

* * * * * * * *

Mulder unclenched his fists and exhaled raggedly.  From the moment he had looked
up to see her face, he'd been in turmoil. He had to gain control, had to find
the anchor of truth.

He conjured the image of Lily in his mind's eye and considered it from every
angle.  Not merely a look-alike, she was Scully. She looked younger,
he thought. That was the difference, the niggling incongruity he couldn't shake.
Her hair was long like Scully's during those early days of their
partnership. Her face was younger, not as hard as the one Scully had worn after
the long, dark days of cancer.  And she held herself with a casual ease he had
never seen in Scully.

But, what if? What if this woman was Scully? What if they had worked her
over, played with her mind, until she had lost the essence of herself? What if
she'd lost the memory of him? Mulder knew that if there was any chance that this
was her, any chance in hell, he'd do whatever it took to make her remember.

If it wasn't her, if she was some genetically altered clone or stunning proof of
the advances of plastic surgery, she could be his enemy.  If she
was his enemy, she was fair game.  He could use her to his advantage and
prove to them that he was a real player in this sick game. All is fair in love
and war, Mulder thought, and this is definitely one or the other.
Probably both.

* * * * * * * *

Hampton, Virginia
April 24, 1999
6:52 p.m.

Lily was fascinated. Fox Mulder seemed to carry the pain of the world in
his deep, hazel eyes.  She knew that she needed to confront him about his
bizarre behavior for her own reasons but feared his overwhelming intensity.
With a visible straightening of her spine, she walked with measured
steps toward his table.

Watching him watching her, Lily set Mulder's dinner in front of him.
Soundlessly, she turned his coffee cup to its upright position and poured his
coffee for him.  She set her tray down on the next table and quickly took the
seat across from him. Surprised, he looked at her quizzically over
the rim of the coffee cup.

Lily looked at him nervously for a moment before speaking.  "Mr. Mulder,
did you know me before?"

Startled, Mulder set down his cup, "Before what?"

"Before... before I lost my memory." Lily had to struggle to choke out the
words.

Mulder's tone was suspicious.  "You have amnesia?"

"Well, yes. Technically. Not like you see on the soaps though. I had severe
brain damage after some kind of accident.  I'm still not sure what happened but
I woke up from a coma with absolutely no memory.  None. I couldn't speak, or
walk or even go to the bathroom by myself," she blushed. "I had to relearn
everything.  I still don't remember anything about my life before the hospital,
and the doctors say I never will."

"What about your family?"

"No one. The police looked but no one would claim me." Lily looked down at her
clenched hands. "So, does that mean that you don't know me? I thought you might have
from the way you acted earlier," she looked up at him searchingly, "the way
you're looking at me now."

The man before her was silent and watchful.  Lily stared back into his eyes in
the vain hope that she would be able to read his thoughts there.  After a
moment, Mulder hung his head and lifted his hands to cover his face.  Lily
watched as his fingers curled, nails digging into sensitive skin. When he did
look back up, she read desperation in his eyes.

"When?"  He finally asked.

"When what?"

Mulder pushed himself forward in his seat impatiently, face mere inches from
hers, his stale breath on her face.  "When did you wake up from the coma? How
long has your memory been taken from you?"

"Taken from me? That's a strange way of putting it."

"Whatever." He was growing more impatient now. "When, Lily?"

"Well, I just celebrated my fourth 'birthday' last week, if you must know."

Mulder's face went blank and his mouth opened slightly for a moment before he
pursed his lips together. Lily saw his Adam's apple convulse as he swallowed.
His whisper was barely audible, "four years..." He shook his head and blinked.
"Why should I believe you, Lily?"

Surprised by the question and more than a little irritated by the suspicion in
his tone, Lily answered harshly, "Why the hell wouldn't you believe me, Mr.
Mulder? You know, I've had just about enough of this. You're sitting here giving
me the third degree and I don't even know you. I don't owe you any answers. You
practically accosted me and instead of having you thrown out like I should have,
I brought you dinner. I sat down and talked to you. What the hell... why should
you believe me? Why the hell should I even be talking to you at all?"

She moved to stand but he once again held her back with the touch of his
hand on hers. "No, don't go," he said quickly, "I'm sorry. But, Lily, you can't
go."

When she looked back at him he smiled apologetically and spoke in a low,
gentle voice. "Please. Please don't go. I'm sorry Lily. Just... you can't leave
me."

"You're scaring me." She said the words, and she even felt them a little
bit, but she did not move her hands away and she didn't break eye contact.

"I know. I must seem like a crazy man to you. And you're not wrong. I am
more than a little desperate, but you're being used. You're being used to get to
me. I didn't just come to this place tonight on a whim. I was brought here,
brought here to meet you.  You asked if I knew you before and
I never answered you. Don't you want to know the answer?"

Lily removed her hands from underneath his and crossed her arms over her
chest. Arching her eyebrow and sighing delicately, she unknowingly reenacted the
gesture Scully had perfected over years of working with Mulder.
 

"So shoot."

"You should never say that to a man carrying a gun."

"You're carrying a gun?"

"Yes. I'm an agent with the FBI," he lied. No use telling her he was an *ex*
agent with the FBI.  He only hoped she wouldn't ask for his ID.

"Oh, you are? Where's your ID?"

Mulder chuckled and flashed her a disarming smile before raising his hands in
supplication. "Would you believe I left it in my other wallet?"

"No, Mr. Mulder, I wouldn't believe that." The words were clipped, her tone
matter-of-fact.  She was reminding him more and more of Scully.

"Listen..I know this sounds crazy, OK...but just listen to me."  Weighing his
words carefully, Mulder leaned forward to explain.

"We never met before tonight, at least I'm pretty sure we didn't. But you look
just like someone else. Someone I do know very well. My partner. Her name's
Scully."

"Well, I certainly hope that's not her first name."

"No. Her first name is Dana," the name, whispered, hung in his throat.  "Dana."
He said it twice for practice.

"Great.  OK, Dana Scully looks like me or I look like her or whatever. Go on.
Where is she?"

"She's missing. She was abducted seven months ago. We have enemies, very
powerful enemies. These men work above the law. The concept of justice, of
honor, means nothing to them.  Scully was a threat to them because of who she
was and what she knew. She was a threat to them because of me.  So they took her
from me and it's not the first time.  I've been searching
for her ever since."

Mulder paused to gauge Lily's reaction.  She shook her head slightly from side
to side for a moment before looking at him again. "Mr. Mulder, I'm
sorry, but aside from the fact that I look like this woman, I don't see where
any of this has anything to do with me.  It's just a coincidence."

"No. You don't understand. Listen to me. I was *led* here tonight, to meet you.
That's no coincidence, Lily. And it's no coincidence that you just happen to
have amnesia. Are you sure it's been four years?"  His voice was strained and
uneven with frustration.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she said in exasperation, "you can ask my doctors, my boss,
whoever...Jesus, this is nuts. I can't listen to this anymore."

"Lily, don't go. I need you."

Lily had the thought that this could just be a dream. This man was too
desperate, his story too outlandish, to be real. It was like she'd slipped
into a parallel universe, like fucking Alice in Wonderland.  The way he was
talking, the frantic look of him, couldn't be real.

"Did someone put you up to this?" she asked crossly. "If this is supposed to be
some kind of a joke, it's not funny."

"No, Lily, I'm deadly serious. This is the most serious thing in my life. What
do you know about what's happening here?"

"What do *I* know? I don't know anything other than what you've told me.
I'm a waitress.  I live in a crappy apartment complex and I go to special rehab
sessions three times a week. I've worked hard to build a life for
myself in the last four years.  It hasn't been easy and I sure as hell haven't
had any outside help from some mysterious group of *your* enemies."  She paused
for breath, trying to control her sudden anger. "You're one
paranoid son of a bitch, you know that?"

"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get me."

"Oh, that's original."

"These people have an agenda and I have to be sure you're not part of that."

"I'm not a part of anybody's agenda."  She could feel his eyes burning into her,
watching her like a sample under a microscope.  Lily berated herself for
allowing him to put her on the defensive so easily.

"You know, she said that to me when I met her," he paused, "that she wasn't a
part of anybody's agenda. Did you know that?"

"How would I know that?"

"They could have been bugging my hotel room."

Lily struggled to maintain a sense of her own reality, felt it slipping fast.
"Oh, they again? How riveting. I'm done here." She slid toward the edge of her
booth seat, willing herself to rise and leave this man.

Mulder reached his hand toward her in a halting gesture. "Lily...I believe you.
I believe you're telling the truth. Do you believe me?"

"I'm not sure.  This is pretty out there."  Lily stared at him for a long
moment.  "I don't know if I believe you, but I...I think I...I want to."

"Then help me."

"How?  No.  Don't answer that.  I can't get involved in this.  I'm sorry, I'm
just way out of my league here.  I don't even know if you're one of
the good guys."

"Me neither." The corners of Mulder's lips turned upward in a parody of a smile.
"That's why I need her; I need her so that I'm one of the good guys. Without
her, I'm as bad as one of them."

"And without me you're no worse off than you were before you walked into
this place tonight," Lily sighed, "you may need her, but you don't need me."

"I need you to help me find her. I can't afford to give you a choice.  You have
to help me.  Please, Lily."

Conceding the inevitable, Lily finally nodded her assent.  Whether or not he
gave her a choice, she knew she would help him. Somewhere out there a woman who
looked just like her was missing, and he would do anything to
find her. Lily had often wondered if anyone had searched for her after her
amnesia.  What if someone loved her and couldn't get to her?

She also admitted to herself that he intrigued her, attracted her in a way that
she did not have a name for. A ridiculous attraction considering what he was
asking of her - aid in finding another woman. The woman he obviously loved.  She
felt as if she were being swept helplessly into a mammoth black hole.  An almost
biological pull. When she spoke again, her tone was determined.

"OK. Listen, I'll help you but you have to trust me.  I won't do this if
you're constantly questioning my motives."

"It's a deal," Mulder said with genuine warmth.

"Eat your dinner, it's getting cold. I have to get back to waiting tables before
they fire my ass."

Mulder picked up his fork figuring the least he could do was to try to eat
something for her sake. "OK. Look, I'm eating. Go ahead and do your job. I'll
stick around and we'll talk some more."

Rising, Lily turned back to him.  "No. No more tonight. You finish eating, go
get some sleep. I've got to actually do my job here. My bills don't
pay themselves, you know."

"But..."

"Tomorrow, Mr. Mulder. No more tonight. I work noon 'til eight tomorrow but I'll
meet you in the morning and you can fill me in on the grand scheme. Nine
o'clock, in front of the restaurant."  Lily congratulated herself for having the
wherewithal to deny him; she was already developing the sense that it wouldn't
happen often.

Mulder considered arguing but recognized her determined glare and decided
against it. Years of working with Scully had taught him when to stage a
strategic retreat. "Nine o'clock tomorrow morning then. What do I owe you for
the dinner?"

"It's on the house, but you have to actually eat it."

He grinned up at her; it was nice to have someone looking after him after the
months on his own. Quickly squelching the thought, Mulder made one more request.
"Lily, would you write down your doctor's name and the hospital where you woke
up from the coma so I can check it out before meeting
you in the morning?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked warily.

"Probably nothing.  Just humor me, OK?"

With a shrug, Lily bent to write down the requested information. Mulder watched
the transference of ink from pen to paper as she wrote and looked
back up at her as she straightened. His face was unreadable as he murmured his
thanks.

"Sure thing," she replied, "see you in the a.m." She walked away, missing the
compulsive motion of Mulder's hand as it crumpled the paper in front of him,
mangling the name written there: Dr. Kevin Scanlon.

* * * * * * * *

It was another sleepless night.  Mulder sat in his car and kept watch in
front of Lily's apartment.  Not much happened, except that he got sick from
eating his first real meal in weeks, the nausea and dehydration contributing to
his already agitated state of mind.  He watched the shadow of her through the
drawn shades as she wandered her apartment, craning his neck for a better view
as she drew her shirt over her head and tossed it aside.

In his mind, it was Scully up there, going through the simple motions of
getting ready for bed. He fantasized that she knew he was watching and waiting,
not for some unnamed adversary, but for her.  In the arcane depths of Mulder's
imagination, this was a game they played; she would pose for him, taunting and
teasing him, while he looked on. The light through the window was the
luminescent glow of Scully, a beacon in the night guiding him home.  Then the
bile rose in his throat again and he remembered that the shining light was
manufactured and that this Scully was a phantom.
 

* * * * * * * * *
 
Hampton, Virginia
April 25th, 1999
8:42 a.m.

Mulder was suffering from a state of hyperawareness as he followed Lily Jacobs
from a discreet distance. The steering wheel under his hand felt abrasive as he
turned it to the right to follow her down the residential street leading to the
restaurant. The sunflower seeds he munched made a discordant popping noise that
echoed painfully in his head. He felt himself
overwhelmed by the stale, musty odor of the car and the diffused glare of the
morning sun shining through the window.  It was like having a hangover without
the benefit of having been drunk.

Lily had said she would meet with him to go over his 'grand scheme.' He only
wished he had one.  Not much had been accomplished since he'd talked
to her. The Lone Gunmen were checking hospital records for him, digging around
for information about Dr. Scanlon. Strangely enough, when Mulder had called St.
Francis Hospital, no one had heard of the mysterious doctor
and there was no record of a patient by the name of Lily Jacobs.  Disappointed
but not surprised, Mulder had told the guys to dig as deeply as they could and
contact him if they came up with anything.

He wanted to be at the hospital investigating Scanlon's connection to Lily
himself but felt it was more important to keep an eye on her.  Times like these,
he thought bitterly, a guy sure could use a partner to share the workload.  It
was probably a useless avenue anyway; Scanlon had managed to stay lost since
they'd found out about his involvement in the progression of Scully's cancer and
Mulder imagined he could stay lost again if he wanted.  Lily was the key, his
only tangible link to the truth.

Pulling into the parking lot, Mulder braced himself for the meeting. At least
this time he knew what he was in for.  <What if it's her?>  <What if it's not?>
He heard Scully's voice in his head, intoning a prayer he'd
never heard from her lips; "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I
cannot change..." The voice tapered off into an incorporeal rumbling
as he saw Lily exit her car and walk toward him.  He stepped out of the car and
strode toward her, meeting her in the middle of the parking lot.

She greeted him matter-of-factly.  "You look like shit."

"Good morning to you, too."

"And you smell like shit," she said, scrunching her nose and waving a hand in
front of it to emphasize the point.

"Well, it's been a shitty year." Mulder glanced down at himself. He was wearing
the same black shirt and jeans he'd changed into the previous afternoon.
Sniffing the air around him, he had to admit that he reeked of body odor and
stale vomit.  Stroking his chin with his right hand, he realized he hadn't
shaved in a couple of days.

"You understand of course that I can't be seen with you in public like this?"
She was only half-joking and Mulder grinned ruefully.

"I've got an overnight bag in my trunk. If we can go in the restaurant, I'll
clean up. Wouldn't want to embarrass you."

"Yeah, I've got a key. Let's go." She smiled up at him and he found himself
smiling back at her dumbly.  He had always loved Scully's rare smiles.

Mulder cleaned himself up quickly and changed into a fresh shirt and jeans
before joining Lily at the bar.

"All better?" he asked as he took his position on the barstool next to hers.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Clean behind your ears?"

"Of course. What did you think, that I was raised in a barn?"

"I have to admit, I considered the possibility."

They fell into silence.  Lily took a deep breath, puffing up her cheeks before
exhaling nervously.  She opened her mouth as if to speak again, only to close it
as her fingernails tapped rhythmically on the bar.

"So..." they said in unison, breaking off into nervous laughter.

"You go first," Lily said.

"I need you to go with me to the health clinic down the street. To have some
blood drawn."

"You're a real sweet talker, aren't you? Hi, how are ya? Blood sample, please.
You sure you don't want urine too? Maybe a nice stool sample?"

"Actually, that might not be a bad idea." Lily's eyes opened wider as she
realized he was serious.

"Look, I don't know about this, Mr. Mulder..."

"Just call me Mulder, OK? I can't stand 'Mr.' And you promised you'd help me.
You can't back down now."

"I hate having my blood drawn.  Can't we just call my doctor's office and have
him send over some records or something. Lord knows they've taken enough of my
blood since my accident to fill a blood bank."

"That would be Dr. Scanlon?" Mulder watched her carefully for her reaction.

"Yeah."

"He's gone."

"What..."

"And according to the hospital, neither one of you ever existed."

Lily emitted a loud, curt bark of laughter. "That's ridiculous. I was just there
last week! I've been seeing Dr. Scanlon for years.  Why would he
suddenly just disappear?"

"Because of me.  You can check for yourself.  Just call the hospital, Lily, ask
for yourself."

"Fine. I will."

"Good."

"Good."

Lily walked around the bar and picked up the phone there to dial the hospital,
watching Mulder as she made the call.  He looked away from her, only half
listening as she spoke into the phone, concentrating on the tone of her voice
rather than the words she spoke.  The pitch and cadence of the voice was
Scully's and he knew the emotions it registered as well as his own. Surprise.
Confusion.  Fear. Anger.  "What the hell do you mean, I'm not in your system?
I've been a patient for four years... No. You know...just never mind. No, but
thank you so much. You've been beyond helpful."  She slammed the phone down.
"Son-of-a-Bitch!"

Lily's eyes traveled the room for a few moments as she contemplated the
significance of what she had just heard. "They have no record of me or Dr.
Scanlon." She looked at Mulder wide-eyed. "My God, you were right."

He smiled at her sympathetically.  "It happens.  Will you come with me now?"

"And this supposed to prove that I'm not her? That's why you want to test my
blood, right?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Let's go."

Mulder was surprised by her easy capitulation.  "Just like that? I expected more
of a fight."

"I'm just gonna end up saying yes anyway. Might as well get it over with." Lily
picked up her purse and started toward the door.

Mulder had already made arrangements for the blood sample taken at the clinic to
be express delivered to Lily's regular MD, a Dr. Melvin Frohike,
in Washington DC.  He watched as her blood was drawn, wondering at its progress
as it flowed languidly through the tube to the vial.  Could it be
Scully's life-blood somehow pouring out of those veins?  The question stuck in
his mind and repeated itself until the process was complete and they walked out
of the clinic.

"I've still got a while before I have to be at work. Let's take a walk down by
the harbor; we've got some things to talk about."  Lily's voice was firm.

Mulder nodded and followed her lead as she headed to the waterfront. "I have to
warn you, I don't have any real answers to give you if that's what you want. All
I have right now are questions.  I do know that Dr. Scanlon's part of a
government conspiracy..."

Lily cut him off abruptly.  "Do me a favor. Don't say anything else until I ask
you a question, OK? I need a few minutes."  He nodded mutely and made a zipping
motion with his hand over his mouth.  They walked in silence. Mulder inhaled the
scent of the wind as it glided over the river and listened to the water as it
lapped gently against the docked boats.  He looked to his left to watch the
woman walking next to him and felt a fleeting sense of peace as she guided them
down a deserted pier.

At the end of the pier, Lily stopped and leaned against the railing. She
looked up at him a moment before speaking.

"Tell me about her."

"No," Mulder answered her quickly.  He looked out over the water, avoiding her
questioning eyes.  "I don't talk about Scully."

"Why not... if she's so important to you?  Or don't you trust me?"

"It's not that."  Mulder searched for the right words.  "It's because she is so
important.  I feel like if I speak of her, it will take something
away from her, that it will somehow reduce her to inadequate words and phrases."

"Words can't do her justice?"

"Something like that, I guess.  But really, when I talk about her it just sounds
too much like a eulogy. And she's not dead.  She's not."  He looked back at her
with an apologetic smile.  Their eyes met and held for a few moments before she
spoke again.

"So, tell me about her," she repeated.

Mulder's laugh was faint enough to be interpreted as a sigh.  He looked at his
feet for a moment, considering his answer, then back up into her sharp, blue
eyes.

"She shot me once."

Lily laughed in surprise. "She did not!"

"Yeah, she did," he laughed and Lily noticed that for the first time since she
had met him, his smile reached his eyes.  <Gorgeous>.  "I swear it's true.  She
did it for my own good, though."

"Oh, really? That's what I need, a man who'll let me shoot him for his own good.
Where did she shoot you?"

"In a parking lot," he teased.

"No, I mean where _on you_ did she shoot?"

"My shoulder," he said, pointing. "It was a nice clean shot and she doctored me
up after. No harm, no foul.  She saved my life that night."  He stopped,
suddenly melancholy again. "Saving me got to be a habit of hers over the years."

"Who saves you now, Agent Mulder?" Lily asked softly.

"She does.  I believe she's alive and she needs me. That saves me; it's what
keeps me breathing."

Lily nodded her head.  "Last night, you said she was your partner.  It's
obviously more than that."

"Oh, you picked up on that? Maybe you should join the FBI."  Mulder smiled again
but it didn't reach his eyes this time.  Lily had the sudden inexplicable urge
to reach up and run her fingers through his hair.

"Yeah, I picked up on that.  So, you were more than partners, and....?"

"Well, we're friends, I guess.  Not the kind of friends that share beer and
pizza on a Friday night, but friends.  It's hard to explain.  We'd do
anything for each other, except maybe communicate our feelings.

"We were opening up to each other when she was taken.  Finally. Of course, it
was because we were in the middle of a crisis."  His laugh was self-mocking.
"She was finally doing the best thing for herself...preparing to leave me... and
I was begging her to stay. I was looking her in the eye
and telling her that I couldn't go on without her and it happened.  Just
like that.  She was gone."

"What do you mean, just like that?"

"They took her. The men I was telling you about.  The men who led me here to
you."

"You see, this is where I get confused," Lily stated, "I don't see how I
could have anything to do with this.  I haven't been exactly living the life of
a glamorous international woman of mystery or something.  I've been here all
along - right here in Hampton.  Your partner disappeared months ago but I've
been here for years, just leading an ordinary life.  You don't honestly think
I'm her do you?"

He didn't hesitate. "No, I don't.  The time frame is obviously all wrong
and...well, I think I'd know if you were her."

"You'd just know, huh? What are you psychic or something?" Lily's tone was
teasing but her eyes were intent and questioning.

"No...although, I have thought sometimes that Scully might have her psychic
moments.  She'd deny it though."

"Oh, so besides being obviously drop-dead gorgeous and a life-saver, she's
psychic. Sounds too good to be true."

Mulder looked down at Lily, noting the tinge of jealousy in her voice. He
shrugged, "Scully's not perfect. She's overly cautious, non-communicative,
sometimes she can be cold and even condescending.  I don't know; she seems just
about right to me."

"You love her."

<Of course>

"What's not to love?" he answered. "You might have trouble believing this, but
I'm actually not perfect myself."

"N-o-o-o," Lily mocked, "here I thought I'd found a perfect specimen of manhood.
And such a charmer too."

Mulder was laughing again before he caught himself and stopped, suddenly
awash with all too familiar guilt. Not five minutes earlier he had said he
wouldn't talk about Scully yet there he was discussing her faults with
a total stranger.  I'm actually enjoying myself here, he thought with disgust.
He turned away from Lily again, fighting the sudden sting of tears.

Lily stood watching him uncomfortably, letting the sudden silence distance them.
Looking at her watch, she realized it was getting close to time
for work.  After a few minutes, she spoke again.

"Do you think that maybe these men you're talking about saw me in my old
life and arranged to have me lose my memory.  Maybe they saw how much I looked
like her and figured they could use me against you?"

Mulder turned sharply to look at her.  "That's a possibility, yes," he said.
"But it's not the only possibility."

"If you are sure I'm not her, why did you ask for the blood test?"

He looked at her intently, assessing her before answering.  "You're asking all
the right questions but I can't give you any answers.  I doubt you
would believe them anyway."

"Don't you think I deserve the answers?"

"Yes, but it's been a long time since I've seen anyone get what they deserve. I
can't tell you anything.  Look, maybe when the DNA tests come back and I can
form a plan, I'll be able to tell you more but... I can't tell you anything
now."

She rubbed her hands over her face before settling them on her hips, arched her
back and turned her face upward.  Her eyes roamed a blue, blue sky dappled with
an armada of soft white clouds.

"All right, Agent Mulder. I guess I don't have a choice but to play it your way
for now." She turned the full force of her glare on him, "I'm doing you a huge
favor here and you owe me, you know. I am trusting you to make sure everything
is all right. To make sure that I'm all right."

"I'll protect you, Lily."

"I'm holding you to that." Suddenly, she reached up and brushed her right hand
clumsily along the side of his face, tracing the smooth skin at his hairline,
moving downward to his jaw.  He rested his cheek in her palm,
closing his eyes tightly, breathing in the scent of her.  Without forethought or
warning, Lily stretched up on tip-toes and kissed his forehead, lingering there
for a few heart-stopping moments.  Finally, Mulder grasped her wrist, moving it
from his face. He stepped back from the kiss, watching her with haunted eyes.

"It's all right, Mulder.  It's going to be all right. I promise. You don't need
to feel guilty.  You haven't done anything wrong."

He glanced across the water. When he turned back toward her, his face was again
an impenetrable mask.

"You need to get back to work," he said stiffly, "let's go."

* * * * * * * *

Wednesday was dollar pitcher night and the restaurant was much more crowded than
it had been the previous evening.  In keeping with its theme, the Midnight Hour
forced its waiters and waitresses to sing "Happy Birthday" to unsuspecting
patrons using classic rock songs of the fifties and sixties.  Mulder witnessed
this bizarre birthday ritual unfold three times that evening as he watched Lily
work.  A single piece of chocolate cake, holding a single shining candle, would
be set on the table as four or five
of the off-key waiting staff would clap their hands and sing "You Say It's Your
Birthday" with forced glee.  The last of these festive birthday celebrations
took place not far from the bar where Mulder sat.  He swiveled in his stool to
watch as Lily carried the cake to the table and set it down in front of an
embarrassed teenage girl.

The scene unfolded before him in illusory slow motion, the sound of the singing
voices mercifully distant and low.  The hot-orange glow of the candle shone up
onto Lily's face as she clapped her hands and sang with admirable zeal.  Feeling
his eyes upon her, she turned toward him and pulled her face into a self-deprecating
smirk <what the hell...if you can't beat 'em, join 'em>. He laughed with her, sharing
the private moment across a crowd of strangers.

<Oh, Scully...where are you tonight?>
 

* * * * * * * *

Hampton, Virginia
April 25th, 1999
8:13 p.m.

Alex Krycek was waiting.  He felt wired and jittery, like a shy man about to
give a public speech.  Mulder was always good for an adrenaline rush.  He also
inspired bouts of nausea and indigestion.  The son of a bitch was worth it,
though.  Had to be. Otherwise, Krycek's life was as much an
illusion as the lives of those he sought to control.

Finally, Mulder walked out of the restaurant, holding a door open for the
smiling woman.  Always the gentleman.  He gestured toward his car and began
moving toward it as she moved away from him toward her own car.  Krycek ducked
lower, preparing for the battle ahead.

Mulder opened the car door and folded himself into the driver's seat.  He turned
the key in the ignition and watched for Lily to pull out of the parking lot so
he could follow her.  Her reaction to his constant presence had been
surprisingly low-key.  She seemed to take comfort in having him watch over her,
even though it amounted to little more than stalking.  He slid the car smoothly
out of the parking space to follow Lily out of the lot, glancing from left to
right as he prepared to pull onto the road.

The unmistakable *click* of a gun being cocked behind his right ear punctured
the silence and shocked Mulder out of reverie.   He looked up into the rear-view
mirror to see Krycek sitting up behind him, gun raised.

"Mulder.  Long time, no see."

"Yeah, didja' miss me?"  Mulder's voice registered little more than ironic
detachment.

This was the game they played and the rules were familiar.  Mulder and Krycek
would confront each other as enemies, speaking in rapid whispers, trading
insults and double entendres.  Chances were good that Mulder would
get in a couple of good punches before the encounter ended and he would feel
better for having landed them.  He felt reasonably certain that when
it was all over he would know little more than when it began.

Krycek pulled in closer and snaked his right arm around the seat to press his
gun to Mulder's head.  "I always miss you when I'm gone, Mulder."  He exhaled
moist breath into Mulder's ear.  "You can't tell me you don't miss me too."

"What do you want, Krycek?"  Mulder turned his head quickly to the right
only to be stopped by the increased pressure of the gun at his temple.

"Just though we could go for a little stroll.  There's a nice breeze coming over
the Bay tonight."

"Sorry, I've got plans.  Maybe another time."  A car pulled up behind them and
its driver blared the horn impatiently.

"Drive Mulder,  you're holding up the guy behind you.  Turn right out here," he
said waving the pistol negligently to indicate the direction before returning it
to Mulder's temple.

Seething quietly but doing as he was told, Mulder switched his foot to the gas
pedal and inched the car onto the road.

"If anything happens to Lily while I'm gone..."

Krycek interrupted.  "Nothing's going to happen.  But it's really precious how
you still think you could stop it even if it did.  When have you ever been able
to stop these men from doing anything?"

"These men? You're one of them you psychotic one-armed piece of shit."

"Ooh, that hurts.  Maybe I should use my one arm  to beat some fuckin' sense
into you.  I'm here about Scully.  You remember her don't you?"

Mulder closed his mouth tightly, clenching his jaw.  "What about her?"

"Just drive toward the Bay.  We'll get to that soon enough."

Krycek sat back, melting into the car's shadowed interior while keeping his gun
trained on Mulder.  The car's engine hummed as it responded to Mulder's
commands, its headlights cutting through the darkness ahead.  Krycek spoke
occasionally to bark out monosyllabic directions; it was the only sound that
punctuated the measured silence.

Mulder had always taken pleasure in the degree of control he felt when driving.
He had to exercise every ounce of that control to go forward as Krycek ordered
instead of laying on the brakes and turning on the man with his own gun,
strapped protectively against his left ankle.  There was no time for that, no
time for vengeance until Scully was safely at his side.  He swore to himself
again that he would have the satisfaction of revenge before this was over.

"Pull over here," Alex said lowly as they rounded a corner.  Mulder did as he
was told, pulling the car to a halt on a bluff overlooking the bay.

Cautiously withdrawing the gun from its position at Mulder's head, Krycek
reached his arm over and awkwardly opened the car door.  Stepping out of the
car, he quickly stood and faced the driver's side window, pointing the gun again
toward Mulder.

"Step out  nice and slow," he called.

Stone-faced, Mulder complied, stepping up to face Krycek.

"Now turn around."  Mulder turned, back to Krycek, and waited.

"Put you arms up behind your head."  Mulder did this too as Krycek pushed the
gun into his back.

Krycek stepped closer, pressing against Mulder's back and leaned in to whisper
against his ear.

"Now, bend over."

"You go to hell, Krycek."  Mulder's voice was tense and ragged.  Krycek chuckled
as he pushed him forward toward the beach.

"Hey, I thought you would do 'anything' to find her.  Your loyalty seems
pretty limited all of a sudden."

As Krycek spoke he pushed the gun brutally into the Mulder's ribs causing him to
trip and fall to one knee.  In a flash of blind rage, Mulder closed his fists
around dry sand and twisted, throwing it into Krycek's face.  Backing up, Krycek
lifted his hand clumsily balancing the gun as he attempted to rub the grit out
of his eyes.  Seizing the opportunity, Mulder
pushed himself up and lunged forward, knocking the gun away with his left hand
as his right hand dislodged his own gun from its ankle holster.  Krycek fell
back clumsily, squinting watery eyes against the sand that threatened to blind
him.

When he was able to look up, it was to find Mulder standing over him, gun in
hand.

"Poor Alex Krycek," Mulder mocked, "it's not easy being a one-armed man.
 If you're as lousy a lay as you are a fighter... well, let's just say, there
has to be a better way to get the information I need."  Krycek quickly glanced
over to where his gun lay in the sand, only to have Mulder reach down and jerk
him up by the arm.  "Don't even think about it."

The two men stood toe to toe, their ragged breath pushing each against the other
in waves.  Finally, with a lop-sided grin, Krycek looked down at
Mulder's hand, still gripping his arm.  The hungry expression in his eyes when
he looked back up to Mulder caused the older man to let go of him and back up
quickly.

"It doesn't matter who has the gun, Mulder.  I've still got what you want.  The
ball's in my court, so to speak."

Still holding the gun on Krycek, Mulder walked further out toward the dark
water.  He listened as it rolled over the land and receded again to the sea and
watched Krycek as he walked beside him.  Stopping at the water's edge, he placed
his gun in the waist band of his pants and turned to Krycek.

"Talk, Krycek.  Who's Lily?"

"You're a fucking moron, Mulder."  The words were stated evenly and pleasantly
as Krycek looked out over the horizon.  "I will never get over your uncanny
ability to always ask the wrong question."

"Then what the hell is the right question? You tell me."

"There are two questions you should be asking.  One:  Where is Scully? Two:  Not
_who_ is Lily, but _what_ is Lily?"

"A clone?  You're saying she's a clone.  No. I had them draw her blood today and
it was normal."

"You know just enough to be dangerous, Mulder.  Mostly, dangerous to yourself, I
guess.  And Scully.  You've proven to be hazardous to my health as well though."
Krycek turned to glare at him, intense green eyes focusing on Mulder.  "I have
no idea why either of us put up with you."

"Don't you *dare* compare yourself to Scully.  You're not fit to breathe
the same air."

"Neither are you.  That's what you think, isn't it?  Since she's been gone,
you've put her on some pedestal.  'Dana Scully, Unobtainable Goddess'."  He
shook his head and exhaled slowly.  "You have made yourself vulnerable.  I told
you that you should be asking two questions and you only asked one.  Why are you
asking about Lily? Do you think she could be Scully?"

"No.  She's not Scully."  Knowing that Krycek could read his turmoil, he
consciously lowered his lids, hooding his eyes.  The mask was slipping.

Mulder was shocked into inaction when Krycek surged forward, reaching his right
arm around his head, anchoring him by the nape with a firm grip.
Krycek leaned his forehead against Mulder's and tightened the grip, holding him
there.  They peered at each other through eyes centimeters apart.
 Krycek thought he could feel their eyelashes brushing.

"If she's not Scully...Mulder...why the hell are you still here?" he asked
roughly.

"Because she could lead me to something, to the truth."

"That's crap.  She doesn't know shit and anybody who did is long gone by
now.  You know it."

"I'm having tests done, waiting for the results," Mulder heard his own voice,
knew he was making excuses.

"Well let me clear up the mystery for you, Fox,"  Krycek pulled in closer still,
torso met torso, his voice was harsh and fast.  "She's a clone.
Her DNA will match Scully's exactly.  But she's not Scully.  She's just one of
several clones created from the ova they harvested during Scully's
initial abduction."

"But her blood..."

"Jesus, will you just fucking listen to me?  You search so hard for the answers
but all you know how to do is ask the questions.  She's a clone, not a hybrid.
I'm sure there are hybrid clones walking around with her face too.  Like
Samantha, like the others you have met.  Kurt Crawford, the Gregors.  These are
on-going scientific experiments, serving more than one agenda.

"The things you've seen, Mulder." He paused, inhaling deeply.  "There was more
than one version of Samantha wasn't there?  You met her as a woman
and as a little girl.  Look at Emily.  She underwent treatment that allowed her
to maintain some semblance of normality."

"How do you know all this?"

"Let's just say I took the Fox Mulder/Dana Scully Advanced Tutorial.
Illuminating stuff."

"Great," Mulder's voice was almost inaudible, "even better than a Course
in Miracles."

With sudden force, Krycek pushed himself back from Mulder, simultaneously
reaching for the gun at Mulder's waist.  In a swift motion he had it in
his hand and pointed at a nonplused Mulder.

"So now you're gonna kill me, is that it ?  I don't think so."  Mulder's
stance was casual.  He turned away from the man who held the pistol at him,
facing the water again.  With a grunt, Krycek lowered the gun again and
shrugged.

"No, Mulder.  I'm not here to kill you."

"Then why?"  Mulder's voice was flat, as if he could barely afford the energy to
speak at all.  "What do you have to gain from helping me?"

"I don't know.  I'm almost as alone in all this as you are.  One of the men that
was killed when you went to see Kurtzweil that night was my sponsor in the
organization.  When he died, they had no use for me anymore.  I couldn't go back
to Russia.  I broke my ties there."

"Do you know where Scully is?"

"No.  I only know that this woman, Lily, isn't her. I know you're wasting
precious time.  I believe Scully is alive.  There's a quiet insurrection within
the organization.  A fight for power. She's being used for leverage."

"By whom?"

"Oh, nobody special, just your favorite butt-loving pyromaniac."

Mulder expelled a long-held breath.  "Do you know where he is?"

"No.  But he hasn't been around since she disappeared.  As far as I can tell,
nobody can find him."

"I'm not sure I believe you, Krycek."

"Why not?"

"You haven't given me a good answer as to why you would go through this trouble
to help me.  And you haven't really helped me at all.  I'm no closer to knowing
the truth."

"The truth is that no one could learn the things Lily claims to have learned in
four years.  Had you thought of that?  She said she woke up four years ago and
she couldn't even walk or talk.  People in that condition don't learn what she's
learned in that short a time.  Not unless they've had a little help from
genetics.

"The truth is, you should get as far away from Hampton as possible.  They're
keeping an eye on you through this clone, tracking your every move.
Maybe they're using your preoccupation and transporting Scully somewhere
while you're looking the other way.  How many leads have you missed in the two
days since you've been here to keep an eye on Lily?"

Mulder's voice was defensive.  "None.  No one else has tried to contact me since
I've been here.  It hasn't even been a full two days."

"But if you stay..."

"I'm not going to stay."

"Good.  See that you don't, Mulder.  Don't give up hope.  She's out there."

Mulder watched Krycek in profile as he looked to the distant stars, firing the
night sky.  There was a new stillness in the man as he steadfastly
ignored Mulder's gaze.

"Why are you helping me now, after everything you've done to hurt us?"

Turning toward Mulder, he answered slowly.

"I was born into this life, never given a choice.  There is so much more
to it than you know.  I have done terrible things in the name of this cause.  A
cause I no longer believe in.  Maybe I want to be like you are.

"Maybe I want to be clean again."

Mulder found himself at a loss for words.  He knew that Krycek could deceive
him, had done so in the past, but he believed him.  There was an almost child-
like desperation in the man's eyes.  Finally, Mulder nodded and
held out his hand.  Krycek glanced down at it in momentary confusion before
realizing what Mulder wanted.  He handed him the gun.

"Go."  Mulder's voice was soft and low and Krycek knew he would hear it again in
his dreams.  He nodded his head once in assent before turning his eyes away;
moving quickly, he returned to the place where his own gun had fallen onto the
sand.  He picked it up and turned, walking down the beach and away from Mulder.
It was going to be a long walk home.

Mulder only considered shooting him in the back for a moment before turning and
walking back to the car.

* * * * * * * *

The dashboard clock was blinking,12:00  12:00  12:00, the numbers never changed.
Mulder figured he should probably set the damn thing, but he could not seem to
find the manual and without it the cause was a hopeless one.  The car was parked
and the engine was running idle.  He sat and waited for an epiphany; willed one
to come to him.  It wasn't happening.

He was tired, so tired.  The exhaustion was eroding his defenses and he could
feel the sobs settling in the back of his throat, threatening to burst forth.
It was all so helpless without her.  He tried to think back to a time before she
was in his life.  How had he lived then?  There were other women, he remembered.
But that wasn't the same thing.  He had been
alone.  Nothing was the same before her or since and he had been telling
her the truth when he said he couldn't go on without her.  Didn't want to.

* * * * * * * *

Hampton, Virginia
April 25th, 1999
11:21 p.m.

Dark clouds had rolled in from the Atlantic at around ten o'clock and the crisp,
green smell of an approaching  storm hung thickly in the humid air.   Mulder
watched the first pregnant drops of rain hurl themselves against his windshield
and decided to go in.  What the hell?  All he could do tonight anyway was drive
and he didn't know where to and he was tired and she was so nice and looked just
exactly like Scully (smelled like her even) and she really seemed to understand
him. Really.  No she wasn't Scully, but she was made of the same stuff and what
if that was as close as he ever came?

Scully had never laid claim to him anyway, even though he had begged her
to a thousand and one times.  <Please, plant your flag right here in the
fleshy part of me and just claim me already, dammit...is it asking too much?>
Of course, it had all been in his mind.  Not Scully's fault, really, that she
could not read it.  Not Scully's fault that she was gone.

The rain was coming faster now, and hard.  It echoed like machine-gun fire as it
ricocheted off the hood of his car.  If it hailed he could claim
storm damage.  Oh, shit, he'd forgotten to pay his insurance.  Better not get in
an accident then.  Wouldn't want to do anything rash, like run head-long off a
cliff to crash in a blazing inferno on the rocks below.  Wouldn't do.  No
insurance.  Of course the car was paid for.

So, he went in.  Just stepped out of the car and made a mad dash for the
apartment building's front door.  He was only vaguely alarmed by the fact that
there wasn't a buzzer, no real security in the building.  Lily's apartment was
on the second floor, facing the street.

He knocked on the door.  She opened it.  Simple cause and effect.

"Mulder...hi. Come on in.  I expected you earlier."  She looked young and fresh
with her hair pulled back and baggy sweat shorts on and a mid-drift t-shirt with
a big yellow smiley face on it.  He was soaking wet and shivering when he
stepped through the door.

"You were expecting me?"

"Well, yes.  I figured you would come in tonight instead of just waiting
out in the car like last night."

"You knew?"

"I saw you out the window."  She laughed and shook her head.  "You weren't
exactly hard to spot out there, you know.  Listen, sit down.  The couch is over
there.  I'll go get a couple of towels."

"I'll get your couch wet."

"That piece of shit.  Please, it came with the apartment.  I didn't come
up with this neo-classic seventies motel room decor all on my own you know.  I
had help from the friendly neighborhood slum lord."  She walked to
the next room to get the towels.

Mulder did not sit.  Instead, he rambled around the room picking up Knic-Knacs,
studying them and setting them down gingerly.  She was right about the
plasticine furniture.  Pretty disgusting.  Who ever decided that pea green and
floral prints were an acceptable life-style choice?  Besides,
they clashed with the bright yellow paint on the walls.  Something was missing.
Pictures. She didn't have any pictures.

When she came out with two big baby blue towels, he walked up to her quickly and
put his hand on her shoulder.

"I want to show you something."

"OK," she said it slowly, as if speaking to a child.  He reached into his pocket
to fish something out and she plopped a big towel on his head, shocking him
momentarily.

"Sorry, your hair's dripping."

"Oh."  He smiled at her as he pulled the object out of his pocket, adjusting the
towel with his other hand.  He turned so that they were standing
side by side and he held a picture up to her.

"This is her."

"Oh my God," Lily breathed.  The picture was horribly charred.  But the face of
the woman remained sharp and focused, in stark contrast to the distorted
background and to the man who stood next to her.  Who stood next to _her_.  Lily
realized that she and Mulder were copying the pose in the
photograph and backed away quickly.

The resemblance was certainly a striking one.  Still, Lily did not imagine that
her hair was quite so red or her profile so like etched stone.

"Yeah," Mulder nodded, "now you see."  His eyes were bright, pupils dilated.  He
wore the bright, tight face of a junky on a new high.  He kept nodding his head,
up and down, up and down.  He has gone over the edge, she thought.  This is it;
I did this to him.

"Don't worry.  I haven't completely lost it," he assured her.  She felt herself
tip-toeing her way to the edge of the void to fall into it with him.

"Define 'lost it'."

He laughed again, a dry, humorless laugh.  "Well, let's see.  If I had lost it,
I'd think you were her even though I know you aren't.  Wouldn't I? I would try
to make you into her.  If I'd lost it, I wouldn't know that
I have to leave soon.  If I'd lost it, I...I might ask you to kiss me."

"Why don't you?"  She surprised herself by saying it.  It was a suddenly
a struggle to breathe.  They were standing very close.

"Oh, hell.  Maybe I have lost it."  Then he leaned in, suddenly and without
grace, and kissed her.  His aim was bad and his lips glanced off the edge of
hers.

"Slow down, cowboy," she swallowed hard and stepped back.  "I don't think that
you really want this."

His body was still straining forward, posed for the kiss.  Mulder realized the
awkwardness of his position and jumped quickly, shrugging it off like a cat.

"What do you think I want?" he asked, voice rumbling like the thunder outside.

"Oh, I think it's pretty clear what you want, Mulder.  But you said yourself,
I'm not her.  And I'm not going to be her for you."  Lily swallowed
down hot tears and looked up to him defiantly.  They stared, each trying
to find answers in questioning eyes.

"You want a beer?" she asked suddenly, her voice a dull monotone as she worked
to control her emotions.

"Sure."

Lily bowed her head and walked to the kitchen.  Mulder sat on the couch and
leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, stroking his temples as
he listened to the sound of glass clinking against glass in the
next room.

She avoided his eyes when she came back into the room and set his mug on
the coffee table in front of him.

"Aren't you having any?"  he asked.

"No."  She twisted her hands nervously and walked to the stereo.  "I'm going to
put on some music."  Mulder sipped his beer, watching her as she went through
the motions of choosing a CD and starting the music.

Lily attempted to bring a degree of normality to their conversation. "Have you
heard The Smiths?"

"Ummm...did they come out after 'Peter Frampton Comes Alive'?"

That earned a wry laugh.  "Yeah, they were after that."

"Then, no.  Probably not."

She walked over and looked down at him a moment before seating herself on the
coffee table.  His legs were spread and her knees, held tightly together, were
between them as she faced him.  The music flowed around them and she felt again
the instinctual pull that drew her to him.  Impulse battled reason until finally
she knew that impulse would win.

// You shut your mouth...how can you say...I go about things the wrong way...I
am Human...and I need to be loved...Just like everybody else does //

"You like the song?"

"Yeah."  He was staring at her mouth and up to her eyes.  Mouth, eyes, mouth,
eyes, mouth.  <Scully>

"I haven't known who I am for such a long time," she spoke brokenly,
"maybe...maybe."

He gazed at her mutely with his hands held rigidly on his knees.  Knowing she
had to stop herself from saying things she would later regret, Lily
chose to occupy her mouth with other things.

It was she who leaned forward, jumping off the precipice and into his darkness.
Her lips that met his in a soft open kiss as she moved her hands
to cradle his face.

Mulder reached out and pulled her to him fast and hard.  Tangled awkwardly on
his lap, she was reaching around him then, clasping his head more tightly to her
as lips opened wider.  The sharp, bitter taste of beer was in his mouth, on his
tongue.  She thought randomly that she would have to
remember the brand.  He did not think at all.

Pulling her hair out of its clip, Mulder squeezed it in his hand as they
kissed, then settled that hand on her nape.  He stroked her there, at the base
of the neck, where the chip would be. <Scully>

She groaned into his mouth and rocked her hips, thrusting them more tightly into
his.  Her legs were on either side of his now as she occupied his lap, feeling
his hardness push up to her.

Mulder finally did break off the kiss, only to continue it elsewhere.  She
hissed as his lips descended down her neck to her shoulders and pulled
back to grant him access to her breasts.  He stroked her through the t-shirt and
pressed against soft fabric until she pushed him away.  Dazed, he watched as she
pulled the shirt off quickly and tossed it aside.  She wasn't wearing a bra and
he surged forward to press his lips to her.  Gasping at the sudden moist warmth,
she anchored his head to her breast.  He drank in the taste of her, licking and
sucking gently at the sensitive skin.  She moaned above him as she bent her head
towards his, brushing her lips over his hair.

"Mulder...."

<Scully>  "Mmmm..." his voice was muffled against her heated skin.

"Mulder...take me to bed."

There was no thought now, only sensation.  Reaching again for her mouth with
his, Mulder stood, carrying her with him.  Her legs wrapped tightly around his
waist as he walked blindly to her bedroom.

They stumbled into the room.  It was lit from outside by a nearby street
lamp and shadowed in the falling rain.  She unbound her legs from his waist and
lowered them until she was standing, still clinging to him.  Moving delicate
hands to his waist, she tugged at his shirt and slid it off his head quickly.
In a frenzy of motion, they stripped off the rest of their clothes and tumbled
onto the bed.  Mulder fell on top of her, pushing
her into the mattress with the full length of his body.

Flesh met flesh, suctioned together, it expanded and contracted as breath
exploded around it.  His hands on her, moving downward, then his fingers in her.
Hot, tight, wet.  <Scully>

The tables turned and she was on top, the flesh of her lips, her tongue,
traveling down his fevered body.  Then, he was in her mouth.  She took him in.
Established a rhythm and did not stray from it.  Hands twisted in
her smooth, auburn hair.

"Not like this."  And he pulled her up while he still could and rolled her over
on her back again.  He returned the favor, tasting her as she writhed beneath
him, pungent and sweet at once.  <Scully>.  She vibrated and
strained up to him as she reached  climax, holding his head tightly to her.

It was too much.  No longer able to hold back, he grasped the bedcovers with his
hands on either side of her and pulled himself up.  He surged into her quickly,
burying himself in one hard, swift motion. As she spasmed
around him, he looked searchingly into incandescent eyes.  Not Scully's eyes.
Not Scully.  <No>

"Yes...oh, yes," she panted underneath him.

Closing his eyes, Mulder worked his way in and out of her with movements
quick and frantic, seeking release.  It was agony but no one had told his body
that.  <Scully>

Release came and he moaned incoherently into hot salt-water skin,
"mmm...leee...yes, yes...God."  His dry, harsh sob was easily mistaken for
ecstasy.

It was over then and he rolled off her, throwing one arm over his eyes. Heavy
breath competed with the sound of the falling rain, loud and jagged.  With
sudden speed, he reached off the bed to the floor, picked up his underwear and
put it on before lying back again.  He was careful not to touch her.

"Mulder?"

"Shhh...don't talk."

"I just want you to know that I don't regret anything."  He heard tears in her
voice and added them to the list of his transgressions.  As much as he wanted to
offer comfort, he couldn't.  Silence lingered for weighted
moments.

"Thank you, Lily."  The words were spoken in a choked whisper.  Even in the
shadowed darkness of her room she could see the brightness in his eyes.  Was
still awed by their intensity.  He thanked her but she knew his thoughts were
with another.

Finally, she knew that this was how it was meant to be.  The knowledge filled
her quietly like a stray notion working its way up into consciousness.  <I have
served my purpose >.  It was time to release him and she did
not think to wonder what her purpose had been or how she knew it had been
served.

"Be sure to lock the door on your way out, Fox."  There were no tears now, only
dismissal.  The voice was Scully's.  The face and the body Scully's too.
<Forgive me Scully, for I have sinned>.

Mulder was suddenly hot with the desire to search again, burning with the need
for revenge.

"I'm sorry..." he began, but she cut him off with the touch of her finger to his
lips.

"Shhh... I told you I didn't regret it and I meant it.  Find her."  Lily
lowered her head so that her hair swung down, covering depthless eyes.

Up and off the bed in a flash, Mulder worked to put on his wet clothes as
quickly as he had taken them off.  It would be too easy to stay.  He had to
believe that Scully was still alive and he knew that this was not her.  He had
already held on for too long.

As he glanced side-ways at her dark form, Mulder didn't have any regrets
either.  At least not at that moment.

"Goodbye, Lily."  He emphasized her name.

"Goodbye, Mulder." She hesitated.  "When you find her, when you find the
men who did this to all of us, be sure to avenge me too."

"I will."

"Don't forget."  Her voice was pure and unwavering.

"I won't.  I swear."  So was his.

Mulder walked away.

The smell of him, of them together, filled the room long after he was gone.  In
the end, she knew that the choice was never hers to make.  The act of passion
had felt like destiny, as elemental and irrevocable as the ebb and flow of the
tides.  But she did not own it.  She did not own her life.  For four years Lily
had lived under the illusion that it was hers, hers to build and struggle for
and defend.  She needed to know the truth and she was willing to fight for that
too.

Lily was gone by morning.

* * * * * * * *

Standing on Skyland Mountain again.

On this night the sky was clear and the stars shone down on him, their light
distant and cold.  He did not believe that she was up there, among those distant
suns.  This darkness was man-made.

Mulder's thoughts turned again toward revenge.  It had to taste sweeter than
helplessness.  He knew helplessness and it was sour as bile.

In his mind, in every molecule, he felt Scully's voice like a breeze,  "Mulder,
I'm alive.  Find me."

Hope was sweeter still.

* * * * * * * *

Some philosophers believe that life is an illusion.  We exist only as the
hallucinations of our creator and the physical world he dreams for us is merely
a fanciful construct.  Normally, I scoff at such philosophies, but now I'm not
as sure - the physical world I have spent my life defining
is so distant to me now and I live in a world of dreams.

Mine and his.

Our covenant, always strong, is essential now to both of us.  He is my shadow-
self, living painfully in the world of the physical.  He is awake and ever-
vigilant and I dream his dreams for him.

Tonight I am him. I am sinking like a stone, plunging through dark water; my
breath is emitting a cloud of tiny bubbles and my arms are outstretched like the
Messiah.  I glance below to see what is dragging me down.  It is my other self,
my Scully-self, clinging to my legs, unwilling to free me from the dangerous
downward spiral.  As I reach down to pull her naked form up to me, I glance away
for a moment and the dreamscape changes.

Now I am on a pier and I am alone. It is dark and wet as if there's been
a rain and I am dressed all in black, desolate as the inky night that envelops
me.  The sea air reminds me of Scully because she loves the sea and the fog
rolls in, surrounding me in waves.

And I know this is not my dream but Mulder's, but what does that matter anyway?

I am him, searching through the oppressive fog and suddenly through it, she
emerges and walks toward me with measured steps.  She wears a severely cut black
dress and the heels of her shoes click loudly on the pier, breaking the silence
and echoing all around me.

I am me and I see the tears in his eyes as he waits for me to draw near.
 Suddenly, my voice calls him from behind and I stop.  He turns quickly and sees
a second Scully - walking past him she approaches my side and turns to face him.
He stares mutely at us both and we stand in silence.  There are other Scullys
now - coming out of the velvet darkness and the gossamer fog - they surround us.

// You are all alike // he says in a voice of crushing dry leaves.

// Isn't it amazing what science can accomplish these days? // We are in
unison.  I wonder why I would say such a thing. What I want is to call out to
him...

// Mulder, it's me... I love you, need you...

 / /Mulder, I'm alive.  Find me. //

But words have always been difficult for me, no less so in dreams than in life.

This is Mulder's dream and I am him.  I am cursing myself for my blindness; I
should know which is Scully.  When the women begin to shimmer and glow and fade
to ephemeral mirages before disappearing altogether, I know it is my fault.
Because the truth was right in front of me and I couldn't see it.  I am alone
again.

My name is Dana Katherine Scully and I know that I must stop living in dreams,
Mulder's and mine.

And save myself.  So that I can save him.

Words have always been difficult for me, but my will is strong.

The fog is beginning to lift.

--The End--

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

If you got this far, I'd love to know what you thought.  I joyfully accept and
respond to all feedback, even criticism (I prefer it to be of the constructive
variety).

Send it to: gwendyn@aol.com

All my thanks to Meredith - my cohort in coincidence, for her wonderful words of
advice and expert editing. And to Dasha for all the support and wonderful beta
services.  You're money, the both of ya'!

"How Soon Is Now?" Belongs to the Smiths and is used without permission
(obviously).