IntoThinAir2

Date: Fri, 28 Nov 1997 23:14:44 -0500 (EST)
From: SolangeRey@aol.com
Subject: 'Brainstorm' (Into Thin Air 2), Part 01/04

Title: Brainstorm (Into Thin Air 2)
Author: Jennifer Renfro
E-mail: SolangeRey@aol.com
Rating: R
Category: X; Angst, Romance
Spoilers: Darkness Falls
Keywords: Mulder/other romance
Summary: A new street drug appears in Chicago, not yet illegal, & Mulder is
summoned to investigate its purported bizarre side effects by an old
acquaintance. The sequel to 'Into Thin Air'.

Part 01/04

Disclaimers: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and all the others from 'X-Files'
aren't mine; they belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Nicole
Alexander, on the other hand, IS. Please don't sue me; I'm already in debt
past my ears and I have to be able to feed my kids. No profit is being made
from this or any of my other stories (boy, ain't THAT the truth!).

DO NOT FORWARD TO ATXC
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------

April 9, 1994;
Chicago

   Nicole Alexander huddled a little closer to the wall, trusting the darkness
in the condemned warehouse to cloak her, thrusting her arms further into the
sleeves of the baggy sweatshirt she wore to warm her chill, stiff fingers.
The night wind off Lake Michigan in mid-April was *cold*, and it didn't help
matters any that the temperature tonight had dipped below freezing,
unseasonable even for Chicago.

   At least a dozen people were clustered together in the darkness below her;
from her perch on the catwalk, she could see how sick they looked. Some
sprawled on the dirty, threadbare mattresses tossed down on the floor;
several sat together with a worn blanket wrapped around them, trying to pool
their body heat. There were at least three women among the men, but they
were so emaciated and fatigued as to be sexless, thin scarecrows with no more
interest in life than the males.

   *This has got to be stopped,* Nicole thought resolutely. *Why do people DO
this to themselves?* She could see the needle tracks on the few arms that
had not been covered against the cold; they were purple and black, looking
infected in the weak moonlight that spilled into the warehouse from the
shattered skylights overhead.

   She bared her teeth in a silent snarl as the tall, handsome man in the
expensive grey suit strutted arrogantly over to where the junkies were
huddled. Two hulking, muscular men stalked silently behind him, and Nicole
didn't have to see the bulges under their leather jackets to know that they
were armed. *Well, of course. What their scumbucket boss carries around
with him is worth a lot of money, and without protection, the junkies would
certainly take it from his dead body.* The pusher smiled at them as they
jumped up, approaching him fawningly, their eyes hungry and desperate.

   "Hello, my friends," the man said in a smooth, soft voice that was oily and
cold despite its friendly tone. "I brought presents for you all."

   *He's doing it AGAIN!!!*

   "Please...here...give it to me...need it--" the cries came from a dozen
demanding throats as shaking hands groped for the ampoules the man held.
Nicole stayed hidden, unperturbed, as the EL train went by outside. The man
in the suit--this was her third visit to the warehouse, and she had yet to
learn his name--began to pass out his 'wares'. She stared down at the little
vials of green liquid he was handing out. It was hardly unusual to see drug
dealers with their product, or even watching them give away the first 'taste'
to unsuspecting people who didn't know how easily they could get hooked.
*What's bizarre,* she reflected, *is that the asshole down there has ALREADY
got all these poor jerks hooked, but he KEEPS giving his drug away for
nothing!*    The junkies had already gotten out their gear and filled the
hypodermics with the green liquid, sinking the needles into whatever
uncollapsed veins they could find--in eye sockets, between their toes, or in
tongues, penises, or breasts--and pushing the plungers home. Nicole watched
as the rush overtook them one by one; their features convulsed with euphoria,
and they sank back down onto the mattresses, the cold no longer a concern.

   "Watch them," the pusher said in distaste to his guards. "I hate testing
new batches, especially on filth like this. If they die, you can never tell
if it's from the drugs or because they were sick to begin with."

   "Yes, Mr. Wallace," the taller of the two guards said, and Wallace took the
briefcase that the man held, fishing in his breast pocket for the key.
Silently, Nicole wished that she had brought someone with her--a friend, the
police--anyone who could save the poor wretches down below. *Or Mulder,* she
reflected. *I wish Mulder were here. I bet he'd know what to do.*

   "Save them...stop him...wish Mulder was here," moaned one of the addicts, a
thin, frail girl clad in a tattered t-shirt and ragged jeans. As the
muttered words sank in, Nicole reeled backward in shock.

   *My God,* she thought numbly, *the girl read my mind!*

   One of the junkies looked up suddenly, his head tilting back as if on a
pivot, and his hateful glare locked on to the catwalk where Nicole hid.
"There's someone up there!" he howled, clawing at his head angrily and
gnashing his teeth. "Get outta my head, you fuckin' BITCH!!!" All at once,
*all* of the addicts were staring up toward where she was hidden, whimpering
and yelping like whipped dogs.

   The two guards drew their guns and Nicole bit her lower lip nervously. *I
have to get out of here,* she thought, panic spiking wildly in her. *Damn,
I'm not used to these spy games!* Wallace stood almost directly beneath her
perch and she took a deep breath, then jumped over the side of the catwalk as
the guards began shooting at her. She went thin before she hit the floor,
grabbing for the briefcase in Wallace's hands, thinning it also as she
slipped through the warehouse floor, down through the basement, the
foundation, and into the cold earth. Her momentum bled off slowly and she
came to a stop surrounded by hard-packed dirt, taking a second to get her
bearings. *I was facing THAT way when I jumped, so if I go HERE--* She
began to move through the soil, 'swimming' toward the surface in the
direction of the EL station outside the warehouse, her lungs beginning to
burn as her three-minute limit approached. Yet she knew she didn't dare
solidify to take a breath; underground, her atoms still intermingled with
those of the earth around her, she would be killed instantly.

   Nicole broke from the surface of the ground and emerged into fresh air,
barely ten feet from the EL platform. She pulled her feet free of the
sidewalk and solidified, gulping in air as tears seared her eyes. She
glanced around and gave a quick, silent prayer of thanks that it was after
midnight; the only one around to see her materialize was a drunk sitting on a
bench at the far end of the platform.

   She heard the roar of an approaching train and her grip tightened around the
handle of the briefcase as the train slowed and came to a stop. She scurried
into the car as soon as the doors had opened, and waited nervously for the
train to take off again, certain that Wallace and his men were going to come
rushing down the stairs into the station after her.

   When they did not, and when the train had pulled slowly away from the
platform and up onto the raised tracks into the cold night outside, Nicole
forced herself to relax. The words that the two junkies in the warehouse had
spoken played over and over in her head.

   *Save them...stop him...wish Mulder was here...*

   *Get outta my head, you fuckin' BITCH!*

   Her hand shook as she popped open the clasps on the briefcase and stared at
the bundles of cash and the neat rack of little vials filled with green
liquid inside. The fluid looked harmless enough, but she knew better. With
a sign, she looked up as the train began to slow for the next station. *No
one'll be in the science lab at the University of Chicago--not at this time
of night. I have time to sneak in and run a few tests before the first
morning flight to D.C. leaves O'Hare in the morning.*

   She rose on tired, aching feet and headed for the train doors.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------

April 10;
Washington, D.C.

   Mulder watched with a faint grin as Scully finished typing up the report
concerning their last case, about a number of loggers that had gone missing
in the deep forest in Washington state. He knew she was disturbed every time
one of their strange cases was left unsolved--or worse, when the solution was
something that could not be proved by rational science.

   His phone rang and he picked it up, answering automatically. "Mulder here."

   "You look like you've gained a few pounds," came a soft, familiar voice that
he had not heard in almost five weeks--nor had ever expected to hear again.
"You should get thin." There was a moment's silence, and then the woman
spoke again. "I'm calling from the Grant monument in Union Square. Meet me
there in twenty minutes." The line went dead and Mulder stared at the
receiver for a second before hanging up.

   Scully looked up from her computer terminal. "Who was that?" she asked
curiously.

   "A prank call," Mulder said, glancing at his watch. It was almost noon. "I
think I'm going to step out and get some lunch. Do you want me to bring
something back for you?"

   "Sure," Scully replied absently, staring at her screen. "A roast beef
sandwich and a salad would be fine."

   "Roast beef and salad it is," Mulder promised. He grabbed his overcoat and
pulled it on, then smiled at her and marched out the door.

   He drove to the Monument cautiously, glancing more than once into his
rearview to make certain that he was not being followed. He knew that there
were certain people in the Bureau who were not pleased that Nicole Alexander
had escaped when he had met her five weeks ago, and their anger was only
compounded by the bad press the Bureau had suffered when Agent Stone, who
Mulder had been forced to shoot, was exposed as corrupt. An envelope full of
photographs had been sent anonymously to Assistant Director Skinner; the
pictures had recorded Stone's crime in meticulous detail.

   Mulder found a parking place and tramped across the park to the monument
with a minute and a half to spare. He glanced around cauti-ously, but the
only person he saw nearby was a heavyset, dark-haired bag lady feeding
popcorn to the pigeons. He turned to glance at the Monument; it was defaced
with spray paint, the steps littered with trash--a dismaying but predictable
sight. He sighed and turned back around, then stepped back as the bag lady
grinned at him, now no more than a few feet away.

   "Want some popcorn, Mister?" she croaked, holding out the nearly empty
bag.
"Gotta fatten yourself up. You look like you're getting too thin."

   Mulder's eyes widened in surprise. "Nicole?" he asked warily.

   The woman smiled brilliantly and winked, popping out one of the brown-
tinted
contact lenses she wore, revealing brilliant green eyes with abnormal,
diamond-shaped pupils. "Hello, Agent Mulder," she said, her voice no longer
a harsh croak but the soft tones he remembered. "It's good to see you
again."

   Mulder took a step backward and studied her for a moment, finally able to
discern her slender body underneath the mounds of baggy, thick clothes. She
pulled off the wig she wore; the shoulder-length, frizzy mass of dark-brown
Little Orphan Annie curls was nothing like her own light blonde hair. "Good
disguise," he said at last, grinning despite himself.

   "It fooled you," she agreed pleasantly.

   "You do realize that I was told if I ever saw you again to arrest you on the
spot," Mulder told her.

   "Are you going to?" Nicole asked, one eyebrow rising slightly.

   "Not until I find out why you're here," he replied calmly. She laughed.

   "Right to the point." She gazed at him for a minute and then flushed before
reaching into her tattered coat, pulling out a small glass vial that
contained about an ounce of translucent, pale green liquid. "This is a new
designer drug that's been making the rounds in Chicago. The man who's
testing it calls in Brainstorm."

   Mulder took the vial without comment and uncapped it, sniffing gingerly.
The fluid had no scent that he could detect, and he recorked it, taking care
not to spill a drop. "So you've been in Chicago for the last five weeks?" he
asked. "Doing what?"

   "This and that," Nicole said evasively. He stared at her sternly, refusing
to let her look away, and she sighed. "OK, OK. I can't exactly get a normal
job, since I have no ID and had to leave school before I got my degree. So
I've been using my skill to steal from the local drug dealers. I take their
money and destroy their drugs. Satisfied?"

   "Not entirely," Mulder said, frowning, appalled by the dangerous path she
had taken since they'd last seen each other. He cocked his head, remembering
an incident he'd read about in the paper about two weeks back. "There was a
fire in Chicago in a tenement on the South Side two weeks back. A little boy
who was trapped in the building suddenly appeared safe in the alley below.
He said he was saved by a ghost. You wouldn't have had anything to do with
that, would you?"

   "Guilty as charged," Nicole said, pulling her hand away--thin--through his
own. "Are you going to arrest me for that? Impersonating a ghost without a
license?" She glared at him in mock anger and sighed. "The drug, Mulder.
That's why I'm here. While checking out a warehouse on 103rd Street that
some of the junkies use as a shooting gallery, I had a chance to observe its
effects. First, a rush of euphoria in the first three to five minutes.
After that, hallucinations similar to those found in LSD users. But worst
of all is that the drug has a tendency to promote homicidal psychosis in
anyone who's already mentally unstable. The madness doesn't happen in
everyone, but if a person who's hallucinating turns suddenly violent--" she
shuddered visibly. "Brainstorm is very addictive--at least ten times as
addictive as crack, by the preliminary calculations I was able to make. And
it has a cumulative effect that I think might interest you. After the fourth
or fifth dose, it apparently interacts with the user's brain chemistry and
induces telepathy." She met his astonished stare levelly. "I stole several
doses when Wallace--the man testing it--came to the warehouse the last time
and snuck into the science labs at the University of Chicago to run a few
tests. It's similar to both LSD and PCP in chemical composition, but because
it's so new, it hasn't been ruled illegal yet."

   "Telepathy," Mulder murmured, fascinated. He looked up from the vial.
"How
do you know?"

   "I was hiding in the warehouse last night, up on a catwalk. There was no
way the junkies could have seen me or known that I was there. Yet seconds
after they had shot up with the drug, one of them was mumbling the thoughts
right out of my head and another sensed I was there; the others caught on
instantly. The one who sensed me first actually told me to get out of his
head. I left in a hurry."

   "And came here," Mulder finished.

   "Exactly," Nicole responded. "Take the sample and run your own series of
tests. I had enough bio before I switched over to physics that I can run a
basic pharmacology series, but you'll be able to use more sophisticated
methods where you work." She turned to go and he tucked the vial into a
pocket, then reached out, snagging the back of her coat.

   "Wait," he ordered. She stopped, turning around to regard him hopefully.

   "What do you want?"

   He hesitated, knowing where his duty lay, knowing he could not carry out
that duty unless she *let* him. "I'm going to have to arrest you, Ms.
Alexander," he said stiffly.

   She gazed at him, hurt in her eyes, and then reality intruded.

   "Is this where you normally go for lunch, Mulder?" came Scully's voice. He
spun and saw her standing fifteen feet away, her Beretta in hand, the weapon
aimed directly at Nicole. "Ms. Alexander, I am Special Agent Dana Scully of
the F.B.I. You are under arrest. I want you to lay down on the ground with
your hands locked behind your head."

   Nicole's eyes darted from Scully to Mulder. "So much for friendship, huh?"
she said softly.

   "Scully, don't--" Mulder began, but at that second, Nicole turned and ran.

   Scully swore and jammed her gun into its holster, then ran after her, with
Mulder less than half a second behind. Scully, not hampered by thick clothes
like Nicole was, rapidly closed the distance between them, and--less than
five feet away--jumped.

   The tackle would have brought down anyone else. Nicole glanced back a
fraction of an instant before Scully leaped, then went thin. Scully sailed
through her and landed on the ground, and Mulder tripped over her prone form
and tumbled down next to her. Nicole stopped a few yards away. "This is
better than a Three Stooges movie," she snorted, then took off as Mulder and
Scully scrambled to their feet.

   "I had her!" Scully insisted, glaring down at the cold mud that clung to her
slacks and blazer. "I recognized her from your report, Mulder. How'd she do
that?"

   "Magic?" Mulder murmured half-heartedly. He pulled the vial out of his coat
pocket and gazed at it thoughtfully.

   "What's that?" Scully asked, intrigued.

   "I'm not sure," he answered her. "But I'll tell you what it's *not*." His
eyes met hers over the cap of the vial. "It's *not* a roast beef sandwich
and a salad."

                  End Part 01/04

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------

Part 02/04

Disclaimers: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and all the others from 'X-Files'
aren't mine; they belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Nicole
Alexander, on the other hand, IS. Please don't sue me; I'm already in debt
past my ears and I have to be able to feed my kids. No profit is being made
from this or any of my other stories (boy, ain't THAT the truth!).

DO NOT FORWARD TO ATXC
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------
April 11;
Chicago

   Mulder and Scully made their way through the mazelike corridors and tunnels
of O'Hare airport to finally emerge into the daylight outside. A bitter wind
blasted them as they went to their rental car and loaded their luggage into
the trunk.

   "I'm not so sure this is such a good idea, Mulder," Scully said, going
around to the front and climbing into the passenger's seat.

   "We checked all the flights from D.C. to Chicago yesterday. Nic--Ms.
Alexander wasn't on any of them," Mulder said as he slid behind the steering
wheel and fastened his seat belt. "She said she'd been living in Chicago
since I lost her in San Diego. We may be able to track her down
--and this drug should be checked out." He pulled the vial out of his pocket
and stared at it, then handed it to Scully and started the car. The vial was
empty except for a thin film of green on the glass; tests run on it had
confirmed most of Nicole's assertions. Only her statement that the drug
caused telepathy with repeated use could not be proven; there had not been
enough of the substance to run such an extensive test, and such a test would
require human test subjects, anyway.

   "Then why not turn the case over to the D.E.A.?" Scully asked. He glanced
at her, a cynical smile on his lips, and she nodded. "Yeah, right."
Interagency rivalry between the F.B.I., the C.I.A., and the D.E.A.--between
*all* intelligence agencies--was at an all-time high recently, with the drug
war in Colombia and the shoot-out in Waco. *Besides,* Scully mused, *the
D.E.A. would care nothing about the purported unusual properties of the drug,
only about arresting everyone they could get their hands on and stamping out
the drug's use entirely.* Mulder guided the car away from the curb and
turned east onto Highway 90, which would take them directly into the heart of
the city. Mulder glanced over at the vial, a distant look in his eyes as he
stopped at a red light.

   Scully watched him curiously. "You really like her, don't you?" she finally
asked.

   Mulder sighed and took the vial from her, tucking it back in his pocket.
"Yeah, Scully, I do," he said quietly. "She didn't ask to have her father
sicken and die, or for Stone to try to use her. Her strange ability wasn't
something she asked for. She's just using it the only way she knows how. I
don't blame her for not wanting to give herself up." He paused as the light
turned green and the car surged forward. "I was angry when I realized you'd
followed me to the Monument."

   "She *is* a criminal, Mulder," Scully reminded him. "By her own admission,
she *did* rob the Naval Base."

   "Those charges are being withheld until the final evaluation of the possible
Navy cover-up in the Truxtrun case," Mulder said. "Innocent until proven
guilty."

   Scully sighed. "All right, Mulder. If we run into her again, I won't try
to arrest her. Satisfied?"

   "*I* sure am," came a chuckle from the back seat.

   Scully whirled as Mulder's gaze shot to the rear-view mirror. Nicole sat
behind them, the shapeless rags she had been wearing replaced by jeans and an
emerald-green sweater underneath a black coat that was buttoned only halfway
up. She smiled as she saw the surprise in their eyes; green-tinted contact
lenses concealed her own unusual eyes.

   "Where did you come from?" Scully demanded.

   "Originally? San Diego," Nicole laughed. "I returned to Chicago on the
same flight you two took. I went thin and hid in the baggage
compartment--and let me tell you, it's damned cold down there at 35,000 feet.
When we landed, I followed you out to the parking lot, ducked into the trunk
of your car, then climbed in here through the back seat." She grinned at
them. "What, you thought I was just going to disappear again? Uh-uh. I
just got settled back down; I'll be tied up and dragged off before I run away
again. Now, follow Highway 90 down until it splits off from Highway 94, then
take 94 to 103rd Street."

   They made the drive in silence, threading their way through Chicago's grimy,
twisting streets until they reached the warehouse where Nicole had run from
Wallace and his guards.

   "This is the place," Nicole told them. "Although they're long gone, I'm
sure. There are plenty of places in the city to shoot up, and no reason to
stay once they'd been discovered."

   "Yes, but they probably haven't gone far," Scully said, drawing her gun and
checking it. "Stay in the car, Ms. Alexander. You wouldn't want to get
hurt."

   Nicole glanced over at Mulder. "Is she kidding?" she asked him. He grinned
wryly and she shook her head. "Agent Scully, I'm *much* more likely to get
hurt if I stay here. This neighborhood is overrun with muggers, rapists,
purse-snatchers, and carjackers. Besides, so long as I have a second's
warning, no bullet can hurt me. I think I'll take my chances inside with you
two."

   Scully frowned, but chose not to waste time arguing. "Suit yourself," she
said as Mulder drew his own sidearm and flicked the safety off.

   They got out of the car and approached the building. Mulder stopped in
front of the door, Scully to one side, preparing to kick the door in and
provide covering fire if necessary.

   "Before you two go rushing in where angels fear to tread--" Nicole began.

   "Why do I get the idea that you're not taking this very seriously?" Mulder
asked, the faintest trace of a grin curving his lips up at the corners.
Scully scowled at him.

   "Yes?" she asked sharply, pinning Nicole with a stern look.

   "Instead of just busting in there, I could stick my head through the door
and make sure no one's waiting for us on the other side with guns ready,"
Nicole offered.

   Mulder frowned, but it was Scully that answered. "Even assuming that they
can't shoot you, if their shots went through the door, one of us could be
hit. *We* can't--what do you call it--go thin like you can."

   Nicole shrugged. "It was just a thought," she suggested. "Never let it be
said that even us hardened criminals don't try to help, Agent Scully."

   Scully scowled. "I'll keep it in mind."

   Nicole stepped back out of the way and went thin, just in case someone
*was*
on the other side, ready to open fire. Scully stepped to one side to cover
Mulder, and he held his gun up, then shouldered the door open with a crash.
The door flew open and he leveled his weapon, but the huge, open warehouse
looked deserted. Scully followed him inside, glancing around.

   "There's an office upstairs," Nicole ventured, pointing to the stairs. "I
don't think they used it for anything, but there's also a door there that
leads up to the roof."

   "We'd better check it out," Scully said, nodding to Mulder. He moved, his
back to the wall, and paced to the stairs, taking them slowly and one at a
time. Scully waved at Nicole to follow him and she jogged after him with
Scully at her heels.

   The door to the office stood open, light shining in through the window, and
the desk, chair, and filing cabinet that filled the small room were
practically antique. Mulder jerked open each of the cabinet's drawers, but
they were empty.

   Scully lowered her gun and checked the door to the roof. It opened with a
creak, muddy daylight spilling down the stairs. The stairs up were littered
with trash, rain puddled on the steps, but there was no sign of drugs,
junkies, or Wallace.

   A heavy, squat iron safe stood against the far wall, its square door closed.
Nicole gave the handle and experimental tug, but it was locked; she snorted
and slipped her hand through the steel, groping around inside. Mulder's eyes
gleamed as she withdrew a stoppered lab beaker full of thick, viscous, dark
green ichor. "Think this is the uncut stuff?" Nicole asked curiously,
holding the beaker up to the wan light.

   "Could be," Mulder said. "We can run more tests."

   "Now what?" Scully asked.

   Barely were the words out of her mouth when a shot pinged by not a foot
from
her head, sending up chips of plaster as it buried itself in the wall. She
threw herself to her knees and Mulder ducked as Nicole stuffed the flask into
the breast pocket of her coat and went thin in self-defense.

   "That's what," Nicole said, glaring down the stairs at the main warehouse.
"Our friendly neighborhood goons are back, and they've brought friends."
She chewed on her lower lip, counting. "There are at least a dozen men down
there, all armed. We're cut off."

   "Up to the roof?" Mulder suggested as they heard footsteps on the stairs.

   "There might be a fire escape," Scully agreed. "Grab the chair; we can
wedge the door shut with it."

   "You two go first," Nicole commanded. "I'll keep them busy."

   "Forget it," Scully shouted, starting up the stairs to the roof. "Mulder,
send her up. We can't let a civilian get hurt!"

   "Don't be stupid!" Nicole spat. "I can't get shot, remember? You can! And
I can come through the door after you bar it. If I had a gun, I could hold
them off for a minute longer. Get going!"

   Mulder hesitated a second, then swore. "She's right, Scully," he said,
resigned. He handed Nicole his gun. "Don't take too long!"

   "Just until they realize that if they can't shoot me, I can't shoot *them*,"
Nicole agreed through gritted teeth. The gun was still warm from his grip,
but felt heavy and alien in her hand. She grimaced at it and took three
steps out of the office, taking a deep breath and going thin as she did
so--all except for the hand that held the pistol. *Can't thin the gun and
risk having it blow up in my hand,* she thought ruefully.

   The first gunman, halfway up the stairs to the office, stopped and ducked as
she brought the gun up, pointed straight at him. He cursed and jumped over
the side of the stairs rather than take a bullet at point-blank range. She
had just enough time to hear the snap of bone and his scream before the
others started shooting at her.

   Despite the fact that she knew the bullets couldn't hurt her, she flinched
as they went through her, burying themselves in the wall behind her. The men
assumed their aim was off and corrected by the fraction that should have been
necessary to bring her down. They let off another few rounds, clearly
puzzled, and finally one yelled, "It's some kinda trick! Get her!!!"

   They surged for the stairs and she turned tail and ran, stuffing Mulder's
gun through the gap under the door, grabbing it again on the other side after
thinning through the door. Then she raced up the stairs to the roof,
resolidifying at the top, gulping in air and slamming the roof door shut
behind her.

   Scully and Mulder stood at the edge of the roof, staring across the street
to the nearest building--another warehouse--as she became whole again. "Why
aren't you gone already?" Nicole demanded, handing Mulder his gun.

   "This fire escape is junk," Mulder said as he holstered his gun. "Look."
He grabbed the railing and tugged at it. The metal creaked alarmingly,
flakes of rust breaking free and sifting to the ground. "There's no way
it'll bear our weight. We might survive a four-story drop, but the chances
aren't good."

   Scully had her cell-phone out, a look of disgust on her face. "I called
911," she growled. "I'm on hold."

   There was a thud as the first of their pursuers threw himself against the
roof door. The chair shook, but held, and Nicole bit her lip again. "Damn,"
Nicole murmured quietly. "I had hoped to avoid--well, never mind. We don't
have a choice." She eyed Mulder. "I sure hope you haven't gained any
weight."

   "What are you talking about?" Scully asked. There was a second thud from
the door, which shook on its hinges.

   "We're going over there," Nicole said uneasily. "Throw your gun over, Agent
Scully, and grab my hand."

   "Forget it!" Scully denied. "There's got to be another way!"

   "I don't think so," Nicole said. "Not unless you want to jump. Don't argue
with me--we don't have time!"

   Scully glanced from the gap between the buildings to Nicole anxiously, and
Mulder pulled his gun out and tossed it across to the next warehouse. "I'll
go first, Scully," he said. "I've done this before. I know you're nervous,
but there's no reason to be." He held out his hand to Nicole and took a deep
breath.

   "Here goes nothing," Nicole muttered, then took her own breath. They
turned, raced to the edge, and jumped.

   Scully stared. The distance was far too great for a normal person to jump,
but Nicole's legs moved as though she were walking across a sidewalk instead
of empty space. With no mass to drag them down, she could 'swim' through the
atoms that formed the air molecules. They reached the other side, stopping
on the roof, and Nicole let Mulder go. He seemed unharmed by his trip,
picking up his gun as Nicole took a breath again and turned to start back for
Scully.

   But before she could go thin and step off the roof, the door finally burst
open behind Scully and eight men poured out onto the roof. All immediately
opened fire at the light-haired girl standing on the edge of the roof. A
bullet hit her shoulder and she screamed and toppled backward into Mulder's
arms. Scully brought down five of the men with carefully-placed shots before
the trigger clicked on an empty chamber, and they swarmed over her like ants
on an apple pie, the remaining three men overwhelming her with sheer numbers
and dragging her away. Mulder swore, unable to fire at them without taking
the chance that he might hit his partner.

   He peered over the edge of the building, then ducked back as a bullet
whistled through the air past his ear. He watched helplessly as Scully was
shoved into the back seat of a car--a black Lincoln, he noted, able to see
part of the license plate from his vantage point--and borne away. He bit
back every foul word he knew as he turned back to see how Nicole was, then
paled. The bullet had hit her while she was still solid, not 'thin', as he
had thought. Blood seeped through the front and back of her shirt, right
above her right breast, mixed with a thick, viscous green substance. Broken
glass clinked as she shifted, grinding her teeth so loud he could hear it,
trying to keep from crying out loud even though tears were streaming down her
cheeks.

   "Damn!" Mulder spat, putting his gun away. He yanked his handkerchief out
of his pocket. A flattened bullet fell from her shirt sleeve onto the roof,
having struck bone and exited her flesh almost at a crawl. He pressed
against the exit wound, which was considerably larger than the entry
wound--as large as a quarter--trying to staunch the bleeding.

   Nicole hissed. "Mulder--the men--they're coming back--they're here--" She
was staring over his shoulder, eyes wide, and he spun, hand going to his
sidearm, only to find no one there. He frowned and turned back to her, then
saw that she had lost her contact lenses in the firefight. Her pupils were
dilated to their maximum, the fat black diamonds edging out almost all of the
bright green irises. Perspiration had sprung up on her brow and he frowned,
holding the makeshift bandage to her wound with one hand. Glass clinked
again and he opened her coat, then swore as he saw the shot had shattered the
beaker she had taken from the safe. He removed the sticky shards, frowning
as he saw that the thick green fluid was smeared over her shirt and the
bleeding flesh beneath, seeping into the wound. He realized in abrupt horror
that she had been overcome by the very drug they had come to Chicago to check
out--not the weak, impure solution sold to the junkies, but the uncut,
undiluted serum.

   Nicole arched, her back bending like a bow pulled too taut, and he seized
her, hoping to restrain her as convulsions swept through her body.
"They...*will*...come back," Nicole panted, shaking. "Have to...get out of
here." Her hands tightened over his and--without warning--they were sinking
down through the roof, down to the floor of the warehouse directly beneath
them. Nicole resolidified and Mulder relaxed as he realized his gun had not
gone off as she had feared after all. They fell the last foot and a half,
crashing down onto the paper-strewn floor of a demolished office. Mulder
pulled the belt of her coat out of its loops and used it to tie the
handkerchief to her wound, then checked the entry wound. It was
small--smaller than the tip of his littlest finger--and it had clotted and
closed, now barely oozing even after their drop to the floor. Nicole went
stiff again and he grabbed her uninjured shoulder and right hip, trying to
brace her as spasms rippled through her. Her eyes were glazed, the
diamond-shaped pupils so wide he could barely see the green iris around them,
and when her body went limp again, she gazed up at him tensely.

   "Mulder--" her words were slurred, hard to understand, "--I...feel funny--"
She shivered, blinked, and shook her head as if attempting to drive away
demons.

   "The bullet shattered the vial in your pocket, Nicole," Mulder told her,
appalled. "The drug's in your bloodstream. I'll call an ambulance--let me
get my cell-phone out--"

   "No!" Nicole begged, clutching him. "Mulder--I can hear things--sounds,
voices--in my head--don't let go!"

   He peeled her hand off his shoulder to get out his cell-phone and then her
voice was in his mind, frightened, weeping like a terrified child. He
clutched at his temples, disoriented and floored by the unfamiliar sensation
as her thoughts spilled out of the confines of her own mind and into his. A
ragged shout escaped his lips; as well as *her* 'voice', there were others
flooding his mind, all the thoughts that *she* was receiving--laughing,
screaming, yelling, crying--too many to shut out. He crumpled underneath the
onslaught, unable to even sort her thoughts out from the nameless, faceless
others in the city around them. Her hand fumbled for his again, tightening
so fiercely that he thought she would crush every bone in his hand. He
gasped in shock, dizzy, straining to--since he could not shut out the
relentless babble entirely--lock onto one lone nonviolent thought, one
benevolent emotion. It was difficult. Down the street, a man was beating
his wife; in the alley behind the warehouse, three men were mugging a fourth;
not too far away, a man was forcing his daughter to--

   Mulder sheered away from the filth in disgust, feeling Nicole shudder in his
arms as the minds of hundreds--perhaps thousands--of people around them
crashed in on her without pause. He could feel his own tenuous grip on
reality beginning to fray, and he knew that if he lost control he would never
regain it.

   And then--from out of nowhere--he found the anchor he had been searching
for.

   Somewhere close by, two people were making love.

   No sooner had the outside feelings touched his mind than a wave of passion
surged into him, driving out all other thoughts before it. Desire claimed
him more totally than hunger or thirst ever could, and he could sense that
Nicole--fused with him mentally--had also been seized by the urge. Before he
realized it, he had cupped her chin with one hand, pulling her against him,
his lips descending upon hers fiercely. Thoughts locked together, only one
small, animal whimper escaped her lips as he lowered her to the floor...

       End Part 02/04
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------

   Nicole could not meet Mulder's eyes as he pulled his clothes on. *My God,*
she thought dazedly, *what must he think of me?* The effect of the drug had
passed, leaving both of them able to think rationally again. Numbly, she
considered what she had just done.

   "After what just happened," Mulder informed her awkwardly, his voice barely
above a whisper, "it's your right to press charges, if you so choose." He
buttoned his shirt and pulled on his blazer, sliding his gun into his
holster. "I'm sorry, Nicole, I--" He shook his head, unable to think of the
words that would undo what had passed between them.

   Nicole stared at him, her wounded shoulder throbbing angrily, knowing in
that instant that he was as stunned and dismayed by what he had done as she
was. Their thoughts--sifted together like flour and baking soda in a cake
mix--had brought them closer together than any two people had a right to be.
She knew that Mulder had seen in her mind that she had desired him--just as
she had seen, in his mind, the same interest--tightly leashed, but present
all the same.

   "I..." she answered rustily, hesitantly, finally meeting his gaze, "I won't
go to the police."

   "You should," Mulder said harshly. "I behaved no better than an animal."

   "Neither did I," Nicole said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I...I've been
interested in you..." she swallowed hard and tried again. "I've *wanted* you
since I first met you." She looked away again. "Just not like that." With
an effort, she drew herself up, hissing as pain flared freshly in her
shoulder. "This isn't important now. We have to find Agent Scully."

   "*I* have to find her--but first, I'm taking you to a hospital," Mulder
informed her.

   Nicole frowned unsteadily. "I want to help you," she insisted stubbornly.
"I'm not hurt that badly--" She swayed on her feet, belying her words, and
Mulder grabbed her by her uninjured arm, steadying her.

   "You need to see a doctor," he commanded. "Scully was right. I should
never have allowed you to--" he snorted, "--tag along. It's my fault that
you were shot."

   Nicole rolled her eyes, then sucked in her breath as pain spiked crazily
through her shoulder again. "Jesus!" she blurted. "Let's not argue about it
*now*, OK? There's a hospital about ten blocks away. We can talk about it
there."

   He nodded and, holding her arm to help her, they made their way down the
garbage-choked stairs to the ground floor. Nicole waited as Mulder forced
the outside door open, and they crossed the street to where the car was
parked. He slid one hand into a pocket, then frowned, checking all the
others.

   "Damn!" he growled. "I can't find the keys!"

   "Can you hotwire the car?" Nicole asked.

   "Not unless I can get *in*," he replied. For an answer, Nicole went thin,
slipped into the car through the locked door, then sat down, went solid
again, and unlocked the driver's-side door for him. She leaned back in her
seat as he got in, closing her eyes wearily. Though she did not want to
admit it, her shoulder was throbbing worse with each minute that ticked past.

   "Hold on," Mulder said, leaning forward and fiddling with the wires under
the steering column. He pulled them apart and reconnected them carefully,
and the car roared to life. He straightened and pulled away from the curb.
"We're on our way."

   Nicole nodded weakly and--the world shimmering around her--passed out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----

   Nicole stepped out of the emergency room cubicle, her shoulder cleaned and
bandaged. In addition, she had received a transfusion to replace the blood
she had lost; she glanced down in distaste at the stiff, tacky sweater she
wore, the inside of her left elbow aching from the transfusion needle. The
medication the doctor had insisted she take was already beginning to work,
lessening the throbbing if her wound but mixing with the last traces of
Brainstorm in her system to make her giddy, detached, and light-headed. She
grimaced and glanced around for Mulder, but he was nowhere to be seen.

   The nurse at the admissions desk looked up as Nicole marched over. "Can I
help you?" she asked. *Not hard to remember what I'M in for,* Nicole
thought, amused, *since I came here with a bullet wound, no insurance and no
ID, and paid in cash. She probably thinks I'm a drug dealer.*

   "Yes, uh...the man who brought me in--where did he go?"

   "He left right after the doctor went in to work on your wound," the nurse
answered. "He left you a note, though." She plucked a folded square of
paper off the counter and handed it to Nicole, who thanked her and turned
away, her lips compressed into a thin line. She unfolded the paper, her
hands shaking, afraid because she had a good idea of what she was about to
read.

   <Nicole--I've gone after Scully. You GO HOME--wherever that may be. I
can't risk you getting hurt again.

                           Good luck,
                           Fox Mulder>

   "Good luck?" Nicole read aloud incredulously. "*GOOD LUCK*?!? That
no-good, sneaky, sonova--" she bit the words off before they could betray how
discouraged she was, how tired, how *afraid*. She knew, deep down, than she
wanted to do nothing more than what he had ordered her to--to go home.

   *But I'll never be able to forgive myself if I did and something happened to
either of them,* she admitted. Though she was tired, hurt, and angry that he
had left her, she knew that she was partly to blame for Scully's capture.
*If I hadn't lured them out here to investigate the drug, none of this would
have happened. Of course, that bastard Wallace would be hooking kids on
Brainstorm left and right, and raking in the money unobstructed, but--* She
shivered as phantoms of Mulder's thoughts, imprinted indelibly in her mind,
surfaced. *So if I want to help, instead of turning tail and running like a
coward, I have to find Mulder. But how?* She knew, from the thoughts she
had shared with him, how he would try to find the people who had taken his
partner. He had seen part of the license plate number of the car that had
carried her away; it was in the memories they had shared. So he would go to
the Department of Motor Vehicles and try to trace the place. Failing that,
he would trace the plate by computer or by checking with the police. *None
of which does me any good,* she thought disconsolately. *What I know about
computers could be scribbled down on a napkin and have enough room left over
to write my memoirs. I'm no hacker.*

   She gnawed on her lower lip and headed for the emergency room doors,
only to
stop as the nurse called out. "Hey, don't go anywhere just yet!" Nicole
turned to look at the woman, who was fixing her with a fierce stare. "The
police are on their way to question you about how you got shot. Standard
procedure for all gunshot wounds. Just take a seat over there." She
gestured toward a row of chairs.

   "Can I at least use the restroom?" Nicole asked wearily.

   The woman nodded and Nicole headed for the door to the ladies' room; as
soon
as she was through it, she turned in the direction of the nearest exterior
wall, went thin, and slipped through the building's walls like a ghost.

   She emerged out onto the street and solidified with a gasp for air; the
drugs in her system and lack of oxygen were making her dizzy, and she leaned
back against the wall until the world stopped spinning around her. Fat drops
of rain began to plummet from the sky, bursting as they hit the ground, and
she crossed the street to stand in the shelter of a bus stop's booth. Her
body was whispering to her hungrily, begging in a whining tone for something
it had tasted and now wanted more of. It took her a moment to realize that
she was feeling pangs of need for the drug. *Of course,* she reflected,
feeling stupid, *I made a point of telling Mulder how addictive Brainstorm is
and now--* she shuddered *--now I'm hooked.* Despairingly, she turned and
stalked out into the rain, letting it soak her face and hair, trudging
steadily down the street. Little islands of memory--Mulder's, not her
own--kept rising and sinking in her mind, and she tried to separate her own
thoughts from his. *Just how much have I picked up from him, anyway?* she
asked herself. She stopped and began to tally the foreign thoughts and
memories that flashed before her eyes--some from a long time back,
indeed--and reeled as she realized, after a few minutes, that almost his
entire life was 'copied' within her brain. The recollections of past cases
he had investigated were the most vivid, and she managed a faint smile as she
realized that her case was one of the *least* strange that he had
investigated. *He DID solve it--well, more or less,* she consoled herself.
For better or worse, she knew he would be a part of her now, always with
her. She felt as though she could almost reach out with her eyes closed and
touch him--

   Nicole faltered as she saw a man leaning against the side of a store. The
windows of the shop were barred, and very little light shone through them,
but though it was dark and she could not *see* much, there was nothing to
prevent her from hearing what he was saying.

   "Got the 'storm, feel it," he chanted to the people walking past him. "Got
the new stuff, feel the lightning, ride the thunder, get the 'storm." A
boy--barely 14, she guessed--stopped in front of the man. Money changed
hands and then the pusher handed him a vial of light green fluid. She
watched without shock, her only surprise that Wallace had started to sell the
drug publicly so soon.

   Need rose up within her, screaming insistantly for her to go, to buy what
the pusher was selling, to pour it into her veins. She trembled as hunger
wracked her flesh, the small vials that clinked in his hand called to her,
whispering promises of euphoria and dreams.

   *And the power,* the hunger breathed. *Don't forget the power.* She
balled
her hands into fists, clenching them so tightly her nails bit into her palms.
No, she couldn't forget the power, or the moment that her mind and Mulder's
had touched, meshed, fused together. Neither could she forget the terrifying
rush of confusion and shock as the thoughts of every other sentient mind in a
radius of God-only-knew-how-wide had come crashing into her own brain. *Why
in Hell would I want to go through that again?* she asked herself. *No, I've
got to quit cold turkey, get off this stuff.* She bit her lip and started to
turn away--

   *What if you could find Mulder?* the hunger asked slyly. She froze in
mid-step. *You know him now as well as you know yourself. With the power,
it would be easy to reach out, seek his mind out, and find him.* She dug her
nails more deeply into her palms, trying to drown out the insidious voice,
but she could deny the truth of the words it had spoken. She *did* know
Mulder now, possibly better than anyone else on the face of the Earth, and if
she took the drug again, gaining the telepathic abilities it induced, she
stood a good chance of being able to locate him psionically--*that is, if I
don't go crazy first.*

   She gulped nervously and turned back toward the drug dealer, reaching into
her coat pocket for her wallet. She still had more than half the money she
had stolen from Wallace in the warehouse; the round-trip airfare to D.C. and
her emergency room fees had hardly put a dent in it.

   Nicole approached the dealer with trepidation. The man eyed her with
interest, glancing up and down at the slim figure under the coat, noting the
blood on her sweater without a flicker of surprise. "Uh...how much?" Nicole
asked hoarsely, cringing at the thought of what her father would have said if
he could have seen her at that moment.

   "Ten bucks a pop, baby," the man replied with a leer. "Or you could pay for
it in trade, if you're low on green." He winked and Nicole fumbled with her
money.

   "No, I've...I've got cash," she said hesitantly. Her face flamed. "How
much is safe?"

   "It's all safe, sweetcheeks," the man purred. "Soarin' on the 'storm's as
safe as drivin' a Volvo."

   "No!" Nicole demanded, more fiercely. She stepped close to the pusher with
a scowl. "Look, I know you cut the stuff with water. How much can I take
without having to worry about an O.D.? I've had the pure stuff and I need--I
need--" She knew she couldn't explain her need to him, but he understood
anyway.

   "Calm down, sugar. 'Storm's pretty safe, but I wouldn't take more'n five
hits at once, if I was you." He studied the blood on her sweater again.
"'Less'n that red belonged to someone else, you look like you 'bout done for
the night."

   She counted fifty dollars out and shoved it at him. He grinned and pocketed
the money, then handed her five of the little glass vials. "You need a kit,
honeybuns?"

   Nicole nodded wordlessly and the pusher reached into his other coat pocket
and pulled out a hypodermic syringe, still wrapped in sterile plastic.
"There you go. Don't want my customers gettin' AIDS. Can't come back for
more if you dead, girl." He handed her the syringe and she whirled, marching
away as fast as she dared. The world was starting to go runny around her,
like chalk drawings on the sidewalk in the rain. She could feel the man's
eyes on her and heard him laugh as she darted to the curb and lifted her
hand. A cab glided over and stopped in front of her and she jumped in,
tugging the door shut.

   "Wet out, huh?" the driver commented, his eyes whisking quickly over her
bedraggled appearance. She stuffed the vials and syringe into her coat
pocket and gave him her address, then sank back against the seat, closing her
eyes with a sigh.

   *One way or another,* she prayed, *the night'll soon be over.*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---

   Mulder jotted the addresses down on a piece of paper and shut the computer
off swiftly. He frowned as he yanked on his coat and strode for the door.
The license plate numbers he had managed to see--four digits out of six--had
yielded more combinations than he had thought possible, but he had narrowed
the field down to only five who had criminal records for possession of
narcotics or proscribed substances with the intent to sell. Of those five,
three were currently in prison, whittling down his list of targets even
further. The computer at the F.B.I. branch office here had linkups with the
computers at both the D.M.V. and police headquarters, and it had been
relatively easy to find what he was looking for.

   He hurried toward the elevator, a new car waiting for him in the building's
basement garage. As the elevator doors closed, he had one brief moment to
remember another underground garage and the man who had waited there for him,
five weeks ago. Then he shook his head in dismissal. Nicole had not been
far from his thoughts since he had left her at the hospital, but he knew he
could not have taken her along with him any longer. *She's lucky she wasn't
killed,* he thought darkly. *And so am I.* He sighed. Scully had been
abducted once before, by a pair of bank robbers--one of whom had been wearing
the body of a Bureau agent who was also one of Scully's former lovers.
*Then,* he mused, *I was able to bring in a back-up to help find her. This
time, if I want Nicole to stay free--as I promised--I don't dare.* He shook
his head. The choice was neither a pleasant nor easy one to make.

   Tension rippled through his body like electricity through high-voltage wires
as he climbed behind the wheel of the car, started it up, and pulled out of
the garage.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------

   "So the F.B.I. is interested in the candy I've been making, hmmm?" Wallace
asked smoothly. He glanced down at Scully, tied to a chair, then looked at
her Bureau ID again. "Special Agent Dana Scully." The words rolled off his
tongue obscenely. "And what is it about you that makes you special, eh,
Agent Scully?" He knelt next to her chair with a grin. "No, don't tell me,
let me guess. I bet I know." He tossed the ID aside, then put one hand on
Scully's leg, sliding it up to her knee and giving her thigh a brief squeeze.
Scully, gagged, glared daggers at him, but had been tied expertly and could
neither squirm away nor kick him.

   "Well, Agent Scully," Wallace decided, "since we both know that your friends
will be looking for you, we'll just hold off on the party until they arrive.
After all, that little blonde girl who we caught spying on us the other
night was rather cute, too, and I'm sure your partner will want to be present
for the festivities." He rose to his feet and turned to one of the
heavily-muscled guards who stood silently at the door. "Keep an eye on her."
The man nodded and Wallace beamed down at Scully. "But don't worry; as soon
as everyone's here, I promise that you and I will have all the time in the
world together."

   Scully grimaced, a bad taste at the back of her mouth as he winked at her,
then turned and marched out of the room, leaving her alone with her guard.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------

   Nicole settled onto the floor in front of her bed, then set the vials and
the syringe down before rolling up her left sleeve. She took a deep breath,
nervous, then tore the plastic wrapping off the sterile syringe and put it
together quickly. When it was in one piece, she picked up the shoelace she
had pulled out of one of her old shoes and tied it around her upper arm as
tightly as she could. The vein on the inside of her elbow jumped up in clear
relief and she glanced down at the paring knife she had remembered to get out
to cut the shoelace. *No rubber tubing to do this with,* she mused. Her
hands trembled and she had to stop a moment before piercing the rubber cap of
the first vial with the needle. She drained the vial, then the second and
third, the fourth, and most of the fifth, expelling a trio of tiny air
bubbles. Then, sweat dampening the underarms of her shirt, she made a fist
with her left hand and, picking up the syringe, plunged the needle into her
vein.

   Nicole hissed in pain as she pushed the plunger home. The drug invaded her
veins with cold ease, and she bit her lip at the sting of the needle, setting
the empty syringe down and picking the knife up. The drug was stalled at
mid-arm by the shoelace tied around her upper arm and she slid the blade of
the knife under the lace and cut it with one jerk.

   The 'storm crashed into her brain with a kiss, the thunder of outside voices
slamming into her mind with the speed of lightning. She had a second's space
to gasp and then the tsunami of mental babble rolled over her, crushing her
flat in an instant.

   *MULDER!!!* she had time to think, her mind reaching out into the aether
for
the only person in the world she knew as well as herself.

   And then the darkness claimed her.

   End of Part 03/04
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----

Part 04/04

Positive feedback and e-mail encouraged (flames will be ignored).

Disclaimers: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and all the others from 'X-Files'
aren't mine; they belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Nicole
Alexander, on the other hand, IS. No copyright infringement is intended.
Please don't sue me; I'm already in debt past my ears and I have to be able
to feed my kids. No profit is being made from this or any of my other
stories (boy, ain't THAT the truth!).
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------

   As soon as Mulder saw the Lincoln parked in front of the modest one-story
ranch house, he knew he had found the place. The sixth sense that told him
when he was on the right track on a case was buzzing now, every nerve
vibrating like a violin string that had been tuned too tight.

   About half the lights in the house were on; that, and the car parked in
front, told him that someone was very likely home. He pulled his gun out of
its holster, checked to make sure it was fully loaded, and--

   "Don't tell me you were going to start without me?" whispered a soft voice
in his ear.

   Mulder managed not to yelp as he whirled. Nicole stood there, her eyes
black pits in the darkness. He realized that her bizarre pupils were fully
dilated and grabbed her wrist angrily. "You're drugged!" he accused.

   "I believe the proper term is *tripping*, but yes, you're right," she
admitted. He could feel her mind whisking feather-light over his own, but
there was none of the frenzied, traumatic mingling of thoughts that there had
been the first time, and--amazed--he realized she had gained some measure of
control. "It was the only way I could find you."

   "You did this to find *me*?" he blurted in stunned disbelief.

   "Hush!" she murmured. "Yes! I'm the one who brought you here. I was in
on
this from the beginning, and I think I've earned the right to see it end."
She gave him a wry grin. "Besides, couldn't you use my help? I want to get
Scully out of there in one piece, too."

   Mulder glowered at her, but finally--honesty getting the better of
him--nodded. "I can't believe you took that stuff willingly, after what
you--we--went through before."

   She shrugged. "It was necessary, Mulder. You didn't exactly leave a
forwarding address. I'm beginning to learn how to deal with this." She
turned to stare at the house. "Scully is in there."

   "I guessed," he said with a frown.

   "I *know*," Nicole told him. She tapped one temple meaningfully. "Were
you
planning to just rush in with your gun drawn and hope no one shot you--or
her?"

   "That's about it, more or less," Mulder confessed. "Since I have no
back-up."

   "That's suicidal! You don't know how many men he has in there! Look, I
can
go in and grab her, thin the both of us, and get her out while you cover me."

   Mulder rubbed his eyes wearily. It had been, he reflected, about seventeen
hours since he had gotten even a moment's rest, or had anything to eat. That
could be the only explanation for why Nicole's idea actually sounded like it
might work. *God help me,* he thought, *I must be insane! She's already
been hurt once on this case!*

   "Mulder," Nicole sighed. "Let me do this. It's my fault she was captured
in the first place. She got caught because I wasn't fast enough on the
rooftop."

   "That's not true," Mulder insisted. "She got caught because she was
reluctant to cross with you--and because there were just too many men to
fight off. Don't blame yourself." He frowned. "OK. This has got to be the
stupidest thing I've ever done since I started with the Bureau, but we'll try
your idea, since it poses marginally less risk than mine."

   "All right. I'm going to go in from underground--" Nicole pointed, "--and
surface in their basement. That way I can catch my breath before going up to
the ground floor, where I sense Scully is being held. The drug is wearing
off--it's much weaker in its street form than the stuff that was in the
beaker in my pocket that the bullet broke. I'm still high-psi enough to
pinpoint where she is, though...I think."

   "You think?"

   Nicole glared at him sharply. "Calm down, Mulder. I'll go in, come up
underneath her, solidify just my hands so I can grab her by her ankles, and
yank her down with me. We can take a split-second in the basement so she can
get a decent breath, and then down through the ground and out to you. Give
me ten minutes and have the car running when I get out. You can come back
and arrest them later."

   Mulder eyed her dubiously. "You're very good at giving orders," he snorted
at last. "Ever think of joining the Marines?"

   She grinned. "Nah, I'm not much of a joiner. But if I *was* going to sign
up anywhere--: she blew him a kiss and began to sink into the ground, "--it'd
be with you guys. Lots more fun." He caught one last glimpse of her ironic
smirk before she vanished into the earth.

   "Why does this seem like a comic book all of a sudden?" he muttered under
his breath. He shook his head at the thought. *Still,* he admitted
wistfully, *she'd look GREAT in tight spandex...*

   Nicole frowned, concentrating on wading through the sludgy soil. She was
about twenty feet from the house--not a great distance--but having to move
through such thickly-packed soil slowed her down. The more dense the
substance through which she moved, she had found, the longer it took to
travel through it. Air was the easiest, and the quickest; solid stone or
steel were the toughest, though cement and concrete were no picnic either.
Most walls--made of plaster and lathe--were simple enough, and even wood and
water were relatively easy.

   She could see, less than a foot away, the concrete foundation of the house.
She slogged through the soil and the tips of her fingers ghosted through the
concrete into open air. *Too bad I'm not a snail, with eyes on long stalks,*
she mused wryly, *it'd be a lot safer if I could see what's on the other side
of these walls I've been going through.*

   Her head emerged from the wall and she blinked as she saw that the
basement
of the house had been set up as Wallace's lab. Test tubes, flasks, piping,
and an autoclave covered the top of a lab table a few feet away. *Well, of
course,* she thought as she pulled her feet free of the wall and solidified,
*he has to make 'storm SOMEWHERE.*

   There was a small sound behind her and Nicole began to turn. Out of the
corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man in jeans and a red sweater, his
arm already swinging down.

   Then the tire iron he held crashed onto her head and she fell, unconscious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------

   Mulder glanced down at his watch. Ten minutes, and no sign of Nicole. He
scowled. *One minute more and I go in,* he thought. There had been neither
screams nor shots, but he could not shake the uneasy feeling that something
was wrong. A pain had sprung up at the back of his head that he could not
shake, and he wondered curiously if the drug that Nicole had been exposed
to--twice--would have any lasting aftereffects.

   The porch light of Wallace's house went on and the door creaked open.
Mulder ducked down into the bushes as the man glanced around.

   "All right, Mr. Agent," Wallace called out clearly. "I know you're out
there somewhere. We have both your ladyfriends now, and if you don't come on
in now, my men and I are going to have a little party with them." He paused.
"They're very pretty, and there are about ten men in here who would love to
have some fun with them, myself included." He chuckled.

   Mulder sat frozen, wondering what part of Nicole's plan had gone so horribly
wrong. Had the drug worn off--or worse, caused the hallucinations she had
spoken of? He could imagine her laying on the floor, curled into a little
ball, as Wallace and his men seized her.

   Then, since he had no other choice, he rose and walked stiffly toward the
house.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------

   Her arms were on fire. Nicole groaned, wondering if it was them or her head
which hurt worse. Then the bullet wound in her shoulder flared and she
agreed with it that her head didn't hurt half as badly as her arms did.

   She opened her eyes, but the world came into focus around her only blurrily.
Scully sat tied to a chair not ten feet away, her eyes wide with alarm.
Standing near the door were four of Wallace's guards, two of whom Nicole
recognized from the night at the warehouse when she had stolen the pusher's
briefcase. Nicole stepped forward, only to be jerked back by an excruciating
blaze of agony all up and down her back and shoulders. She looked up and
gaped; her hands were cuffed together, the short chain hooked over a bracket
on the wall similar to the type used to hang plants from.

   "Oh, they've *got* to be kidding," she muttered sarcastically. She looked
up as the front door opened and Mulder came in, hands up, Wallace behind him
holding Mulder's gun. Mulder's eyes went wide as he saw her hanging from the
wall, and Nicole frowned. *Enough of this!* She willed herself thin and
stepped forward--

   --and was jerked back by her still-solid flesh, wrists and all, manacled by
the handcuffs.

   "No," she whispered. Wallace glanced over at her and smiled.

   "Have a seat, Mr.--" he glanced at the ID he had taken from Mulder,
"--sorry, *Agent* Mulder." One of the guards shoved Mulder into a chair, his
gun pointed at Mulder's face. Wallace tossed Mulder's gun down onto an end
table as the red-sweatered man who had knocked Nicole out came up the
basement stairs. Wallace frowned as he saw him. "What *now*, Jefferson?"

   "Is this going to take long?" the man in the sweater asked. "You *know* I
can't work when I'm tense, and seeing ghosts come through the walls of my lab
has *definitely* made me tense." He glowered at Nicole.

   Wallace sighed. "No, Jefferson, this shouldn't take long at all. I'm going
to kill these idiots and then Gardner and Baxter are going to dump their
bodies in the lake. Any more questions?"

   Jefferson sniffed contemptuously. "No, that's all," he grumbled, and turned
and went back downstairs.

   Wallace rolled his eyes and looked down at Mulder. "It's so hard to get
good help these days," he commented. "But then, you know that, right?"
There was a twinkle in his eyes as he glanced from Mulder to Nicole. "And
Jefferson is the one who created Brainstorm; I'm merely his humble marketing
manager, so I suppose he must be allowed his little displays of temperament."
Wallace grinned and walked over to where Nicole hung from the bracket.
"Which brings me to my next question, young lady. Just how is it that you
do that voodoo that you do so well?" He chuckled at his own wit. "I'm
really very interested in that little trick you can do. Is it a magician's
illusion, like the ones that David Copperfield does?" Nicole stared at him
defiantly, lips pressed tightly shut. "Well?" He reached out and cupped her
chin with one hand, fingers tightening around the sides of her face, grinding
the flesh of her cheeks onto the bone underneath. A faint mewl escaped her
lips, but no other sound; her eyes blazed with fury as she stared up at him,
and he released her, a thoughtful look on his face. "Gardner, a light,
please," he said distantly, holding one hand out.

   "Leave her alone!" Mulder shouted. Wallace ignored him and the guard lit a
cigarette, then handed it over to his employer. Wallace hooked one hand into
the top of Nicole's shirt and ripped it downward, revealing her blood-smeared
bra and the bandages that had been swathed over her bullet wound. His eyes
lit up like road flares and he balanced the cigarette in one hand, letting
the torn shirt fall aside, then used his other hand to pick away at the
bandages.

   "Tell him, Nicole!" Mulder urged. She glared at him and then spat in the
pusher's face. Her saliva ran down his face and he licked it off with a
resigned, rueful grin.

   "Be that way, then," he sighed, and ground the lit tip of the cigarette into
the stitched-up wound.

   Nicole screamed, her whole body going taut with agony as the smoldering
tobacco melted the synthetic thread holding the wound shut. Mulder bolted
out of the chair he had been shoved into, but the man watching him lifted the
gun menacingly and he collapsed back into it, agony etched into his face in
deep slashes. The scent of burning flesh filled the air and the steel cuffs
around her wrists dug into her skin. She slumped limply in the cuffs as an
insane growl escaped Mulder's lips. Wallace withdrew the cigarette and
reached for her bra, a sweet smile curving his lips.

   "Please tell me you feel like talking now," he murmured. "I really hate to
have to do this."

   "Go...*fuck* yourself," she rasped, hatred glittering in her eyes.

   "If I have to ask again, the next time the cig goes on one of your nipples,"
Wallace warned gently. "Or one of the lady agent's eyes."

   "Nicole, for Christ's sake--!" Mulder moaned.

   Nicole paled, then wilted. "It's a trick," she muttered hoarsely, imagining
the damage Wallace could wreak if he ever found a way to go thin, as she
could. "It's just an illusion. 'S done with lasers."

   "Ah, well," he murmured, shrugging. "Pity. It would have been handy to go
through walls like that." He dropped the cigarette and scuffed it out with
the heel of his shoe. "No real harm done, right?" He patted her cheek
fondly. "I suppose I'll simply have to do the best with the assets I've got.
A lot can be accomplished, if you have enough money, guns, and drugs."

   Nicole closed her eyes in dread. Her arms, wrists, and shoulder were all
screaming at her, but she tried to shut them out. Worse, her head ached
where Jefferson had hit her with the tire iron, and she considered the
possibility that the blow she had taken was the cause of her inability to go
thin. *Probably gave me a damned concussion,* she thought resentfully. *And
now we're all going to die.*

   "Well, I'm sorry about this, but you're in the way and I can't have you
messing up a business that's going to make me very, very wealthy," Wallace
said regretfully. He drew his own gun and cocked it, then turned toward
Scully.

   "NO!!!" Nicole screamed, surging forward so hard that the cuffs raked bloody
furrows across her wrists. She felt blood spurt from the wound in her
shoulder as her muscles strained. Simultaneously, she felt her mind *thrust*
outward oddly, spearing into the thoughts of Wallace and his men--which she
could still read, though very faintly--like a lance. She felt something pop
in her nose and fluid began to dribble from her nostrils; her tongue flicked
out without thought and she tasted blood. Wallace grunted, his eyes going
wide, and went rigid, as did the four guards by the door. Mulder, not
knowing what had happened but willing to take advantage of the distraction,
threw himself forward and grabbed his gun off the table, whirling to cover
Wallace and the guards.

   Nicole sagged in the cuffs, the movement waking fresh flame in her
shoulders, and Wallace came out of his dace. "Drop the gun," Mulder spat
vehemently, his eyes filled with fury. Wallace glared at him, but the Smith
& Wesson thudded to the floor. "You, too," Mulder growled at the guards.
They looked to Wallace first, but he scowled and nodded. They tossed their
guns down and Mulder nodded grimly. "Now untie Scully," he commanded.

   One of the guards went to where Scully sat and pulled the gag out of her
mouth. Scully took a deep breath and glanced up at Mulder uneasily as the
guard began to undo the ropes that bound her. "It's good to see you again,
Mulder," she said.

   "Are you OK, Scully?" he asked, concerned.

   "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, then glanced over at Nicole. "Why haven't you
let yourself out of those cuffs, Ms. Alexander?"

   "I can't," Nicole admitted wanly as the last of the ropes fell away from
Scully's hands and feet. "I was hit on the head when they captured me and
now I can't do it. If there's swelling on the brain--a concussion--then I
don't know when the ability will return, if ever."

   Mulder stared at her in shock. "Uncuff her," Scully ordered the guard as
she stood up, rubbing her wrists. The guard nodded sullenly and picked up
the key from the table, trudging over to Nicole. He reached up and she
moaned in relief as the cuffs opened; she let her arms fall limply to her
sides, not wanting to move.

   "I'm calling for back-up," Scully said to Mulder, going tot he phone and
punching in the number for Chicago's regional office.

   Mulder nodded and waved his gun at Wallace and the guards. "Have a seat,"
he instructed them. They sank into vacant chairs and, never taking the gun
from them, he stalked to Nicole's side. "Are you all right?"

   "I take it back," she choked hoarsely. "This *isn't* fun and I wouldn't
want your job." Very carefully, she took a step backward and sat down.
"I'll be fine...so long as I don't go rock-climbing." He gazed at her in
concern, and she brushed her hair back out of her eyes with her uninjured
arm. "As for the other--" she winced, "--concussions are tricky. When the
swelling goes down, then my...talent...may come back. If it doesn't, then
I'll just have to learn to live without it. Everyone else seems to get along
fine without being able to walk through walls. I'm flexible; I'll manage."
She smiled at him weakly and stood, then reached up with her unwounded arm,
caressing his cheek. "I'm going to leave before the calvary gets here,
Mulder. If I'm here when they arrive, I'll end up in custody--with no way to
escape this time. Maybe I'll see you again some time." She stood up on
tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his lips, pouring into it all the passion
she felt for him. *What happened when I was shot was a mistake,* she thought
fleetingly, *but now I have the chance to let him know that I *DO* care for
him and...oh, God!!!* Fire erupted in her veins, rushing through her limbs
to turn them to water, and she slid her good hand up into his short, dark
hair, feeling the silky strands tickle her palm. In spite of himself, Mulder
was drawn into the kiss, his arms coming around Nicole, his tongue darting
out to trace her lower lip.

   Scully cleared her throat, red-faced. "Uh...Mulder?" she called hesitantly.
"Back to work, OK?" She had retrieved her own gun and was covering Wallace
and the guards; Mulder's aim had wandered to the floor.

   Nicole and Mulder started, pulling away from each other reluctantly. Mulder
stared at Nicole for a moment, wanting to reach out and pull her back into
the circle of his arms. Then Nicole shook herself.

   "Goodbye," she murmured, turning to the front door and treading doggedly
out
into the night.

   "You're going to let her go?" Scully asked curiously.

   "She hasn't committed any crimes, Scully," Mulder said heavily. "I have no
reason to arrest her."

   Scully gazed at Mulder for a moment before answering. "That wasn't what I
meant," she said, so softly that he had to strain to hear her over the
approaching sirens. "Not at all."

   Mulder did not answer, but only stared out into the darkness.

   End of Part 04/04
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-- End --