by beduini
beduini2@yahoo.com

Date: Sat, 3 Nov 2001 19:04:50 -0800

Rating:  A very solid R for adult content and language

Category:  X, MSR

Keywords:  X-File, Mythology, Mulder/Scully

Spoilers:  Up to but not including "Requiem"

Archive:  Please ask - beduini2@yahoo.com

Disclaimer to the lawyers at Fox:  As I understand copyright law,
names can't be copyrighted.  Fox William Mulder - I can say that.  I
can also say Dana Katherine Scully.  However, a story based on a
previously copyrighted work then becomes a derivative of that
original work and therefore IS subject to copyright.  Therefore, no
copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made by me
from the use of this property.  You want it?  It's yours!  Use it
well.  It's all for fun and my own personal edification.  And
perhaps the enjoyment of others.
 

XxXxXxXxX Prologue
 

When they took her, she was missing for three months.

Mulder has been missing for five.

Gone in the middle of the night.  Little or no clothing packed, his
bed unmade.  No sign of a struggle or evidence that anyone had
forced their way inside his apartment.  No trace evidence, no prints
except his own.  None of his neighbors saw or heard anything.  His
identification, weapon and his cell phone remained on the nightstand
where it was assumed he had deposited them upon retiring.

They were now in her possession.  The day he went missing she called
every hospital in the DC metro area asking for a John Doe, spreading
out to cover the entire states of Virginia, Maryland and
Pennsylvania and eventually the entire Eastern Seaboard.  She
brought in the best sketch artist she knew to recreate Mulder's
likeness from photos to accommodate fax machines and low-resolution
printers and put out an all points bulletin.  She used the resources
available to her through the Bureau to remain in contact with news
services and law enforcement agencies across the United States.
When there was nothing more to be done she printed flyers, scouring
likely public gathering places on weekends and distributing them to
anyone
who would take the time to look at them.

"HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?" dozens upon dozens of sheets of paper
asked in red boldface type, photocopied in color and accompanied by
his picture - the one on file at the Bureau - along with her name
and cell phone number.

She worked long hours and slept few.
 
Near Ellens Air Force Base not even a week after he'd disappeared a
driver stopping by the side of the road to relieve his bladder found
a scrap of paper with the name Dana Scully scratched on it with a
nearly dried out ballpoint pen.  Along with her name were the words
'Federal Bureau of Investigation', an 'X' and 'Scully'.  Always
intrigued by the unusual, he stuck it in his jacket pocket and went
on his way.  Two days later he found the scrap of paper again while
looking for coffee money and decided to call the FBI and ask for
Dana Scully, just for kicks.

It was Mulder's handwriting.  She'd had it analyzed by the Bureau
handwriting expert but there was nothing remarkable about the paper
or the ink, other than the fact that the paper wasn't writing paper,
but the consistency of tissue paper and widely used for a variety of
purposes.  She ordered a forensic team out to comb the area where
the note was recovered but there was nothing more to be found.

Standing by the side of the road and squinting up at the sky, she
allowed the frustration to temporarily fill the overwhelming
emptiness inside of her but her eyes remained dry.

She would find him.

There were few leads in the following weeks, and of those few none
checked out.  At the end of the first month Mulder's landlord
called.  She had previously arranged for Mulder's rent to be
temporarily deducted from his security deposit, but what she hadn't
known was that there was little security deposit left after the
various incidents with gunshots, broken locks, holes drilled in the
ceiling and the waterbed fiasco.  She used what little savings she
had left to bring him up to date for the month and cancelled his
utilities, moving his fish tank to her apartment and having his
phone number forwarded to hers.

Assistant Director Skinner called her into his office the sixth week
and gravely explained that at last word had come down to him from
above.  While the Justice Department was extremely sorry to have
lost Agent Mulder, since he had not been working on a case
unfortunately the nature of his disappearance didn't suggest that it
was a work-related incident.  Although she was free to use whatever
resources and connections the FBI had to offer in her spare time,
she would have to return to a regular caseload and cover any
additional expenses she incurred in her search out of her own
pocket.

She listened stoically with the same ambiguous countenance that
she'd displayed in his presence since Mulder went missing, and after
she left his office Skinner wondered what happened to the woman whom
had ripped into him four years ago when he told her that the
investigation into the death of her sister had been closed.  He
understood that woman.  At the very least that woman would have been
silently seething.

This woman scared the shit out of him.

Skinner paid the rent on Mulder's apartment the second month.  He
took the elevator up to the fourth floor to check on the place and
he found Scully surrounded by empty cardboard boxes on the floor of
Mulder's living room, sobbing into her hands.  She had been in that
position for so long her muscles wouldn't support her slight frame
when she tried to stand and he had to carry her over to the sofa,
holding her against his chest like a child until she wept herself to
sleep.

He stayed with her.  When she finally woke he called a local Chinese
kitchen on his cell phone and had them deliver enough soup, noodles
and vegetables for the both of them and he ordered her to eat.  Then
he asked her why she was there and agreed with her that Mulder's
personal items would be safer with her than sitting in an empty
apartment.  Neither one of them mentioned the fact that it was
becoming apparent that Mulder might be gone for a very long time.

By candlelight they packed up everything except for the furniture,
the rugs and the pictures on the walls.
 

XxXxXxXxX Chapter One
 

She was an excellent investigator, but ultimately she'd been sent
back to Quantico as a pathologist.  It was what the FBI needed and
what she was specifically trained to do.  It wasn't a teaching
position, however - she worked strictly with the corpses, which
suited her just fine.

It takes one to know one.

Her days were routine.  She got out of bed at the same time, she
performed her tasks, she drove home and began a long evening of
calls to hospitals and police stations, looking for leads, looking
for anything that might lead her to Mulder.  Somewhere in there she
ate, slept, bathed, exercised.  And on the weekends she went out and
looked for Mulder.

Skinner still checked up on her.  She was no longer under his
supervision but he felt personally responsible for her and kept a
close watch - from a distance, of course.  They'd eventually had to
let Mulder's apartment go, moving the remaining furnishings into a
storage space in the garage of Skinner's complex.

Mulder's office in the Hoover Building had been left untouched - the
X-Files were closed temporarily, the fate of the Files to be
determined at a later time.  Since expenses weren't accruing and
there was little use for or interest in the basement office the
powers that be were satisfied with Skinner's recommendation to let
it lay for the time being.

And then over five and a half months after the note was found there
was another lead.

The call came from a small town in the Mojave Desert near the edge
of Death Valley.  A three-hour drive from Los Angeles and twenty
miles from China Lake Naval Weapons Center, Trona was located next
to Searles dry lake, its population supported mainly by the chemical
mining facility on the lake bed.

A local grocer claimed to have seen Mulder and another man
purchasing staple items on two separate occasions.  So Scully put in
for a day of personal leave, stayed up into the wee hours of the
morning researching the area on the Internet and cashed in frequent
flyer miles for the Friday morning flight to Los Angeles.

It was a dry, desolate place, the lack of seasonal rainfall coloring
the desert in shades of brown and beige.  There were strange red
rock formations that Mulder would surely have claimed were
extraterrestrial in origin.  She missed his obvious 'lead foot'
comments as she drove faster and faster through the desert, and by
early afternoon she rounded the last bend in the road through
unexpectedly rocky terrain.

As she saw the community before her she was assaulted by the acrid
smell of rotten eggs - the legacy of the chemical mining.  The
Mulder voice in her head had something appropriate to say to that as
well.

She traveled down the main road into the community of stark
cinderblock buildings and pulled into the gravel parking lot of the
K&H market.  Covering her nose with a Kleenex, she stepped out of
the car and was nearly knocked over by a strong gust of putrid wind.
There was a grit in the air, irritating her already sleep-deprived
eyes nearly as much as the smell aggravated her nose.

By her estimation, it could have been a ghost town.  There were few
cars on the road and even fewer people to be seen.  The grocery
store was small and there was one clerk inside, a man of medium
build who appeared to be in his early fifties.  He was ringing up
Popsicles for two young girls who had left their bicycles lying in
the gravel outside.  The clerk looked up at her as she entered and
the girls giggled, unaccustomed to the more polite social graces
when encountering strangers.

On her right just next to the door was a bulletin board for
community use.  Among the announcements for free kittens and fast
weight loss was a copy of the APB she'd sent out on Mulder, the one
with the artists' rendering of his image.  Although it was of poor
quality from being faxed, printed and photocopied it still looked
like him.

"You say hello to your momma for me."  The clerk said to the smaller
of the two girls with a smile as he closed the drawer on the
register.  The girl nodded, giggling again as she passed by Scully,
flashing her a shy smile.

Scully smiled warmly at the girl, turning to watch her climb onto
her bicycle and wondering how she'd manage to both eat her Popsicle
and stay upright in the strong wind.  Then she turned back toward
the clerk.

"Edward Sessing?"  She asked.

"You the gal from the FBI?" the clerk replied as he stepped around
the counter with his arm outstretched.

Scully pulled her badge out of the side pocket of her shoulder bag
and held it up for him to see.

"Yes, I'm Special Agent Dana Scully.  I spoke with you on the
telephone yesterday."  She shook Mr. Sessing's hand and he smiled
amicably, nodding as he looked at her badge.

His hair was straight, dark blonde peppered with gray and when he
looked from her identification to her face she saw that his eyes
were a kindly blue.

"We get Bureau folks in here from time to time, Agent Scully, have
since the Sixties, though not so frequent anymore.  The FBI likes to
keep tabs on the family."

Scully's brow furrowed a moment, not following him.  "I'm sorry,
'the family'?" she said, tucking her ID back into her pocket.

"Manson family.  Still live out there on the desert, although
there's not many of them left with Charlie and the other girls
locked up for so long now.  They pretty much stay to themselves.
I've been around long enough to know most of them, though some of
the younger ones, the kids, have moved away.  We also get the
naturalists, survivalists, the miners and the desert four-wheelers
though here."  He pointed to the bulletin board.  "The men you're
interested in didn't fit in any of those categories in my opinion."

"You said on the phone that there were two men.  Can you describe
them to me?"

Mr. Sessing leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms.
"The one man, the one who looked like the fella you're looking for,
he was about six foot, lanky but muscular.  Brown hair and a
prominent beak, but it didn't take away from his face.  Nice
looking."

Scully felt her pulse speed up and she took a deep breath to slow it
back down.  "And the other man?"

"Not as tall.  Brown hair - nice looking as well.  The other guy
carried the food but this guy paid.  He kept one hand in the pocket
of his jacket the entire time he was in here.  Didn't look me in the
eye."

"How were they dressed?  Street clothes or outdoor gear?"

He thought about the question.  "I don't recall anything drawing my
attention to their clothing specifically.  Blue jeans and t-shirts,
I think.  Nothing too fancy.  Like I said, they didn't look like
survivalists.  I asked where they were headed and the one guy, the
one from the picture, he said they were headed up to Independence
for a fishing trip, just stopped in for some supplies.  It seemed a
little strange at the time considering we're well off the beaten
path.  But they didn't buy anything unusual.  Just the basics, you
know, shampoo, bread, milk, sunflower seeds."

Scully's stomach clenched involuntarily and she looked up at him.
"Sunflower seeds?"

He shrugged.  "Gives you something to do on the lake while you're
waiting to get a bite, I s'pose."

She drew a breath and reached into her bag, pulling out an envelope
containing several photos of Mulder in it, her hand slightly shaking
but her voice even as she handed it to Mr. Sessing.

"Is this the man you spoke with, Mr. Sessing?"

Mr. Sessing studied the first photo, then flipped through the other
ones, giving each a good perusal.  Then he handed them back to her.

"That's him."

Scully felt all of the air rush from her lungs and she took a moment
to get her breathing under control, pretending to take extra care in
putting the photographs back into the envelope.  When she looked up
at Mr. Sessing he was looking at her with gentle compassion.

"Was that the first time or the second time you saw him?"  She
asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Second time.  The first time was about two weeks before that."

"And the last time was..."

"Two weeks ago yesterday."

Scully nodded.  An eye-witness confirmation that Mulder was still
alive as of two weeks ago.

"Is there anything else that you can remember, Mr. Sessing?"

His brow furrowed as he thought about it.  "Well, there was
something else a little strange, but it didn't have anything to do
with those two."

She looked at him with partial interest, her mind working on the
information she'd received about Mulder.

"What was it?"

"'Bout five months ago a couple of white tanker trucks came through
here, along with a moving van sized white truck.  Plain white,
unmarked."  This made her look up, giving him her full attention.
"Now that in itself isn't so unusual - we get movie companies up
from Los Angeles from time to time, although we're pretty far up for
that.  They stopped up at the Desert Rose for the night - the
manager up there is a buddy of mine.  But these weren't movie folks.
There were five men, doctor types, I think.  They were wearing those
white coats...you know, lab coats.  They had another guy stand
sentry over the trucks all night.  They got up early the next
morning and left.  Paid in cash."

She drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.  "Is your friend
on duty now, Mr. Sessing?"

He looked at his wristwatch.  "Should be.  You want me to call over
and let him know you'll be stopping by?"

She gave him a polite smile.  "That would be great, thank you."  She
turned to leave and his voice stopped her.

"This man you're looking for.  He's a friend of yours?" his words
were more of a confirmation than a question.

She turned back and looked at him.

"He's my partner."

Within her statement her voice contained all of the emotions
simmering beneath the surface and he nodded at her, a look of
understanding on his face.  Then she walked slowly to her rental
car, squinting in the wind.  Doctors, unmarked tanker trucks.

She didn't care about the smell anymore.
 

XxXxXxXxX Desert Rose Motel, Lobby
 

Mike Moreno ran the Desert Rose Motel from two to midnight and had
just started his shift when his friend Eddie called and gave him the
heads up about a little redheaded FBI agent who was looking for her
missing partner and wanted to ask him a few questions about the
white tanker trucks.

Damned if he wasn't smitten ten minutes later as she stood before
him, her baby blues scrutinizing for signs of untruthfulness as he
answered her questions.  'Yes, I'm sure they were doctors, at least
they called each other Doctor This or That.  No, they paid in cash.
Yes, the rooms have been cleaned.  No, I don't know where they were
headed.  No, I've never seen the man in the photograph.'

She let out a tired sigh and asked if he had any rooms available,
like there would be a run on motel rooms in Trona.  They weren't
exactly at the top of the California Convention and Visitor Bureau's
list of convention and meeting planning sites.  He ran a pretty
clean establishment but he couldn't imagine a beautiful woman like
that sleeping in one of his motel beds.  'Why not drive over to
Ridgecrest and get yourself a nice room at the Heritage Inn?' he'd
suggested.  The Heritage was about the nicest place in the area.  A
couple of pretty decent restaurants in Ridgecrest, too.  They even
had a Denny's.  Of course, he didn't eat there - one of his ex-wives
started working there six months ago.

At his suggestion, she'd just raised her exquisite eyebrow at him
and handed him her credit card.

Citibank.

She was paying out of her own pocket and he wondered at the way the
Federal Government worked.  That a pretty little FBI agent looking
for her lost partner had to pay for a cheap motel room while those
fat farts over at the NWC flew back and forth to Washington DC six
times a year to talk about funding.

He charged her half the going rate and put her in unit one with the
newest furnishings.
 

XxXxXxXxX Desert Rose Motel, Unit One
 

It wasn't as bad as she was led to believe, Scully thought, sitting
down on the full-sized bed.  Inside the smell wasn't so strong.  The
bed was firm, the room was clean and the linens weren't threadbare
or stained.

Her body felt gritty and heavy with fatigue as she scooted back on
the bed until she was lying across it.  Kicking her shoes off she
blew out a long, slow breath of air and closed her eyes.  Mulder was
alive.  It was a sure bet that he was somewhere near those unmarked
tanker trucks.  Why hadn't he contacted her?  He wasn't alone.  He
was with someone - someone who sounded a lot like Alex Krycek.  Was
he being held against his will?  Sessing had mentioned that the man
with him kept his hand in his pocket the entire time they were in
the market.  He had a gun, possibly.  Probably.

But Mulder was alive.

She rolled over on to her side, pulling her legs up and resting her
head on the inside of her arm like a pillow.  How quickly he had
gone, leaving her with what felt like only half of herself, taking
with him the part that seemed to be the most vital.

At first she thought she would go crazy from worry after the first
week without him.  What a strange lesson it was to learn how
completely co-dependent she had become.  Now it had been five months
and she was nearly giddy with the knowledge that as of two weeks
ago, two short weeks go, Mulder was alive.

Mulder was seen alive two weeks ago.  Mulder IS alive, she told
herself.

Just two weeks, her mind repeated over and over.

Two weeks.
 

XxXxXxXxX Desert Rose Motel, Unit One
 

She could no longer detect the stench in the air when she awoke
stretched across the top of the bed.  She could see the small
particles of dust floating in the faint sunlight coming in through
the drapes flanking the window next to the door and she yawned,
rising up on one elbow and looking down at her wristwatch.  She had
fallen asleep in the early afternoon and had slept straight through
until...5:37 a.m., her Indiglo told her.  She'd lost the better part
of an afternoon and the entire evening.

She'd dreamt about Mulder.  It wasn't completely unusual but it was
something that happened more and more frequently in the five months
he'd been missing.  This time it was a routine case that they were
working on, debating an issue like they did so often in the past.
It felt normal to be riding in a car with him as if it were just
another case - as if nothing had happened.

Sometimes in other dreams she dreamt that they were arguing and woke
up angry with him.  Before Mulder's disappearance she would go into
the office still wearing an attitude and he would eventually wring
the story out of her, then tease her with a gleam in his eyes.  'Not
the kind of dreams I'd hoped you'd be having about me,' he'd quip
with a smirk.

Sometimes she dreamt of more intimate encounters, enflaming her with
whispers, soft laughter and feather-light caresses that left her
aching.  Their relationship had slowly begun to take a much more
private turn just before he'd disappeared.

She slid off of the bed and made her way into the small bathroom,
turning on the hot water under the showerhead with a sigh.  Since he
had gone she'd learned that Mulder had occupied so many places
within her that she was still discovering new ways to hurt over his
absence.  She alternately wanted to pummel him for insinuating
himself so thoroughly inside of her soul and hold on to him as
tightly as her strength would allow.
 
And now...well, she just wanted him alive and unscathed.  She just
wanted him to come home.
 

XxXxXxXxX Inyokern Airport
 

By seven-thirty she was standing in the cool morning breeze on the
tarmac at Inyokern Airport negotiating a price with Chuck Aronson,
the pilot and owner of a Cessna 150 who was willing to take her out
over the desert for a bird's eye view of the surrounding area.

He carried a long silver thermos under his arm as she followed him
into the airport office, waiting while he filled in his logbook.

"The only time I have to fly is on weekends so it's important to me
to get my flight hours logged in," he told her over his shoulder as
he wrote, making small talk.

He was close to her age, with curly dark hair, a slight build and
impossibly slim hips for a grown man.  He stopped a moment, reaching
for the thermos and unscrewing the top, pouring the steaming liquid
into the thermos cup and holding it out to her.

She accepted the coffee with a slight smile of gratitude.

"Do you work in the area, Mr. Aronson?"  Her eyebrows raised with
the question as she took a sip of the coffee.

"Chuck is fine."  He grinned, pouring coffee into an oversized black
travel mug that had the red star Texaco logo on it.  "Yes, I'm an
engineer...flying is just my hobby," he grinned.  "I guess you could
say it's my first love."

She gave him a closed-lipped smile, taking another sip of coffee.
Now she understood why he was willing to fly her for little more
than the price of fuel.  He moved the flight book back to its proper
place and handed her the thermos before picking up his travel mug.

"I just have a few things to do to the plane before we can take off.
You can stay in here if you'd rather stay out of the wind."

Even though the wind didn't stink like it did in Trona she accepted
his suggestion and stayed inside, helping herself to another cup of
coffee as he performed the necessary safety checks.  When he was
ready he waved her out to the plane, helping her climb up into the
passenger seat of the cockpit.

There was a deafening noise above as if the sky were splitting in
half and she reacted with surprise, looking up at the sky.

"F-18," Chuck said as he climbed in beside her.

"I haven't heard that sound in years," she said absently.  When she
turned back toward Chuck he was looking at her with curiosity.  "My
Dad was a Naval Captain," she explained, "we lived at Miramar for a
while.  I used to wake up to a sound very similar to that one."

He nodded.  "I know exactly what you're talking about.  I grew up
right here in Ridgecrest."

"So you know the area."

"So I know the area."  He confirmed, his voice taking a more
conversational tone.  "What specifically are we looking for today,
Dana?" he asked, belting himself in.

She hesitated before responding.  "Unmarked white trucks. Tanker
trucks."

A puzzled look crossed his face and was gone just as quickly.  "On
the desert?"  She glanced up at him in affirmation.  He shrugged.

"Okay then...let's go find those trucks."
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

The desert from above was beautiful.  There were multitudes of
colors to be seen in the round, scrub-covered desert hills besides
brown and beige; green, gold, orange, red.  The hum of the Cessna's
engine made it difficult to hold a regular conversation so they were
silent as Chuck steered the plane south, making a wide loop around
the Naval Weapons Center before heading east toward Trona.

She could see everything from her vantage point - small patches of
green that were trees, places where people had set up homes, some
houses, some trailers.  Abandoned automobiles and corralled
livestock.  As they traveled farther the Trona Pinnacles came into
view in the distance, their red peaks reminding her once again of a
likely, X-rated quip Mulder would make were he with her.

As they approached Chuck steered the plane to the north, away from
Searles dry lake and toward an area that contained larger, more
rockier hills.  Ahead to the right there was a concentration of dark
green tree tops surrounding what appeared to be a small pond.  It
looked like a desert oasis minus the camels.

"What is it?" Scully asked above the engine.

"That's the Trona pool," Chuck replied, grinning at her raised
eyebrow.  "It used to be a reservoir but they turned it into a
public pool.  Salt water."

The sun was beginning to rise in the sky, making it difficult for
them to see the terrain from the glare off of the windshield.  Chuck
turned the plane to the right to cut down on the glare and pointed
ahead.

"Just east of the pool over there...do you see the rocky terrain in
the distance?  There's an abandoned gold mine over there," Chuck
shouted.

There was a glint, like metal, and Scully sat up to try to get a
better look.

"What do you suppose it is?" she asked, still trying to see.

"Hard to say.  Could be a car - people have been known to try their
hand at mining for treasure.  Or teenagers, maybe, looking for a
makeout spot.  The mine isn't sealed so anyone could go in there."

Anyone, she thought, wondering what tragedy would have to unfold to
get someone to seal up the entrance to the mine.  There was another
bright flash and Chuck turned the plane further to the right,
heading directly toward the mine and the source of the flash.  This
cut the glare down further and in the distance they could see the
source.

Two white tankers and a large, unmarked moving truck.
 

XxXxXxXxX Chapter Two
 

It was impossibly slow driving back to Trona from the Inyokern
airport.  She wished she'd had the foresight to hire a helicopter
instead of a plane so they might have landed right there on the
desert.  Instead, they made their way back to the airport only for
her to have to endure the long drive back to Trona.

There hadn't been any helicopters for hire, anyway.

When she finally reached Trona the sun was already high in the sky.
Half of the morning was wasted just driving to and from the airport
and she felt she was fighting the clock, losing valuable time that
could be better spent looking for Mulder.  From the ground
perspective everything looked different and she didn't know which
dirt road to take or how to reach the mine from the main road.  In
need of someone who knew the area, she doubled back to the motel to
ask Mike Moreno for a map or detailed directions.

It was no secret around town that Mike had a soft spot for the
ladies - especially the strong-willed, independent kind.  Mike
wasn't conventionally attractive, nor did he possess more than an
average intelligence, but he had been graced with large, soulful
brown eyes that never failed to win a woman's confidence when he
wanted a little company.

His sincerity was genuine - even after three wives and numerous
girlfriends he was willing to dive head first into a woman's
outstretched arms.  So when Agent Scully with the titan hair and
amazing eyes asked a few intriguing questions about the old mine he
found himself offering to drive her out there himself.

She accepted with hesitation and within half an hour they were
pulling onto a dirt road within visual distance of the pool oasis
she had seen from the air.  The road was riddled with potholes and
threw up a cloud of dust behind them as the rental car proved it
wasn't designed for off-road purposes.

The ride had been mostly silent.  Mike wanted to ask about her
partner and why she thought he might be at the old mine but he
wasn't sure how to broach the subject, and Scully was trying to
endure her impatience and the growing feeling on unease about what
she might discover once she got there.

She had been thinking about the trucks and what they might mean to
Mulder's disappearance since the moment she spotted them from the
air.  Seeing them sent a chill through her that reminded her of corn
fields and bees and Antarctica.  Add doctors to the equation and her
mind immediately leaped to train cars, Cassandra Spender's eventual
fate and her vague memories from her own abduction.  SOMETHING was
out there and she had a strong feeling that whatever it was, she had
indeed found what had kept Mulder away for six months.

She could only conclude that either he was being held against his
will, or if it was of his own accord then he had a very good reason
for keeping her out of it.

Her physical or emotional safety was the most compelling reason that
came immediately to mind when she considered what that reason might
be.  It was not like Mulder to be duplicitous so it was the only
theory she could compose that made any sense of his sudden
disappearance and continued silence.  As much as she hated the idea
of Mulder looking for answers independent of her, she preferred it
to the alternative.

The rise in the landscape that wasn't really big enough to be called
a mountain was far ahead and it took them another half hour to get
close to it.  They crossed through several fenced sections but as
Mike brought the car to a halt in front of a large chain-link,
padlocked gate she knew that this was not a farmer's attempt to keep
cattle from wandering out to the highway.

'NO TRESPASSING - U.S. GOVERNMENT PROPERTY' proclaimed the area off-
limits.  Mike looked at her with a 'now what?' expression as she got
out of the car and stomped over to the lock, wrapping her fingers
around it and giving it a tug as if there were a possibility it
might be unlocked.

This was a familiar situation for her.

The lock didn't budge and Scully put her hands on her hips, looking
out past the fence to the mountain and what she knew lay beyond.

"Is there another way?" she asked, turning to face him as he stepped
out of the car.

"No," he replied, scratching the back of his neck.  "This isn't
federal government land, though."

She watched his face, crossing her arms in front of her.  "It
isn't?"  Her response was posed more as a statement than a question.

"No."  He shifted his weight from foot to foot and crossed his arms,
too.  "I could be wrong, but I don't think so.  This land belongs to
the state."

She let out a long huff and turned back toward the fence.  Common
sense told her to turn around and go back to town.  Make some calls,
find out who put up the fence and why.  But she already had a good
idea about the why.  And Mulder may be in there in need of her help.
Her fingers wrapped around the chain link of the fence and she
looked up to the barbed wire threaded top, assessing it.  Taking a
deep breath she hoisted herself up, steadily climbing to the top.

Mike's mouth fell open and he muttered an awestruck, "shit" before
rushing over to help her.  She was already on top navigating her way
through the barbed wire and he stared at her with wide-eyed
admiration, wondering how much consideration she had given to her
high heeled shoes and fancy business suit before deciding to take on
that daunting mess of chain link and wire.  A moment later she
dropped to the ground, a small puff of dirt surrounding her and she
brushed it off of the sleeves and front of her jacket.

After all that there wasn't a scratch on her.

"How far from the mine do you think we are?" she asked him through
the chain link.

"A mile, maybe two.  Look, you sure you want to do this?  I mean, by
yourself?  There's, you know," he looked out over the desert,
shifting uncomfortably, "snakes and shit out there."

She drew in and let out a long breath, looking out over the desert
before replying softly, almost apologetically, "my partner may be
out there."

She turned back toward him and one minute he was looking into her
azure eyes, seeing her determination and need for answers.  The next
minute he was hoisting himself up the fence as she had done.  He got
hung up at the top in the barbed wire, scratching his arm and
catching his sleeve and swearing under his breath.  To his relief
she had turned away, looking out over the desert once more,
seemingly oblivious to his bumbled execution of the simple act of
trespassing.  There was a tearing noise as he dropped to the ground,
and he looked at the torn sleeve of his T-shirt, examining the
scratch on his arm deep enough to draw blood.

She glanced up at him with her eyebrows raised, and stepped closer,
reaching out and taking his arm deftly but gently.  His heart
pounded as she looked at the scratch with a scrutinizing eye.

"It's not a deep scratch but it should be cleaned and disinfected
just the same," she said with comfortable authority.  "Is your
tetanus vaccination current?"

"I dunno, I think so."

"Remind me when we get back to town."  Without another word she
turned and started walking.  He followed, catching up to her but
staying one step behind.

"What do you think is going on out there?" he asked at last, his
curiosity and her silence getting the best of him.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.  "Tests, I think."

He waited for her elaborate, and when she didn't he asked, "what
kind of tests?"

She was silent for a few yards.  "Medical experimentation."

He squinted at her.  "In the mine?"  His response was incredulous.

"No."

She wore a look of extreme focus on her face, her shoulders held
straight and her stride determined.  He studied it as he plodded
along next to her, finding it a little taxing trying to keep up with
her.  "What's that got to do with your partner?"

He was sorry he asked when he saw her break her stride, her
shoulders slumping slightly.  "Nothing," she replied, then added
under her breath, "hopefully."

The went on in silence for another quarter of a mile, the sweat
beading on Mike's brow.  He knew he was out of shape but she was
wearing a suit and wasn't even breaking a sweat.  Women don't sweat,
they perspire, he reminded himself.  Looking up at the sky and
wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he was grateful that
at least it wasn't the full-on heat of summer.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

She knew she was taking a great risk approaching an unknown
situation without cover or backup in the bright light of day.
Coming in on foot had its advantages, though - the sounds of an
automobile and the cloud of dirt kicked up behind it would surely
have given away her approach.  At least this way she was fairly
unobtrusive.

As they trudged through the desert she'd been thinking...when she'd
gone off with C.G.B. Spender without Mulder before he disappeared,
Spender had told her that his life's work lay in ruin...and she had
believed him.  Had believed his claims that he had access to the
science, the technology that would cure the human race of all
disease.  He had alluded to the small chip in her neck and the role
it played in the remission of her cancer just three short years ago.

She had believed it.

He lied, of course.  Mulder knew when she returned from her meeting
with Spender, the miraculous disk in hand that the disk would prove
to be fake.  It was in the slant of his shoulders, the tightness of
his jaw, the way he wouldn't look her in the eye.

But she had believed Spender.

Had he lied about the status of his life's work as well?  Was
someone still trying to create a genetic hybrid that was both human
and alien?  And was Mulder involved?  They had experimented on him
just a year ago, had taken him and violated his mind, his body -
like they had taken and violated hers five years before him.  What
atrocities might they have imposed upon him this time?

She kicked at a small rock in her path and let out a sigh.  Like
Mulder might have done, she was looking for the offbeat answer,
taking the less-traveled road.  With everything that they had seen
and learned about planned colonization, genetic engineering, cloning
and hybridization, it was not a far stretch of the imagination to
assume Mulder's disappearance lead right back there.

The problem was, she didn't know what was a lie and what was the
truth.  The only thing she'd ever been able to believe in with
certainty was Mulder.

And he wasn't available.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

Finally they started to make their way up an incline, the ground
beneath her feet becoming much rockier with pieces of flat, gray
shale.  A few yards behind her Mike was breathing heavily through
his mouth, and other than his wheezing the silence was almost
disturbing.  The road they had been following took a turn to the
right up ahead and she stopped, scanning the mountain in front of
her for movement or signs of electronic surveillance.  Mike stopped
beside her, leaning over and resting his palms on his knees while he
gasped for air.

"The mine is just around that bend," he said, pointing to where the
road turned.

That meant that the trucks she had seen earlier, if they were still
there, would be just around that bend as well.

She reached behind her and pulled out her weapon, hearing Mike
mutter a bewildered "shit" once more but not bothering to turn
around and address his surprise.  She let him catch his breath and
then moved ahead slowly.

"Keep your eyes open," she told him, still scanning for anything
unusual.

As they rounded the bend the cab of one of the tanker trucks came
into view, the sun shining off of the windshield and catching her
off guard temporarily.  She squinted and held her hand up as a
shield, wishing she'd brought her sunglasses and moving cautiously
ahead.  There appeared to be no movement, no signs of anybody near
the cab and no audible sounds.  The cab of the second truck came
into view just beyond the first one and she crouched down, looking
between the wheels for any visible body.  Seeing no one, she slowly
stood and edged forward until both trucks were in full view.

The trucks were about fifty yards ahead and she sprinted to the
front wheel of the first truck, crouching down beside it before
turning to wave Mike over.  He copied her action and crouched down
next to her, waiting for her to make the next move.  She peered in
through the passenger side window and noted that the keys were still
hanging in the ignition.

Mike was staring at the actual tank of the truck and he muttered,
"weird" with a shake of his head.

"What?" she asked, keeping her voice to a mere whisper and following
his line of vision.

He turned his face toward hers.  "Why would they put a door on the
side of a milk truck?"

She let out a long breath and replied, "because it's not a milk
truck."

Moving forward very slowly, she edged her way along the truck until
she reached the door.  Carefully pulling herself up the suspended
steps, she placed her ear against the door and listened for sounds
from within.  Hearing nothing, she looked over at Mike and mouthed
'stay down', waiting for his nod of affirmation before flipping the
safety off of her weapon.  She slowly turned the handle to the door,
and when she didn't get any resistance, silently counted to three
before pulling the door open and training her gun on the opening.
Seeing no one, she stepped inside and covered the right and the left
before realizing that the truck was uninhabited.

It wasn't empty, though.  What she saw made her lips part in awe.
Lowering her weapon, she stepped into the center of the room.

It was a state-of-the-art medical facility.  Cutting edge, she
determined from the look of it.  All of the newest monitoring
equipment and a crash cart were the items she could identify.  The
rest was unknown to her as she'd never seen them before and wasn't
seeing them in use now.  There was a stainless steel table in the
middle of the room - an operating table with restraints and
stirrups.  Cabinets lined either side, labeled with the names of
instruments, medical supplies and pharmaceuticals.

She caught her breath.  The layout and appearance were similar to
those in the brief flashes of memory that came to her following her
abduction.  Although it had been six years, she closed her eyes to
the painful reminders that came unbidden to the forefront of her
mind - the doctors, the equipment, the pain...the pain.  She still
remembered the horror like a fresh nightmare than she had just
awakened from.  Although the dreams came to her very rarely now, the
intensity with which she recalled the pain still shook her.  The
human body had an amazing capacity for forgetting pain, and for her
mind to cling to that memory with such acuity gave her reason to
believe that the experience was something that could not be
quantified in human words or terms.

Swallowing the lump rising in her throat, she scanned the table and
floor for signs of recent surgical activity - like blood or tissue.
There was nothing visible and she knew without looking any further
that whatever may have taken place in this room, all evidence had
been removed even before it had been cleaned thoroughly.

She stepped to the door and looked out, drawing in a deep breath of
air and spotting Mike still crouched by the front wheel of the cab.
He was watching the door with apprehension, and when he saw her an
expression of relief passed over his face.  She climbed down out of
the truck, nodded her head toward the other truck and he nodded
back, following her as she carefully made her way around the cab of
the second truck and toward the identical door on the side of the
tank.

The first truck had been sitting on softer ground - sand and dirt
mixed in with the rocks, but the second truck was over harder ground
covered in the flat, rocky shale that now seemed to be everywhere.
She had to move more slowly to avoid making too much noise with the
hard soles of her shoes and near the passenger door of the second
truck she paused, hearing a different but familiar timbre in the
gravel under her feet.  Looking down, her breath caught in her
throat and she crouched down, reaching out and scooping up a handful
of sunflower seeds, still in the shells.

Mulder.

Mulder didn't have the market cornered on sunflower seed
consumption, but it didn't matter.  She knew deep in her gut that he
had been there.  That he might still be there.

She dropped the seeds and stood, edging her way along the side of
the truck to the door as she had with the first truck.  And like the
first truck, she listened at the door before opening it with her
weapon drawn and stepping inside.

It was set-up exactly the same as the first truck...and was also
uninhabited.

There was one truck left to search - the moving truck that was
sitting about fifty feet behind the two tanker trucks.  Approaching
it without being seen would be difficult, as there was nothing to
cover them after they stepped away from the tankers.  Scully moved
to the end of the second tanker truck and stopped near the rear
wheel, motioning to Mike to join her.

"I'm going to make a run for that last truck," she told him in a low
voice.  "Stay here out of sight and keep watch for anything or
anyone that may suddenly appear."

He swallowed and nodded.  Scully glanced over the moving truck once
more, then sprinted the distance between the back of the tanker and
the front of the moving truck, crouching down by the left headlight
when she reached her destination.  She looked back over at Mike, who
gave her the thumbs up, and carefully she rose, easing her way
around the side of the truck.  When she reached the end she paused,
listening for movement.  Hearing none she carefully peeked around
the corner.

The door on the back of the truck was open and there was nobody to
be seen.

She was cautious as she stepped around the back of the truck, but it
was evident that there wasn't anyone there and hadn't been anyone
there for at least a couple of days.  A few torn boxes lay just near
the door, the paper contents strewn across the floor of the bed but
the crackers that had once been inside the boxes were missing, not
even a crumb to be found.  From the look of it, she assumed an
animal had gotten into it, possibly a coyote.

The back of the truck was filled with more medical supplies, gauze
and tape, sterilized sheets and the like.  There were other food
supplies as well, dehydrated military  meals, canned goods and
bottles of water.  She looked around the back corner and up other
side of the truck, then moved up to the cab, pulling open the
driver's side door and hoisting herself up onto the seat.  Like the
first truck, the keys were still in the ignition.

Mike approached the truck slowly, stopping just outside of the open
driver's side door.  She was looking for the vehicle registration,
but of course, there was none.  Taking a latex glove out of her
pocket, she carefully extracted the keys from the ignition, wrapped
them in the glove and tucked it back into her pocket.  She glanced
at Mike, then her eyes went to an opening in the side of the hill
as she stepped out of the truck with a loud sigh.  "How far back
does that mine go?" she asked him, squinting in the sun as she
looked up into his face.

He shrugged.  "I don't know.  Probably a couple of miles with all of
the twists and turns.  It goes way back into the mountain."  He
shook his head, looking at her with solemn eyes.  "But I don't think
your partner is in there."

Her brow furrowed and her voice came out sharp, so unlike the way
she'd been speaking to him.

"Why do you say that?"

He shrugged again.  He had peeked in the door of the tanker truck
while she was looking at the back of the moving truck and the sight
of the operating room gave him the creeps.  Who the hell makes an
operating room in the back of a milk truck?  Still, he'd been in
that mine plenty of times since his adolescence and was certain that
the way the trucks were set up they were more comfortable than the
mine.  "It's just an old abandoned mine.  It's cold and dark in
there.  What would be the point or logic in going into the side of a
mountain when you'd be more comfortable out here?"

She looked past him, up at the opening to the mine.  "You'd be
surprised the things I've seen in the side of mountains," she said
with renewed determination, shutting the truck door and stalking
toward the hill.

Mike rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the
other.  It seemed obvious to him that her partner wasn't around but
she wasn't going to give up until she saw it for herself...just like
his second wife.  That woman wouldn't let go of an idea if her life
depended on it.  But that woman would never have pursued him with
the intensity that this one showed in looking for her partner.

And damn, she was beautiful.  He'd never fallen so hard or so fast
in his life.  But he knew he'd be just as likely to get Hillary
Clinton to fall in love with him as he would Agent Scully.  She was
obviously interested in only one thing.

Her partner.

Scully was already halfway up the hill when he let out another sigh,
following her once again.  When the reached the opening to the mine
she pulled a small mag-lite flashlight out of her jacket pocket and
flashed it inside, just beyond the entrance.  How she kept all of
those things on her without a purse or having obvious bulges in her
snug clothing made him wonder what else she had tucked away in
there.

"I'd like it if you stayed out here and watched the entrance, Mike,"
she said, turning to face him.  "If I'm not back in..." she looked
at her watch, seeing it was already four-thirty, "forty-five
minutes, go for help.  Do not attempt to find me yourself, do you
understand?"

Her voice was firm and he nodded.  "Gotcha."

She stepped into the entrance of the mine and he called out to her,
"Agent Scully?"

She looked up over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Watch out for air vents, okay?  They should be blocked off by
lumber railings but you never know."

She gave him a brief smile.  "Gotcha."

And then she disappeared into the blackness.

Twenty yards in she shivered.  The air was cold and due to the
curves in the path she could no longer see the sunlight at the
opening where she'd entered.  Shining the flashlight on the ground
it was evident that this had been a popular party place.  Beer caps
and bottles, broken and unbroken were strewn along the walls and
about a hundred yards further in she found an old mattress, the
ticking splitting out of a tear on one side and more stains than she
cared to count covering the top.  Some romantic makeout spot.  She
stepped around it and continued carefully until she reached a fork,
uncertain which way to proceed.

There was little evidence that anyone had used this mine for
anything other than mining or partying, and there was nothing to
suggest that even that had been recent.  The ground was covered in
gravel and rocks - even her own footprints didn't show.  Heading to
the right she traveled about another 100 yards before coming to a
dead end, the words "TRONA CLASS OF '85" spray painted on the wall
in red.  She turned around and went back the way that she came,
taking the other path when she reached the junction.

The farther she went the deeper her heart sank.  There was nothing
out of the ordinary in there.  No file cabinets, no secured doors
with secret mathematical codes.  She could search the entire mine
but she knew in her heart that she wouldn't find Mulder.  He wasn't
here.  He may have been in the vicinity, but he wasn't here now.
She looked at her Indiglo and noted that she had twenty minutes to
get back to the opening and with a deep sigh she turned around,
heading back out.

When she emerged from the mine Mike was wearing the same
apprehensive look she'd seen earlier, and the same look of relief
crossed his face when he saw her.  Noting the slump of her shoulders
and the disappointment in her eyes he sighed, empathizing with her.

From where they stood they had a clear view of the trucks.  From
that angle it seemed even more desolate, more evident that there
hadn't been anyone around for days.

"Where do you think they went?" Mike asked, standing with his legs
spread apart and crossing his arms in front of him as he surveyed
the area.  "People don't just go off leaving trucks customized with
hundreds and thousands of dollars worth of hospital equipment and
the keys in the ignition."

She didn't answer, looking down at the ground and wondering the same
thing.

He watched her, noting the general look of disappointment on her
face.  "He means a lot to you...doesn't he?" he asked gently.

She looked up and into his eyes.  She opened her mouth to say
something but changed her mind, then looked back down at the ground.
"Yeah."

"So what now?" he asked, swallowing the lump in his throat over what
he knew her answer was going to be.

She looked out over the desert, her eyes weary and sad.  "I catch a
plane back to D.C. just in time for work Monday morning."

He nodded, looking back out at the trucks.  He knew that sadness in
her eyes had nothing to do with his sadness.  Wham, bam, thank you
ma'am.  He'd be thinking about her for a long time after she'd gone.

She scuffed the toe of her shoe against the ground, stirring up the
gravel and something else along with it, something that caused her
to pause and get a better look.  Scooping up a handful of gravel she
moved it around in her palm and found shells - discarded, chewed
sunflower seed shells.

She let out a long breath of defeat, tears filling her eyes but held
in check before they spilled over.  Another dead end, another lead
leading to nothing.  She was certain that Mulder had been there and
that he was following the people who had surely been conducting
unthinkable experiments in the back of those trucks.  But she didn't
know if he'd been the subject of the medical experiments or where he
and the people who had been working in those trucks had disappeared
to.

Once again she was left wondering with a gnawing in the pit of her
stomach if he was even still alive.  Had the events that transpired
since Mulder was spotted by Edward Sessing two weeks ago been his
final moments?

And what she couldn't know, what it wasn't her privilege to know was
the reason behind the sudden attempt to move the trucks from the
location just outside of town...

Special Agent Dana Scully had been spotted two days earlier, getting
out of a rental car at the Desert Rose Motel.
 

XxXxXxXxX Chapter Three
Two Weeks Earlier
 

The exercises were exhausting, but exhausting in the way that left
him feeling sated and relieved.  He found the process cathartic and
he'd never sleep better than after a session.  So much so that after
the sessions he was practically dead on his feet, asleep before his
head hit the pillow.

Tonight he couldn't sleep, though.  They'd had a breakthrough and
were starting to reach paydirt.  It had been a long, strenuous
process getting to this point, starting with the intense physical
conditioning.  He thought he was in good shape before - he'd
exercised regularly, alternated conditioning with aerobic activity,
passed all his physical exams in the above-average percentile.  When
he started the physical conditioning five months ago he found out
his idea of being in shape was nothing short of na=EFve.  Two days
into it he was so sore he could barely move.  Muscles he didn't
realize he had protested.  And what he thought was endurance was
one-fifth of what he would achieve.

Eventually he grew stronger, his muscles growing harder and more
defined.  He was heavier but at the same time just as thin as he'd
always been.

He was cut.

Never one to give too much thought to his physical appearance, he
found himself taking pleasure in the way his body had shaped up.  It
was ironic that he couldn't show anyone, couldn't stride
nonchalantly into the office in jeans and a T-shirt and gauge his
partner's reaction to the new improved Fox Mulder.

She didn't seem too disappointed with the old one, for that matter.

He rolled over onto his side, thinking about his partner.  God, he
missed her.  He slid his hand down underneath the elastic waistband
of his pajama bottoms, taking himself in hand with a half-hearted
squeeze.  He considered jerking off to take his mind off of the
session or maybe to sink farther into his thoughts of her...but he
decided against it, rolling onto his back and tucking his hands
behind his head.  Unless his need was extreme he didn't feel
comfortable indulging when Krycek was under the same roof, worried
that he might give something away in the heat of the moment.  Not
that Krycek didn't already know about his feelings for Scully.
But he wasn't going to give voice to them.  They were decidedly
private and off-limits.

Restless, he rose up off of the bed and wandered out of his bedroom,
through the kitchen and out onto the back porch, checking for
rattlesnakes getting cozy on the steps before sitting down on the
top step.  Drawing in a deep breath of the cool night air, he looked
out over the desert and sighed.

He missed her.

God, how he missed her.  It was like leaving a part of himself
behind, being away from her for so long without any contact.  He
thought about her often - 'Scully would have something to say about
that' or 'Scully should see this.'  He wanted to call her every
single day, wanted to tell her where he was and what he was doing.
He wanted her there with him, helping him.  He missed the validation
he received in her eyes, the confirmation that he was doing the
right thing.  That she believed in him.  Cared about him.

He missed her.

He wanted the damn project to be over so he could go home.  Back to
life.  Back to her.

But they'd had a breakthrough in their session that evening.  He'd
been able to hear Krycek just as clear as if he'd spoken out loud
and could sustain the connection for nearly twenty-five minutes.

The first time he'd been able to hear something besides his own
thoughts it only lasted a few seconds, and he was so exhausted
afterward that they had to carry him to his bed to sleep it off.
Slowly he was able to work up to a full minute and he learned how to
focus on a specific sound until it came in clear.  They worked on
increasing the amount of time he could sustain the connection until
he got it up to a full twenty minutes.

He wasn't nearly as tired as he used to be, either.  Gratefully, it
didn't come to him unless he put everything he had into
concentrating and focusing on it, so he wasn't plagued by a
cacophony of voices as he had been when he'd first acquired the
ability.  That was before Spender Senior attempted to cut it out of
him, though.  How much of the ability, if any remained following the
surgery was an unknown.

He'd exceeded their expectations and now hopes were high.

"Can't sleep?" Krycek asked from behind, breaking the silence and
interrupting his train of thought.

"Anxious," he answered truthfully without looking back over his
shoulder.

He and Krycek and Ulrich had been in nearly exclusive
company for almost six months.  There was no need for niceties or
consideration of each others' feelings; they were there to achieve a
goal.  An objective.

Krycek studied him a moment, his mouth set into a grim line as he
leaned against the porch railing.

"Anxious about the next session," he commented, crossing his arms in
front of him, "or anxious to get home?"

Mulder didn't reply, keeping his back to Krycek as he looked out
over the desert.  He knew the answer to that question.

"We've still got a lot of work to do," Krycek commented.

Mulder nodded.  "I know."

Krycek was silent a moment, looking down at his feet, the muscle in
his jaw twitching.  "You know a lot of things now, I imagine."

He was alluding to the session, to the sacrifice he had made by
bringing Mulder into the project, therefore allowing him access to
his thoughts and motives.  He had no choice, though - they needed
Mulder.  He was the only one who could help them.

It had only been a few minutes, but it was enough for Mulder to get
inside his head and read his fears and hopes.  He already knew about
some of Krycek's methods and how far he would go to get what he was
after.  Now he knew truthfully that the threat that they were
working against was real.  And he knew that in spite of everything
that had happened, he believed in what he was doing as much as
Mulder ever believed in his own work.

Theirs was the same work, after all.  They just approached it from
different angles.

For Mulder, it was only a brief glimpse into the mind of a very
complicated man, but it was enough for him to believe.

For now.
 

XxXxXxXxX About Five Months Earlier
 

"Scully?" he'd called out sleepily, rising up on one elbow and
rubbing an eye.  The clock by his bed read 2:23 a.m.

"The barrel of my gun is ten centimeters from your temple."  The
male voice grated in his ears, familiar and easily recognized.  "You
live or you die in the next ten minutes.  Your choice."

Mulder flopped back down onto his back, closing his eyes.  "I must
be having a nightmare."

"It appears I'm not the one you dream about, partner."

Mulder defensively shifted his hips underneath the blanket.  "Get
the fuck out of here, Krycek."

"There's something you need to see."

"I just finished forty-two hours of surveillance.  The only thing I
need to see is the inside of my eyelids."

"You want to see this.  Trust me."

Mulder let out a short laugh.  "TRUST you?"  He raised his head and
felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press against his temple.  The
sarcastic smile dropped from his face, becoming a grimace.  "So
what, you're gonna shoot me if I don't come with you?"

"You're a bright man.  Bright enough to realize that what I'm
offering you is the chance to see everything you've been looking for
in the last ten years.  Proof of all of your assertions."

"And this is the last good deed you need to make Eagle Scout?"

There was a pause.  "You have nine minutes left."

Mulder was silent, blinking up at the ceiling.  "Tell me where and
maybe I'll consider it."

Krycek let out a rush of air, contemplating his next words.  Mulder
wasn't easily convinced, even with a Glock pointed at his head.
"Ellens Air Force Base."

Mulder continued to stare at the ceiling, biting his lip.  Ellens
Air Force Base.  He'd been to Ellens Air Force Base before and knew
that there was a wealth of unexplored potential behind Krycek's
offer.  And the last time Krycek had dropped by to tip him off the
tip had been for real.  He turned and looked directly at him for the
first time that night, his eyes dark and serious as he sat up in the
bed.

"I'm calling Scully."

Krycek sat back on his heels, looking him in the eye and seeing his
assent.

"No."  He expected this, of course.  "Not now."  He lowered
the gun but didn't put it away.  "Come with me, check it out first,
build your case.  It's what she expects from you, isn't it?"

Mulder stared at him, studying his face.  "She expects me to be
honest with her.  I'm not leaving without at least telling her.
Besides, we need her scientific expertise."

There was a pause.  "Give me twenty-four hours.  That seems like a
fair trade - twenty-four hours for the answers to everything you've
always wanted to know."

It was a fair enough offer.  Only twenty-four hours.  Krycek could
easily have shoved the gun into his spine and forced him out the
door.

Scully was going to have a fit when she found out he'd gone off
hunting aliens with Alex Krycek.  She'd forgive him for it, though,
if he was able to give her a little of the scientific proof that
she'd worked so hard for.  That they had both worked so hard for.
He smoothed his hand over his face then reached over to the
nightstand where his weapon and identification lay, only to have
Krycek grab his wrist.

"You're not going to need any of that."  He had picked up Mulder's
jeans off of the floor near the bed and dropped them in his lap.
"Get dressed.  You've got seven minutes."
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

It was not only the two of them - they were accompanied by a blonde
hulk of a man with a German accent named Ulrich who drove them to a
small community airport in Virginia where they boarded a puddle
jumper plane that looked like it had seen better days.  Ulrich
hopped into the pilot seat proving he had more than brawn and a
driver's license while Mulder sat slumped in the back staring out
the window.  He needed sleep desperately but he wasn't about to
close his eyes with Alex Krycek four feet away.

His mind was busy cataloging everything he could remember about
Ellens Air Force Base.  He and Scully had been there years ago...it
was the first time he'd been warned by him, by Deep Throat, not to
pursue it.  He'd gone anyway, taking an innocent and fresh,
arrogantly skeptical Scully along for the ride.

And what a ride it was.  He'd run out on Scully, leaving her at the
motel and she'd had to come after him and save his ass.  A pang of
guilt stabbed him in the chest over that...he was doing essentially
the same thing now, only he owed her so much more now than he ever
would have imagined back then.  Deep Throat was gone now, too, and
he knew little more about the strange lights and unusual aircraft at
Ellens Air Force Base than he did before he'd opened that case.

He'd seen plenty of other things in subsequent years, however.

He found himself hoping that this time he wouldn't get screwed -
that Krycek would make good on his promise and give him the proof
that he and Scully sought.  He knew he was taking a huge chance by
agreeing to accompany him without so much as a phone call or email
to Scully.  The stakes were so much higher now and he couldn't bear
the thought of disappointing her once again.  Just like she'd been
disappointed by smokey old Spender when he'd promised her the world
and the cure for all disease and delivered nothing but an empty
disk.

If he never saw that look on her face again it would be too soon.

After two hours in the air he relegated himself to the fact that
there was nothing he could do about protection while sitting unarmed
in the back of an airborne plane if Krycek had an ulterior motive.
So he let sleep take over and didn't wake until the plane touched
down at a small airport in what looked like Kansas.

Wheat.  Lots of wheat.  Amber waves of grain.

Ulrich worked on refueling the plane while Mulder and Krycek found
the nearest men's room.  Within half an hour they were in the air
again.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

The wheat fields gave way to the purple mountain majesty of the
Rocky Mountains as he silently watched their progress from the air.
There was little sound except for the occasional radio report as
they neared and passed airport after airport, no one speaking or
interrupting the silence.

He doubted he'd make it back in twenty-four hours considering how
far they were traveling and the mode of transportation the were
using.  He didn't see any reason to keep up his end of the bargain
and resolved to call Scully the first chance that he got.  In fact,
if he were smart he'd get himself to a commercial airport and catch
the next 757 back to D.C.

He did want to know why Krycek had gone to the effort to come get
him and transport him halfway across the country, though.

As if he had read what was on his mind Ulrich spoke aloud,
addressing Krycek but including Mulder in the conversation by his
inflection.

"Does he know why he is here?" he asked in a thickly accented tone.

"He knows it is something of interest to him," Krycek responded
evenly.

Ulrich raised his head, addressing Mulder without looking back.
"What have you been told?"

Mulder shifted in his seat.  "Nothing more than I knew before."

The German looked at Krycek again.  "Are you sure he is the one?"
Again, Mulder was included by inflection.

Krycek responded while looking straight ahead.  "I'm sure."

The dynamics of their conversation made Mulder sit forward in his
seat, his keen eyes watching the scene play out.  There was more to
Ulrich than met the eye.  It was evident in the way he held himself
and the way he spoke.  Even in the way he listened carefully before
responding.

"You are going to see evidence of extraterrestrial life, Mr. Mulder.
Evidence which you may have seen glimpses of in the past.  Evidence
that you may believe in but have not accepted unconditionally."

"What kind of evidence are we talking about?" Mulder asked, leaning
forward toward Ulrich so that he could see more of his facial
expression.

Ulrich's countenance was grim.  "A living, thinking being.  A
captive but willing participant in the resurrection of a project
that was all but destroyed over a year ago but is now thriving once
again."

"What project?" Mulder asked with a touch of alarm, looking from
Ulrich to Krycek.

Krycek didn't move, keeping his eyes fixed on the window in front of
him.

"What project?" he asked again, his voice louder.

When he didn't receive an answer Mulder sat back in the seat with
frustration.  It couldn't be the same project, the
hybridization...it was over...they had stopped it a year ago.  All
of those people who died at El Rico Air Force Base, including
Cassandra Spender...that had been the end of it.  Even Spender
Senior had confessed to Scully that his lifelong project now lay in
ruin.

Or did it?  Was his overture to Scully, his offer of medical
miracles merely a ploy to get the information he wanted, or was
there another motive?  Scully had been abducted and subjected to
experiments just like Cassandra Spender.  She had the chip in her
neck, the one HE claimed was the cure for her Cancer.  But what if
it was much more than that?

With him out of the way Scully was left open - unguarded without
backup.  The realization made him nearly blind with rage and he
stood, slamming his fist against the back of his seat.

"Goddamnit!  I want you to put this plane down right now!"

Krycek turned in his seat, his gun drawn but his voice calm.  "Sit
down, Mulder, before you get us all killed."

"I want off of this plane now!" he yelled, shaking with fury.  "You
used me!  You used me so that HE could get to Scully!  It's her you
and that fucking cigarette-smoking bastard want for your goddamn
project!"

Krycek looked to Ulrich, who met his look with a knowing look of
superiority before turning back to the instrument panel.

"Scully isn't in any immediate danger," he said evenly.  There was a
pause as Mulder waited for him to continue.  "It's you they're
after.  We got to you first."

Mulder stared back at him, his eyes dark and turbulent and his chest
rising and falling with uneven breaths.

"Then tell me what the FUCK is going on."

This time, Ulrich looked at Krycek.  Krycek glanced back at him, his
mouth drawn in a tight line.

"You don't get it.  You're THE ONE, Mulder."

Mulder ran his hands through his hair, dropping his head so that
Krycek couldn't see his eyes.

"You've said that before.  The one what?  The reason for the
experiments?  It was supposed to be me they took all those years ago
instead of my sister...now it's payback time, is that it?"

Krycek blinked at him impatiently, waiting for his pity-fest to
pass.

"The one who can stop it."

"Jesus Christ..." Mulder muttered under his breath before looking
Krycek in the eye again.  "Says who?"

Ulrich shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Krycek looked down.
Neither one of them answered his question.

After a long silence Krycek glanced back over at Mulder.  He had
returned to his seat and was staring out the window, chewing on his
lower lip with a pensive expression on his face.

"Something happened to you a while back, Mulder.  You developed an
ability that allowed you access to thought waves.  You were taken,
experimented on, and afterward you no longer had that ability."

Mulder looked over at him, his eyes holding his accusation as he
assumed that Krycek had been involved in that as well.

"They cut open my skull.  But you already know that."

Krycek looked down again, his face showing his regret.  Not for
Mulder's plight, but for the circumstances they now found themselves
in.

"They removed what they believed to be the cause of that ability.
Your father had them put it inside of him, thinking he would gain
the ability instead."

Mulder's eyes grew hard.  "My FATHER died in West Tisbury in 1995."

Krycek drew a deep breath and continued.  "The operation failed.
He's dying as a result of the surgery."

Mulder nodded mutely.  This part of the story did match what Scully
had relayed to him following her experience with C.G.B. Spender.
He'd told her his imminent death was due to complications from
surgery.

"They also failed to remove that ability from you."  Krycek looked
him in the eye and Mulder held his gaze defiantly.

"I don't have that ability anymore.  It's gone."

"Not gone.  It's a part of your genetic makeup.  It was just turned
down."

Mulder thought a moment.  "If that's true then why perform the
surgery?  And why do they want me now?  Why didn't they just keep me
in the facility where Scully found me?"

"They've been watching you.  Waiting for an indication that the
ability has returned."

Mulder bit his lip again then released it, shaking his head.  "I
don't have that ability.  It's gone.  I'd be of no use to them."

Having been silent through most of the exchange, Ulrich spoke up.
"You don't know how to access it."

Mulder looked over at him, then back at Krycek, who was staring at
Ulrich.  Theirs was not an easy alliance.

"And what does this have to do with the extraterrestrial biological
entity that you claim is helping them rebuild the project?"

Krycek let out a long breath, now staring straight ahead.  "They
need someone who can communicate with it."

Mulder grinned and laughed sarcastically, the conversation finally
setting off his previously waning sense of humor.  If only Scully
were there to participate.  As it was, he was doing an admirable job
of playing the skeptic.

"What do you get out of all of this, Krycek?  Money, power...chicks?
Or do your preferences lie in a different direction?  Farm animals,
maybe?"

Krycek let out a snort.  "I'd just as soon turn you over to them and
let them deal with you once and for all, Mulder.  But believe it or
not, we both want the same thing."

Mulder nodded, not really believing him.  "To what end?"

Krycek looked at him, holding his look, his dark eyes serious.  "I
think you know the answer to that."

Krycek turned back around and Mulder stared out the window.  They
were flying over Utah and the Great Salt Lake.  It was beautiful but
from the air it appeared desolate, uninhabited.  For a moment he
tried to imagine what the world would be like void of inhabitants.

It was unimaginable.
 

XxXxXxXxX Chapter Four
 

There was a late model Dodge Durango waiting for them when they
landed at the small airport in Southwestern Idaho and without
stopping they drove to the forest, to a rustic house surrounded by
Pine, Fir and Spruce trees.  Ulrich and Krycek stepped out of the
car and entered the house with comfortable familiarity, leaving
Mulder to follow.  He'd been paying attention while they drove and
looking around now it was clear that there weren't any other houses
in the immediate area.

Once inside Mulder realized that they had been living here a while.
The house was obviously a sportsman's getaway, simple but equipped
with everything that a few men might need while enjoying the great
outdoors.  The amenities were comfortable but basic...no
televisions, computers or fax machines.

And no phones, of course.

Krycek pointed at a small room on the left.  "You'll stay in there.
I've got the room next to yours and Ulrich in the back by the
kitchen.  The bathroom is across the hall."

Mulder studied his face in an attempt to glean more than what was
being said, like how long he expected him to stay, but Krycek turned
and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

The room was generic - a bed, a closet, a dresser, a small table and
chair in the corner.  There was a new dopp kit on top of the dresser
along with an unopened package of three white t-shirts and another
unopened package of six white cotton briefs.  There was a stiff new
pair of Levi's and a few packaged flannel shirts in the top drawer
but the rest of the drawers and the closet were empty.

Obviously, they expected him to stay more than just a day.

He heard Krycek flush and step out of the bathroom before he
appeared in his doorway.  "You should get some rest.  We've got a
lot of work ahead of us."

"I'm not staying," Mulder stated, his body thrumming with nervous
energy.

"You haven't seen what you came to see," Krycek replied, rationally.

"Then let's go see it."

Krycek paused, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked at
Mulder.  "Not now.  Ulrich has just flown round trip to D.C. and
back, he's tired and needs rest.  We'll go after dark."

Krycek closed the door before presumably retiring to his own room.
Mulder didn't hear anything to suggest he'd been locked in, but he
didn't bother to get up and check the door just in case.  It
wouldn't do him any good to run off now, considering the remote
location and the circumstances.  He would stay long enough to see
the alleged EBE but then he was going back to D.C.

In the meantime, he needed to contact Scully.  He moved deliberately
but silently around the room, opening drawers, examining shelves and
corners.  Behind the dresser next to the baseboard he found what he
was looking for - a blue ball-point pen without a cap.  Ripping open
one of the packaged flannel shirts he found a piece of unmarked
paper, heavier than the usual thin tissue paper packaged with his
dress shirts.  It would do the job.

He moved over to the table, sitting in the chair beside it and
testing the pen on the lower corner of the paper.  It was running
out of ink and a bit scratchy but wrote well enough to be legible
and didn't tear the paper.  Taking in a deep breath, he paused, then
began writing:

     Special Agent Dana Scully, X Files Division
     Federal Bureau of Investigation

     Scully,

     I'm at Ellens AFB - circumstances prevented me from contacting
     you but know that you are with me in mind if not in body.  I'll
     contact you as soon as I can.
 

"What is this?"  Krycek's voice relayed his irritation as peered
over Mulder's shoulder.  His hand was poised in mid-air over the
paper as he considered closing with the ubiquitous 'I love you'
before signing his name and therefore didn't even hear the door
open.

"What does it look like?" Mulder replied with equal irritation.
"Contrary to your initial promise of ALLOWING me to contact my
partner after 24 hours you've denied me access to a telephone or a
computer.  I need to let Scully know that I'm alright."

"I can't let you do that," Krycek replied, reaching for the note.
Mulder slapped his palm down on top of it and the note ripped in
Krycek's hand.

Mulder angrily crumpled the piece that was left under his fingers,
rising to his feet.  "Then you leave me no other choice.  I'm out of
here."

When he turned he saw Ulrich standing in the middle of the doorway,
seemingly blocking his exit.

His hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides.  "Am I to
understand that this is no longer a voluntary situation?"  He glared
at Ulrich, then at Krycek.

"Mr. Mulder, you don't understand the situation," Ulrich said
patiently.  The way he said it reminded him of Pussy from 'The
Sopranos'.  Simple and unassuming, but big and deadly just the same.

"No, Ulrich, YOU don't understand the situation.  Neither of you
do."  He glanced at Krycek again, his breathing quickening with his
frustration.  "I have a partner who depends on me.  Who worries when
I don't show up at work like I'm supposed to.  Who will call out the
National Guard when she finds that I've abandoned my apartment in
the middle of the night without my badge, weapon or even an ATM
card.  At the very least she needs to know that I'm alright."  His
voice grew softer.  "I owe her that."

Ulrich and Krycek exchanged a look and Krycek expelled a breath of
air.

"She's being watched," he said, his lips drawing into a grim line.
"They know you'll contact her."

Mulder shook his head.  "So they know me.  So what?"

"So, if she knows where you are, then so will they.  Which means
that they'll also know why you're here."

"Scully can be trusted."

"She'll be on the next plane to Boise, Mulder.  She doesn't know
that she's being watched.  Her telephones, email, mailbox, even her
apartment...they've been monitoring both of you since your surgery.
They can get to her before she ever reaches you."

Mulder could feel his anger quickly escalating, the familiar boil
beginning in the middle of his chest and spreading outward as his
breathing struggled to keep up with his body's reaction.  "Then we
have to tell her.  Or let me go and get her.  She can help."

"She does not possess the ability to be invisible, Mr. Mulder,"
Ulrich answered from the doorway.

Mulder turned and faced him.  "What's that supposed to mean?"  When
Ulrich didn't answer, he turned back toward Krycek.  Krycek held his
gaze without replying.

"The chip in her neck," Mulder said at last.  "Besides controlling
her cancer it acts as some kind of biological Lojak."  When he
didn't receive a rebuttal he sighed, sitting down on the side of the
bed and drawing a hand over his face.  "What else can it do?" he
asked Krycek, blinking up at him wearily.

Krycek looked at Ulrich, who met his gaze evenly before responding.
"It can't harm her," he replied, not without empathy.

Krycek added, "She's better off where she is, Mulder.  In the dark."

"She WILL find me, Krycek.  Do not doubt that."

Krycek let out a huff, then glanced at Ulrich once more, and again
back to Mulder.  His reply was without ire, almost humble.  "I know.
That's why we need your cooperation if we're going to succeed."  He
paused.  "I'm asking for your help, Mulder."

Mulder glanced at Ulrich and noted his sincere expression, then
studied Krycek, drawing out the moment as long as possible.  They
both seemed sincere, not that Krycek was someone to be believed.
The truth be told, he was enjoying making the little weasel sweat.
But it was Ulrich and his silent but somehow serene demeanor who
sold him.  With a swallow and a slight nod, he gave his assent.
 

XxXxXxXxX Ellens Air Force Base
 

They accessed Ellens Air Force Base in the same way Mulder had
accessed it years ago - underneath the fence in the dark.  Ulrich
silently lead the way and he had a keen sense of his surroundings.
More than once they had to stop and lay low against the ground in
the tall grass until Ulrich felt their path was safe and they could
proceed undetected.

Ulrich commented at one point, "we should be very cautious."  He
tensed as they came upon the building that housed the being from
behind, motioning to Krycek and Mulder to stay low.  It was a putty-
colored structure, rectangular in shape with few windows.  As they
slowly moved around the side of the building they could see two
unmarked, white tanker trucks and a large unmarked white moving
truck next to the building's entrance, and armed sentries at the
entrance doors to the building and each of the trucks.  Several men
in lab coats were hovering around in the area while others were
carrying medical equipment and boxes of varying sizes from the
building to the trucks.

"What's happening?" Mulder asked quietly.

"They're loading up the trucks," Krycek replied, the muscle in his
jaw moving as he watched the scene before him.  After a little
while, he pointed at the entrance to the building and whispered,
"there It is."

Mulder let out a long, slow breath of air at the sight before him.
'It' was long and thin, at least seven or eight feet high, with
incredibly narrow arms and legs.  The skin was a grayish color and
the head was twice the size of a human skull.  It resembled what he
called a 'gray' in appearance but the size indicated that perhaps It
was something else entirely.

About halfway between the building and the truck the being paused,
turning it's head and seemingly looking right at their hiding place.
It cocked It's head and blinked It's eyes a few times, and the two
men accompanying It paused as well.  Mulder felt a strange surge of
conflicting emotions swell up inside of him.  After a moment It
turned and moved forward again, nearly folding up as It climbed into
the back of one of the tanker trucks followed by It's accomplices.

"It knows you," Ulrich said to Mulder softly, a hint of wonder in
his voice.

Mulder drew in a deep breath and let it out again slowly, still
staring at the door on the side of the tanker truck where the entity
had disappeared from his view.  Shaking his head, he whispered,
"that's not possible."

His world was rocking.  As impossible as it seemed, It had to be for
real.  Men like Shaquille O'Neal grew to be as tall but there was no
way a human being could be that tall and that thin with those
incredibly long limbs.  It didn't move like those animatronic
characters at Walt Disney World, either.  No, whatever It was, It
was a living being.

But It wasn't human.

The men in the lab coats climbed into the trucks and the sentries
stepped back away from the wheels as the engines turned over.
Krycek stood up straight, muttering "shit!" before running back the
way they came at full speed.

Ulrich wrapped an arm around Mulder's wrist, pulling him back.  "We
must follow them," he said with urgency.

Krycek was already fifty yards or more ahead of them, heading for
the vehicle they'd left under a covering of trees not too far from
the fence.  Ulrich kept Mulder's pace, and by the time they were
crawling under the fence Krycek had already started the SUV and had
pulled it up to the opening.  They had barely taken their seats when
he hit the accelerator and sped off after the unmarked trucks.

In their haste to catch up with the trucks neither Krycek nor Ulrich
noticed the torn scrap of paper with Dana Scully's name on it left
lying by the side of the road.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

They didn't have time to return for their belongings, but Mulder
suspected that Krycek and Ulrich were undoubtedly traveling as light
as he.  After several hours of cautious driving a safe distance
behind the trucks Krycek gave up the wheel to Ulrich, stretching out
in the back seat and falling asleep to the constant hum of the tires
against the pavement.

Alex Krycek was asleep and vulnerable before him.  Or behind him if
you wanted to get technical about it - whatever, it was a first.  It
also said a lot about how desperately Krycek needed his help.
Mulder sat in the passenger seat, awake, although he'd had so little
sleep of late that he was afraid that he was beginning to lose his
objectivity.  His mind was trying to process all of the information
he'd seen and heard in the last twenty-four hours.

It was simply mind boggling.

He did not doubt what he'd seen, nor could he discount the feeling
he'd gotten when the entity seemingly looked right at him.  But to
go so far as to say that he possessed the ability to communicate
with It was taking things a bit too far, even with the confidence
that Krycek and Ulrich seemed to have in his potential.  After
everything that he'd been through he'd still come out alive with his
mind and health intact, and there was no evidence to suggest that he
could read other peoples' thoughts.  Admittedly, sometimes he was
pretty clear on what Scully was thinking but that was attributed
more to their closeness and the way they've worked for so long as a
team more than anything.

Still, there had been times when he focused so intently on her that
much of the outside world fell away.  Less than a week ago they had
been together and he'd clearly heard her say, 'I do love you,
Mulder.'  He knew she hadn't spoken the words because his mouth was
on hers the entire time, but his heart sang.  He'd pulled back
enough to look into her eyes, and replied aloud, 'I love you too,
Scully.'  Her response was simply a knowing smile, but he knew from
the look in her eyes that they understood each other perfectly.

He closed his eyes, remembering the feeling.  They had made love
that night.  Making love with Scully was still new and wondrous.
The number of times that they had been together in that way seemed
like such a precious few, but only because he had yet to get a firm
grasp on the enormity of it all.  Each time they made love they
spoke volumes to each other although they said very little, and what
they had become together extended beyond just a friendship or a
partnership or a sexual relationship.  It was the most significant
relationship of his life.  It encompassed all things and more still.

He let out an involuntary sigh, unhappy with the circumstances that
separated them and thought of the damage he may be causing to the
relationship with this latest folly.  His emission was loud enough
for Ulrich to turn his head and glance at him, acknowledging the
sound.  "He is watching over her, Mr. Mulder," Ulrich stated quietly
so as not to disturb Krycek's slumber.

"Who?" Mulder asked.

Ulrich continued, "Like you, I prefer that she come with us.  But
she is safe where she is."

Mulder blinked at him.  "Who is watching over her?" he asked again,
wondering how much Ulrich knew about them, how more there was to the
story and why he wasn't being given that information.

Ulrich was silent a moment.  "I see the depth of your connection and
I understand your devotion to her and her well-being.  Just as she
is a necessary element for your well-being.  Her presence here would
expedite and ensure our success as we go forward."

Mulder brought a hand up to his face and pressed his fingers against
his eyelids, rubbing until the grit caused his eyes to water.  He
was too tired to read Ulrich's cryptic talk about success at that
particular moment.  "What will you get out of all of this, Ulrich?"

Ulrich glanced at him again, and Mulder briefly saw in his eyes the
depth of an ancient soul.

"There is no way to judge the repercussions of our success or
failure.  I strive for that which is the most elusive...peace," he
replied, falling silent once more.
 

XxXxXxXxX Near Trona, California - Six Months Later
 

From the beginning the sessions involved Ulrich working with Mulder
on his concentration and physical conditioning while Krycek served
as the target of that concentration.  When Mulder was able to
sustain his focus in a session for over thirty minutes they were
ready to make contact with the being residing near the mine where
the trucks had migrated and set up camp.

Traveling on mountain bikes with thick tires designed to accommodate
the desert sand they had visited the site repeatedly over the past
six months, familiarizing themselves with the layout and schedule.
They approached from the south, around and over the ridge of the
mountain to the east.  They knew that high above the tunnels of the
mine there was an intricate network of tunnels accessed by a
retractable thirty-five foot ladder that lead to a few small rooms
in the back of the mountain, setup to house the six men who were
working on the project.  There was always at least one man standing
sentry over the trucks at all times, and from what they observed,
the being remained inside one of the two tankers trucks most of the
time.  They usually worked during daylight hours, retiring into the
side of the mountain at night when it grew dark.

Supplies were brought in by car on Tuesdays and Fridays, always the
same car and always the same driver.  No one who was attached to the
project was ever seen leaving the site.  As a law enforcement
official Mulder had been taught to pursue the perpetrators to stop
the crime - or in this case, the project.  He had suggested that
they follow the car to discover where it had come from and get more
information on the people behind the project, but Krycek and Ulrich
weren't interested.  They knew enough about who these people were,
and that who was as incidental as it was changeable.  They needed to
know the what, where and why - and the source of that information
was in one of those tanker trucks.

Mulder was the key that unlocked that information.  Unknowingly, the
day they planned on making the initial contact happened to be the
same day that Dana Scully arrived in Trona on a tip that her partner
had recently been spotted in the area.

It was just growing dark when they arrived at the site, carefully
moving to their usual surveillance place at the main entrance to the
old mine.  As the sun set behind the mountains in the west the men
came out of the tanker trucks, climbing the long ladder to the small
opening in the mountain above.  When the sun had set completely
leaving behind the orange and pink glow above the mountains Mulder
carefully made his way down the hill toward the trucks, mindful of
the lone sentry who was standing in back of the moving truck.

As luck would have it, the sentry was a basketball fan and there was
a Lakers/Suns game being broadcast over the sports radio station.
If there was a positive side to being holed up in the middle of the
high desert it was the radio reception - it came in crystal clear
from all over the state and even parts of Arizona and Nevada.
Wearing an ear piece and a deceptively laconic expression, the
sentry stared off into space, intent on the action on court and
oblivious to the man behind him standing between the two tanker
trucks.

It was a fifty-fifty guess which truck the being was in, so Mulder
chose the truck that was sitting in partial sand, sliding underneath
and lying face up on the ground just behind the right wheel of the
truck's cab.  Hopefully, he was close enough that it didn't matter
which truck It was in, he'd be able to communicate with It anyway.

When he'd removed the small rocks underneath him and got comfortable
he closed his eyes and let out a series of long, slow breaths,
regulating his breathing until it was deep and steady.  Focusing
inward, he imagined a point of white light, expanding the point
wider and broader until it filled him, all of his senses heightened
and aware of everything within and surrounding him.  His body
relaxed and suddenly a powerful jolt of emotion hit him, threatening
his concentration as his entire body shook with an intense spasm.

It was every imaginable feeling coursing through him all at once.
He could feel tears running down the sides of his face as the
emotion flowed through him in alternating waves of fear, joy, love,
hatred and angst.  This had never happened in one of the sessions
but he grit his teeth and held on to the white light.  A faint sound
barely audible began to grow louder, the debilitating waves of
emotion slowing and subsiding as the sound became clearer and
clearer.

"I know you," It said.  The voice was distinct, yet it was
indescribable.  Thoughts did not have a timbre the way a voice did,
although each person's thoughts were unique to that individual.

"Who are you," Mulder asked.

"I am all that is and ever will be.  I am the light of the world."

Mulder was undaunted by the comment.  "Why are you here?"

"Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the
light of the life."

"What life is that?"

"Everlasting life."

"I don't accept that.  All things die, it's a part of the cycle."

"For the Lord himself shall come down from heaven, with a loud
command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call
of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.  After that we who
are still alive and are left will be caught up together to meet the
Lord in the air.  And so we will be with the Lord forever."

"You're quoting Biblical text."  The connection grew fainter as the
waves of emotion once again grew stronger, and Mulder clenched his
teeth, struggling to hold the connection against the crippling,
throbbing feelings that were assaulting all of his senses.  "Tell me
why you're here."

"Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"

Another powerful wave overcame him and Mulder focused harder, the
muscles in his body straining against the mental anguish he was
enduring.  "Who are you?!"

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will
remove you from your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.
And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees
and be careful to keep my laws."

All at once he was at peace.  He felt warm and loved, his body
relaxing into a liquid lassitude.  He regulated his breathing,
intently focused on the white light and the sound.  "Who are you?"
he asked again.

There were a few beats of silence, then a familiar voice answered,
"Mulder, it's me."

He struggled to catch his breath once more.  "Scully?"

His response was met with silence, followed by small, undulating
waves of conflicting emotion growing increasingly stronger and
stronger as he fought to maintain control.  "Scully!" he called out
again, but the waves became stronger and more intense.

When It spoke again it was in the voice It had used from the
beginning.  "Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no
other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved."

"Are you telling me that you're here to save mankind?"

"I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who
sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed
over from death to life."

"And just what do you see as eternal life?"

Mulder experienced a sharp, all-encompassing wave that ran the gamut
of emotions ending in extreme anguish, then a reply was issued in
the equivalent of a mental scream, "They're coming!"  Mulder's eyes
flew open in horror, his concentration broken as he gasped for air.
He was covered in sweat and dust, and he curled into the fetal
position on his side, tears trickling down the sides of his face as
he sobbed softly.  The combined beauty and horror of what he had
just experienced overwhelmed him and he struggled to find a sliver
of peace within his aching heart.

As his breathing and pulse slowed he blinked several times,
regaining weak control over his body and its responses.  He found
that his limbs were nearly dead weight but he was able to roll out
from under the truck, and with a quick glance in the direction of
the oblivious sentry, he climbed back up the hill to where Krycek
and Ulrich were waiting, collapsing in the gravelly dirt.

"What happened?" Krycek asked, crouching down next to him.

Mulder sucked in several deep breaths, his chest heaving from the
exertion of climbing the hill as he did so.  "They're coming."

"Who?"

"Them...Jesus Christ, Ed Edd and Eddy...I don't know.  It spoke in
scripture, verses from the New Testament."

Ulrich kneeled down on the other side of him, his eyes wide and
intense.  "Which ones?  What did It say?"

Mulder pushed himself up into a sitting position.  "It said that
whoever believed would have everlasting life."  He looked up at
Krycek, residual feelings of angst causing him to feel tense,
lashing out.  "That is the main theme running throughout the Bible,
isn't it?"

"What else?"  Ulrich asked with urgency.

He took another deep breath.  He did not know much about Ulrich
despite the six months they had spent together.  He understood that
there was a strong sense of commitment to their shared endeavor, and
saw enough of the small pieces of the man to know that he had a
deeply spiritual side to him that reminded him of Scully in some
respects.  "Pain," he replied.  "Joy, love, contentment, anger,
hatred, guilt, lust, fear...every imaginable feeling and emotion.
Sometimes individually and sometimes all coming at once."

A flicker in Ulrich's eyes registered fear and he stood, staring
down at the tanker trucks, his face masked with an unreadable
expression.  He looked as if he were about to sprint down the hill
when a sudden flurry of movement dropped him back to his knees and
onto his stomach, Mulder and Krycek following suit.

The men involved in the project were scurrying down the ladder,
carrying boxes of whatever they could manage to bring with them.

They heard the sentry ask one of the men, "what's going on?"  The
response was intelligible, but the man responded with alarm. "When?"

The sentry looked around wildly and moved to help the other men load
the boxes into the truck.  When the last man out of the tunnel had
reached the ground the ladder was hastily removed, folded and placed
in the back of the moving truck along with the boxes they had
brought down from the tunnels.

Two men climbed into the cab of each truck and just as the
headlights came on a bright, blinding light appeared from above,
illuminating the three trucks in a brilliant, cone-shaped beam.
Mulder looked up, his mouth opening in awe to see a huge craft
hovering overhead all at once, its size completely blacking out the
desert sky from his perspective.

There was a flash like time was moving in slow motion and the next
thing he knew he was looking down on the trucks, their headlights
still illuminated but the men, the craft and light above were
nowhere to be seen.  He felt his stomach lurch and he crawled a few
feet back just before he emptied his dinner onto the rocks beneath
him.  When the shakes subsided and he could sit up again Krycek and
Ulrich were on their feet, heading down the side of the hill toward
the trucks.  With a groan and a huge effort, he pulled himself to
his feet and stumbled down the hill after them.

He stopped near the cab of the second tanker truck.  Krycek was
inside the first tanker and Ulrich was just coming out of the
second, shaking his head.

It was gone.

Grimacing against the sick taste in his mouth, Mulder pulled a
handful of sunflower seeds out of his jeans pocket, popping a few
into his mouth and spilling a few on the ground in the process.
After a few moments of sucking the salt off of the shells he spit
them out on the ground a few feet away.

Ulrich's face was slack and he appeared shaken by the events that
had transpired.  He walked over to where Mulder was standing and
stood next to him, both men silently looking out over the darkened
desert landscape.

"'For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this
not from yourselves, it is the gift of God...'" Ulrich spoke softly,
his eyes far away as he looked up at the star-filled sky.

"You think that was God's grace?"  Mulder asked softly, looking over
at him.

Ulrich shook his head.  "I don't know.  I've witnessed the hand of
God in many different forms.  That was truly one of the more
spectacular exhibitions."

Mulder smiled slightly, looking down at the ground and poking at one
of the spilled seeds with the toe of his hiking boot.  "There was
something else," he added softly after a few minutes of silence.
Ulrich turned to look at him and Mulder met his gaze solemnly.  "At
one point..." he paused, licking his lips.  "It spoke to me in her
voice."

Mulder's expression betrayed his vulnerability and Ulrich drew in a
deep breath.  "It is a deceiver.  Mine is not a God of pain or
deception, Mr. Mulder," Ulrich said at last.  "It is not doing His
work."

Mulder nodded, thinking about what had been said.  "So what do you
think It was trying to tell me?"

Ulrich shook his head, still watching the sky.  "It knows you.  You
should take that as a sign to be very careful."

Mulder drew in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly, then
looked back out over the desert before turning his attention back to
Ulrich.  "So now what?"

After a moment Ulrich looked at him, fixing his gaze on his face.
"I am an ordained Priest, Mr. Mulder, and I honor my vows.  Now I
will return to my people - as you will to yours."  He touched his
shoulder gently, then turned and walked away, leaving Mulder
standing alone beside the abandoned truck.

Ulrich a Priest.  Working with Krycek.  A man of God and a man with
no one to answer to but himself.  There's an example of a grand
cosmic joke for you.

He looked up at the sky once more with an ironic grin, wondering if
maybe he'd been hallucinating all along.  He was emotionally,
physically and mentally exhausted.  Six months of effort leading
right back to where he'd started - too many questions and too few
answers.
 
Maybe he'd wake up in his own bed and find it had all been a dream.

But he knew better.  Heading back toward the place where they'd
stashed the mountain bikes he turned his thoughts away from their
failure and focused instead on the only thing that would heal his
battered psyche...

He was finally going home.
 

XxXxXxXxX Chapter Five
 

She was in Mulder's apartment, on Mulder's sofa.  Somehow she'd been
covered in a thick Indian blanket, no doubt by Mulder after she'd
passed out on him.

The apartment was dark and still.  There was a constant buzz coming
from the filter on the aquarium accompanied by an occasion bubble of
air rising to the top of the tank.  The refrigerator hummed loudly
in the kitchen and the faint sound of water dripping in the bathroom
provided a steady rhythm like the beating of her heart.  The
aquarium glowed in a faint blue glow and a soft yellow light spilled
out onto the floor from the half-closed door to Mulder's bedroom.

But there was something obviously missing.

Mulder.

Amidst the unfamiliar sounds and movements that went unnoticed
during the day, Mulder's exuberance was strangely absent.  She felt
his absence keenly even though he was probably in the next room
sleeping.  She leaned her head back, thinking about what it meant to
miss Mulder when he was only in the next room...thinking too much
for one day, or perhaps it was only that she hadn't thought enough
in all of her previous days leading up to today.

It was a melancholy, almost lonely feeling to find yourself awake in
the darkness of someone else's home in the middle of the night.

Alone.

There were so many things inside of her competing for their moment
of contemplation, impatient to be told, things that she hesitated to
share with anyone until now.  She and Mulder had spent the latter
part of the afternoon, all evening and well into the night talking
about her personal journey and new self-awareness.  She'd been so
caught up in telling her experience that she'd neglected to ask him
how he'd felt returning to England for the first time since college,
and why he'd cut his trip so short after his investigation fell
flat.  Surely there were old friends to look up and places to visit
and he'd hardly stayed there a day.

She let out a soft sigh, regretting her oversight.  She would make a
point to ask him about it later.

Throwing the blanket aside she sat up, standing on bare stocking
feet as she stretched with an involuntary yawn.  She knew it was
very late, or rather, very early, depending on your point of view.
Strange how one moment could make all of the difference in the
world.  She now knew with perfect acuity what she wanted and she
didn't want to wait.

She padded toward the bedroom wearing a soft, knowing smile as she
slid her jacket off her shoulders.  To say that Mulder would be
shocked to see her climbing into bed with him was an understatement.
Looking in through the open doorway, she expected to see his lanky
form tangled under the covers, his mouth slightly open and a thick
hardbound book laid across his chest.

But the bed was empty...

Scully awakened with a soft gasp, the thick, disorienting stupor of
sleep rendering her temporarily unable to register her surroundings.
It wasn't Mulder's bedroom, or even his apartment.  Mulder's
apartment wasn't even his anymore - someone else was living there
now.  As the memory of where she had been before falling asleep
returned, so did the recognition of her location.

She was on a return flight from California, and the lights had just
flashed on, the other passengers shifting in their seats as they
approached Dulles International Airport.  With a sigh she sat up in
her seat, replacing the tray table in front of her and pulling on
the hem of her jacket underneath the seatbelt.  Then she looked out
the window, thinking about the dream.

There was a twist to it, a variation on the way things actually
happened.  In retrospect, she was much more deliberate.

It was funny, in a tragic sort of way.  Ironic.  To hold back for so
long, to maintain her own personal, private place and not share all
of herself with anyone.  And when she finally decided to let go, to
give it all up and leave it to the fates, the fates took it away.
But not before she'd learned how good it could be to share all of
herself completely with someone else who was sharing all of himself
with her.

Loneliness was something she could no longer rationalize.  Nor did
she want to.
 

XxXxXxXxX Dulles International Airport
 

As she exited the gangway a familiar face was standing at the gate.
Their eyes met - hers were surprised; his apologetic.  She walked
over to him, mindful of the other passengers who were exiting the
plane alongside her, anxious to get home to their loved ones.  Their
greeting was silent.

"Are you on the next flight out, Sir?" she asked, her voice low for
privacy.

Skinner gave her a polite smile and a once over.  "No, I'm here to
give you a ride home."  Her brow furrowed with confusion and he let
out a soft sigh.  "You went to Los Angeles on a lead."  He paused.
"What did you find out?"

She exhaled, crossing her arms and looking down at the ground
briefly, then at a spot somewhere around the middle of his chest.
"He was there.  An eye witness placed him in the Mojave Desert as
little as two weeks ago."

She looked up into his eyes and he opened his mouth to speak,
slightly surprised, then paused.  "Is this witness credible?"

Her gaze did not falter.  "I believe he is."

He nodded, believing her.  "What else?"

She glanced down the concourse.  She didn't check her bag so she
didn't need to go to baggage claim, but she felt that the airport
wasn't the most appropriate place to continue the conversation,
either.  "You mentioned a ride?"

He nodded again, and placing a hand lightly on her back he escorted
her down the concourse.
 

XxXxXxXxX Georgetown
 

After finding the trucks deserted he'd left the mine on the mountain
bike, heading for the highway without bothering to return to the
house where they had been staying for the last six months.  Krycek
and Ulrich were gone already, he was certain - they'd both left the
mine by the time he reached his bike.  He had few possessions and no
money, and despite his exhaustion, he didn't want to waste any more
time when he could be on his way back to D.C.

A truck driver picked him up outside of Trona and gave him a ride as
far as Riverside.  They'd stopped at a 24 hour coffee shop and
Mulder found a pay phone, placing a collect call to Scully but
reaching her answering machine.  He slumped against the wall at the
sound of her voice, leaving a brief message that he was coming home
and would try her again before hanging up and calling again, just to
hear her voice one more time.  The driver he'd ridden with spoke
with a few other truckers, all of them traveling as far as they
could on as little sleep possible.  One of them was delivering
poultry to a distribution center in Dallas and agreed to give Mulder
a lift, looking for conversation to keep him alert and pass the
time.

Another driver in Dallas gave him the once-over and agreed to take
him as far as Atlanta, but he'd opted to make other arrangements in
Shreveport after the driver had gotten a little too friendly with
his hands when he'd allowed himself to doze off.  To his dismay,
he'd had to leave the mountain bike on the truck, leaving him
without anything tangible to sell or barter if the need arose.

Scully still wasn't answering her phone and he wondered where she
could be, not knowing she was back in Trona looking for him.

A gray-haired but seemingly ageless black man wearing a worn and
much-loved brown fedora and driving a vintage Cadillac picked him up
outside of Shreveport.  They had an easy if rather one-subject
rapport - he was an old blues guitarist on his way to Birmingham to
hear his grandson's rock band play their first real gig.  He shared
his thoughts for nearly the entire ride about the difference between
the rock and roll of the younger generations and the good old soul-
baring blues of his youth.  Mulder participated in the conversation,
both agreeing on the genius of Elvis Presley, but told him little
about himself except that he was anxious to get back home.  The man
didn't ask why, seeing with wise old eyes the ways of the human
heart.  Without a word he delivered him to the Greyhound station in
Birmingham and bought him a one-way ticket to Washington, D.C.

Mulder asked for his name and address so that he could reimburse him
when he got home, but the man just tipped his hat and smiled, saying
"I'll receive my reward in the kingdom of Heaven, Mr. Mulder."
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

The building manager was more than surprised to see him.  He knew he
looked terrible from lack of sleep and probably smelled really bad,
too, but the guy let him into her apartment, anyway.  He hadn't
bothered to go to his own apartment - if he even still had an
apartment, which was doubtful.  Besides, she wouldn't be there.
When he saw his aquarium and a few other items of his in Scully's
apartment he knew he was right.

The apartment was nearly the same as the last time he'd seen it,
except for the few additions of his own personal belongings.  There
was a stack of flyers on the coffee table bearing his likeness and
the words 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?' in boldface red type.  He drew a
hand over his face and rubbed his eyes, regretting for the millionth
time the anguish he'd put Scully through by leaving her without so
much as a phone call.

He got himself a glass of water and helped himself to some fruit in
the refrigerator, then sat down on the sofa to wait for her.  For
the first time in over 48 hours he closed his eyes and allowed
himself the luxury of security and belonging.  Within minutes he had
drifted off to sleep.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

Skinner listened to her recount the events of the past 72 hours over
a cup of coffee at a Denny's between the airport and her apartment.
When she had finished he didn't comment, both of them understanding
that it was the same situation that they'd encountered time and
again.  There were no words of comfort that he could offer her to
ease the disappointment over not being able to find her partner, if
he were the kind of man to do such a thing, which he wasn't.

He wasn't even her supervisor anymore - he was there strictly as a
friend.

He dropped her off in front of her apartment, not expecting to be
invited in and not surprised when no offer was made.  She thanked
him for the ride with a polite turn of her lips, grabbed her
overnight bag out of the back seat and disappeared into the building
without looking back.

With a sigh he pulled away from the curb, leaving her to her
solitude.

After retrieving her mail from her box in the building's designated
mailboxes in the lobby she flipped through the bills and
advertisements as she opened the door to her apartment, shut the
door behind her and walked directly to the bedroom.  Credit card,
credit card, gas, insurance renewal...she tossed them all down on
top of the bed alongside her keys and bag and wriggled out of her
jacket while she toed off her shoes.  Padding out of the bedroom in
stocking feet she stopped dead in her tracks, her lips parting in
surprise and the breath leaving her lungs, rendering her temporarily
breathless.

Mulder was asleep on her sofa.

She stared at him, trying to regain her breathing and blinking her
eyes to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

Nope - still there.

Slowly she approached, her eyes running over him, the initial shock
of seeing him melting into a myriad of emotions.  He didn't look
sick or injured.  He still had all of his limbs and his arms and
face were tanned a shade of dark, golden brown.  His hair had grown
out, softly sunbleached into a shade lighter than she'd ever seen on
him before.

He HAD been in the desert.  They must have just missed each other.
By how long?  Weeks, days...hours?

She stopped in front of him, her breathing still rapid to
accommodate for her racing pulse.  He was deep in sleep, still in a
sitting position with his head slumped over to the right and his
chin tucked against his chest.  From the growth of beard and the
overripe smell of him she deduced he'd gone several days without a
bed or a shower.

Tears of relief spilled out of her eyes as she reached out a
tentative hand toward his forehead, pausing a millisecond before
touching him, deciding not to move the strand of hair lying across
his brow for fear of waking him.  She pulled her hand back, and
glancing over at the club chair on her left, stepped over and
dragged it to the sofa, placing it beside him.

She sat, and she waited.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

Mulder awoke feeling dull and lethargic with a kink in his neck.
Blinking a few times until his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the
room, he smiled when he made out the familiar shapes and outlines of
Scully's apartment.

He turned his head, his eyes caught by the woman sleeping in the
chair next to him.  Her head was resting against the chair back and
her chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm with each deep breath.  He
leaned his shoulder against the arm of the sofa, watching her,
soaking her in.

She was stunning.  An exquisite creature in his depraved eyes.  And
small - he'd forgotten how petite she was.  The way she was curled
up in the chair with her legs tucked under her made her look even
smaller.

A soft smile played on his lips and he let out a long, slow breath
of air.  This is what had been sorely missing from his life for the
last six months.  Shifting until he was comfortable against the
cushions, he laid his head back on the sofa's back, still watching
her, re-memorizing every inch of her.

His eyes grew heavy and he allowed them to close, sleep claiming him
again as she shifted in the chair, the change in the sound of her
breathing catching his attention.  He raised his head slightly,
glancing over at her under half-closed eyelids.

She was looking at him, her face unreadable but her eyes holding
his.  His lips turned up in a smile and hers did the same.

"Welcome back," she said softly.

"Glad to be here."  His voice was hoarse and scratchy from fatigue
and sleep.  He held her gaze, his eyes glowing under their drooping
lids.  "We've got a lot to catch up on."

"Yes, we do."  She agreed, her breath catching before she let it out
slowly.  "When you're ready."

Mulder nodded slightly, the gentle smile still on his lips.  "Soon.
I promise."

She nodded in response.  Leaning back against the chair she watched
him and he watched her until they both closed their eyes to
slumber's seduction.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

When he woke again there was sunlight streaming in through the
blinds at her front window and she was leaning over him, backlit
like the blue fairy in Pinocchio.

"Scully..." he said sleepily with a smile, then he spotted the
needle and syringe she held in her other hand.  "Ho!" he exclaimed,
trying to sit up.  "Wha?"

She was dressed in one of her typical suits, wearing shoes and her
hair styled as neat as a pin with the cap from the syringe clenched
between her teeth.  "I want to do a blood workup on you."  She
thumped on the vein on the inside of his right elbow with her middle
finger as she spoke around the cap, not looking into his eyes.  He
realized that it was the first time that she'd touched him since
he'd come home.

It was the first time anyone had touched him with love in a long,
long time.

He relaxed under her steady hands, laying back into the sofa
cushions and grimacing as the needle entered his vein.  He looked
into her face and her eyes connected with his, her eyebrow raising
and her lips curving mirthfully at his toothy grin.  Breaking his
gaze, she looked down as she pulled the needle out of his arm.
"Just exactly what is it that you're looking for?" he asked, bending
his elbow as she placed a cotton ball over the puncture.

"Just you, hopefully," she replied, covering the needle and pulling
the filled vial off of the bottom, effectively sealing it in the
process.  She slipped it into the pocket of her jacket and walked
over to the door while he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of
his palms.

"What time is it?" he asked with a yawn, and then a grimace as he
caught of whiff of his own body odor.  "Whew.  More importantly, can
I use your shower?"

"Seven."  She was crouched down by the door, fiddling around with
her laptop case on the floor.  "By all means, make yourself at home.
I've got an 8:30 autopsy scheduled at Quantico this morning so I've
got to get going."

"At the Scully speed limit, you'll still be early," he commented,
getting a raised eyebrow but no comment from her.  The subject of
her liberal use of the gas pedal had been an ongoing joke with them
long before Mulder had disappeared.  He blinked a few times, the
reality of being back in his normal life catching up with him.  "Do
I still have a job?" he asked softly, looking down at his hands.

She stopped fussing with the laptop case and looked up at him,
letting out a long breath.  Mulder needed his work like he needed to
breathe or to eat.  "I don't know.  I imagine that will be left up
to you and the OPR."

He let out a soft snort, closing his eyes.  He hadn't had much luck
with the OPR in the past.  "And the X Files?"

She sighed, standing.  "Skinner had them put on moratorium," her
voice was gentle and tentatively she walked over to the sofa,
sitting down next to him.  "The office was kept the way you left
it."  She paused.  "But we had to let your apartment go."

He looked at her, reading her face.  "What do they have you doing
now?"

Her lips pulled back into the parody of a smile without the mirth in
her eyes, her eyebrows raising.  The expression itself was a silent
commentary on the obvious answer.  "Autopsies, mostly."

He leaned back, covering his face with his hands, then dropping
them, staring up at the ceiling.  His eyes were red and weary.

She continued, her voice retaining the tone of softness.  "Your
belongings are safe.  I've got some of them here, stored in the
closet.  The big things are in a storage space in the garage of
Skinner's building."

He turned his head and looked at her again, his eyes clouded with
regret.  His actions had repercussions that resounded deeply beyond
his own experience, the waves reaching out to all of those who had
been in his life.  No one was rocked more than her.  "I'm sorry I
put you through all of this, Scully."

She looked down, avoiding his gaze.  There was a long, silent pause
and she let out a loud breath before she spoke again, with a
vulnerability in her voice that hadn't been there minutes ago.  "Why
didn't you tell me, Mulder?"

He closed his eyes a moment, clenching his teeth.  "I wanted
to...Christ!  I wanted to."  He stood up, his fists clenched as he
turned and faced her.  He wore the expression of someone reluctantly
about to deliver bad news.  "There's something I have to tell you,
Scully.  You're not going to like it."

She looked up at him, her eyes showing her concern as her lips
parted and a soft breath left her lungs.  "What is it?"

He took a few breaths of his own, running a hand through his hair.
"The chip in your neck.  It sends out some kind of signal that can
be tracked."  He paused, shifting uncomfortably under her wide-eyed
scrutiny.  "I don't know the details or how it works.  But it wasn't
safe for you to be there with me."

She looked at him a moment longer, then closed her eyes.  Dropping
her chin to her chest she paused, then looked down at her watch,
letting out a sigh of frustration.  "We'll have to continue this
conversation when I get back.  I don't have much leave available so
I've got to go."

She stood and walked stiffly over to the door, picking up the laptop
case and her keys.  Her hand was on the doorknob when she turned
back toward him, her torment showing in her eyes as she looked up at
him.  "You can stay here as long as you need to, Mulder."

He nodded, feeling both helpless and guilty as she turned and walked
out, closing the door behind her.
 
 

From: "beduini" <beduini@justduckies.org>
Date: Sat, 3 Nov 2001 19:04:50 -0800
Subject: Return the Hero
Source: direct
 

XxXxXxXxX Chapter Six
Quantico
 

Having him back was the only thing she'd wanted, the only thing she
could focus on outside of work for the last six months.  Her initial
reaction upon seeing him had been an overwhelming sense of relief.
When she awoke in the chair next to him and they spoke briefly in
the middle of the night she was able to drift lazily back to sleep
and for the first time in months, rest without the distraction of a
dream.

In the morning as she showered and dressed for work her perception
began to take on a different slant.  She crept around the apartment
softly so that she wouldn't wake him, stealing long glances to
reassure herself that he was still there.  She couldn't believe it.
Not because she didn't want to, but because a small part inside of
her heart needed proof that the man in her apartment was absolutely,
without a doubt Fox Mulder.

She had been deceived before, in the not-so-distant past.  She
couldn't explain how another man could look and sound so perfectly
like Mulder, but he did.  All of the strange things she'd seen and
experienced in her time with the X Files taught her to be more open-
minded and accept that there are some things that cannot be
explained.  But it also reinforced her basic need to try harder to
explain and prove the validity of those things to the best of her
ability.

The psychological implications of Mulder's latest experience and how
it had altered the both of them would have to be dealt with.  It
would take her a while to get past some of the emotional hurt she'd
endured in the process.

To try to find a way to allay her concerns she turned to that with
which she was the most familiar, the most effective tool she
had...science.  She needed to prove to herself that the DNA from the
blood sample she drew matched the DNA in Mulder's file, and that
there were no other substances, foreign or otherwise, at play inside
Mulder's body.  If she could prove the identity of the man, then she
could begin to heal the emotional wounds that remained.

The best way for her to deal with the emotional wounds was to
maintain a degree of distance for the time being.  It was something
that she'd grown very adept at over the last eight years.

Even though she was late for her scheduled autopsy she went directly
to the lab instead, starting the polymerase chain reaction first as
it would take the longest.

The autopsy could wait.
 

XxXxXxXxX Skinner Residence
 

Alex Krycek was sitting in the back seat of his brand new sedan,
sans disguise, when Walter Skinner climbed in to go to work.  He
might as well leave the car unlocked for all the good the security
system he had purchased did him.

Skinner let out an irritated sigh.  "I don't know where he is," he
said gruffly as he sat behind the wheel, sparing Krycek only a quick
sidelong glance.  He threw his briefcase in the passenger seat and
gripped the steering wheel with both hands, but he made no attempt
to start the engine.

"Still making up for lost time with his partner, I'd imagine,"
Krycek replied with apathy.  He sat in the middle of the back seat,
both hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

Skinner turned, shooting him a surprised look.  "He's back?"

"Last night.  That's why I'm here."  He leaned forward, his mouth
open in what could almost be described as an amused smile.  "I want
you to do whatever you have to do to make sure he gets his files
back."

Skinner's hands tightened and loosened on the steering wheel.  "It's
not up to me."  He looked up into the rearview mirror - Krycek's
eyes were dark and intense as they stared back at him.

"You're an Assistant Director, you've got input.  Let's just say
it's in your best interest to do whatever it takes to get Mulder
reinstated."

"Or else?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Krycek replied, making eye
contact with him in the mirror once more and holding his gaze before
opening the rear driver side door, slipping out of the car and
walking away.

Skinner sat a moment, his knuckles turning white from gripping the
steering wheel.  He let out a breath and released the wheel,
glancing back over his shoulder but seeing no sign of Krycek.

He had expired at Krycek's hand one time already, only to be revived
at the last possible moment.  Even in the hands of Scully and the
other doctors at St. Katherine's Hospital his death was only delayed
a few hours, and no one, even Scully, could provide the answer to
the question of how to fight the disease that ravaged his
bloodstream.

He was at Krycek's mercy.  He knew the stakes - he was in a position
to provide information but also a casualty who Krycek was prepared
to dispose of if he didn't deliver.  Just another pawn in a game
where it was every man for himself.

And ultimately, so it was with Walter Skinner.
 

XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence
 

After Scully left for work Mulder pulled a few boxes out of the
closet and found some of his clothes without too much digging.  He
hadn't completely caught up on his sleep but he had several things
that he wanted to do, like sweeping Scully's apartment for listening
devices and starting the process for his reinstatement at the
Bureau.  He'd had a shower and a shave and fixed himself a bowl of
cereal followed by a sandwich before returning to the sofa once
again, his body moving him there without his mind's intention.
Lethargy and eventually sleep won out over his best intentions, and
he dozed off again, this time with the television on low for
company.

He'd achieved his first objective, and the Bureau came to him in the
personification of Walter Skinner just before lunchtime.

Skinner looked surprised when he opened the door, even though he'd
spoken with Scully on the telephone and she'd confirmed that he had
returned and was staying with her.  Mulder greeted him as an old
friend who he hadn't seen in a long time and invited him inside.

"Scully had some of my things stored in her closet," he said as a
sort of apology for the unusually messy state of the apartment,
which Skinner found strangely territorial coming from the man who'd
run off without a word six months ago.  "So I was trying to find a
few things."  Mulder was barefoot as he crossed the living room,
picking up the opened boxes and tossing them into the bedroom before
closing the door.

"Can I offer you something?" he babbled as he entered the kitchen,
happy to have a familiar ally to talk with.  "Juice, milk - Scully
doesn't regularly drink soda or beer at home but I think there's
some wine and I know where she's stashed a bottle of good scotch..."

"I'm fine, Mulder," Skinner replied with a wave of his hand.  His
tone was firm enough that Mulder stopped in his tracks in front of
the refrigerator and returned to the living room.  He thought
perhaps he was a little too exuberant for the AD's comfort, but six
months with only two stony-faced men to speak to can do that to a
guy.

"Of course, you are on duty."

It appeared that Skinner had been practicing his own stony
expression while he'd been away.

Skinner looked him over, noticing the changes borne in his
appearance over the last six months before speaking again, his voice
belying his irritation.  "Where the Hell have you been, Mulder?"

Mulder drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  He had expected a
confrontation at some point.  "California, mostly," he replied.

"Do you have any idea what you put people through by not informing
anyone of your intentions or your location?"  Skinner's breath was
coming in short, quick bursts and his eyes flashed angrily as he
spoke.  "You have a responsibility to the Bureau as well as to the
people in your life, Mulder.  Agent Scully and myself included."

Mulder closed his eyes and let out a defeated sigh before moving to
the sofa and taking a seat like a scolded child.  "I know that.
Believe me, I didn't want it to play out the way that it did.  I
didn't have a choice."

Skinner made no move to join him, still standing in the middle of
the room.  When he spoke again the accusatory tone was gone from his
voice, although the authority remained.  "What were you doing in
California?"

"I was gathering evidence on the apparent resurgence of the project
we thought ended with the mass-killing at El Rico Air Force Base."
His tone had become sharp and he paused.  "The men involved in this
project had a live extraterrestrial biological entity with them.  I
don't know what they were doing with it or what purpose it served.
That's what I was trying to find out."

Skinner closed his eyes.  It just kept getting worse and worse.  But
it also explained a lot of things, like why Alex Krycek wanted
Mulder back on the X Files.  "Did you?" he asked, his voice coming
out a little hoarse, "Find out anything?"

Mulder shook his head.  "I saw and heard things but I can't offer
any proof besides my memory.  That's what I need to do now - prove
what I already know to be true."  He stood, facing Skinner.  "I need
access to the X Files."

Skinner nodded slightly, squinting as he studied him behind his
round spectacles.  That was the way it always was with Mulder and
his quest.  What he believed in he believed with all of his heart
but nine times out of ten he couldn't prove a damn thing.  For him,
it was all locked in those goddamned files, including the existence
of God, the keys to the pyramids and the Holy Grail.  If it hadn't
been for his success as a profiler and Agent Scully keeping his ass
relatively focused, he wouldn't have a chance in Hell at getting his
job back.

But for Skinner, the thing about Mulder that made him respect him
above all else was the way he held on to his beliefs in the face of
all of that adversity.  He and Scully got closer than anyone to
actually getting that proof.  And it was Scully's loyalty to Mulder
above anyone else that earned his envy.  Even when she'd been
thoughtlessly left behind.

"You abandoned your partner and your assignment, Mulder," he
reminded him.

"I'm aware of that, Sir.  But I'm still an experienced, skilled
agent with plenty to offer and that should be worth a second chance,
if it's worth anything."

"I'd say you're up to your fifth or sixth chance, but I stopped
counting a while ago."

Mulder grinned, sure of himself.

Skinner let out a short huff.  The former agent was a cocky son of a
bitch but he had a point.  And he had more talent than Skinner had
seen in anyone in all of his years with the Bureau - he would have
pushed for his reinstatement on that alone, regardless of Krycek's
demands.  He nodded again, his shoulders dropping as a small smile
formed on his lips.  Goddamn pain in the ass.

He'd missed him.

He turned and walked toward the door.  Mulder made a move to follow
but he raised a hand, stopping him.  "Don't.  I'll see myself out."
He paused in the doorway, glancing back and sighing.  "Come by
tomorrow and we'll talk about what it will take to get you
reinstated."

Mulder responded with a solemn nod, a gleam lighting up his eyes.
 

XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence
 

When she came home from work they sat down and he told her
everything.

Krycek's visit in the middle of the night, his promise of returning
him within 24 hours, Ulrich, Ellens Air Force Base, seeing the
E.B.E., following the trucks, and then all about the physical
conditioning and the development of his ability.  She sat silently,
listening carefully as he had done with her so often in the past.

The conversation went on into the late hours of the evening.  By the
time he came to the parts where he'd made contact with the E.B.E.;
described what it had said to him; the amazing craft overhead; and
how the men had disappeared in the flash of light, she was able to
add her own experience to his story.

They were sitting on the sofa together, close but not touching, and
she remained silent, letting the full impact of the story sink in.
He watched her face, wanting to touch her, allowing her as much time
as she needed.  It was a lot to swallow in one evening.

After a while she cleared her throat and spoke softly, "So now are
you gonna tell me that Alex Krycek is one of the good guys?"

He thought about her question, drawing a deep breath.  "I don't
condone what he's done in the past, and I don't approve of his
methods.  But I can say with certainty that he's on our side.  We're
all working for the same results."

"Except we don't kill innocent people as we're doing so," she
replied, glancing up into his eyes.

He understood her issues with Krycek.  He shared many of those
issues himself.  "I'm not saying that it was easy for me to be there
with him, knowing the pain he's caused in our lives.  We didn't sit
around and share stories about Boy Scout camp."  She offered a
slight, sardonic smile at his joke and he continued.  "But the fact
remains that he knew about the project and he wants to stop it as
much as we do."

"He used you, Mulder."

"He needed me to help him find a way to stop it."

Her eyes were wide and serious.  "And what happens now?  What's
going to stop others from using you as well?  Especially the people
working on the project..."

"They don't know about it."

"How do you know?  You said they've been watching us for months,
listening to our conversations, spying on our most private
moments...they must know you're here now."

He stood, giving her a look, then walked in to her bathroom and
returned with the small waste can, holding it out toward her.  "I
took care of that this morning."

She leaned forward and looked inside. There were several small
listening devices, all crushed.

She let out a long breath, incensed that they had been there for God
knows how long, and relieved that he'd removed and destroyed them.
"You got them all?" she asked, looking up at him searchingly.

His eyes were dark and his face determined.  "All of them."

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sofa cushions.  He sat
next to her, reaching out to take her hand but deciding not to.  He
wasn't going to push her.  After a moment she opened her eyes and
looked at him.  "This ability you've developed, Mulder..." she
paused, licking the corner of her mouth, "have you..."

He cut her off before she could continue with a shake of his head
and a firm, "No.  No, I haven't and I won't.  Not you."

She looked at him, then dropped her eyes and nodded slightly.  Then
she stood slowly, letting her muscles stretch after sitting for so
long.  "I'm going to turn in," she said without looking at him
again, her tone indicating that she meant alone.

He smiled to cover his disappointment.  "I'm going to hang here and
watch 'The Sopranos', catch up on what I've missed.  I hear Pussy
got whacked."

She stepped around his feet and walked toward the bedroom, pausing
at the doorway to turn and look at him.  Her expression was
unreadable.  "Goodnight, Mulder."

He looked up, in his eyes a mixture of disappointment and
understanding.  "Goodnight, Scully."

He clicked on the television and waited until he heard the bedroom
door close before letting out a sigh of frustration.  He understood
that she was trying to deal with the situation in her own way but he
didn't like it.  He hadn't expect her to throw herself into his arms
at first sight of him...well, truthfully, he had.  He wanted to pull
her into his arms and bury his face in her neck since the moment he
saw her curled up in that chair.

But it was different, being the one who left as opposed to the one
left behind.

While he was on his own pursuits Scully had to deal with the
uncertainty of not knowing where he'd gone or why he'd left, if he
was safe or even alive and if she'd had anything to do with it.
They had been through separations before, but when you're just good
friends there are certain things that you don't consider.  But when
you're good friends AND lovers there are other implications and the
scenario takes on a different slant.  Feelings are involved, taking
on more importance, commitments implied whether they were spoken or
not.

Although they had been silently in love with each other for a long
time, by the time he'd left everything was out in the open and there
was no room for doubt in either mind how they felt.  They both
understood that what brought them together was more than chance or a
random series of events.  They belonged together.  He didn't see how
she could doubt his feelings for her now...unless her own had
changed.

That was a situation he didn't want to consider.  He wasn't getting
that vibe from her, though.  No, it was more like before - before
they'd become lovers, before she'd accepted her life's path and his
place in it and let him inside.  He was still as much a part of her
as she was him.  She just wasn't ready to make it all-encompassing
once again.

So like before, he would wait for her.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

She couldn't sleep.  She couldn't hear the television in the other
room, but the soft bluish light beneath her bedroom door flickered
every so often.  That wasn't the problem though.

She couldn't stop thinking.  About German priests and scripture
reciting aliens and Alex Krycek and Mulder reading people's thoughts
like the Stupendous Yappi.  About the results of the PCR test that
she was waiting on, hoping that it would silence her fears about the
man in the next room.

It was truly a fantastic story, and definitely worthy of Mulder...if
they could prove any of it.  Several of the things that he'd told
her didn't make sense.  Like claiming that Krycek could be trusted -
that wasn't something she would have expected from Mulder after all
that they had suffered at that man's hands.  She wasn't certain that
she would be able to accept help from Krycek even if it were true.
And what of the alleged mind reading ability?  That would have to be
tested and proven in a controlled environment.

God, if it were true...

Physically he appeared to be relatively healthy and unharmed but his
appearance had changed since she'd seen him last.  Her mouth had
fallen open when he stood up from the sofa that morning and she'd
seen for the first time how he had filled out - his chest and
shoulders were as broad as Skinner's now.  He was still lean, but
much more muscular than before.

Looking into his eyes, listening to his voice as he told her all
about his adventure, she could believe.  He thought like Mulder,
used the same speech patterns as Mulder, expressed himself like
Mulder.  And he looked at her the way Mulder did.  He made her feel
the way Mulder did.

But her feelings, or more importantly, her heart, was the thing that
she had to protect.  She'd like nothing more than to ask him into
her bed and subsequently into her heart the way she had done one
spiritually enlightened night months ago - it seemed like forever
ago now.  Their romantic involvement had been brief but it was more
satisfying than any other relationship she had ever been involved
in.  Before she could open herself up like that again she had to be
certain.

Absolutely certain.

The light that had been flickering underneath the doorway stopped
flickering and she wondered if he was still awake, or if he was even
there.  Her brow furrowed and she threw the comforter aside,
climbing out of bed and crossing over to the door barefoot.  She
paused, listening, and tentatively opened the door.

She would just take one more look, just to make sure he was still
there.

He was sitting in the middle of the sofa watching some dark, spooky
looking movie, still dressed in the button down shirt and jeans he'd
been wearing earlier.  He sensed her presence and turned his head,
only to catch her standing in the shadows.  "Is everything okay?" he
asked, standing and turning to face her.

The scene on television changed, casting more light into the room
and concern etching into his face off of the look on hers.  He had
seen that look a few times and it always made him uneasy.

She looked up at him, still wearing the same unreadable expression.
Her brow was still furrowed with concentration and she crossed the
room in several swift steps, stopping just in front of him, her eyes
focused intently on his chest.  Reaching up, she deftly unbuttoned
his shirt with singular purpose.

His lips parted in surprise but he stood silently still, regulating
his breathing, his arms remaining at his sides, uncertain about what
she was doing or what she wanted from him.  He wanted to touch her.
She was so close that he could smell the fragrance of her hair.
God, he'd missed her so fiercely in the six months he'd been away
that he'd found himself looking for and recreating specific
reminders just to get him through, such as the fragrance of her hair
or the distinct sound of her gait as her heels hit the hard floor.
That morning, even, he'd stood in her shower with his nose buried in
the shampoo bottle and his hand wrapped around his cock until the
water started to turn cold.

She pushed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, placing
her fingers on his chest as his shirt floated to the floor.  Her
hands were warm and she stared at his exposed torso, her eyes
intense.  The room was dim, but the television gave off enough for
her to be able to see him.

He was bigger than he used to be, if this was really Mulder.

Harder, the muscle mass more dense.  That would be from all of the
physical training he'd described.  His hands were clenching and
unclenching in loose fists as her fingers came up to his left
shoulder and touched the small scar, prodding it, feeling it.  She
knew this - yes, it looked the same.

She circled around him slowly, her occasional glancing touch turning
his skin to gooseflesh and causing his heart to pound in his chest,
the blood rushing south.

She reached up and felt the smooth skin behind his neck, running her
fingers up into his hair and finding no evidence of scarring, then
proceeding with her examination of the rest of his back.  When she
came full circle to stand in front of him once more she ran the back
of her fingers down his chest, over his Pectoralis Major and down
his Rectus Abdominis.  'Six pack' the trainer at the gym called it -
the muscles flexing inward involuntarily from her touch as he gasped
softly.

"What are you trying to do, kill me?" he whispered hoarsely.

She didn't respond to his reaction.  His breathing grew shallow as
she placed her palms flat over his chest, pressing against him
lightly, feeling the resistance of flesh and muscle and his
resounding heartbeat.  He forced himself to breathe regularly.  It
was a doctor's touch - he didn't think her actions were intended to
arouse, although she was arousing him just the same.

"Is it really you, Mulder?" she asked, more as a rhetorical question
than a question requiring a response.  She leaned her cheek against
his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat.  Then she turned her
head so that his forehead rest just over his heart and drew in a
deep breath - yes, despite the use of her shampoo in the shower that
morning he smelled like Mulder, too.

He raised his hands and let them rest gently on her silk clad
shoulders, allowing her the freedom to pull away if his touch was
unwanted.  She responded by lifting her head, her eyes wide and
searching as they met his dark, aroused eyes.

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  "Who do
you think I am if I'm not me, Scully?" he asked, his voice rough but
holding a hint of surprise.  He knew she wouldn't answer the
question, just as he had a pretty good idea what she was doing and
why.

Her breath caught as his hands came up to cradle her face.  She
clutched his upper arms loosely in her hands, holding herself steady
as she looked into his eyes.

Nobody else ever looked at her like that except Mulder.

"Scully," he said softly, affectionately, almost an admonishment,
rubbing his thumbs against her cheeks while his eyes confirmed
without question that the man inside and out was Fox Mulder.  He
wiped the moisture away from the outer corners of her eyes and bent
down to place a tender, soft kiss against her forehead, pulling back
to look at her once again.  "What will it take to convince you?"

Her breathing was as shallow as his when she looked up at him.  The
need and the desire to reconnect with him became too powerful and
slowly her lips parted as he leaned down to press his against hers.

His lips were soft and his mouth was warm.  She had adored kissing
Mulder - just after they'd become romantically involved they had
spent whole evenings doing what she remembered as nothing more than
kissing and dozing before drifting off to sleep.  Their kiss now was
similar to those kisses she'd shared with Mulder in the past; sweet
and tentative, passionate but not to the point of distraction.

He drew a deep breath without taking his lips away from hers and
deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, responding the only way his
body would allow after being apart from her for so long.  He was
ready; he wanted to make love to her.  Maybe if he showed her how he
felt about her, she would be convinced.

But she broke the kiss and stepped back, the niggling doubt keeping
her from allowing it to go any further.  She had to use her head.
After all of the emotional trauma that she'd been through the last
six months she had to be positive that it was all behind them.

"What will it take to convince you?" he repeated again softly.  His
eyes showed his hurt, but he made no move to pull her back into an
embrace.

She struggled to catch her breath as she watched him, still looking
for something that would give him away as a fraud but only seeing
the man that she remembered.  She was dealing with a lot of
conflicting emotions that would have to be worked out.  "Time," she
replied after a pause.  "We've both been through a difficult time to
say the least.  We need to put it behind us and figure out how to go
forward.  I need to be certain..."

She looked away, leaving the rest of her sentence unspoken and he
nodded his acceptance.  He knew she needed to feel secure about him
without worrying that he was going to run off and leave her the same
way again.  It hurt to have her trust in him stretched so thin, but
he knew that he deserved it - she had been as patient as a saint
already.  He remembered how he'd felt when she'd gone off with the
smoker without telling him and that had only been a few days.  As
much as he wanted things to be the way they had been before, he owed
it to her to give her a little of the same.

"If that's what it's gonna take, then take all the time you need.
Time is the one thing that I have in abundance to give right now."

She looked up at him again and gave him a slight, almost
imperceptible smile before stepping back, the shadows masking her
expression once again.  Then she turned and went back into the
bedroom, closing the door behind her.

At least she didn't lock it, he thought to himself.  He wouldn't
venture in unless invited, but at least she trusted him enough to
realize that.  It wasn't much, but it was something.
 

XxXxXxXxX Chapter Seven
 

The blood typing, toxicology and PCR reports all confirmed that the
man staying in her home was Fox Mulder.  Other than a slightly lower
than usual but very healthy cholesterol count, there was nothing
unusual about him.

The results were in around mid-morning, leaving her with a little
time on her hands before she was due in Skinner's office at one to
discuss Mulder's reinstatement.  Mulder had taken the bus from her
apartment to the Hoover Building early that morning and Skinner's
assistant had called her just after ten a.m. to set up the meeting.

She saw that as a good sign.

She was relieved by the positive outcome of the tests.  The science
can't be refuted.  But that did little to relieve her conflicting
emotions about wanting to resume the relationship as it had been
just before Mulder left and wanting to protect herself from another
hurt as big as the once she'd just endured.  Which was why she was
now sitting in the chapel of St. Cyril, just outside of Washington,
D.C.

She'd passed by the small church nearly every day since she'd been
reassigned to Quantico, and the quaint, New England style
architecture always drew her attention.  It was unusual to see such
a structure in this area - it seemed more appropriate for a small
town.  That morning, for some unknown reason, she'd been inclined to
stop on her way back into the city.

She needed to think and this seemed like the perfect place to do it.

There was nothing remarkable about the church.  It was Ecumenical,
small, the pews and altar constructed of a nice, dark mahogany and
the tile floor clean and shiny.  There were two large mixed bouquets
of beautiful fresh flowers on either side of the altar, presumably
from a recent wedding over the weekend, and the pleasant, sweet
floral aroma permeated the air.

There was a service in progress, the pastor just standing up for the
gospel as she took a seat in an empty pew near the back.  The church
was small and relatively unpopulated - not surprising for a weekday
service.  The only other person in her immediate vicinity was a man
in black two rows ahead.

She felt strangely at peace there, like she belonged.

The pastor began his sermon and Scully bowed her head, partly
listening and partly thinking about her own situation.  She trusted
Mulder with her life and she loved him like no other person in her
life.  He was everything.  But that was the problem - no one can be
everything to someone, there had to be a balance.  The only balance
that she could see in the equation was that she appeared to be
everything to Mulder as well.

By her estimation, that made the both of them equally screwed.

A word the pastor spoke caught her attention and she raised her
head, listening.

"...and what of destiny?  Perhaps you feel that you were destined to
meet significant people in your lifetime, but what are the qualities
of those relationships now?  It is no longer up to destiny to
determine how we have chosen to think, feel and act toward those
people in our lives, and that includes ourselves.  We all get caught
up in the day to day hustle and bustle...I know I do.  We become
preoccupied with the mechanics of life, with fear, doubt,
worry...and we forget about the mechanics of the heart, to share the
best of ourselves with those we love.

"It is our choice, our WILL, to love every single day.  Life engages
us every day with opportunities to express the love of the Creator.
Most of these situations involve other people, whether they are
family, friends, acquaintances, co-workers, or people that we
encounter briefly in everyday life.  Love can come without the least
effort, but it is also the thing worthy of the most effort we can
give it."

Scully realized she had been holding her breath and she let it out
slowly, blinking back sudden tears filling her eyes.  She felt as if
the pastor was speaking to her, that he knew what was in her heart
at that very moment.  That he had seen the conflict inside of her
and was addressing her personally, touching her deepest emotions.

He continued to speak about love and the Creator's desire that we
love one another with a pure heart, but she could only stare at him
with unseeing eyes, thinking of the words that she had just heard.
'It is our choice to make the most out of the love we've been
given...the thing worthy of the most effort we can give it.'

She was still considering the words as the pastor prepared the
sacrament of communion.

No one would fault her for wanting to step away and allow time and
distance to heal her heart.  It would be the safest, most logical
thing to do.  But if Mulder were to leave again, if something were
to take him away from her, would it hurt any less then?  Would she
accept vindication in her decision to remain sheltered...or would
she forever regret not spending the time that she had with him to
the fullest?

An elderly woman was singing in a shaky voice, "See that you love
one another, with a pure heart, fervently," and Scully stood,
walking up the short center aisle to accept the host.  On her way
back to her seat the man in black caught her eye - literally.  He
was wearing a priest's vestments, and something about him seemed
vaguely familiar, although she couldn't put a name with his face.
He held her gaze a few moments, until she looked away.

Following the service she remained in her seat until all but she and
the priest in black had exited the chapel.  They both stood at the
same time, and she gave him a polite smile as they exited into the
late morning sunshine, she one step ahead of him.

The pastor of the church was standing to the left, speaking with two
elderly women who had been in attendance.  Scully could feel the
priest's eyes on her as she walked down the front steps and she
turned to look at him once more, a look of confusion on her face.

"I'm sorry, Father...but have we met before?"

The way he looked into her eyes was familiar, but he shook his head.
"No, we have not."

She nodded, and turned to leave when he spoke again, "I sense you
are experiencing some doubt...?"

There was a slight accent in his voice and she shook her head
slightly, a look of confusion on her face as she smiled
apologetically.  "No, not if you say we haven't met.  Perhaps you
remind me of someone else."

He just looked at her, his gaze becoming uncomfortable for her and
she looked down.

"What did you think of the gospel?" he asked after a long moment.

She drew in a deep breath.  "It was very..." she let out a huff,
touching her tongue to the corner of her mouth.  "Timely," she
replied.

"It had meaning for you, then?"

She looked past him at the board by the entrance to the chapel.  The
title for the day's sermon was listed as 'Get Thee Behind Me,
Satan.'  Strange that the title didn't fit the sermon.  The day and
date were correct.  She looked back at the priest and nodded.  "Yes.
I have some issues to sort out.  Personal issues."

He nodded.  "Are there others involved?"

She paused.  "Yes.  One other person in particular."

"God has given us free will to make choices for ourselves.  He wants
us to learn how to use our freedom and exercise our independent
nature, but in a way that benefits ourselves and others."

She looked at him, thinking.  She knew what choice she needed to
make, just as she realized that it had been her own choice to
squirrel herself away from the rest of the world while she was
looking for Mulder.  She could have stayed in the basement office
investigating X Files in his absence, but the Bureau's decision that
she search for him on her own time and at her own expense made it
fruitless to stay there.  Bearing the expense of the search only
made her job security that much more important.

She had thought that the emotional reminder of being in the basement
amongst Mulder's files and effects would be too much for her to deal
with on a daily basis.  But in hindsight, it might have helped her
deal with her pain if she'd chosen to go on investigating X Files as
she continued to look for him.  For she knew deep in her heart that
she wasn't an incomplete person for the absence of Mulder, but
rather, she was a complete person for everything that she and Mulder
had shared in their years together.

She could have handled the X Files on her own, and done an excellent
job at that.  But she wouldn't have been as effective as she would
having Mulder there with her.  It was his energy and his passion
that drove them forward, just as it was her attention to detail and
insistence on gathering all of the facts before drawing conclusions
that kept them focused.  She allowed him to be all that he could be,
just as he allowed that in her.  Alone, she would have walked the
middle ground.

All in all, it wasn't as if she had not been aware of what she was
doing when she'd transferred back to Quantico, but it seemed like
the simplest thing to do at the time.

It seemed likely that Mulder would get his job back now, and would
certainly want her back on the X Files with him.  Without her, it
would be the middle ground for him as well.

Of course, she would go in a heartbeat.

Which only left her with her personal feelings for the man to
decipher.  Should she protect her heart and continue doing what
she'd been doing for the past six months, and for nearly eight years
before that - following the safest emotional path...

or choose that which would require the most effort...that which
would offer the most reward but was also the most uncertain path?

Opening herself up to Mulder the first time had been the biggest
risk she had ever taken.  Doing it again would be the second.

The priest was still watching her, almost as if he were listening to
her thoughts.  "Thank you, Father."  She smiled gratefully, finally
feeling some sense of resolution as her choice became clearer.

He nodded, a strange look in his eye as he held her gaze a moment
longer, then turned and walked down the steps, heading off alone
down the sidewalk.

It occurred to her then how strange it was that a priest would be in
attendance at a weekday service in a small, seemingly ordinary
Ecumenical church.

But then again, she rationalized, perhaps his presence was no more
unusual than her own.
 

XxXxXxXxX F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
 

Mulder wouldn't need to go through the Office of Professional
Conduct to be reinstated.  Once he told Skinner the complete story
of his disappearance, the fact that Alex Krycek was involved and had
drawn a gun on him was enough to turn Mulder's official status from
abandonment of his assignment to abduction at the hands of a
suspected felon.  Like Scully years ago, he would be reinstated to
active duty with full benefits with nothing more than a creatively
worded recommendation by the Assistant Director, a clean bill of
health from his doctor and the ever-present, required paperwork.

Skinner had already spoken on the telephone with Scully's immediate
supervisor at Quantico about her transfer back to the X Files.  As
long as she was made available for consultation and could handle an
autopsy or two until they replaced the headcount there wouldn't be
any problem signing her back into the charge of Assistant Director
Skinner immediately.

Silently she sat across from the A.D. without masking her surprise
at the expedient turn of events.  She would be irritated at their
assumption that she wanted to return to the X Files, if it hadn't
been true.  Equally surprising was the fact that Mulder wasn't even
in the room with them.  Noting his absence, she expected to hear
that he'd been sent down to Karen Kossoff for psychological
evaluation, or perhaps he was at the range brushing up on his target
practice for the mandatory firearm re-certification.

When Skinner told her that he was down in the basement waiting for
her she couldn't hide the smile that took over her entire face.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

Mulder sat balanced precariously on the rear two wheels of his desk
chair, his legs up on the desk and his arms tucked behind his head,
surveying his kingdom.  Scully hadn't exaggerated - everything was
exactly as he had left it, pencils stuck to the ceiling tiles and
all.

Perhaps she would explain to him the law of physics and how it
applied to that little anomaly.

When he heard through the open doorway the familiar, quick-paced
click of her heels on the linoleum as she walked down the hall he
closed his eyes, a beatific smile taking over his face.

He was home.

She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight.  Mulder was dressed
in the familiar charcoal suit, blue shirt and striped tie, feet up
on the desk, a shit-eating grin on his face.  She wanted to weep
from the beauty of it.  She couldn't help herself - she burst out
laughing.

Her silly, giggly, infectious laugh filled him with joy and he
wanted to run over, grab her and swing her around the room and yell,
'We're home!'  He settled for a sarcastic grin and the slightly used
phrase from long ago, "Nobody here but the F.B.I.'s most unwanted."

"I wouldn't say 'unwanted'," she replied, walking toward him.  "They
kept your office intact for six months.  Paperwork and perfunctory
medical examinations aside, you were re-instated in less than a
day."  She stopped directly in front of his desk, crossing her arms
in front of her in the pose he was all-too familiar with.  "I'd say
you are definitely wanted by the F.B.I., Mulder."

"Amazing, isn't it?" he asked wide-eyed, without a trace of sarcasm
in his voice.

"Amazing should have been your middle name."

He grinned, his eyes sparking at the comment.  He wasn't going to
touch that one under the circumstances.  "Oooo," he replied instead,
pursing his lips and letting out a soft "ah" with a slight grin
before sitting up and pulling a file off of the top of the stack
behind the desk.

He remembered this game well.

When he spoke again his voice took on the familiar tone of the
lecturer.  "I found the files on El Rico, Cassandra Spender and
Gibson Praise, in addition to the notes we'd compiled following the
bombing of the Federal Building in Dallas and our little side trip
to Antarctica."  He glanced up at her, "Plus, anything that had any
remote reference to an E.B.E., including the "Alien Abduction"
video, Dr. Zama and the secret railroad."

To the best of her memory, there were strong similarities between
the retrofitted tanker trucks in Trona, Mulder's recent experience
and all of the cases he mentioned.  She met his eyes, then peered
over his desk.  On the floor next to him was a stack of files, at
least three feet high.

He stood, shaking down his pants legs.  "How about we take these
home, stop by and pick up one of those deluxe, deep-dish, Chicago-
style pizzas from Uno's that I've been dreaming about for the last
six months, and see if something jumps out at us based on the new
information we've acquired?"

She drew in a breath and held it, then let it out again.  That was
the Mulder she knew and loved, out of the frying pan and right back
into the fire.  He was probably expecting her to respond with a
logical reason why they should wait a few days before jumping in
with both feet, but the truth was, she wanted back in as much as he
did, if not more.

Still, she had to point out the obvious.  "You're not officially
back on the payroll until you pass your examinations."

"So I've got plenty of time to kill," he replied with a grin.

Six months of nothing but dead people, she reminded herself.  She
was beginning to feel like that kid in "The Sixth Sense," only the
dead people she saw were inanimate.  She was more than ready for a
little excitement, even if it involved a stack of files almost as
tall as she.

"Then why wait?" she replied, a self-satisfied smile playing at her
lips off of his surprised look.  "Let's get started."
 

XxXxXxXxX Scully Residence
 

Scully pulled off her reading glasses and placed them in front of
her on the coffee table, squeezing the bridge of her nose between
her thumb and forefinger.  "What I can't figure out is what kind of
tests were being performed on the entity you saw, and why you saw no
one else come and go besides the person who delivered the supplies."

They had been at it for hours, the pizza and leftovers long since
consumed, along with several pots of coffee.  Mulder was on his
feet, pacing off his unaccustomed caffeine buzz while they debated
the points that had been raised from reexamining the files.

"I don't know, maybe there were others and we never saw them.  Maybe
they kept them inside the trucks along with It."  He had been
throwing out ideas all evening, his mind seemingly working overtime
to keep up with the caffeine racing through his system.

"I saw those trucks, Mulder.  Maybe they would have been able to
keep one other person inside and even that would be at great
discomfort, unless that person..." she didn't finish her statement.

Mulder was poking around the mantle, touching the photographs and
picking up the knick-knacks.  "What?" he asked, then stopped,
turning to look at her, "Unless that person was unconscious?"

She looked down and nodded.  "We could only hope.  Consider the
alternative."

"If there was such a person," he added, his inflection stressing the
word 'if', "And we have no evidence to suggest that."
 
She stood up stiffly from where she had been sitting Indian-style on
the floor, slowly letting the vertebrae in her spine straighten, one
by one.  "Other than what you saw and a couple of abandoned trucks
that are probably long gone, we have no evidence whatsoever."

Mulder watched her, and from the late hour, the tired look on her
face and the tone of finality in her voice, he knew that she was
about to say goodnight.  With a silent sigh, he walked over to the
closet and pulled out a set of sheets and what she recognized as the
old comforter from his own bed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stopping in mid-stretch and
dropping her arms to her sides.

"Just getting my bed ready," he replied.

"You're going to bed now?"  She said it like she was disappointed,
with a little irritation thrown in for color.

"I don't have to.  I thought..." one look at her face and he put the
bedding back in the closet, closing the door, then turning to face
her.

She sat down on the sofa.  "About those scriptures, Mulder...can you
remember specifically which ones you heard?"

He blew out a breath of air, his cheeks puffing out in the process
as he thought a moment.  "I am the light of the world."

She nodded.  "What else?"

"Everlasting life.  Uh, Book of Revelation...the dead rising to the
Lord.  Salvation."

She stared at him wide-eyed, her mind obviously working as she did
so.  "Can you be more specific?  A specific verse, or, or...the
correlating chapter and verse number...?"

He closed his eyes, concentrating.  "'I will give you a new heart
and put a new spirit in you; I will remove you from your heart of
stone and give you a heart of flesh.  And I will put my Spirit in
you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my
laws.'"  He opened his eyes.  "It said that just before I heard your
voice."

Scully stared past him, mumbling, "...with a pure heart, fervently."

"What was that?" he asked, catching only the last part of the
sentence.

"Something I heard today."  She looked up at him.  "I stopped by a
church today, just before I met with Skinner.  I'd seen it, but I'd
never been there before.  There was a priest there, Mulder, sitting
in the back during the service.  He spoke to me afterward."

"What did he say?"

"He looked at me like he knew me, although I asked if we'd met
before and he said with certainty that we hadn't.  And then he said
something about free will and God's desire for us to make choices
that benefit others."

He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully.  "What do you think he
meant by that?"

She looked up at him and he realized that she was about to tell him
something very significant.

"What?  Scully, what is it?"

She hadn't expected to get into this tonight, but it looked like it
was inevitable.  "While I was speaking to him I realized something,
Mulder."  She paused.  "I realized that I have to look past my fear
and choose to live my life in the way that will be the most
beneficial to others, but especially to myself."

He shook his head, replying vehemently, "You do that, Scully.  Every
day.  You're the most fearless person I know."

"You don't know, Mulder.  You haven't seen me the last six months."
She looked directly into him, the intensity of her gaze making him
nervous.

He swallowed and shifted from foot to foot, still trying to deal
with the caffeine in addition to his nerves.  "Well, maybe you
should think about this a while before you make a sudden decision
that could effect the rest of your life."

She stood and walked over to him, the look in her eyes tender,
almost apologetic, like she was about to give him some very
important news.  She placed a hand on his cheek and he felt a
sudden, irrational fear well up inside of his belly.

Oh God, she was going to dump him.

"I was lost," she said softly, absently brushing her thumb softly
against his cheek.

He closed his eyes to the sensation, bracing himself for the
big kiss-off, but she remained silent.  He opened his eyes to see
her watching his face intently.  Notably, his mouth.

"But...?" he interjected, waiting for her judgement.  As she started
to rise up on the balls of her feet, leaning toward him, he
understood that she wanted to kiss him and held still, closing his
eyes again, scared shitless that this was it.

It was a sweet kiss, but it didn't feel like goodbye.  It felt more
like...hello.  Maybe even I missed you.  He opened his eyes once
more as their lips parted and she was very close, her eyes searching
his.  He couldn't stop himself from leaning in and capturing her
lips between his once more.

"I missed you so much," she whispered against his mouth, returning
to the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  She opened her
mouth, and when her tongue encountered his she whimpered, the
feeling of liquidity flowing through her body clear down to her toes
and centering somewhere in the middle.  Mulder...yes, this...THIS is
Mulder.

If this was how it was going to be saying goodnight every night at
her apartment, he wondered how long it would take her to drive him
over the edge of insanity.  When they pulled apart for air, he
voiced that thought, resting his hands on her shoulders.  "Are you
deliberately trying to drive me crazy?"

She kissed him again, her hands sliding up underneath his T-shirt
and stroking the skin on his back.  He groaned, his grip on her
shoulders tightening as he gently pulled back.  "Last night you said
you needed some time to think.  I'm not reading your mind, Scully, I
promised I wouldn't, although it sure as hell would give me some
clue about what you're thinking.  I need you to tell me what this
means."

She looked at him a moment, drawing a deep breath.  "It means that
I've realized that you and I can function separately, but we both
work better together."

He let out a long breath of relief and nodded, a slight smile on his
lips.  Letting go of her shoulders, he reached up a hand to caress
her cheek with the backs of his fingers.  "That's hardly news,
Scully.  We've been partners longer than Ruth Bader Ginsburg has
been in the Supreme Court."

She smiled, knowing he understood what she meant but he wanted her
to spell it out for him, anyway.  "I wasn't talking only about work,
Mulder."

He looked into her eyes with a look of pure joy mixed with a healthy
amount of desire.

"So..."  His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom and he
pulled her lower body up against his gently, letting her feel his
arousal without grinding against her.  "You're certain."

Her head fell back as she felt him pressing against her and she
replied breathlessly, "I'm certain."  With that, he began placing
kisses down her neck, bending her back as he molded his body to
hers.

She couldn't help but touch him, his shoulders, arms, back - feeling
his solid flesh in her hands.  She needed to convey her emotions to
him, how much she'd missed him.  How much she wanted him.  How much
she loved him, would always love him in spite of everything,
including her own fears.

Mulder needed the contact, had craved it for months while they were
apart.

She fanned her fingers out and pressed against the skin of his back
again, her fingertips slightly kneading the flesh.  God, he was
so...big.  Hard.  Everywhere.  The more she became aware of it, the
more she was actually becoming seriously aroused by it.  When his
hot mouth left her neck, she took the opportunity to capture it with
hers again, the kiss growing deeper and more intense the longer it
continued.

He pulled back with reluctance and looked at her, asking silently
for her consent.  She took a step away from him, understanding that
it was her offer to make and he wanted there to be no room for
misunderstanding.

Looking down, she took his hand in hers, weaving their fingers
together and turning them over.  They were so different - his hand
big and dark and hers smaller and pale - yet they still fit
together.  Not uniform, but complementary.  Different but perfectly
balanced.  She looked up into his face and he looked up from their
joined hands, meeting her gaze.  With a warm smile she led him
slowly and deliberately into the back, through the short hallway to
the bedroom.

They undressed each other slowly, their eyes meeting frequently and
pausing from time to time for a warm smile or a reverent caress.
When they slid between the sheets he leaned over her and kissed her
slowly, setting the tempo for the rest of the evening.

Their lovemaking was passionate like new lovers, with the joy of old
friends reuniting after a long time apart.  The flutter of an
eyelid, a soft smile, the drawing and releasing of breath in a gasp
or a sigh - all things were a meaningful part of the coupling.  It
was familiar and natural, like the way unpracticed fingers lined up
on a keyboard, automatically knowing, despite years without use,
which keys to strike.

And as they lay together in sated lassitude afterward, kissing and
dozing the way she so fondly remembered, they both had the
confirmation they sought.  That after years of fighting fate, this
was the way it was meant to be with them.

Together they were one perfectly complete entity.
 

XxXxXxXxX
 

The soft snick of the front door closing woke her and she blinked
the sleep out of her eyes.  Sunlight was streaming in through the
edges of the blinds and she was temporarily confused, having slept
like the dead the entire night.  It was a luxurious feeling but she
sat up quickly, realizing that Mulder wasn't with her in the bed.

"Mulder?"  She said, already throwing back the comforter as the
unbidden thought occurred to her that he might be gone.

No.  Oh no.

She rushed out into the living room, her eyes wide and her lungs
feeling like they would explode.  Then she encountered Mulder,
soaking in the sunlight coming in through the opened blinds of the
front window.  His tanned skin glowed golden, his hair outlined with
a white halo as he perused the newspaper, wearing a pair of faded
old button-fly jeans partially buttoned, and his old reading
glasses.

He looked up when she entered the room, his lips curving up in
surprise as his eyes traveled over her.  In a very un-Scully like
impulse she had neglected to put on any clothing and now he had an
unadulterated vision of his partner in full daylight; translucent
skin with a smattering of tiny freckles where it came in contact
with the sun, copper red hair messed and makeup washed away.

Holy shit, what a sight.  He had been too long in the company of
nothing but men not to be affected by it.  Some things in life
happen without warning and he could only stare at her as all of his
blood ran south once again.  "Hey Scully," he said, swallowing,
trying to keep his voice from cracking.

She stared at him, drawing in deep breaths, blinking her eyes at the
image before her like a child staring at Santa Claus.  He had opened
a few more boxes and they surrounded him, some of the contents laid
out on the coffee table for closer examination.

"I heard the door," she said hoarsely.

Not all of the oxygen had left his brain and he realized that she
must have assumed that he'd left rather than just stepped out to
pick up the paper.  He might be angry over her assumption that he'd
sneak out on her, especially when she'd just let him back in and
they had spent the better part of the evening and early morning
wrapped around each other in the most intimate of ways.  But the
expression she now wore was a testament to how deeply she'd been
hurt over his unexplained absence.  He frowned instead, silently
berating himself.  She had been able to forgive him but there was
still a lot of emotional healing that had to take place.

He thought he knew something that might help in that regard, at
least as far as letting her know where HIS intentions lay.  It was a
bit of a risk, but a risk he'd spent a lot of time thinking about
and had wanted to take for a long time.  He approached her, dropping
the paper on the coffee table and keeping his eyes on her face while
he took her hand in his.  "Come over here, Scully, I want to show
you something."  He paused, looking her over a moment before looking
into her eyes again.  "Uh...are you comfortable like that?"

She realized he was referring to her state of undress and smiled
self-consciously, looking around the living room and spotting one of
his black T-shirts lying on the top of a newly opened box nearby.

He spotted the shirt at the same time and reached past her with one
arm to grab it. "Not that I mind, of course," he added quickly with
a cocky grin as he handed the shirt to her.  She threw him an
admonishing look and he released her hand long enough for her to
slide the shirt over her head, the hem falling mid-thigh.  Then she
raised her eyebrows at him in question and he led her over to the
sofa.

She sat, indifferent to anything around them except what he had to
say.  He sat next to her, her hand still in his, and he gave it a
gentle squeeze.  "First..." he smiled softly, leaning in and kissing
her lips tenderly, "Good morning."

She looked into his eyes, the previous look of panic in hers
replaced by a warm glow and a slight smile on her lips.  "Good
morning.  You're up early."

"Not so early," he replied, tucking the ever-stubborn strand of hair
behind her ear as he'd done so often in the past.  "I woke up around
six-thirty.  I watched you sleep a while, then decided I'd go out
and get the paper before I woke you."

The look in her eyes grew serious.  "Did you find something in this
morning's paper?" she asked.

"No..." he reached over and picked up a small, battered tin box off
of the coffee table, turning it over and over in his hands.  "I've
only read the basketball scores so far."

He grinned, and she grinned back at his predictability, then his
expression turned somber once again.

"I found this in one of the boxes that you'd packed and stored for
me."  He took a breath, letting it out slowly before continuing.
"It's something that I've wanted to give you since I came across it
cleaning out my mother's house just after she passed away.  We got
wrapped up in another case...I let too many things get in the
way...I don't know why I held on to it for as long as I did.  But it
belongs to you - I guess in a way it always has."  He held it out to
her, looking into her eyes.  "I want you to have it now."

She swallowed, looking down from his grave face to the box in his
hand.  "What is it?"  For all she knew, it could be another
microchip.

Placing the box in her palm, he closed her fingers around it and
looked into her eyes earnestly.  "Open it."

She studied him a moment, trying to read the masked expression in
his eyes, then slid the top off of the box, finding a small piece of
chamois inside.  Unfolding the chamois carefully, she revealed a
petite antique gold ring, the setting a square cut half-carat
emerald flanked by two smaller marquis cut quarter-carat diamonds.
She let out a small breath, her expressive eyebrows rising briefly
as she examined the ring by holding it up in the light.  The
craftsmanship was exquisite - it must have been the epitome of
luxury in its time.  She thought it was even more exquisite with age
- she'd seen nothing like it adorning the catalog pages and store
windows.

"It's beautiful," she said at last, her voice catching.

"It's very old.  It was my great-grandmother's," he said softly,
then swallowed back the lump in his throat.

Her breath hitched and she looked up at him, her eyes clearly the
most beautiful shade of aquamarine he'd even seen.  His mouth felt
like cotton as he captured the ring from her fingers and took her
left hand in his, sliding the ring onto her ring finger while she
watched silently.

"We'll have to have it sized," he commented with a nervous grin, the
ring passing over her knuckle with room to spare.

It wasn't that big, really - just a little loose.  She deduced that
Mulder's great-grandmother must have been where he got his height.
She smiled, holding it in place with the fingers of her other hand
while she hunched over to look at it more closely.

"You're the only family I've got left now, Scully," he said
solemnly.

She didn't look up but from his perspective she looked like she was
about to cry, her expression a mixture of wonderment and
overwhelming awe.

"You don't have to say anything right now.  I know you're going to
want time to think, unless the answer is no...you can go ahead and
tell me now if it is...just...say it...get it out there."  He
gestured with his arm to make his point, and swallowed again,
pausing.  "The ring belongs to you, whatever finger you want to wear
it on."

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  She had not been
expecting this.  "It's beautiful," she said softly and he smiled,
watching her face and feeling a swell of hope tighten his chest as
he realized that she wasn't saying no and she wasn't moving the ring
to another finger.

"It's perfect for you," he replied, and when she looked up at him,
his face so full of unadulterated love that it made her breath catch
in her chest.

They gazed at each other a moment, then she looked down once more, a
tiny smile on her lips as tears filled her eyes, threatening to
overflow.  She sniffed, wiped her eyes and glanced to the side, the
newspaper laying on the coffee table falling into her line of
vision.  Her expression changed to surprise and then shock.

"Oh my God," she said as she sat up straight, reaching out and
pulling the newspaper onto her lap.

"What?" he asked, reacting off of her alarm.

"This man in this picture on the bottom of the front page.  I've
seen him before, Mulder."

The caption read, 'Priest Killed In Carjacking Identified' and she
shook her head, letting out a short huff as she quickly skimmed the
brief article.

"Father Schroeder was fatally wounded when he stepped between two
armed men and an older gentleman during a carjacking right here in
Georgetown two days ago."  She paused, then glanced up at him.
"That's impossible.  This is the priest who spoke to me following
the service at St. Cyril's yesterday morning."

Mulder looked down at the photograph, his own eyes growing wide.
"You're sure?"

"Positive."

He ran his hand over his face, letting out a long breath.  The man
in the photograph, Father Schroeder, was Ulrich.  Father Ulrich
Schroeder.
 

XxXxXxXxX Chapter Eight
 

He found himself with a lot of time on his hands while waiting for
his reinstatement to become official.

He could get into the Hoover Building with a visitor pass arranged
by Skinner, and Skinner turned a blind eye to his foray into the
basement to look at the files.  He couldn't visibly remove anything,
though, unless accompanied by another agent, like Scully or the A.D.
himself.  But after a full day of nothing but researching files and
the Internet, using Scully's login and password, he was bored.

There was nothing - NOTHING - about an unusual incident in the
Mojave Desert during the last week.  No reports of strange weather,
no satellite photos indicating the presence of a very large imposing
craft of unknown origin.  No missing person reports to give away
potential identities of the men working on the project.

Nothing.

He and Scully had been able to go over all of the files they had
taken home, and some interesting issues were raised, but there
wasn't anything tangible to tie any of the previous cases to what
he'd seen and experienced in California.  Everything was related
somehow, and yet, it was all different.  Like one big cosmic
coincidence.  The only common denominator was the fact that he and
Scully had investigated every case.

On the second day, he decided to work on a different approach and
went to the District of Columbia Medical Examiner's Office, intent
on doing a brief visual examination of the body of Father Ulrich
Schroeder.  He was suspicious about the legitimacy of the alleged
carjacking, and wanted to verify that the man involved was the same
man he had just spent six months with.  After working so closely
with Scully all of those years, he'd learned a thing or two about
gathering all of the facts and examining a dead body.  But the
Assistant M.E. wouldn't allow him inside to view the body for
himself.  Accredited officials and next of kin only, he was told.

Scully was still driving out to Quantico every day to wrap up her
current assignment, and was unable to chaperone him around town and
act as his badge and credential.  She was trying to help where she
could, having called the D.C. Assistant M.E. to request a copy of
the autopsy results on Father Schroeder.  But those results had yet
to arrive, so there was nothing to do but wait.  To make his boredom
even more complete, she'd had to work late both nights, finishing
reports and trying to get everything in order so that she could move
back to the X Files.  So he didn't even get to have her in the
evenings.

He didn't know what she would decide about the future of their
personal relationship, but he was certain that she loved him.  He'd
never, ever tell her, but he could hear her thoughts while they made
love the other night - it wasn't intentional, but he was so focused
on her and what they were doing that they just came through.  He'd
worked so hard to learn how to use it, he hadn't thought to learn
how not to.  And he didn't want to - he could finely tune his
ministrations off of her responses to give her the most pleasure.

Since he didn't know how to stop it, he considered it a freebie, a
gift.  Like a wet dream, only better.  And her heightened pleasure
under his hands only made him more excited.  It was a win/win
situation, by his estimation.

He went out and ran, partially out of boredom, partially to keep in
shape, but mostly to work off some of the nervous energy that
collected in his muscles.  He jogged through the Georgetown streets
and to the University, listening to people's thoughts as he passed
them by, just to keep his mind in shape.

Finally, in the early afternoon of the third day following his
initial reinstatement meeting with Skinner, he was presented with
his badge, I.D. and Bureau-issued weapon.  In Skinner's office and
in the presence of his former and now current partner, he grinned
from ear to ear as he shook Skinner's hand.  He was already planning
a visit to the D.C.M.E.'s office as soon as they were finished,
hoping that the body of his acquaintance would still be there so
both he and Scully could give it a cursory examination.
 
"Now that you officially have a job and an income I assume that
you'll be getting your belongings out of my storage unit."  The A.D.
quipped gruffly with a hint of a smile as he stepped back behind his
desk.

The fact that he and Scully were in effect living together under the
same roof hadn't come up, even after Skinner had observed Mulder in
the very hospitable and territorial role of host in Scully's
apartment.  And although it wasn't of interest to the Bureau in a
professional sense whether or not they privately shared their bodies
and a bed, Scully averted her gaze.

Mulder froze for a millisecond, then recovered with, "You mean you
haven't turned that unit into a rec room yet?"

Skinner snorted his response and the issue was dropped.  He wasn't
in any hurry - he wasn't using the unit, anyway.  He had an agenda,
however, picking up a file that had been sitting on top of his desk.
 
"First order of business, Agent Mulder..." Mulder looked up at the
A.D. with a questioning glance and a gleam in his eye at the
deliberate use of his title.

Skinner glanced up and met his eye, then looked down again, noting
that his intent was recognized.  "VICAP has a case that was just
handed over to us by the D.C.P.D. this morning."  He sat, glancing
over at the two agents as an indication for them to do the same.
"What appeared to be a gangland style homicide and carjacking has
all of the earmarks of an international hit.  We've been asked to
step in and I want the two of you to make it your top priority."

Scully and Mulder shared a look as they sat down, both expelling a
breath of air as they waited for the A.D. to continue.

He cleared his throat, conscious of the potentially sensitive nature
of the information he was about to deliver.  "The target was a
Catholic priest from the Carmelite Institute, a German national by
the name of..." he paused, flipping open the file in front of him.
"Father Ulrich Schroeder."

He paused a moment without looking up, then continued.  "The
intended target of the carjacking has disappeared, his last known
residence and the registration on his automobile listed the same
address - a used record and musical paraphernalia store in
Alexandria.  No one at the store seems to know anything.  As for the
two suspects..."

He paused again, drawing another breath to shore up his battlements
for the aftermath of the information has was about to deliver,
"...witnesses near the scene of the crime have identified one of the
men from composite books and photographs in the FBI database.  A
Nicaraguan national by the name of Antonio Cardinale."

Scully's eyes widened and Skinner glanced over at her.  "Cardinale,"
she said in confirmation.

"The younger brother of Luis Cardinale," Skinner replied.

Scully's hands were clutching the arms of the chair tightly as she
bowed her head, letting out a frustrated huff.  The fact that Luis
Cardinale was never brought before a court of law for the murder of
her sister was a tender spot even still.  Mulder was watching her
with concern and she looked up, meeting his gaze.  They held an
extended, wordless conversation - something that Skinner recognized
as unusual but not completely out of the ordinary, as he'd been
privy to such exchanges between the two of them on many occasions in
the past.

This time, however, there was a thick tension in the air.

Skinner was aware of the circumstances of Mulder's disappearance -
Mulder had given him an abridged account of his time in California
that didn't include specifics like names, although he knew that Alex
Krycek was involved.  They had discussed it and agreed to keep the
reality of Mulder's special ability out of the official report -
common knowledge within the Bureau of such an ability would only
serve to subject him to ridicule.  And if word spread, it could
threaten his credibility and the credibility of the Justice
Department in the eyes of the more skeptical law enforcement
agencies.

What was far worse, if Mulder's ability was to be proven and made
public, it would turn him overnight into the most powerful and most
sought-after human being on the planet.  And not solely by those
with good intentions.  The implications were so far-reaching that it
had the potential to became a threat to both mankind and to Mulder
himself, a threat that none of them wanted to see come to fruition,
regardless of the potential for the good that it could also achieve.

It was the threat to Mulder himself that was Scully's primary
concern, and from the expression on her face that fact was coming in
loud and clear to both of the men in the room.  The men who were
behind her sister's death did not act randomly - they had been there
to kill her and shot Melissa by mistake.  If the same men were
involved in the homicide of Father Schroeder, there was a definite
agenda in place.  And if they knew about Mulder's ability...

Mulder closed his eyes against the searching blue of Scully's,
running his hand over his forehead as he expelled a long breath of
air.

"Is there something I should know about, Agents?"  Skinner asked off
of their silent argument.

"It looks like Scully and I both happen to have a vested interest in
this particular case,"  Mulder replied, opening his eyes and briefly
tipping his head to the side, toward his partner.

Skinner glanced over at Scully, who looked back at him with her
shoulders back and her chin raised, her lips pursed in what could
not be construed as a happy expression.  He knew that look - it was
the fiercest, most protective of all of the pointed looks in the
Dana Scully repertoire.  And it only came out when she perceived
that someone she cared about was about to be harmed in some way,
whether it was the memory of her sister or Mulder himself.

No way was he going to step in the middle of that.

He looked down, drawing a breath and proceeding cautiously, "What
kind of an interest?"

"Father Ulrich Schroeder was the other man with Krycek and I in
California.  He's the one who helped me develop my..." he paused,
uncertain what was the most appropriate name to assign to his new
understanding.  "...telepathy," was the word he finally chose.

Skinner sighed and sat back in his chair, his jaw set as he stared
at Mulder through the glare off of his glasses, making his
expression unreadable.  "What's his involvement with Alex Krycek?"

Mulder shook his head.  "I don't know.  They weren't allies.  Each
had his own agenda, but they also worked together out of necessity
toward the larger goal."  He paused.  "I guess we all did."

Skinner took off his glasses and laid them down on top of his desk,
pinching the bone between his eyes while he thought about the case.
Mulder was leaning toward Scully, offering her his silent comfort,
but Scully remained upright and uptight.  "From the description
given, the other suspect bears a strong resemblance to Alex Krycek."

Scully turned her head to look at Mulder and Mulder shook his head.
"I don't believe Krycek is responsible for this."

"You of all people know what Krycek is capable of," Skinner replied
quickly, sitting up in his seat.

Mulder was silent, contemplating his words.  Yes, he knew better
than anyone what Krycek was capable of.  And regardless of their
recent alliance, Krycek very well could have disposed of Ulrich if
he felt he didn't need him any longer.

"I want Scully to take a look at the body," he said, his eyes
holding Skinner's.  "She'll be able to determine if the shooting was
a deliberate hit or a random act of violence."

Skinner looked at him, then at Scully and back again.  "You'll have
to settle for the autopsy report.  According to the Medical
Examiner's office, the body has already been claimed by the church."

"Then we'll go to the church," Mulder replied.
 

XxXxXxXxX Carmelite Institute, Washington D.C.
 

"Carmelites are an order, Mulder," Scully explained as they walked
toward the entrance of the Carmelite Institute, adjusting her stride
to keep up with his fast pace.  "Members of the order dedicate
themselves to continuous spiritual growth through theological study
and education, prayer and ministry, among other things."

"So a priest like Father Schroeder could take off for six months or
longer without being missed?" Mulder asked, stopping in front of the
entrance.

"If he was involved in the research of a specific issue that was
paramount to his spiritual development and the spiritual development
of others."  She crossed her arms, taking on the stance of the
lecturer.  "Carmelites walk among the people as prophets, denouncing
oppression and promoting the oneness of the human race as a whole."

Mulder squinted at her in the late afternoon sun.  "Are you telling
me that the Catholic Church officially considers extraterrestrial
life as part of the human race?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Scully countered, surprising him by not arguing
about the assumptive nature of his statement.  "They've got a vested
interest in all life.  If it has a soul, it can be saved."

The door opened and a middle-aged man in a black shirt, with the
traditional collar and black pants stood before them.  "Yes, what
can I do for you?" he said pleasantly.

They turned toward him, holding up their badges for him to see.

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is Special Agent Dana Scully
with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  We'd like to talk with
you about one of the priests associated with your order, a Father
Ulrich Schroeder."

The man's eyes indicated his understanding and he nodded.  "Ah, yes.
You'll want to talk with Father Marquette.  I think he would be more
likely to have the information that you're looking for.  If you'd
follow me..."

Mulder stepped aside to allow Scully to enter before him, and they
both followed the priest inside.  The interior was simple, but
clean; comfortable, but not luxurious.  There was a large crucifix
on the wall opposite the door and Scully glanced up at it,
automatically bowing her head briefly as she had been taught in
childhood.

Their escort noticed and gave her a gentle smile, leading them into
a small room near the front of the building.  The room contained a
table surrounded by chairs.  The walls were lined with various
versions and translations of the Bible, the Apocrypha, the Dead Sea
Scrolls, publications by the Vatican and other books including
several that were too large to fit onto shelves vertically so they
were placed horizontally across the bottom shelves.

"I'll tell Father Marquette you're waiting to see him," he said with
an amicable nod, and left them alone to peruse the shelves.

Mulder let out a low whistle, running his finger along one of the
shelves.  "This is some collection.  They've got everything from the
Koran to the Kabbalah."

Scully had turned over the cover of one of the larger books lying on
the table.  It was a book of Gregorian chant, with colorful
calligraphy and secular artwork adorning the pages.  At his comment
she looked up and glanced around the room.  "I could spend an
afternoon in here, easily."

Mulder pulled a book off of the shelf on the life of Saint John of
the Cross just as a white-haired priest shuffled into the room, much
older than the first man but wearing similar black clothing and
collar.

"How do you do, I'm Father Marquette," he said to Mulder, who was
standing closest to the door.  "I understand you're here about
Father Schroeder."

Mulder stuffed the book back into it's slot and extended his hand to
the priest.  Scully stepped over to do the same.  "Agents Mulder and
Scully," she said.

He shook both of their hands and held his hands out for them to sit
at the table.  "Please."  They sat and he sat next to them, turning
his chair to face them so that he could converse easier.  "How may I
be of assistance to you?"

Scully spoke first.  "Father Marquette, I understand from the
Medical Examiner's office that the church has claimed the body of
Father Schroeder."

Father Marquette nodded.  "Yes.  Father Schroeder had no living
family outside of the order - we were his family.  His passing was
so sudden...we celebrated mass for him and laid him to rest in St.
Mary's just this morning."

Scully looked at Mulder, who let out a sigh.  An actual visual exam
of the body would be impossible now.  If only he had been allowed
into the morgue yesterday, he thought begrudgingly.  "This morning?"
he said with disappointment.

Father Marquette looked confused.  "Yes.  We were told that they had
finished with him so we performed last rights and sent him back to
the Lord."

Mulder nodded, his mouth set in disappointment.  As he stood to
leave he leaned over to offer his hand to the father.  "Father
Marquette, thank you for your time."

The father shook his hand, then stood, surprised that the
conversation was so brief.  He glanced from Mulder to Scully and
back, his confusion evident.  "I'm sorry I couldn't have been of
more help to you."

"Thank you for your assistance, Father."  Scully had stood alongside
Mulder and she offered her hand as well, giving him a tight-lipped
smile.

He followed them to the door, and Mulder stopped, turning to address
him once more.  "Did Father Schroeder spend an extended amount of
time away from the institute recently?"

Father Marquette's face lit up at the opportunity to contribute more
information.  "Why yes, yes he did.  He was on a spiritual retreat
for the better part of the year.  He had just returned this weekend,
spiritually enriched."

Mulder nodded, offering a tight-lipped smile of his own.  It seemed
likely, then, that Ulrich and Father Ulrich Schroeder was indeed the
same man, although he wasn't sure about the purported spiritual
enrichment part of the experience.
 

XxXxXxXxX Scully residence
 

Scully had fallen into bed exhausted well past midnight the last two
nights, and Mulder had been wondering since he'd woken that morning
to find her gone with a note explaining an early meeting at Quantico
if any lovemaking would happen between them that night.  He knew
better than to expect her to want to have sex every single night, or
every other night for that matter, but he had hoped that she might
clue him in on what she expected from him now.

They were, after all, together now.  Whatever that meant.

Once he'd had her, he couldn't help it if he wanted it practically
all of the time now.  They had nothing in their long history to draw
from in this situation.  After their very first time together as
lovers it had been over two weeks before they had come together
again, and even then they were both a little awkward trying to read
each other's signals on the way there.  Schedules and work
obligations interfered, and too many years of denying the attraction
and attempting to keep things platonic created behavioral patterns
that couldn't be altered by one night of incredible passion.

Still, he hadn't been surprised that their working relationship was
strengthened by the new intimacy.  It was as if they could be more
empathetic toward each other's points of view in addition to being
emphatic in their own.

And once they got past the awkwardness, they found that they were
very compatible.  They had just found a groove that seemed to be
working for the both of them when he'd gone off with Krycek.
Thinking back on it, if he hadn't just finished a long tedious
assignment on surveillance and in serious need of sleep the night
Krycek showed up in his apartment he wouldn't have been there alone.
Or he wouldn't have been there at all.  He'd have been at Scully's
apartment instead.

That had been months ago, though, and they were still finding their
way back to that level of intimacy.

It was Friday night and Scully was finished at Quantico, she'd
reminded him as they left the Institute.  So they had gone out to
dinner to celebrate his reinstatement and her return to the X-Files.
It was relatively early when they'd gotten back to her apartment,
and both agreed when the conversation took a turn toward the events
of the week that it had been a very long, emotionally taxing week.
They should probably try to get some rest instead of debating their
current case into the wee hours of the morning.

The look in her eye and the way she arched her eyebrow at him told
him otherwise.

While she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth he had changed into
his pajama bottoms, and he sat on what he now assumed was his
designated side of the bed.  She turned out the light and exited the
bathroom barefoot wearing her dark blue silk pajamas, switching off
the remaining lights in the apartment until there was just one light
at the side of the bed illuminating the room.  Intermittently she
rubbed her hands together, the faint smell of scented lotion
enveloping her, and Mulder stood expectantly to face her as she
stopped on the opposite side of the bed, her eyes rising to meet
his.  Her eyes ran over him briefly, as his did hers, then with a
mutual smile from both of them, they both pulled back the covers and
slid between the sheets.

She turned off the light and kicked her feet underneath the covers.
He smiled.  He rolled onto his side to face her and she did the
same, meeting somewhere in the middle of the bed.  He caressed her
cheek with his hand, and she leaned in to place a tender kiss
against his lips.  Kisses grew more intense, gentle caresses became
enflaming strokes and ultimately they shed their night clothes,
sliding together with hearts pounding until they both occupied the
same space.

Much later, he lay on his left side bathed in afterglow, his head
propped up on his arm as he gazed down on her serene face.  She was
on her back, her eyes closed.  He knew by the cadence of her
breathing that she wasn't sleeping, and she emitted a soft hum -
almost a purr by his estimation.

It was dark except for the faint light off the street lamp seeping
in around the edges of the window dressing.  But it was enough for
him to see the soft curve of her upper lip as he traced a feather
light trail with the pad of his
index finger.

"Sleepy?" he asked softly.

"Hmmmm...relaxed," she replied with a gentle sigh.

Her voice was light and airy...it was what he'd come to know as her
unguarded tone.  Others might call it pillow talk whisper.  Either
way, he loved it.  He loved everything about her.

He loved HER.

He ran his finger up the side of her cheek slowly, along her temple
and over her eyebrows, his touch gentle and the upward tilt of her
lips showing him her contentment.  His finger traveled down the
bridge of her nose, over her lips once again, up the line of her jaw
and traced the shell of her ear before she opened her eyes, blinking
at the ceiling in the darkness.

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?" he hummed, leaning down to press his lips against her
forehead as his hand moved slowly down the middle of her chest.

"Do you believe the man that I spoke with outside of St. Cyril's is
in fact the same man you were with in California?"

He was silent a moment, his hand running up and down her bare arm
before he slid his fingers under hers, entwining them at the tips.
"I wouldn't rule it out."

She gave his fingers a squeeze.  "And you're certain that it's the
same man who was involved in the carjacking."

Again, he was silent, thinking before responding to her question.
"From the post-mortem photographs in the file Skinner gave us and
our conversation with Father Marquette, yes.  Unless Ulrich had an
identical twin, but Father Marquette said that he had no living
relatives."

Scully's brow furrowed slightly as she thought about the situation.
Mulder slid his index finger across the gold band of the antique
ring she was wearing.  Some time in the last few days she must have
had it sized - it fit perfectly now.  They hadn't discussed it since
he gave it to her, but the fact that she was still wearing the ring
on her left hand was a good sign.

"I'm beginning to believe that there are no such things as
coincidences."  She said at last.

"What do you mean?"

"If that was Father Schroeder who I spoke with, then he must have
been there for a reason."

He lifted her left hand up to his lips, kissing the ring softly.
"What reason?  You said he spoke to you about free will."

"He spoke about using our free will in a way that will benefit
ourselves and others."  She specified, entwined their fingers again
and holding his tighter this time.  "How we choose to act and
respond to the people around us."

"How is that different than what you already do every day?  You
can't deny that a lot of people benefit from the work that we do."

She drew in a long breath and held it, then let it out slowly.  "I
know.  That was part of it, I think.  For me to return to the X
Files."

"And the other part?"

Reaching her right hand up, she placed her palm against his cheek,
stroking her thumb over his lips.  "That's what I've been thinking
about.  I think it was much more specific than that.  He asked me
directly if I enjoyed the gospel - the sermon the pastor had given."

He turned his face, kissing her palm, then leaning into her touch.
"What did you say?"

"I told him that it came at a time when I had issues that I needed
to resolve.  And he asked me if there were others involved.  But you
know, Mulder, the way he asked it, it was like he already knew.
Like he knew me, knew what was going on inside of me."

"So what are you saying?  You think he was reading your thoughts?"

She held her breath a moment.  "No, not my thoughts..." she paused,
considering the best way to phrase it.  "My heart.  He looked at me
so strangely, almost intimately.  It was as if he could see
everything I was feeling."

She looked up at him, and he looked down at her with eyes shining,
smiling.  His look was both amused and adoring, as he knew it wasn't
an easy admittance for her.  Her admitting it so freely enthralled
him to no end.

She grinned, understanding that he was pleased with her openness,
and rolled over onto her side to face him, mirroring his pose
and propping her head up with her hand.

"You know...I've been thinking about what Skinner said today,
Mulder...ARE you going to get another apartment?"

Still smiling, he tucked her hair behind her ear before replying,
"I've gotta do something with my furniture.  Skinner isn't going to
keep it forever."

"There are alternatives, of course..."

He studied her face.  "Such as...?"

She looked down at the space between them on the bed, running her
index finger up the back of his wrist.  "What would you say if I
asked you..." she paused, rethinking her approach, then looked back
up at him.  "Would you consider staying here...living here?"

He blinked at her, reading her expression.  Her look was vulnerable
and he was about to ask her where SHE intended to live, but from the
tone of her voice he understood what she was asking.

"What, you mean like a trial run?"

"No,"  she replied.  "I mean..." she let out a breath, then drew
another one in, "like people do when they make a lifelong commitment
to each other."

His expression was slightly dazed, slightly amused as he took in her
words.  His heart was pounding and he wanted to be sure that he
understood her correctly.

"You're saying you've made a decision?  You want to buy the
proverbial cow, Scully?  Even when you're already getting the milk
for free?"

Mulder called upon humor in times of stress and she grinned at his
teasing, then her expression grew solemn.

"I'm saying if we're going to do this, then let's do it.  Let's call
my family priest and set a date, Mulder.  In my church or in a park
or even in the basement of the Hoover Building if that's your
inclination...so long as it's in front of God, my priest and my
family and anybody else who wants to witness the event I want to
stand up with you and entrust you with everything that I have within
me to give."

His mouth fell open and all of the air left his lungs.  He blinked
at her a few moments, then swallowed.

"Alright," he nodded, swallowing again as his mouth had suddenly
gone dry.  "Let's do it.  The location and participants are
irrelevant to me as long as you're there."

She smiled at him, a full-on, brilliant, light-up-her-whole-face
smile.  His eyes shone as he climbed out of the bed, coming around
to her side and wrapping the top sheet around her, picking her up
off of the bed.

"Mulder!" she exclaimed with a laugh, "What are you doing?"

"I wanna dance with you.  We need to practice for the reception," he
replied with a wide grin as he carried her giggling out into the
living room.

"I didn't say anything about a reception," she quipped as he powered
the stereo on with his elbow.  Bryan Ferry was loaded in the CD
player and he let her slide down to the floor gently, waiting as she
gathered the sheets up around her in a makeshift toga before he
pulled her back into his arms.  Then they began swaying with the
music, looking into each other's eyes with mutual amusement and
affection.

She had to stand on her toes to reach his lips and she placed a soft
kiss there.  He laid his cheek against hers.

"I'm not letting anyone cut in, either," he whispered.  "Not
Skinner, not your brother who thinks I'm the worse thing in the
world for you, not even Frohike.  I'm going to keep you all to
myself."

"I know what's best for me, Mulder, not my brothers or anyone else,"
she whispered.

He smiled, his cheek curving against hers.

The sound of the deadbolt on her front door being slid back was loud
enough for them to hear, but in their collective state of undress
they scarcely had time to turn and face the door, let alone locate
their weapons left on the beside table.  Time seemed to move in slow
motion as they watched the door swing open to reveal the intruder on
the other side.

Alex Krycek stood cloaked in the shadow of the doorway, his
silhouette enough to indicating his identity.  Mulder had turned
Scully so that she was behind him, effectively blocking her from
Krycek's direct line of vision.

Scully's breathing had grown heavy and he knew she was angry enough
to attack as she wriggled out from behind him.  "Scully, wait..." he
said, holding her by the shoulders.  "Don't you ever knock?" he
snapped at Krycek without thinking.

Of course he never knocked.  This wasn't a social visit.  Alex
Krycek didn't make social visits.  They couldn't see his eyes
through the shadows as he took in the image before him, but despite
the flash of amusement that passed through them, Krycek's voice was
all business.

"Put some pants on, Mulder.  We've located another one."