By Jo Jo lee
JoJolee203@aol.com or Joeyleenaz@aol.com

PG to N17
SK/M  slash
A/U
1/19
Disclaimer: All X-File characters belong to somebody other than
myself. No profit, Just fun.

Summary: Skinner and Mulder work together to solve a few mysteries.
Totally A/U. I changed history-I changed quite a bit, but there are a
lot of recognizable elements. No aliens, all human skullduggery.

~~~

Chapter 10

Wednesday Night

Marcus scrunched a pillow and tried to pack it more comfortably
against the low arm rest of the couch. It would never be his bed, he
might as well face it. He hated to be away from home but he was
needed here. Mulder's night terrors and his violent outbursts were
normal in these extreme circumstances but he needed to be monitored.

Skinner was under a lot of strain. Mulder was so overtly emotional
that it was draining Skinner. Skinner was not a man who was
comfortable with a lot of drama. He was basically very self-
contained. Marcus couldn't stop the reevaluation of Skinner whirling
in his mind, because he knew he had Badger out of focus.

Marcus liked Sikora's nickname for Skinner, it fit the man so well.
He was tenacious, focused and ready to defend the weak and innocent
against all the bad guys and even some misguided good guys. He never
gave in, never compromised when he was convinced of the road to take.

That look he got on his face when he was determined was definitely
the same expression he imagined would be on a badger's face when the
badger was getting ready to fight. Marcus always referred to Skinner
as Badger in his mind, but never out loud.

In Badger's file was a series of School pictures taken every year at
Villa Cabrini Home for Boys. Badger's little pugnacious face never
smiled, always looked like he was ready for a fight. If one didn't
know better, one would think that they were looking at a little
bully. But, his school file had described him as a peace maker.
Relayed incidents where he comforted the little and the weak and
fought off the bullies.

He had been idolized by some of the younger boys, hated by a few of
the bullies and well liked by the nuns.  However, even there he was a
loner. A giver who didn't know how to receive. Would Badger be able
to let Mulder take care of him once in a while? After this crisis was
over, Badger had to be able to take as well as give or else they both
were headed for trouble. Badger was going to be in for a lot of
therapy, and he wasn't going to like it. Oh well*

Marcus attempted to scrunch a bit deeper into the couch as his
thoughts continued. He had suspected that the sexuality that Badger
presented in the sessions was a sham because he had dated so seldom.
Furthermore, Badger's accounts of those dates had sounded like
debriefings.

It had been obvious to Marcus that Badger mentioned the dates because
Badger thought it was expected. Marcus had let him get away with it
and hadn't pressed it because there was no reason. Badger's bureau
performance was exceptional and unless Badger bought up his
sexuality, Marcus didn`t see it as a problem.

He also knew that Badger was what Marcus called a "silent nanny". He
would take care of the people under his command any way he could. He
would go out of his way to make sure that they had anything they
needed, but always in the background. He was always emotionally
removed, but meticulous in his supervision of his immediate
subordinates needs.

He had twelve regional SAICs under who were fiercely loyal to him in
part because of the interest Badger had taken in their lives, and the
their well-being and that of their families. Badger related to his
agents, like they were his surrogate family. However, Badger had only
allowed that attachment to run one way. He did for them, but he was
uncomfortable and unwilling to accept care and kindness from them. He
kept his distance, emotionally and professionally.

Badger was a very isolated individual who functioned well and seemed
to need the emotional distance.  Now Marcus was not too sure of his
conclusions. He would have never thought that Badger had the
emotional capacity to fall in love as he evidently had done.

Marcus pushed at his pillow in another feeble attempt to make it feel
like his at home. Marcus sighed, right now he had a handle on Fox
Mulder, Fox, but what about Badger? He smiled, the Badger and the
Fox, he kind of liked it.

Marcus was afraid that Badger would start unconsciously pulling away
from Fox to protect his battered personal emotional boundaries.  It
was possible that Badger was accommodating Mulder to the exclusion of
his own needs. Hell, he'd have to get a hold of Badger today and see
what was what.  With that thought dangling through his consciousness,
Marcus finally fell asleep.

*************

Mulder was exhausted, mentally and physically. He had used the `gym'
a lot that afternoon and was grateful that it was there. The memories
from his blackouts were surfacing. Fragments of recall that had him
restrained on a hospital bed with people prodding, poking and
injecting something that made him feel that he was burning up from
the inside.

He remembered that he had screamed a lot but nobody ever responded to
help him. They just came to check the readouts on the machines around
him. He wasn't the only one there. He heard others screaming.

Mulder tried to remember exactly what the machines looked like, the
readings that he managed to see and the faces. All the faces that
hovered over him through the years.

He crawled over to the bed room wall opposite the bed and fumbled
with a black sharpie marker he had used to work on his charts
earlier. He started writing descriptions of people and machinery on
the wall*every thing that his tattered memory was recalling.

Mulder knew he had been taken every year, but the last year had been
different. The probes had been deeper and he had been anchored, naked
to a platform rather than a bed and a long breathing and feeding tube
inserted. The room he had been kept in was sterile and cold, always
with a bright white light.

Mulder shut his eyes, but he could still see them as they came in
after what seemed an eternity. He was taken into a warm room on his
platform. At first he had been relieved. The room had dim light, but
Mulder could see a series of huge Plexiglas tanks filled with some
sort of green stuff and with what looked like naked children inside.

Each tank held two children, a boy and girl and they were connected
to each other with wires. Yet more wires were connected to them that
came up and out of the tanks. Each child had a breathing and feeding
tube like his own. Mulder had begun to panic, but he was so tightly
secured that it was impossible to move, and the tubes made it
impossible to yell.

Mulder shuddered as he remembered the feel of the warm green gel as
he was lowered on the platform into the tank until he was fully
covered and laying on his back. He turned his head to see a little
dark haired girl who looked back at him. The little girl looked at
him without interest, without hope. She slowly turned her head away.

He had been able to see distorted figures through the gel and the
tank. He had been able hear distorted voices as they talked about
the "project". He recognized the Smoking Man.  His writing got faster
as he filled the wall with the descriptions of the people, the tanks,
the children. He carefully took down Walter's map of Michigan so he'd
have more room.

Mulder's memories were tumbling over each other. He remembered how
the very idea of time evaporating and how he tried to hang on to his
sense of being by listening to the voices. He had learned that they
were never going to let them out. The voices said that it didn't
matter if the specimens went mad, it wouldn't affect the "Product".
That it was OK if the specimen's bodies atrophied and the eyes went
blind, neither would affect the "product".

But, the problem was the heart rates, the specimens were still
occasionally panicking at such intensity that they were putting a
dangerous strain on their hearts. The voices argued over which drug
could be introduced that would not affect the "product". If they
could keep the specimens calm, they might be able to produce
the "Product" for fifty years.

Mulder felt himself shaking and tried to control the marker better,
he glanced across at the bed and took comfort in Skinner's breathing
shape and then turned back to the wall where he was documenting his
memories. It seemed very important that he do this. Irrationally, he
was afraid they would disappear into the Nothing. Almost more afraid
that they would be his forever. Mulder continued writing.

He remembered being dazed, drifting, faintly conscious that he was
losing the fight to stay aware when he was abruptly pulled from the
tank and the tubes and wires yanked out roughly. Strong arms had
dragged him from the room and placed him on a hospital bed. Mulder
had turned his head sideways and had seen a small girl crumbled on
the floor. Naked with the gray gel still coating her body.

Mulder's hand shook and he leaned his head against the wall as he
realized with a dull sort of shock that up until he had been put into
that tank, he had been able to see green, had been able to see red.
He had not been born color-blind. He gritted his teeth and pushed the
realization aside and let himself continue to remember.

The voices had battered  his consciousness and finally started making
sense to him. He gleaned that the little girl had died and they
needed another one. They said he was defective. Something was wrong
and he would never be able to produce the `product'.  Even if he was
producing the material, they couldn't extract it. They would need to
get another boy.

It was still weeks before the first pair of the specimens would start
producing the `product' and they had to find a way to consistently
keep the specimens alive. Once they started producing, the specimen's
bodies would be so occupied with producing the `product', that they
would not have the energy to do anything but produce.

The marker slipped out of Mulder's fingers and his legs began to
tremble. He heard a voice start to whimper and didn't realize it was
his own. He shuddered and placed his arms around himself and slipped
down to the ground.  Oh God, he could almost feel the gel.

Sam! Sam! Sammmmm! Sam was dead! Sam had died with the wires, the
tubes and that hideous gel! In his mind's eye, the little girl in the
tank beside him turned to him with Sam's pleading face. Sammmm!

The next thing Mulder knew, Mulder found himself in Skinner's arms
and Marcus was taking his pulse.

Skinner's condo
4:23 AM

Mulder was huddled against Skinner's shoulder and they were both
wrapped up in a large coverlet on the couch. Marcus was sitting on
the floor, Sid was in the armchair and Sikora was sitting on a
kitchen chair that had been dragged into the front room. Coffee cups
were scattered across the coffee table along with papers and
photographs of Mulder's wall.

Marcus had taken Sikora and Sid up to see Mulder's wall. Sid had
taken both photographs and had video taped it. The wall was full of
neat printing and drawn pictures. Sikora had asked why the hell did
Mulder decide to use the wall instead of paper. Marcus had shook his
head and had commented that maybe the wall had given Mulder a sense
of permanence. It didn't really matter.

Now they were downstairs, and Sikora was frustrated.  All this and
they were no closer to knowing what was going on and who was behind
it. It was more bizarre than he had ever imagined. What to do?

Mulder roused himself slightly and answered Sikora's unasked
question. "Go get Bill Mulder. Unlike Spender, we know where he is
and we know he knows why the children were taken. He was part of it."

Sikora turned towards Mulder. The agent was pale and clearly shaken
but his voice was steady. "We'll tip our hand. I don't want to do
that yet. Bill Mulder might lead us to someone higher up."

Mulder sat up straighter and reached for Skinner's hand under the
coverlet. Mulder looked up and made eye contact with Sikora. "Pick
him up. He has enough enemies that they won't immediately tie it to
us. Do it in secret for a shield interrogation. We can do that
legally. Use a safe house, or if you think Spender can find that out,
use the Situation Room, not even Spender knows where that is. Keep
him there until he talks.

I doubt if he'll lead you to anyone. I bet they only use him because
they have to. He's a drunk, unreliable for security reasons. Hold
him, withhold the booze and there's a good chance he'll tell you what
he knows."

Sikora turned to Sid, "Go get him. Use the Ooka Team and apprehend
Bill Mulder quietly. Take him to the Black room and put him in the
holding cell. I want to brief Richard Plant and Noah Towers to do the
interrogation. They are the best team I have and they know how to
keep their mouths shut. Bring them to the Guest Room at 8:15 this
morning. Tell Ooka that they are on duty for this prisoner until
further notice."

Sid nodded his head and stood up. He nodded his head to Mulder and
Badger and picked up his coat and left. After the door closed Sikora
took Sid's seat and looked at Marcus. "Do you think we should still
get Agent Mulder to Quantico today for an MRI?"

Marcus shook his head negatively. "No, Agent Mulder's memories are
surfacing too quickly. I think this has to do with his endemic
memory. His sight memory should be almost seamless and his auditory
memory is about 80 per cent, with the exception of music which is in
the normal range. A disrupted endemic memory tends to want to mend
itself quickly once it's able."

Marcus sat back and stretched, "Quantico may not be the best idea. Do
you remember Dr. Kasahara? He's at John Hopkins, he's worked for us
before and is an brilliant researcher. We could send Agent Scully
down there to assist."

He turned towards Mulder, "Agent Mulder, are there still memory gaps?"

Mulder nodded his head. "There are gaps, small ones throughout my
childhood. I get fragments of memories, but there isn't any context
for any of them. I don't even know how old I was in a lot of them.
And I still have no memory of the three and half days after Daniel
told me to get lost or of the other night."

Marcus looked back at Sikora, "Those last two memories may not exist.
Like a drunk's blackout where alcohol disrupts the brain in such a
way that it can not make memories, I think Mulder's Nothing does the
same thing. However, the Nothing that the E-group initiated only
covers up the memories, those are still there. Until Mulder's memory
is seamless, except for Daniel and what happened here, I don't want
him out of this condo."

Sikora stood up, "OK, we'll go with what you say Marcus. I've got to
go in to work. Thank God, I can actually go to my office. Do I look
well rested enough to be coming back from a vacation?"

Marcus laughed, "John everyone knows it was a busman's holiday and
those are hardly restful."

Sikora gathered up his coat and briefcase, "Busman's holiday, shit!"

************

Scully sat uncomfortably in the Director's office. She had been
summoned and had arrived ten minutes before.  She had been told that
Skinner was at Quantico and had sent Mulder on a case to California.
She suspected none of this was true, but no one had bothered to tell
her what the hell was going on. The basement had been a bit lonesome
of late.  Scully straightened up as Director Sikora came in through a
side entrance.

"Agent Scully, this way."

Director Sikora led Scully through a labyrinth of hallways until they
entered a small room.

************

Scully's head was buzzing. She was on her way to John Hopkins in
Baltimore to met with Dr. Sam Kasahara to start research on Mulder's
implant and the green gel. It would be theoretical until they could
bring Mulder down.

The gel had caused Mulder's color-blindness, was it permanent?  Hell,
she hadn't even known he was color-blind.  Well, that explained his
ties.

Sikora had been brief and she was still in shock. Things like Sikora
described only happened in the movies.  Sikora had said that Dr.
Kasahara had more details. He had also said things had progressed as
they had because of internal security problems. She was shown
pictures of Agents Krycek, Spender and an older man they called
Charlie who was CIA and advised that they were under investigation.

************

Skinner sat on the laundry room floor and watched the small candle he
had lit flicker. He had not been alone in nearly a week and needed to*
decompress. Mulder was in with Marcus. Shit, that man could be
brutal. It was truly frightening how that man had his number.

Skinner was irritated that after Sikora left, Marcus had suggested
that Mulder get some rest and that Skinner and he should have
a 'chat'.  Marcus had then proceeded to more or less tear him apart,
gently, but thoroughly.  Skinner didn't like it that Marcus
understood him so well. But Marcus had pointed out some pit falls
that if Skinner was conscious of he could avoid. He needed to think.

He loved Mulder with a passion and affection that he didn't know he
was capable of. Since the first day he had seen him in his office he
had been attracted to him and everything he learned about Mulder,
every minute they had spent together, had reinforced his attachment
to him. He loved. Skinner didn't think he had ever loved anybody, not
like this.

And wonder of wonders, Mulder loved him. He never considered himself
the kind of person someone could love. He didn't think he was
handsome. God, he started losing his hair at twenty-six! His nose was
sort of pug, hardly a noble roman type. God, Mulder's nose was
wonderful. He sat back against the wall.  He always had thought there
was something missing in his personality. He was not a 'fun' person,
never had been. But Mulder loved him. He had enough sparkle in him
for both of them. Would that sparkle survive all the memories?

Skinner took a deep breath. They had not even been together, in the
romantic sense, for a week. Tomorrow. It seemed a lifetime ago.

Marcus had been so worried that he would not let Mulder take care of
him. Wouldn't let Mulder express his need to nurture. Well, that was
a bit off base. Somehow, Mulder had known what Skinner needed or had
needed the dominate role himself. However, it just so happened, the
way Mulder made love to Skinner made his body sing as well as his
heart. He had never felt more loved, cherished and taken care of in
his life.

They would make it through this. Skinner heard a door close in
another part of the condo. He blew out the candle and got up and put
it on a shelf along with the detergent.
 

***********

Skinner walked out of his den and rubbed his hand over the few
strands of hair on the top of his head and sighed. There had been a
hostage situation in Philly. Reg had responded and all was well, but
it had been a stressful four hours.

Mulder came up to him and put his forehead against his. "Is
everything OK?"

Skinner put his arms around Mulder's shoulders, "Ya, Reg worked it
and the hostages are free and the bastard's in custody."

Mulder nodded, "Marcus is going to make dinner. He's out getting some
supplies. He figured I wouldn't go off the deep end for a while. Are
you OK? Are we OK? This is probably more than you bargained for."

Skinner sought out Mulder's lips and pressed his own against them in
a chaste and affirming kiss and pulled back. "We're fine. I love you."

"Then let's go upstairs, I could use a little love right now."

**************

Mulder was working his magic, licking his way across Walter's chest
and capturing a nipple. Walter was hard and moving against Mulder.

"Easy baby, easy. You are the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

Walter felt the blush run through him. Mulder's hands were
everywhere, his mouth moved downward and Skinner spread his legs in
anticipation. Mulder moved around so that his head was between
Walter's legs. He was licking Walter's balls and the area around the
anus.

Walter reached up and was able to capture Mulder's dick with his
mouth and drew him close. Walter's hands explored Mulder's ass and
played with his crevice. He was flying, suddenly, Mulder pulled away
to get the condoms and lube. In a short time he was pressing himself
into Walter.

Walter opened up for him and pulled him home. Mulder enthusiastically
started to thrust. They both were spiraling towards climax quickly,
but neither tried to slow it down. They came within seconds of each
other.

Mulder was mumbling endearments and holding their sweat drenched
bodies together. Walter treasured Mulder's weight on him and held
him. Finally, Mulder pulled out, but Walter dragged him back on top
on him and held him. Mulder was still talking, something about
snowflakes, but soon talked himself to sleep.

Walter hooked a coverlet with his toe and got it close enough for him
to grasp with a hand. He flung it over them and sighed in
contentment.
 

End of part 10
 

~~~~~

Chapter 11

Richard Plant, better known as Keats, was pissed. He had been looking
forward to five days away from the bureau. Five days tucked away in a
cabin in Connecticut with his lover. Shit. Now here he was fighting
D.C. traffic to get to the Hoover to see Sikora.

Stopping yet again he leaned back his head and pondered the thought
that His lover was somewhere in this web of mad motorists.  Too bad
they had to be so careful. It would be nice to have him sitting here
beside him.

Poor Noah, he had had to drive all the way back from Newark. He had
gotten an early start and had just passed Newark when dispatch had
contacted him. Noah would be tired and whatever Sikora needed would
probably be sticky. Shit. Plant readjusted his body once again.
Nothing was made for somebody who measured six foot five and a
quarter.

He jammed another tape into the tape machine. Noah had gotten him a
variety of books on tape to mellow him out. This particular story was
not quite doing that. He yanked the tape back out and inched forward
in his lane. He couldn't remember being so disappointed. This would
have been the first time Noah and him would have had anytime together
away from the bureau. This had better be good. This had better be
damn serious!

***********

Noah Towers walked into the Hoover and went up the security elevators
dressed in his wilderness get-up. Fuck, if he was going to change. He
stepped into the metal mirrored elevator and sighed. He had no choice
but to examine himself in the metal sided elevator interior.  He had
never been comfortable with his looks and now he looked absolutely
ridiculous.

He looked at his carrot red curly hair and his milk white skin
peppered with freckles, everywhere. He scrutinized his blue eyes and
despaired of their too pale shade which was overpowered by his
flaming red eyelashes and eyebrows. He groaned, his nose was too
short, and his mouth was too wide.  And now he was parading around in
this Paul Bunyan outfit, Damn.

The elevator door opened and there was Keats, scowling like a
disgruntled teenager. Noah couldn't help but smile. Keats was
beautiful, thin and so tall, longish brown hair that shown with
auburn highlights in the sun. His brown eyes were liquid pools with
just a dash of amber flecks sprinkled throughout. A boyish face with
wire rims perched on his elegant nose. Keats was staring at him too,
with a silly grin on his face.

Noah had been partnered with Keats for nearly a year. They were an
elite team that worked directly under the Director, reporting only to
him. They specialized in interrogations and investigations into
corrupted police agencies. They had been responsible for a major
shake up in both the LA and New York Police Departments.

Noah had been apprehensive when he first met Richard Plant. Keats was
rather less than intimidating with his boyish, puppy like demeanor.
It had irritated him and he had nastily  demanded why a grown man
would want to be called "Keats". Keats had placidly replied that when
the choices were "Dick" or "Rich" with the inevitable, occasional "E"
stuck on the end, Keats sounded good.

It turned out that Keats' had, what he considered an unfortunate
birthday date, October 31st.   This in it self was a good source for
any number of horrible monikers. Fortunately, little Richard (also an
unfortunate name association) had found out that a famous and much
admired poet had also been born on October 31st, John Keats. John was
a common name, but Keats sounded OK. Keats was well established by
the time Tommy Madson, next door, got a parakeet. Oh well, nothing
was perfect.

Noah soon found out that the gentle, puppy like persona disappeared
in an interrogation or in an investigation. Keats was so intense at
times, it concerned Noah. It was disconcerting to watch the gentle
puppy turn into a rabid dog.

Unexpectedly, they had become lovers six months ago. Unexpectedly
because Noah couldn't quite remember what happened. He had been
angry, yelling at Keats for some idiotic stunt he had pulled and
before he knew it, he had been thoroughly kissed, prepped and rammed
all in about five minutes. It had been in an office, not even their
own.

They had returned to Noah's hotel room and had hardly gotten out of
bed for two days. Noah smiled at the memory. He was amazed that this
volatile and wonderful man loved him and wanted him and that he, Noah
was about the only thing that made this guy lose control.

Noah heard foot falls down the hall and blundered into speech. "Do
you know what this is about?"

"No, haven't been in to see Sikora. We still have five minutes. I
hope he's got coffee. How was your drive? Are you tired?" Keats bent
over slightly so he could whisper into Noah's ear, "God, what a look
for you! Hope this doesn't take long."

Noah grinned up at him. At six foot one and a halve, Noah was not a
short man, but he definitely had to look up to Keats, it was an
unique experience. Looking at Keats, the enchantment that always
engulfed Noah in Keats' presence took hold. Noah felt himself
handsome and desirable because he could see Keats' appreciation of
him in Keats' eyes.

Keats smiled at his lover knowing the affect he had on him, "Come on,
Mountain Man, time to see Sikora."
 

Guest Room/Hoover Building
9:14 Thursday Morning
 

Keats and Noah sat in their seats, stunned. Director Sikora had taken
them from his office to the Guest Room before they even had time to
sit. Once in the Guest Room Sikora had debriefed them in detail.

"You called Ooka in?" Keats was surprised, Ooka was a four man team
of very specialized abilities. One of three teams that were directly
under the Director, sometimes referred to as the Director's Gestapo.

Sikora nodded in the affirmative and continued, "I want you two to
interrogate Bill Mulder thoroughly. You have two days. We're acting
under the Shield Interrogation Provision, so we have carte blanc. I
don't want him to know where he is or who is interrogating him. After
you're done, we'll let him go and see who's interested. You have the
Ooka team at your disposal until this is finished."

At Keats and Noah's questioning looks, Sikora continued, "For now, I
want you both to stay in the Guest Room. There's plenty of room. The
Room is set up for twelve and there are only Agents Calahand and
Wiggins who are working on backgrounds and financial ties and Ooka.
That's only eight agents. I might have more interrogations or I might
be sending you out with Ooka, I don't know yet."

Keats nodded his head, "How long has Mulder been in custody?"

Sikora leaned back, "A little over three hours."

Noah stood up, "Let's let him stew for another couple of hours, that
way I can take a nap. Ooka are dressed in their non-descript black?"
At Sikora's nod, Noah continued, "Then we'll have to decide what we
want to look like to him, how we sound and what not. IRA is always a
good bet with me. Or maybe we can put a German twist to it. Might be
more effective."

Keats stood up and stretched, "He shouldn't be hard to break, I take
it that we were called in more for security than our talents, same
for Ooka?"

Sikora sat back and stared up at them. "Yes and no. I don't know
where this is going yet. I need people around me I can trust and that
I know can do the job."

Noah nodded, "OK boss, but those bunks are not going to do it.  I've
been here before. I dripped over the ends and stuck out the sides. I
will not go through that torture again. Keats here, isn't even going
to be close. You don't want us cranky. I'm going to sack out on the
floor for now. Hopefully, something better will appear by the time we
get back."

"Is that a threat?"

Noah replied with a smile, "Na, Boss, it's just a precautionary
suggestion."

Sikora laughed, "Alright, I'll see what Sid can do."

****************
Skinner's condo
10:45 AM

Skinner had been working non-stop through most of the morning. He had
talked with eight of the regional offices and had done the weekly
reports. He turned his neck, trying to loosen up the tight muscles.
He could hear the pounding of the punching bag up stairs. He decided
to go up, a few minutes on the treadmill would be a good break along
with some weight work.

Marcus had finally felt comfortable enough with Mulder to leave for a
few hours to reacquaint himself with his kids and Daisy. He would be
back in time to cook dinner.

Sid had brought a few free weights and taken away the stationary bike
when both Mulder and Skinner had said they wouldn't use it.  It
seemed Sid was all over the place. He'd called and asked if he could
use the king size mattress that had been taken out of Skinner's guest
room. Now, why would he need that? Skinner smiled to himself and
grabbed his phone to take up stairs.  On the way up, he called Kim
and told her he was taking a break and to hold his calls for an hour.

Skinner entered the guest bedroom, ah gym, and Mulder stopped and
glanced at him. His face was tear tracked and he quickly looked away
and pulled off his boxing gloves and rubbed at his cheeks.  He turned
around and  swiftly came over and carefully gave Skinner a peck on
the cheek, trying not to touch him with his sweat drenched body.
Skinner was having none of that and pulled him into a full body
embrace and kissed him with serious intent. Skinner's plan for the
treadmill and weights were quickly forgotten.

Mulder's hands on him felt wonderful. Walter breathed in Mulder`s
scent, unencumbered by an overpowering deodorant. It was unique,
musky and not displeasing. He broke the kiss and started to lick the
sweat off of Mulder's neck and shoulders. God, how he loved this.
Soon, Mulder was moaning and started to sink down to the floor.
Walter followed him down.

Mulder only had boxers on, which were quickly discarded. Walter
quickly stripped while trying to keep his tongue in contact with
Mulder`s body. On the floor, Walter licked, nipped and sucked his way
to Mulder's beautiful cock. Mulder was busy doing the same. Soon they
had their heads buried in each other's groins, pulling each other
closer by grabbing each other's ass cheeks.

Mulder sucked, licked and nipped in blissful desperation as he felt
his body start to zing towards orgasm. He buried his fingers in
Walter's ass and sought out his prostate. Walter bucked, starting to
spasm. Mulder deep throated him quickly. Seconds later he came in
Walter's mouth.

It had been a quick and wonderful encounter. Mulder let go of
Walter's softened cock and with a gentle kiss turned around and
crawled up and laid his head on Walter's shoulder. He had a faster
recovery time than Walter on blow jobs, slower for any other kind of
lovemaking.

Walter hugged him close and Mulder said, "See what happens when the
latex and lube are just too far away? God, you are wonderful."

Walter chuckled, "Ya, you're kind of wonderful your self. We're on
our own for lunch. I am starved, but I don`t know if I`ll ever move
again. You wear me out, but I love it, love you."

Mulder started sitting up, "I'm getting cold, I'm going to clean up
and then make some sandwiches, if you can move that beautiful ass of
yours, I'll save one for you."

*************

A little later:

Downstairs Walter and Mulder were feasting on not only sandwiches,
but tomato soup too. They had been quiet, but it was a nice
comforting kind of silence.

Walter leaned back in his chair, "It's kind of nice having the condo
to ourselves for a while. I'll call Kim and see if she can't side
track stuff for a while. There's nothing going on and I have only
four weekly reports to do. Want to cuddle on the couch for a bit and
see if there's  a movie or something on? I've got some videos you
might like."

Mulder looked up and gave Walter a weak grin, "It sounds wonderful."
He looked away and then back at Walter, "They must have dad by now."

Walter broke eye contact and looked down at his empty soup bowl, he
didn't know what to say, he looked back up, "How do you feel about
that?"

Mulder looked away again, "I don't know. When I was little, I always
wanted his approval.  Once I knew I was queer, I knew that wasn't
going to happen so I just let it be. When I remembered the other
night, I started to hate him, but it takes too much energy to keep it
up. He's a stranger I never knew. One of the monsters. He's partially
responsible for Sam's death. I really don't care about him, but I
want a father who loves me. I want my sister. I want my mother well.
Since none of that is going to happen, I guess I'm mourning. Just
stay with me, Walter, please."

Walter came around and enfolded him in a embrace and held tight, his
voice was choked with unshed tears, "We're together for the long run.
We'll get through this and then we'll concentrate on building our
lives together. We've got so much to look forward to. Hold on, hold
on to me, baby. I need you so much. Hold on to me."

****************

Black Room
Hoover Building
11:30 AM

Two tall burly men in black stood to either side of a small holding
cell which was made entirely of black bars. There was no bed, no
chair, no sink, only a minimal toilet.  There was no privacy at all.
The larger room was also entirely black with no furniture. There were
glaring white lights which illuminated the room uncomfortably bright.

Keats had watched the man sitting on the floor for the last fifteen
minutes. Billy boy seemed composed, ready to take this in stride.
However, there was a slight tremor in his hands. The man needed a
drink.

He had talked to Noah before he went to sleep and they had decided on
a plan. Now dressed in Ooka black, minus his glasses, which he
replaced with black contacts, he centered himself to assume his role.
He often had the unwelcome thought that if things had been different
he might have become a very bad person.

The role of psychotic interrogator came a bit too easily.  Keats
found that it was a wonderful outlet for the load of anger he always
seemed to carry in an extra pocket. Mostly forgotten, but always
accessible.  He had a streak of cruelty in him that he didn't like to
acknowledge, but it was there. Dr. Grabbowski had brought him face to
face with it.

He straightened himself and let himself fall into the role. He banged
the door open and strode across the floor until he was standing in
the center of the larger room facing the cell. He put his hands on
his hips and acquired a disgusted look.  He barked out, "Why isn't
the prisoner prepared?" He then walked up to one of the Ooka guards
and gave him a hard smack across the face. The guard didn't react,
they knew to play along.

"Never mind, I'll do it myself, open the door."

The guard which had been hit hurried to comply, Keats walked in
followed by the two Ooka.

"Stand him up and hold him."

Bill Mulder was angry and resisted a bit as he was manhandled into a
standing position.

Bill's voice was a bit unsteady as he spat out, "You don't know who
you're dealing with! You all will be dead! DEAD! Do you hear me, you
mother fuckers!"

Keats responded quietly, "Shut up, Billy boy, we know exactly who you
are and we also know some of your dirty little secrets and even some
of your nasty little friends. You are really quite expendable, that
is after we get the information we want, so if you don't want me to
cut out your tongue, you'll tell me only what I ask and keep your
putrid thoughts to yourself."

Bill Mulder stood up straight, "You don't scare me!"

Keats smiled sweetly at him and answered in a soft voice, "I should."
He then removed a very long and sharp knife from a sheath tied to his
left leg, he made a show of examining it and then quickly stuck the
knife out and up through the top of Bill's trousers cutting his belt
in two. It was a move that Keats had practiced a lot. It was usually
very distressing to the people it was done to. Bill Mulder was
positively white.

Keats continued to almost lovingly cut Bill Mulder's clothes off.
Occasionally drawing a thin line of blood. When everything was
removed except Bill Mulder's shoe and socks, the guards bent his legs
and held him in mid air, ass down,  as Keats took his shoes and socks
off and ran the blade lightly across the soles of his feet. He let
the blade wander up the inside of Bill Mulder's right leg until the
blade flicked at Bill Mulder's balls. Mulder futilely struggled
between the Ooka guards. Keats finally motioned the guards to set
Mulder down.

Standing up straight again, Bill Mulder still looked at Keats with
far too much defiance.  "Open his mouth, make sure there isn't
anything in there, cyanide tooth or whatever. When that was
completed, Keats took out a latex glove from a pocket and slowly put
it on. "Bend him over."

Keats gave Bill Mulder a rough anal exam with two fingers. He made it
as unpleasant as he could without causing physical injury. Bill
Mulder was pale and a bit shaken, but his eyes were still angry and
cold.

Keats bent over a bit and looked into Bill Mulder's eyes and said
with a soft voice full of kindness, "You still don't believe I'm
serious. You still think there is a way out. Nobody can find you, not
even Charles Spender. Hold him tight." At that Keats saw a break in
the wall, he grabbed Mulder's right hand and proceeded to break each
of the four fingers, slowly, pressing his advantage. He hadn't wanted
to give away that information yet but Bill Mulder had to believe he
was in a hopeless situation alone.

Bill Mulder was screaming, the guards still supporting him. Bill
Mulder's eyes were agreeably wide and horrified. Keats exited the
holding cell without a word and walked out of the room. The two Ooka
guards silently let Mulder slide down to the floor and left to take
their positions outside the cell.

Bill Mulder's clothes had been kicked to the outside of the cell and
were heaped in a pathetic pile, a reminder that nothing could be
taken for granted anymore, not even basic human necessities.

*******************
Guest Room
Hoover Building
2:45 PM

Keats had showered and changed into comfortable grungies.
An old FBI tee-shirt and scrub pants. He was so tall that it was
impossible to grab something off the rack and expect it to fit, so
for causal wear he had taken to wearing scrubs. Lose but usually long
enough. The pair he was wearing were burgundy. The colors could
sometimes be a problem, but it was better than wearing jeans that
were zip codes away from his ankles.

He was contentedly sitting at a table drinking coffee and doing a
cross-word puzzle. He looked up to see Noah walk in and cross over to
the coffee machine. Noah was dressed in jeans and an Arizona
Diamondback Baseball shirt. Noah was from Tempe, Arizona and loved
baseball. It was the D'backs first year and they had only lost thirty
four games out of thirty eight, but didn't curb Noah's delight in
having a home team for the first time. Keats shook his head, how Noah
and his white skin had survived the southern Arizona sun was a
mystery to him. He figured that Noah must have spent his childhood
completely red skinned. Noah didn't avoid the sun, but he didn't
sunbathe either.

Noah arrived at the table and sat down. "How'd it go?"

Before Keats could answer the two Ooka who had been guarding Bill
Mulder came in after being relieved. They glanced at Keats quickly
then put as much distance between themselves and Keats as they
discreetly could.

Noah, noticing the Ooka's behavior leaned in towards Keats, "Those
are some of the toughest sons a bitches in the FBI, what the hell did
you do?"

Keats continued his cross-word puzzle, and nonchalantly
commented, "Naked, rectal, four figures, he was a bit harder than I
thought he would be."

Noah shuttered slightly, this was a side to Keats he had seen, but
never really got use too. He was the gentlest man Noah had ever
known, well, with an asterisk.

"Noah, come on, you know under the Shield Interrogation Provision,
I'm allowed fingers, wrists, and toes. I usually stick to fingers
because they seem to have the most impact. I had to mention Charles
Spender to him."

Noah couldn't help himself and blurted out, "I don't know how you can
so calmly talk about this."

Keats leaned back, "Noah, I know you can't. But this guy is a monster
and frankly, I wouldn't mind de-boneing him while he was still
alive." At Noah's horrified look, he hastened to add, "but of course
I won't."

Keats reached over and gave Noah's hand a squeeze, "Now that I've
softened him up, are you prepared to go in and be his guardian angel
and protect him from me? He's been sitting on the floor in his
birthday suit for four hours now. I had the temperature turned down
to a brisk sixty degrees. Wear your sweater. Do you want to watch for
a while? The man drinks gin. Bring him a couple ounces and you could
have a friend for life."

Noah looked at him and grinned, how he loved this slightly twisted
individual. "Ya, let's watch for a while. I'm ready to do my gig. Do
you have that list of questions? Are you ready for part two?"

"Ya, We've got to change. Did you notice the mattress you woke up in?
Sid, me and a couple of the Ooka took out the bunks and now we have a
king size mattress and two singles. Almost the whole floor of our pod
is covered with mattresses. Neat, huh. Let me tell you, you were no
easy thing to move. Took me, Sid and the blond Ooka, Nick, I think.
They don't talk much."

Noah was smiling now, the Keats he liked best was in the forefront,
boyish, gregarious, funny and sweet.

End of part 11

~~~~~

Chapter 12

John Hopkins Medical Center
Office of Dr. Sam Kasahara
Thursday 2:03 PM

Sam leaned back and put his hands behind his head and stretched his
elbows back as far as they could go. "This is intriguing to say the
least. I would throw this away as someone's delusional dream if the
FBI hadn't sent you with it. I don't know what they what me to do. We
can conjecture, we can speculate, but we have nothing to go on."

Director Sikora says he expects to get more information momentarily
and Agent Mulder will be brought here as soon as Dr. Grabbowski gives
the all clear. I suggest that we continue to do research on the
Lormyatheim group of drugs. Dr. Daisy Grabbowski and I started it."

Scully dug into her briefcase and handed over a file. "Also we can
start on some research on whatever might cause color-blindness. Agent
Mulder is convinced that it was only after he was pulled from the
tank that he couldn't see green anymore. He remembered it being
filled with green gel when he was being put into it. He doesn't have
any other specific memories that include green or red before he was
put in the tank, but Dr. Grabbowski thinks he's repressing them."

Sam's interest perked up a bit, "How color-blind is he?"

Scully dug and got another paper out of her briefcase, "Very,
absolutely no green, no red, only shades of gray."

"OK, artificially induced color-blindness, didn't ever imagine it
could be done. I'll get my computer warmed up. Can I consult with Dr.
Abrams?"

"Only if he isn't given any details. Tell him it's a hypothetical
problem until Director Sikora clears him, if it's necessary."  Scully
bent her head over to write some notes on a pad in front of her. Sam
softly sighed, it had been too long since he'd been out. The woman
had the most beautiful mop of hair he'd ever seen. Her eyes were
glorious and she had a face of an angel. And wonder of wonders she
was actually shorter than him even with her heels. At five foot four,
most women loomed oppressively above him.

Skinner's condo
Thursday 6:30 PM

Marcus was putting the finishing touches on the lasagna and salad. He
pulled the garlic toast from the oven and happily set the table.
Things here were going better than he would have ever predicted.
Without Badger, Mulder, he was sure would have been on automatic self-
destruct by now. Mulder was dealing with this mess about as well as
could be expected. Badger was apparently doing fine also. He'd give
Mulder another day and then send Badger and Mulder to John Hopkins to
try to find that implant.

Marcus decided he was having dinner and going home for a while. If
Mulder had any surfacing memories, or night terrors, Badger could get
a hold of him. Ah, the power of love, Mulder was coping because he
didn't want to chance  losing Badger.

Marcus shook his head, he almost forgot, Sikora had called.  He had
to visit the Hoover before he went home. Damn. Sikora had never seen
Keats and Noah do their thing. Sikora had been horrified when he had
viewed a replay of Keats' opening performance. Marcus had to remind
Sikora that Keats' had played by the book.

The second encounter with Bill Mulder where both Noah and Keats had
performed their song and dance had not been comforting either. Sikora
was only used to the results these two got, not to what they actually
did. So Sikora, being a bit flustered, wanted him to come down to the
Hoover to 'talk' to them, and do what? Make sure they were both still
sane?  Well, he's stop in and say hi, and then he'd track down Sikora
and have a little chat with him and reassure him that the crazies he
employed were safe.
 

************

Skinner's condo
Thursday night
7:37 PM

Mulder was trying urgently to calm himself down. He had gone into the
bathroom and all of a sudden was overtaken by  a panic attack. He was
panicking, but he had no idea what he was in a panic about. There was
no new memory, there was no reason, but his body was responding to
something.

He tried to think, He had gone to the bathroom, turned on the sink
water to wash his hands, and then he remembered!  Ohoooooooo the
sound of the water. Burning! The sound of the water echoing off the
tile walls. The water they were spraying on him to wash the gel off.
His skin was burning! Burning! He threw himself against the bathroom
wall, breaking the towel rod and  slid down the bathroom wall
screaming, tearing at his clothes and scratching desperately at his
skin to stop the burning.

Badger broke the bathroom door down and Marcus rushed in. Mulder was
in the grip of a panic attack. Or more likely, a memory that came on
so strong it was like a hallucination . That damn endemic memory,
throwing him right back into the experience, so exact.

They fought to restrain Mulder. It was difficult because the bathroom
was a very small quest bathroom and Mulder was desperately trying to
scratch his skin off. Mulder's legs were kicking as he hurled his
body side to side. Badger was practically laying on top of Mulder,
trying to restrain him for Marcus. Marcus gripped his hypodermic
tightly and dived in and stuck Mulder somewhere in his hip. Mulder
was wildly squirming, but finding bare skin wasn't too difficult
because Mulder had torn most of his clothes off.

The sedative shot was just strong enough to calm him down but
hopefully, not knock him out. Marcus and Badger continued to restrain
Mulder so he couldn't further injure himself. In a couple of minutes
Mulder was whimpering, still trying to scratch himself, but without
any strength.

Marcus motioned Badger to carry Mulder out. Well, he'd have to call
Sikora and Daisy. It didn't look like he was going anywhere tonight.

Mulder had been placed back on the couch.  Marcus sat down next to
Mulder and started talking to him softly.  Walter, feeling a bit
shaken and momentarily useless went to find his first aid kit and a
coverlet. When Walter returned, Mulder was laying quietly and Marcus
motioned for Walter to take his place. Walter started treating
Mulder`s deeper self-inflicted scratches. Mulder had done a number on
himself, he had deep scratches up and down his arms and thighs, as
well as across his chest.

Marcus sat across from them and leaned back into the armchair and
observed them. Mulder was groggy but awake and was now saying a
mantra of I'm sorrys to Badger. Badger at first had been answering
but it soon became apparent that Mulder was not listening. Done with
his task, he started to put the First Aid kit away and looked at
Marcus for direction.

Marcus got up and came back over and squatted down. It took five
minutes of talking to get Mulder to stop his mantra and to start
focusing on Marcus. Once the doctor held his attention, he asked if
Mulder could remember the flashback.

Mulder nodded and groped for Walter's hand. Once he had it, he
haltingly started, "I was burning." His voice broke and he started
again. "They were rinsing the gel off of me with water. I could hear
the water running and I was burning. My skin was burning. They kept
pouring water on me but I was still burning. The water didn't help!
Without the gel, I'm burning! Oh, fuck! I'm burning!" Mulder's voice
unexpectedly escalated to a screech as his body started straining
against the couch.

Walter grabbed Mulder and sat him up enough that he could slide under
him and then pulled him close, Mulder's back was against Badger's
chest and he held Mulder tight, restraining his arms. Marcus quickly
reached up and started rubbing Mulder's out stretched legs, "No
burning, Mulder. No burning, it's just a memory."

Marcus continued to jostle Mulder and talk to him until, Mulder
calmed down a bit. Mulder pushed back into Badger's shoulder. Mulder
repeated "Just a memory, just a memory."

He turned his head and pushed it against the hollow between Walter's
neck and shoulder and feebly whispered, "I don't want to do this
anymore. I don't want to remember."

Marcus sat back on his heels and evaluated Mulder. He was very shaky
but not sinking into a defensive dementia. The man was going to be
OK, but this was hell. He hoped there were no more surprises. Marcus
addressed Mulder, "Mulder, can you hear me?"

Mulder nodded his head slightly while it was still tucked into
Walter's comforting hollow.

"Listen, Mulder, I don't think there is much more to remember. Check
your memory, are there still significant gaps?"

After a couple of minutes Mulder weakly straightened up and said with
a slight tremor in his voice, "No, not really, a small bump of
nothing here and there, but nothing that lasts long enough to be
concerned about."

"OK, Mulder, we're through the roughest part. Go get some rest and
we'll talk in the morning."

Mulder`s expression suddenly turned angry, he spat out furiously, "I
don't want to talk. I want shove all this shit into some black hole
and nuke it."

Marcus looked at him and gently said, "That's what we're going to
do.  Shove it and nuke it. Catchy isn`t it? It can be our motto.
Maybe we can get bumper stickers and tee-shirts?"

Mulder leaned back into Badger's chest and gave Marcus a grin that
just quirked the side of his mouth. "I like it. We can start a  nice
little cottage industry on the side before the bureau kicks us out on
our asses. You are one crazy son of a bitch. You know that don't you,
Dr. G.?

Marcus smiled back at Mulder then at Badger and then got up and
walked over to the chair and sat down.  " Oh, that's why the bureau
hired me. Go get some rest both of you. I'll be down here. I know
where the bedding is."

He watched as Badger got Mulder up and directed him toward the
stairs. Badger looked back at Marcus once for reassurance and,
getting it, turned back to his lover. Badger was gently guiding
Mulder while entirely surrounding him with his arms giving Mulder his
assurance of protection. Badger never stopped softly talking into his
lover's ear and Mulder, even as they were moving, seemed to tuck
himself closer to Badger. Marcus couldn't hope for better body
language. Badger was turning out to be quite amazing. Mulder was
damned lucky to have connected with him.

Marcus sighed as he thought of all the time Mulder and he would be
spending together to work on the all the stuff that Mulder had
accumulated because of that group of bastards. He'd be OK. He was one
tough and resilient individual to have dealt with all the junk.  The
nightmares, the absence of family, the panic attacks, the lurking
Nothing and he had still become one of the best profilers the bureau
ever produced.

Marcus continued to reflect about Mulder. Maybe Mulder's phobia to
fire was connected to him subconsciously remembering feeling like he
was burning? Not just the once, but every year when they took him, he
talked about them injecting him with something that made if feel as
if his insides were burning, then that last time. That last time must
have been horrible. As he drifted into sleep, his last thoughts were
that that was an area they would have to explore.

***************

Friday Morning 10:13 AM
Hoover Building
The Guest Room

Sikora was uncomfortably sitting across a table from Keats and Noah.
He wished that Marcus had been able to come over last night. After
viewing those interrogation tapes he was anything but relaxed with
these men.

Keats and Noah seemed oblivious to Sikora's discomfort. Keats grabbed
for his coffee as Noah started the report. "We're done with Bill
Mulder. We gave him a blanket to sleep in. It's probably best if we
knock him out, wrap him up in the blanket we gave him and return him
to his house. That way it will be unlikely anyone can trace his
abduction to us."

Sikora nodded, "I'll have Ooka take care of it. We have surveillance
set up, I have Nava coming in tonight."

Keats leaned in trying to rearrange his legs again. "What we have is
in that report, but I'll summarize. Bill Mulder was recruited by Adam
Kesstler the year he graduated with his doctorate from MIT. Bill
Mulder did all the mathematical and  engineering work. He designed
those tanks.  He was paid very well, both in money, women and his
position.

However, not even the E-group could keep his job in the Defense
Department. His drinking was too obvious. He was retired early and
put on a full pension.

He was kept in the dark as to the exact function of those tanks. He
guessed that system he developed would carry a small electrical
current through a biological unit. He was told after his daughter was
taken that any child taken was not coming back and that they would
live out their lives in those tanks as human plants, there only for
the harvest. He says it was then he realized that the biological unit
was a child and not a dog.

He said he was told, originally, that the children were to be used as
test subjects for the life extension drug. Billy knew it was
potentially dangerous, but because it was Fox, he didn`t care. Billy
had been approached by Adam Kesstler who offered him one million
dollars if the project could use his unborn baby as a test subject.
Billy agreed. He said only the people who worked in the project were
paid for one of their children, the others were just chosen and
taken."

Keats reached over and flipped through the pages of the report, "The
specifications for the tanks are here. Also a list of the eleven
names that Bill Mulder knows are associated with the project. The
ultimate goal of the project is life-extension by using whatever the
children are producing. Billy doesn't have a clue. I gave the list to
Agent Calahand and him and Agent Wiggins are working on it. Three of
names, as you see, we already know."

Noah interrupted with a look to his partner, "We didn't put this into
the report, Billy is convinced that Charlie is the real biological
father of Agent Mulder. Billy hates both Charlie and Agent Mulder.
Naming the boy Fox was a slap in the face directed at Charlie.
However, Billy says that it didn't work, Charlie didn't care. He
seems to hate Agent Mulder too. Billy doesn't understand why."

Keats said, "None of that is very important except if there is some
kind of personality dynamic we can use later."

Sikora looked over at his two agents, "We're going after Charlie.
Between Ooka and Nava, I'm confident we can nab him. He's going to be
tough. You've got his file. Prepare for him. Once he's brought in
I'll assign Ooka to you again."

Sikora stood up, "Good work. I've got Junior Spender and Krycek
covered for now, I'm not bringing them in yet. The Lone Gunmen are
still monitoring their computer and we might still get a lead there.
The interview with Senator Everhart was a washout. Hopefully, we'll
have Charlie within the next couple of days."

*************

As it turned out, Noah and Keats didn't have much time to prepare for
Charlie. He had been waiting for Bill Mulder in his house. It could
have been messy, but one of the Ooka had smelled cigarette smoke. The
four Ooka had captured Charlie and drugged him and left Bill Mulder
wrapped up in his bed. Ooka had called Keats and Noah on a secured
channel and asked for instructions.

Charlie was an experienced espionage agent so Keats figured his
little knife act would not be too effective on him. Better not to
take chances, he gave instructions that the unconscious Charlie
should be stripped and thoroughly searched and left in the Black Room
under guard. Keats also gave an order that when the prisoner was
secured and processed that Charlie's brand of cigarettes should be
checked and a carton of them purchased and brought to the Guest Room.

Keats and Noah were hashing ideas when they were notified that
Charlie had been brought in and was being prepared. Noah stood up and
started pacing, "There is no way he is not going to know who has him.
He's got an endemic memory and probably knows every face in every
agency."

Keats leaned back in the folding chair and stretched his legs. "He
might know our faces, but he can't know all that much about us or
even the Ooka. Faces that's all. Sikora keeps us confidential.
Charlie might know about the operations in LA and New York, might
know the Bureau was involved, but our names are only documented by
the reports seen by the Director and the Justice Department."

Noah nodded down at Keats, he could tell Keats was hatching one of
his plots.

Keats looked up to the ceiling as if endeavoring to gather wisdom
from its cracks. "What if we present ourselves as rogue agents, out
to get the  life-extension process for power and money. He would
understand that, would let himself believe that. He might even want
to cut himself some new partners."

Noah bent down and looked into Keats` eyes. "I like it. It might be
fun, but Charlie will sleep for another two hours. Let's go to our
pod and do some fine tuning. We might even have time for more than
that if you can manage to keep it quiet."

Keats stood up and bent so he could whisper in Noah's ear, "It's not
me who screamed so loud in that Tallahassee hotel that the poor woman
next door thought there was a murder going on. I don't think the
police were too convinced that you stubbed your toe."

Noah straightened his shoulders, "As I recall, you weren't too much
help. Laying there in bed with your chest hanging out and working
that cross-word puzzle. Don't think they didn't hear you snickering."

"Oh really, Noah. Do you think we had them fooled at all? The place
must have reeked of sex."

"Oh, God."

"Come on, baby. Let's see if we can't reek some more."

Keats headed towards their pod and stopped when he noticed Noah was
not following. Seeing Noah bending over some cupboards, Keats
asked, "What are you looking for?"

Noah's muffled answer came back, "They must have some room fresher in
here, somewhere."

Keats marched over and collected his lover by putting an arm around
his waist and literally carrying him to their pod.

They both were laughing hysterically by the time Keats dumped Noah on
the mattresses and slammed the door behind him.

*************

Skinner's condo
Friday Afternoon 4:48 PM

Mulder was updating their strategy charts while Walter was working
over the coffee table. Talking on the phone and jotting down notes.
Marcus had gone home for a while. He was cooking diner for his wife
and kids and then coming back.

Walter was just putting down the phone when they heard the fax
machine. Walter got up and went to collect it. As soon as Walter
realized what he had, he gathered the sheets and ran out to the front
room. "Mulder! Mulder! They've got Charlie! Here's the report on what
they learned from Bill Mulder and here, look here! Sikora wrote us a
note that they have Charlie in custody and will start the
interrogation sometime tonight."

Mulder rushed over and grabbed for the papers. He quickly glanced
through them.  Mulder tossed them to the side angrily. "These have
been edited. Damnit! I want to know everything that bastard said."
Mulder plopped himself on the floor and moodily gathered the papers
into a neat pile. "Sorry, Badger."

Walter winced, that was the third time Mulder had called him that.
Things being as they were, Walter was not going to be petty and
correct him on this, but still.

Mulder interrupted his thoughts, "I can't believe that they have
Charlie! Boy, that is one interrogation I'd like to see. Do you think
they have a chance of getting any information from him?"

Walter sat down beside Mulder and leaned against him slightly. "This
guy is a real spook. I don't know, but Sikora has a couple of agents
that specialize in difficult interrogations. He mentioned a Richard
Plant and the other one is Noah Towers. Ring any bells?"

Mulder closed his eyes and concentrated. "No."

Walter put his arm around Mulder's shoulder, "You hungry yet or do
you fell like going up to the gym?"

Mulder snuggled in a little closer to Walter, "Come on, Badger, let's
go upstairs. I want to make love to you."

Mulder reached for his lover and brought him close for a kiss. The
kiss deepened and it was all either of them could do to get up the
stairs and to the bed. Their clothes were quickly tossed aside.

Walter never did notice that Mulder kept calling him Badger until
they were both sated and cuddling in bed, basking in afterglow.
Mulder, drifting off to sleep, drowsily chattering about hummingbirds
while Walter contentedly held him. Well, if Mulder insisted on
calling him Badger, he could live with it, he decided.  He would let
him call him anything. Badger smiled as he considered that Fox, once
you got used to it, had sort of a nice ring to it. Well, he had
warned him.
 
 

End of Two Voice Harmony 12/19
 

~~~~~

Chapter 13

Skinner's condo
Saturday Morning
4:18 AM

Mulder opened his eyes and watched the flickering light dance on the
ceiling for the few seconds that it took him to come fully awake. It
was gently wavering, projecting moving shapes of shade across the
smooth expanse. Mulder found it inexplicitly soothing, comforting for
some reason. Maybe because he was in Badger's bedroom, their
bedroom.  Mulder buried himself deeper under the comforter and
reached his hand out to connect with his lover. No Badger.

He looked over to his side and saw the top of Badger's head. When had
that happened?  When had Mulder started thinking of him as Badger?
Maybe he needed a name that was exclusively his for his lover or
maybe Walter had become a Badger for him, defending him and taking
care of him. He had been so wonderful.  Badger loved him, he still
couldn't get over the wonder of it. Badger, somehow, that fit him,
but he would never have the nerve to call him that out loud. Had to
watch out and make sure he didn't slip, Walter, Walter.

Mulder quietly eased himself up on his elbows and saw that Badger was
sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a three wick candle
that had set on the bookcase. His lover's face was expressionless,
but peaceful. Without his glasses he looked very young and*wistful.
What was he doing? Meditating? Was he a closet new-ager, or into Zen
or something?

Mulder tried to silently crawl over to the end of the bed but got his
foot twisted in the sheet. Untangling his foot, he hopped out and he
stood up. Badger, who had been watching the process, looked at him
with a grin on his face. Then, when Mulder was safely standing he
smiled up at him. "Did I wake you?"

Mulder paused and looked down at Badger. He was clad only in a old
FBI gym shirt and boxers, his long legs crossed and his face lifted
in an amused smile. The sight made Mulder catch his breath. The
glittering light of the candle softened and played with Badger's
features. God! He was beautiful!. Not only his body, but the inner
man who shown through those sparkling eyes.

Mulder walked over, not bothering to pull on his boxers and sat down
beside Badger and crossed his legs. He lightly leaned against his
lover, shoulder to shoulder. "Badg* ah, Walter, what are you doing?"

Badger turned his head back toward the little flames and  grinned. He
returned a bit of pressure to Mulder's shoulder which was lightly
pressing against his. "You can call me Badger if you want to. You did
it all day, yesterday, roll back your tapes and check it out."

Mulder groaned slightly and Badger continued, softening his
voice, "And remember last night, you yelled it out, you put a strong
emphasis on the first syllable and then you collapsed on me and
whispered the second syllable in my ear. I was already going to let
you call me anything you wanted to, but it was then that I decided I
liked it, hearing it like that."

Mulder's blush was even visible in the candlelight. "I don't know why
I started thinking of you by that name."

Badger put his put his arm around Mulder, "Baby, it doesn't matter."

Mulder`s voice was tentative when he asked, "Do you have another name
for me, I mean that you call me in your head?"

"Sometimes I call you Fox, but I know you've always disliked that
name.  Were you hoping for Harry?"

Mulder smirked, "No, I think I'll pass on Harry. Fox is unusual, but
not unheard of. I was rather thankful when I found out that Zorro
meant Fox. Well, if a hero could be named Fox, or at least called
Fox, so could I. It was my main defense in school. Mary always called
me `little one' or some variation in various languages. She avoided
my name as much as I did."  Mulder looked down and his voice became
hoarse, "I think I've always hated the name Fox  because I don't
think I've ever heard it said with*

Badger interrupted gently, "With love, with affection?"

Mulder nodded his head and then raised it, glad he could focus his
eyes on the candle, "Ya, I was so relieved when I got to Oxford.
Every one there was just called by their last names."

There were a few moments of silence and then Mulder unfolded his legs
and turned towards Badger to find that hollow space between his
lover's neck and shoulder he had become so fond of. He tucked his
head there. Mulder's muffled voice drifted softly to Badger's
ear, "You can call me Fox, if you want to. You love me."

It was said so sweetly, so trustingly, that Badger's heart
constricted and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He put both of his
arms around his lover and cradled him, grateful for this moment.
Slightly rocking his precious lover, he stared at the little flames
and said softly, "Yes, Fox, I love you."

******************

John Hopkins Hospital
8:37 AM
Dr. Sam Kasahara's Lab

"Dr. Scully, what do they expect me to do? Recreate this horror? I
won't be part of some freakish life-extension research."

Scully looked up from her notes with a puzzled expression, and seeing
Dr. Kasahara's troubled face, tried to piece together what he had
just said. "Recreate the research? No. No. What we want is a list of
likely ingredients, anything unusual so we can try to track them in
the 70's and any thing current. Director Sikora and A.D. Skinner
think this bunch might be gearing up for another run."

Sam Kasahara sat down, "That's too close to regenerating the data."

Scully shook her head, "Not really, it might not have even worked.
Don't forget Mulder, he might still be carrying around an implant. We
need to know what's it's for. They actually cut into newborn babies
to press it behind the sternum. I'd like to know why and how.

And that gel, I'd like to get the composition of that. See if there
is a snowball's change in hell of reversing Mulder's color-
blindness." Scully grimaced, She felt slightly guilty for the grief
she had given Mulder about his awful ties, yet she mollified herself,
if he was color-blind why wouldn't he stay with one color ties? Label
them or something? Why hadn't he ever told her?

Realizing that she had stopped talking and Sam was still looking at
her expectedly, she continued, "None of us want to duplicate the
formula in detail, just have threads to follow, to investigate. Like
the Plexiglas, we have agents researching that lead now. Companies
that sold Plexiglas, made to order, that kind of thing. If we're real
lucky, maybe they can come up with a name and location. Director
Sikora is convinced that the medical facility is still in existence,
maybe still operating or getting ready to be put back in operation."

Sam nodded his head, "OK,I understand.  This is one of the most evil
things I've ever heard of. I don't like thinking that there are
people out there like this."  Sam turned his head towards the desk
she was working at, "Have Agent Mulder's hospital records from when
he was returned, been found yet?"

Scully got up and  walked over to an ancient coffee machine and
poured two cups of coffee grabbed a few sweetener packets and a
couple of cream tubs and went to a small table near the lab's only
window. She motioned for him to come join her.

He walked over and took a seat and dug through the Equal packets and
found one with real sugar and put it in his coffee. Scully was still
creating the perfect cup of coffee and Sam leaned back, amused by her
precision. One and a half tubs of cream and one half packet of Equal.
She looked up as she started to stir her concoction and continued
talking like their conversation had never lapsed.

"The hospital records are gone, all his hospital records, probably
destroyed. The FBI agents never saw the Mulder after his return.
Pressure was exerted to close the case, take the parent's word that
all was well. They said he was at a cousin`s, that cousin doesn't
exist. The FBI agents were more or less told to drop it. No foul, no
crime.

Mulder's memory is pretty much back and what he remembers is that
they took him out of the tank and washed off the gel with water. He
said it burned his skin, either the absence of the gel or the
application of water to the skin, a chemical reaction maybe.

He woke up in the hospital and said he had a really bad sunburn. His
skin was red and blistered, his hair and eyebrows had fallen out. He
stayed in the hospital for ten days. The only thing they did was to
apply alternating cold wet towels and burn cream. They gave him pain
killers so he could sleep at night."

"Incredible, how is Agent Mulder doing?"

"Fine, from what they told me. Dr. Grabbowski wants to get him here
tomorrow. The doctor said that he and A.D. Skinner would accompany
him." Scully looked at Sam trying to gauge how he was going to take
the small invasion of FBI personnel  along with his patient."

"That will be fine. I would guess that Mulder is not too fond of
hospitals. Having a bit of support will make things easier on all of
us."

Scully didn't realize that her eyes shown with relief.

Sam sighed, why did every woman he was attracted to have an
attraction to someone else. It was evident that Agent Mulder was
important to her. Important to her how? His compassion for Agent
Mulder's plight was not so well defined as it was two minutes ago.

He looked at the fingers on her left hand to reassure himself that
she was unattached. She choose that moment to raise her hand to tuck
some errant strands of hair behind her ear. The gesture, so common,
struck him as especially endearing.

*****************

Hoover Building
Black Room Video Observation Room
Saturday 8:52 AM

Noah walked into the observation room and sat down beside Keats and
handed him a cup of coffee. "Is he doing anything?"

Keats was staring at the video monitor,  "Our little plan is not
going to work. Look at him. He thinks he knows where he is and he not
worried at all.  The CIA must have a version of this room. He's
figuring that his connections will save him. He's got to know that no
paper work is generated in a Shield Interrogation, so who does he
think will save him?"

Noah took a sip of his cup of coffee and considered, "Only a very few
of us know we have him. But once he is known to be missing, it will
be interesting to see who will call asking about him."

Keats held his coffee in his hands and enjoyed its warmth. He
slouched further down in the folding chair arching his back and
stretching out his legs. "I've been watching that man. This is not
going to be easy. The man is the apotheosis of evil. He likes himself
and knows exactly what he is. If I hurt him, he will endure it and
smirk.

An interrogation at this point would be nothing but entertainment for
him. He's very dangerous and he knows it. If anybody gets close to
him, he has the skills to kill them. He won't hesitate to try. If he
gets free, he will not rest until he tracks us down and kills us.
He`s Mr. Destruction and he likes it."

Noah glanced at Keats, "Good God, what do we do? Any ideas?"

"He's got a big ego. It's blinding him to his real peril. He is not
use to being put in a holding pattern. I think we ought to hit him
where it hurts, his ego. But it will take longer.

We should call in Ooka and put them in here to watch him. We turn off
the red light in the video cam and let him think we're uninterested
in him. He won't believe it at first. But, we'll ignore him. We'll
let him get hungry and weak. We'll let him get thirsty enough to
drink toilet water. We'll keep the temperature the same as it is now.
Nothing to show him we're the least bit interested in him.

If Director Sikora gives his approval, I want to stick Jeffery in
there with him, after he's had his head in the toilet a few times.
Jeffery might do better than we could."

Noah stood up, "Do you think we have that much time."

Keats stood up, "I don't think we have a chance of getting anything
out of him any other way. Maybe not even with sticking Jeffery in
there with him. However, he's off the streets and where we know where
he is."

Keats stood up and Noah said, "Let's get this cleared with Director
Sikora."

**************

Skinner's condo
Saturday 11:36 AM

Skinner was catching up on reviewing some reports and e-mailing Reg
and Kim. It was working surprising well working from his condo. The
only thing missing was the bullshit meetings and agent meetings. It's
would be near perfect if the agents could come here. He smiled at the
thought, a home-based D.A. Well, he'd enjoy it while he could. He was
jolted out of his meandering thoughts as Fox came rushing in waving a
sheaf of read outs. "Badger! Badger! Look what I found!"

Fox excitedly sat down on the ground beside Badger who was using the
coffee table as a desk again. "Look, I went in and researched Nazi
medical experiments and look what I came up with! In 1945 and 6, the
U.S. government brought over Nazi scientists and some of them got
deals.

There was one project call Paperclip, the goal stated was  for life-
extension. American scientists were paired with the Nazis. Adam, that
is Dr. Adam Kesstler was assigned to head the American team.
Paperclip was halted and funds cut in 1948, after the project was
deemed inhumane and immoral by the American over cite committee which
had been put in place by congress for just this reason. To stop any
Nazi inspired projects that were ethically defunct.

It looks like some of the Paperclip members recruited people
including someone powerful in the government, found a money source
and continued the research. There's a picture, look, there is my
father, Charles Spender, Dr. Karl Dandendorf  and Dr. Franz Hein
taken in 1968. According to the records, my father and Charles
Spender were not part of the Paperclip team but were contract
workers.  I e-mailed the information to the Director with my
conclusions. We have a list of eighteen additional people to check
out. I'm sure a few are still alive.

****************

Bill Mulder's Residence
Martha's Vineyard
Saturday 2:23 PM
 

The fat man was not going to be happy. Krycek sat and looked at the
dead man. He had not meant to kill him so quickly. The idiot had no
idea who had taken him, but he had broken, given up the pathetic
little information that he had. But unfortunately had included his
name. Shit. That was the end of his FBI career.

The Consortium had managed to fake his psychological test scores and
had been responsible for getting him in the FBI, he had been about to
wash out when Spender had recruited him. Now all that was for
nothing. He was not going to risk going back in the Hoover.

Krycek needed to think.  These assholes in the Consortium were not as
good as they thought they were. The little scam they had him and
Junior occupied with was pretty tame stuff considering how the fat
man talked sometimes.

As soon as he had been compromised and they knew they had him, they
made sure he knew they had him by his balls. Krycek smiled. Oh, he
was happy to let them fondle him a bit, but they had no idea who they
had.  He was either going to go the center of this group where the
money was or he was going to wipe it out.

He had killed before and had been surprised that he had felt nothing.
No remorse, no angst. Perhaps the Zuni were right. He had read that
the Zuni believed that you arranged your own death. Krycek liked
that. Bill Mulder had been responsible for his own death, he was just
an innocent tool of fate.

Well, Spender was supposed to be here and wasn't, interesting. He was
missing or had decided to cut his loses and get out. He'd go and see
what the fat man said and if it was more bullshit, he'd kill the
mother fucker and his pathetic body guard too. What ever happened he
was no longer going to be an errand boy.

*****************

Sikora Residence
Saturday 4:09 PM
 

Sikora sighed, he sat in front of his computer watching the screen
saver. He had just watched the torture and execution of a man by an
FBI agent. Bill Mulder was dead and Alex Krycek was a killer. And a
cold-blooded one at that. He had actually sat there for five minutes
watching the dead man, enjoying his kill from the look on his face.
Christ!

He immediately ordered Jeffery Spender taken into custody by Nava and
placed quietly in an old holding cell block in the sub-level. Thank
God, Nava had arrived, Ooka had had been working hard.

They hadn't used that old cellblock in the sub-level in years. He
ordered Sid to make sure one cell was capable of holding Junior or,
if not possible, finding a secure and secret place to stick him.

Ooka had done some fine work when they installed the video monitoring
system in Bill Mulder's bedroom. It had only taken ten minutes, no
sound, thank God, just the picture. Ooka had been monitoring it from
here.

Next he contacted Towers and Plant and advised them. The case was
moving. The information that Mulder came up with was giving them a
lot more avenues of investigation. But it had suddenly become more
dangerous.

Whoever first supported the rogue scientific research group in the
government had been powerful, but was surely dead by now. How deep
did the government connection go? Who shielded Charlie now? Did they
have anything to do with the project? Shit.

He needed to call Dr. Grabbowski. He'd let him tell Agent Mulder.
Sikora leaned his head back, he had no idea how Mulder was going to
deal with this. Maybe it would be a bit of good news. The man had
been a monster.

*****************

Black Room Video Observation Room
Hoover Building
Saturday 8:49 PM
 

Keats leaned back in the chair as he watched Spender. He knew he was
making the two on duty Ooka uncomfortable, but he had to do this.
This man bothered him. He wanted to break this son-of-bitch.

Nazis! Life-extension experiments using kids. Hurting kids, killing
kids. Keats shuttered slightly. He recognized that man, or at less
the type. A killer. An assassin.  It was hard to hurt a killer like
him because he was mostly dead inside. But this one had an ego, a
huge one. He had been able to tell that just the way had acted when
he had woke up.  The self-satisfied smirk that washed over his face
at times. He had to shine that ego somewhere. Where? No friends.
Wasn't his family. Job? No, too secret. Where was his audience? He
needed the man's address.  They were bringing in the son. Was it
possible that the son didn't even know? He probably didn't but he
might be able to give him some additional insight.

The common room/Guest room
Hoover Building
Saturday 9:02 PM

Noah flipped through the pile of papers on the table. Incredible!
Agent Mulder had found the root. Immortality or near to it. If one
could live 200 years, why not 500?, It was a possibility worth
killing for. It had been the motive for a lot of religious fervor, it
was after all the great human hope, continued life, no one was
comfortable with the thought that their own existence would simplify
end. That they're time in this life was finite. Specially one of
these bastards, whose prospects in the next life, by any god they
would want to associate themselves with, was not too good.

Noah liked the idea of hell. A final judgment, unencumbered by human
rationalization. A way to make human monsters pay and pay. Where all
the assholes' selective memories would be torn away and they would be
forced to see themselves as they really were. Acknowledge the damage
they had done.

And if there was a hell, it was nice to think there was some sort of
heaven where the victims would get another chance, where all the non-
monsters, would get another chance. He sighed, it must be the Irish
rising in him. He pulled his mind back from his speculations and
concentrated on Spender's association with this group and his shadowy
history with the government. Keats was right, this man was evil.

One of the Ooka walked up to him, "Sir, Nava just called in, they've
picked up Jeffery Spender."
 

End of Chapter 13
 

~~~~~

Chapter 14

Guest Room common area
Hoover Building
10:20 AM

Keats walked over to the table where Noah was sitting and sat down.
Noah, looked up as Keats said, "How do we want to handle Junior. Is
he anything like Daddy?"

Noah leaned back, "I don't know. His file says he's twenty-five years
old. Finished the basic course at Quantico a bit less that two years
ago. Average. He should be out in some secondary office getting some
field experience.  Daddy is probably responsible for his assignment
here. Junior showed no special aptitudes, but passed his courses. He
graduated in the bottom fifth of his class. In college he did a bit
better. He graduated in the top third of his class for his B.A. in
anthropology."

Keats stretched his arms over his head, "Maybe he tried to distance
himself from Daddy, but couldn't pull it off. What's been done so
far?"

Sikora put him in an old, unused cellblock in the sub-level. Sid went
in to make sure it was secure. He said it was eerie as hell. Junior
was examined, his clothes taken away and given an orange jumpsuit
from county lock-up. A couple of the Nava are setting up the video
surveillance. They'll bring up the monitor to us here when they're
finished."

Keats got up and headed for the fridge, "Do you want some ice tea? I
ordered in the tea you like and made it up this morning."

"Ya, that would be great. How should we handle Junior? He shouldn't
be too hard. Who are we going to be to him?"

Keats returned with two tall glasses of ice tea and sat them on the
table. He stretched again and sat down. "I think we are just two FBI
agents who know he's been a bad little agent and see how he reacts.
We let him know Daddy is in lock-up too. We press him in a
conventional way and if he doesn't sing, then I'll do my private
dance with him, but I don't think it will be necessary."

"We got to wear our suits, then."

"Yes, Noah we have to wear out suits."

"Damn."
 
 

John Hopkins Hospital
Baltimore, Maryland
2:37 PM Sunday
 

Mulder concentrated on breathing deeply, belly breathing as Dr G.
called it. Calm, calm. He didn't want to flip out. He'd done enough
of that lately. Shit. He was getting nauseous again. If Kasahara
stuck one more needle in him, he was going to scream. No, breathe,
in, out, in, shit.

Dr. Kasahara bustled about making notes and checking off boxes.
Scully and him had brainstormed and set up a series of tests for
Mulder. Everything from muscle testing to bone composition.

Kasahara even brought in Dr. Abrams to run tests and scans  on
Mulder's eyes. The doctors, including Scully had never slowed down.
Now they were preparing the MRI sequence. Mulder wanted this over
with.

Dr. Grabbowski sat quietly in the corner, observing, Mulder was a bit
shaky, but doing fine. Badger was being supportive as usual and
trying to stay out of the way. They had been at it since 9:30 without
more than a bathroom break. Badger had downed some coffee and a
muffin or two, Mulder had drank a couple cups of ice tea, but hadn't
eaten all day. Dr. Kasahara had assured him that the MRI sequence
would only take forty-five minutes or so.

**************

Mulder was anxious to go. Anxious to go, but Dr. G was still talking
to Dr. K. Shit. He wanted to get back to the safety and comfort of
Badger's condo. He needed Badger's arms around him. He cautiously
touched the small band aid on the left side of his chest where Dr.
Kasahara had removed the implant. It was both liberating and somehow
sad. He couldn't separate or quantify how he felt. He just wanted to
go home, home with Badger.

The trip this morning had been surreal and unsettling. He hadn't been
outside in over a week. Skinner had driven. Skinner, funny, but once
they had left the condo it was Skinner again. It was dark and as the
markers on the highway passed by Mulder felt sad. The melancholy had
deepened as the miles were ground under the wheels.

They didn't talk. Dr. G was dozing in the back seat and every once in
a while they could hear a soft snore. Mulder had leaned his head
against the glass passenger window and had tried to will himself out
of his sadness. He had laid his hand against his chest and wondered
if the implant was there, wedged between God knew what, hidden in him
all these years. His father was dead. Mulder had seen the dead. It
was final. There was reprieve in the last act. No redemption. No
happy ending.

The thoughts of the early morning returned as he stood and waited for
the doctors to be done, God, his father had sold him, before he was
even born. What kind of man would do that? His profiler mind supplied
all too many answers. The doctors' voice were turning into a buzz and
Mulder turned towards a wall and leaned his head against the cool
concrete block. Where was Badger?

Badger was coming down the hall carrying some vender machine chips
and candy for Mulder. He must be starved. Once they got out of here
they'd stop and get something substantial to eat.

As he entered the room and saw his lover he threw the vender junk on
a table and rushed to Mulder's side. Shit.  Was he back in a fugue
state? Skinner angrily turned toward the cabal of chattering doctors
and yelled in his most authoritative voice to shut the fuck up.

Mulder turned to him and smiled. "I was just resting, I'm OK.", but
his voice was just a tad shaky. Mulder lowered his voice for his
lover and tried to steady it. "I want to get out of here, please."

Skinner nodded his head determinately and turned around. "We're
leaving. Dr. Grabbowski, if you're not in the car in five minutes,
find your own way back to D.C."

Skinner took Mulder's hand and led him to the door, scooping up their
coats and vender bounty on the way out.

"What the hell was that all about!" demanded Scully.

"My incompetence, I guess. I should have been watching Mulder
closer." spat out Marcus as he grabbed his coat and a small sterile
container. He looked at Dr. Kasahara and said "Fax me and Director
Sikora with the test results."

The small sterile box contained the implant, which had been lodged
against the cartilage of a rib adjacent to Mulder's sternum. It had
been removed easily with a local anesthesia. It had taken seven
minutes and four stitches.

**************

Marcus had ended up driving back to D.C. with Badger holding Mulder
in the backseat. They had stopped at a Wendy's drive through and
Mulder had managed to eat a small frosty.

Marcus was not thrilled that he had been so distracted with his
consultation with Drs. Scully and Kasahara that he had lost track of
Mulder momentarily, but he learned a long time ago that he was human
and made mistakes. He'd talk to them later. Right now he needed to
drop them off and get to the Hoover with the implant. Director Sikora
had arranged  to have the Lone Gunman do the analysis to see what it
was used for.

***************

Hoover Building
Black Room Monitoring Room
3:05 PM

Keats and Noah watched Jeffery Spender cool his heels. The two
monitors were side by side. One with Charlie and the other with his
son. Charlie was still in his Buddah phase while Jeffery was striding
around his cell. Jeffery had the aura of a righteously pissed off man
impatiently waiting to be justly released.

Keats frowned, "Jeffery has been demanding to see Director Sikora.
Think we should ask why?"

Noah stood up, "Ya, I think it's time."

*****************

Keats was right, Jeffery Spender was pissed. Here he was working very
hard on the his special assignment and someone had screwed up. Why
wasn't his father here or why hadn't that fat pig, Arthur Welling,
called and cleared it up. He didn't expect Alex Krycek, that one was
out for only him self. Damn. He had assumed it was his FBI buddies
who had him, but what if it was someone else. Damn, he was starting
to get really scared.

Finally Jeffery could hear footfalls coming down the hall, he stepped
to the back of his cell and tried to calmly wait.

Three men appeared, one opened the cell block while the other two
entered. Both had FBI identification tags. Jeffery's indignation
reasserted itself.

"What the hell is going on? I want you to contact Director Sikora
immediately. There's been some kind of foul up. I shouldn't be down
here."

Keats used his height advantage and invaded Jeffery Spender's
space. "Agent Spender you are under arrest for espionage. You removed
classified data from the Hoover. We have you on video. You have an
explanation for this?"

The young man shook his head in a negative response. "I can't tell
you. I'm doing some special work. Director Sikora would know about
it."

Noah moved forward to further crowd young Spender. "Director Sikora
has been contacted and has no idea why you should want to see him.
Does this special work have anything to do with your father?"

At Jeffery's startled look, Keats continued, "Your father is in lock-
up too. Whatever he was doing with you and Agent Krycek was not
sanctioned by the Bureau."

Jeffery looked at Keats defiantly, "My father is a respected CIA
agent and has the authority to recruit FBI or any other kind of agent
for deep cover operations."

Noah looked intensely at Jeffery, "There is no deep-cover operation.
How well do you know your father, Jeffery?"

Jeffery bent his head forward and chocked out, "He's my father, he
wouldn't do this to me."

Noah stepped back, "If we can convince you that the special operation
that your father recruited you for was bogus, are you willing to
cooperate with us?"

Jeffery lifted up his face, his eyes were welling with tears, he
already believed his father's betrayal. "Yes."

*************

Guest Room/common room
Hoover Building
5:34 PM

Sikora, Marcus, Keats and Noah sat around a table in the common room,
fingering cups of coffee.

"Nava went to Welling's house. The body guard was dead and Welling is
gone. Skinner and Mulder think that Welling might have been one of
the original people recruited by Dr. Adam Kesstler as a money man. We
froze his assets. Nava thinks that Welling might have been forcibly
taken by Krycek. Forced to take him to the project's main facility."

Noah bent his head forward checking some numbers on a read out in
front of him, "I wouldn't give Welling much of a future when they
find out he can't get to his money. Who are his beneficiaries? Have
we checked for off shore accounts?"

Sikora put his coffee cup down, "All that is being looked into. I
expanded the investigation into Reg's office. The investigation has
gone too far for one or two men to stop it. We have our eye on Jason
Smith in the Justice Department and Darren Matthews in the CIA.

Keats leaned in, "According to Jeffery, they're still interested in
Fox Mulder. Do we know why?"

Sikora took a sip of his coffee and looked down, "No, they might just
want to get rid of him now, tie up loose ends."

Noah interjected, "Why didn't they do that instead of warning him
off?"

"Charlie's doing. We don't know exactly," Sikora answered.

Noah looked to the third pod door where Jeffery was sleeping with the
help of a sedative. "What happens to Jeffery?"

Marcus leaned back, "He was deceived by his father. The need for a
young man to gain approval of his father is very powerful. John and I
have decided that until this mess is over, he stays here. Then he
will start a year's leave. He can take it all or just a month. I
talked to him and advised that he should go back to school. Take a
graduate degree in Anthropology and make sure what he wants to do. If
he decides to come back then he will be assigned to an office other
than D.C. and his slate will be clean."

Keats stretched out his legs, "Can we use him with Charlie?"

Sikora looked at Keats, "Only if you can keep him safe."

Keats nodded his head, "I'm not about to put him in the cell with
Charlie like we planned. I'm convinced that Charlie would look up
into the video camera, smiling as he broke his son's neck. No, I've
got another idea."

Black Room
Hoover Building
10:51 PM

Jeffery Spender, dressed in a suit with his FBI ID tag attached to
his pocket stood ready to enter the Black Room. He had been prepared
by Towers and Plant, but felt unsure that he would be able to stand
up to his father. He never had before, but this was important.
Innocent lives were at stake. He closed his eyes and let the horror
of what his father had been involved in wash over him. Yes, he could
do this.

Jeffery was accompanied by two Ooka, to make sure he did not get too
close to the cell. Keats and Noah, and even Marcus were unsure of how
Jeffery would respond to his father emotionally. He had agreed to the
script, but would he be able to stay with it? The script was a lot of
guess work and conjecture, if they missed the mark, would Jeffery be
able to think on his feet? It was a gamble, but Keats thought this
might be their only way.

Jeffery walked in to the harshly lighted black expanse and turned to
look at his father as the two Ooka took their positions.

His father had not moved, had not acknowledged him, no big shock
there.

"Hello father. I've been sent down to get answers from you, but I
know what a useless objective that is. Do you expect rescue? I don't
think so. The FBI knows too much about your little scam. Did you
really think they would have shared anything? Prolong your life, why?"

Charlie raised his head, "Your stupid, you've always been stupid."

Jeffery smiled, "I'm not the one drinking out of toilets. You know
they've replaced you. Alex Krycek has turned out to be a rather nasty
piece of work. Did you know he completed your last assignment? Old
Bill Mulder is no more. Expertly tortured and murdered.  They don't
need you anymore. Welling has gone off with Krycek. Any other
resources you think you may have, have abandoned you. Now, you either
take them down with you or you go down alone."

Charlie stood up and came close to the bars of the cell.  Charlie's
voice was hoarse, "Do you think the good guys don't have black
hearts? I can tell you that the assignments they gave me were far
from clean. Look at how they have mistreated me. They should be
thanking me!"

Jeffery was not moved. "Father you were a dangerous man. They have
you under a Shield Interrogation, they are allowed by law to actually
hurt you. I'd be careful if I were you."

Jeffery reached into the pocket of his suit coat, his fingers brought
out one cigarette.  He flicked it to an Ooka and motioned him to
throw it into the cell.

"Father, you always were a weak man. Eat it and it will give you a
bit of nicotine. Damn stupid of you to let yourself get addicted to
that," Jeffery said disdainfully.

Jeffery continued in a bored voice, "I'll be back in twenty-four
hours or so for your answer. It doesn't matter to me, this has taken
far to long as it is, I'm just glad I'm not playing double-agent or
could you call it triple agent, any more." Jeffery paused, wishing
this last bit was true. "And you call me stupid, you never had me
fooled."

**************

Skinner's condo
Sunday 11:41 PM

Skinner put down the phone. He and Reg had been setting up numerous
investigations based on the new information. He looked over at his
lover. Fox had been quiet, but seemed contented as he snuggled on the
couch with a coverlet wrapped around him. He was reading a fantasy
adventure.

Fox had said that the first five books had been good and very well
organized. The author on the sixth one had gone a bit manic and had
thrown threads of plot all over the place. He was currently reading
the seventh book in the series and said that the author was trying to
pull everything together, but was being less than successful. Fox
said he was enjoying the struggles of the author to tie it all
together. It  matched his mood completely.

Skinner had been surprised at Fox's lack of enthusiasm for doing any
work on the case. But, maybe he needed a break from it. It had been a
difficult day.

Skinner walked over to the couch and sat down on the coffee
table. "Are you ready for bed? I sure am. Reg and I set a lot of
stuff in motion. Minor players and all that. How are you doing?"

Mulder, lowered his book to his lap. "I'm doing OK. I have a lot of
answers now. Maybe, I don't like the answers, but I'd rather know. I
just need time to process them. Today is over, God, I never want to
go through a day like this again. I'm happy to be here with you, but
I feel so tired. I don't think I have the energy to get up to go to
bed."

Quickly, Skinner leaned in and caught Mulder and lifted him in a
fireman's carry. With a chuckle in his voice, Skinner said, "This is
the way I carried you up from the car when I brought you home from
the hospital. Mulder laughed as he bounced against Skinner's back as
they made their way upstairs.

******************

Monday 7:31 AM
Skinner's condo

Mulder looked through the peek hole in the door and his face broke
out in a delighted smile. He whisked the door open and let Sid and
Marcus in. Both were burdened with the assorted paraphernalia of
Mulder's fish tank and fish. Since Sid had only one arm, his hand
held a bucket with Mulder's fish.

The tank was a twenty gallon fresh water. The fish were variations of
gold fish. Marcus held the tank filled with new bags of stones ,new
filter, stuff to treat the water  and fish food. Marcus laid down his
stuff and said he'd be right back with the stand.

Mulder immediately filled the tank and put the stuff in to treat the
water. He eagerly reached for the rocks and paused, they were
beautiful little colored glass balls.
Mulder smiled like a small boy. "Thanks, these are great!"
He put in the filter and little tunnels. By that time, Marcus had
made it back up with the wire stand. "Where do you want this?"

Mulder looked over to Marcus, "I don't know. Badger will be down in a
minute." Mulder had said it so naturally that Marcus almost hadn't
picked up on it. Before he could say anything Badger came trotting
down the stairs.

"What have you got there?"

"Sid and Marcus brought over my fish! Look at all the stuff they
brought for them." He turned toward the two who were helping
themselves to the bagels and cream cheese that Mulder had set
out. "Thanks, guys. Coffee be up in a minute."

Mulder turned expectantly towards Skinner, "Where can we put this?
It's real nice when it's dark and you put the light on."

Skinner looked at the tank with a bit of apprehension, "Your choice,
Fox. The bedroom is fine or down here. Pick a place you'd like to
watch it."

Mulder glanced up the stairs, "How about the wall on my side of the
bed? You've got a crate of books there now."

"No problem, we can move them easy."

Mulder, catching Badger's apprehensive expression, walked up to him
and reached to grab Badger's hands in his. "What is it? What's
bothering you?"

Skinner had been looking at the empty tank and then looked back at
Mulder.. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be fond of tanks."

Mulder gazed back at him thoughtfully, "Well, I hadn't remembered
before, but, in a fish tank there's only beauty and life." Mulder
paused to make sure Skinner was looking at him and then continued
with a smirk, "As long as you don't mess up with the kind of fish you
put in there."

And you're the one who has the power of life and death over what's
inside, Marcus thought with a sudden flash of insight. Badger's
candles and Fox's fish. Interesting.
 
 
End of Chapter 14

 ~~~~~

Chapter 15

Monday Morning 6:23 PT
Bio-link Body Systems
Coldwater Canyon
East of Beverly Hills, California

Dr. Kyle DeLyria stood on the balcony of his condo on the top floor
of his successful spa and looked at the fading lights of Los Angles.
What a mess! His father had been right, Spender, the spook, was an
idiot. If it hadn't been for him and his games, Fox Mulder would be
dead and there would have been no disruption of their meager eastern
connections. Now outdated, but still bringing in some money and
giving some cover for questionable imports as well as having the
potential to sanction some of their activities.  Damn, a needless
drain on the project.

It looked like they were going to have to scrap the entire eastern
operation. But, maybe it was for the best, they were nearing the
final reconstruction of the project. They had a replacement for Bill
Mulder, they had almost all their suppliers. Most importantly, they
had access to enough babies.

This time, being surer of the process, they were starting with twelve
and then they were going to follow up with a complete set every two
years until the four sub-basements were filled with tanks. Kyle and
his father, Michael, had over 300 ruthless, elitist workers who
fervently believed that the drug would extend their lives, allowing
them to outlive the unworthy masses.

Kyle rocked on his heels. Hell, the old fat money man was gone and
Kyle was secretly relieved. The man had been a remnant of the old
Paperclip contingent who had had political aspirations. That had been
traded in for the goal of money accumulation and the gathering of
power to do what they pleased. Let the politicos rant and rave as
they were cheaply bribed to join the other sheep. Let them have the
illusion of power and  autonomy. The Washington connection could be
reestablished with fresh people with no ties to the past.

Kyle sighed as his eyes searched for the recently overturned mound of
earth down the hillside, not yet visible in the morning light. Damn,
that man had been huge, what a slug. That brought to his mind the
viper that had brought Welling in, Alex Krycek.

Krycek thought himself to be pretty dangerous. He probably was. Best
to keep him busy. Kyle decided to send Krycek back east to tie up
loose ends before anything could lead the FBI, CIA or whoever to the
California headquarters. There were only nine left, including both
Spenders and Fox Mulder. After Krycek was done then he could be
eliminated too, the last loose end.

Kyle smiled. There were only eight of them here who understood the
real power of what they almost had. The product that the children
could be forced to produce was not only life-extending, it was also
addictive.

The first set of boys had already been implanted and the girls would
follow in a little less than four years. In twelve years they would
be fully operational and in production. In fifteen years, the world
would be theirs. Kyle eyes glittered as he thought about the powerful
men and women who would come begging.

First, they would offer the drug to those they had carefully chosen
with the goal of expanding their reach. Once addicted, their chosen
ones would do whatever they wanted and on it would go until the core
of the new world ruling class was established.
 

Black Room
Hoover Building
Monday Morning
11:03 AM

Charlie was ready to deal. He was willing to work for any side that
would get him out. His idiot son had just left to get whoever was
holding him. He was a valuable player and the bastards who were
letting him rot in here were going to pay.

Charlie's thoughts were interrupted as a very tall young man with a
boyish face, dressed in a cheap FBI regulation suit, sauntered in.
Piece of cake thought Charlie.
 

Skinner's condo
Monday afternoon
2:23 PM

Fox Mulder wandered around the condo aimlessly. It was the first time
he had been alone in over a week. He felt relieved, but also a bit
lost. Badger had gone into his office and Dr. G had gone to the
Hoover too, to work with the Spender interrogation.

He went up to Badger,s and his bedroom and closed the drapes and
blinds so he could watch his fish. He laid across the bed which still
smelled of Badger and their early morning love making. He watched the
vibrant flashes of the fish as they darted in the water under the
black light in the top of the tank. There was something pushing its
way into his memory. A small bump of nothing was bulging, trying to
erupt into his consciousness.

He had remembered why they didn't kill him after they had taken him
from the tank. After six days, he was already producing
the 'product', but without the implant to act as a conduit, there was
no way of extracting it.  They were frustrated, he had been the first
to start actual production and they couldn't get to it.
 
They had kept him alive through the years and had experimented with
different techniques of extracting the 'product'. All those
unexplained hospital visits were now no longer a mystery. They had
kept an eye on him in England and throughout his FBI career in hopes
of reintroducing him to a tank. He shuddered at the thought.

His tests hadn't shown anything the doctors could measure that was
out of proportion. They still didn't have a clue as to what
the `product' was. Did it matter? Only to him. He pressed the four
small stitches that marked the site where the implant had hidden and
thought about what those ogres might have forced his body to do, what
it still might be doing. Nothing he could do about it, but he would
feel better if he knew.

He relaxed and cleared his mind. He had to let the memory come,
whatever it was. He stared at the fish tank and let his mind wander
where it would.
 

Black Room
Hoover Building
Monday 2:27 PM

Keats let go of Charlie's forearm and let him slip to the floor.
Charlie had found out he was not as tough as he thought. He had given
up a lot of information, but unfortunately there was nothing they had
not known or suspected. He had confirmed Jason Smith's and Darren
Matthew's involvement, but only as men who would arrange things or
cover up things for money. Spender had been given his orders by
Welling. There were four other names, but none were in position to be
much of a problem.

Charlie was showing mental confusion from the lack of food and
exposure. He was thoroughly chilled from lack of clothing and the
cool temperature of the room. Charlie babbled on about some of the
assassinations he had carried out. Bragged that he was the one who
pulled the trigger on President Kennedy and on Jimmy Hoffa. Keats
thought both were possible as Spender rattled off names of people he
had worked for within the government, mostly dead, footnotes in a
history text.

Charlie was still deluded. He was talking like he was a co-
conspirator, a player. The man had cracked and cracked deep. He was
just another bully, just another hit man, just another pathetic
psychopath who occasionally played at being human. Charlie had
actually given Keats his address, so that Keats could fetch his novel
he was writing. Ah, there was his ego audience. He was writing his
exploits in a fictional form for the world to admire. Pathetic was
not strong enough of a word to encompass the depth of this man's
existence.

Keats wondered what Sikora was going to do with him? It'd be
impossible to go to trial with him, not with the stuff he was
spewing. Send him to a sanitarium? Could any of them hold the
bastard? Or would they quietly execute him?  Might be the most humane
way. Put the poor piece of shit down like the animal he was. Oh well,
wasn't his problem, back to business.

The only worthwhile reaction was to the name of Dr. Michael DeLyria.
So, DeLyria was still a player and probably a major one. However,
Calahand and Wiggins had been unable to come up with anything on
DeLyria after 1975. He had gone underground.

Keats pulled off his gloves and exited the cell. He motioned one of
the guarding Ooka to him and ordered Charlie to be fed and given an
orange jumpsuit. He knew that Charlie would become much more
dangerous once he was fed and regained some strength, but there was
nothing much he could do about it.

Skinner's Office
Hoover Building
3:34 PM

A.D. Kersh was circling Skinner's office and waving his hands while
he ranted about the injustice of having to do Skinner's scud work
while Skinner was off playing politics at Quantico. He sure hadn't
cleared a case, and if there had been any worthwhile research done,
it would have been shared with the other A.D.'s.

When Kersh stopped to take a breath, Skinner jumped in, "How is your
special project Director Sikora gave you coming along?"

Kersh paused in his pacing and self-importantly turned to
Skinner. "It's going well. Very covert, you know, really can't talk
about it, even to you."

Skinner nodded, trying desperately to keep the smile off his face.
Kersh continued on, implying his special access to the Director and
his own importance to the Director. Skinner sighed, he'd give the man
three more minutes.

Skinner's mind drifted to his lover. His lover. God how he liked
that! He thought about Fox in their condo. Their condo! The fit was
so good, even with all of this crap, it was so right. He was amazed
how good it made him feel to know that Fox was waiting for him, that
they would be making love tonight. Good God, he was getting hard.

He was shaken out of his warm fuzzy thoughts by Kersh's irritated
voice as it whined, "Are you listening to me!"

Skinner sat up and refocused his attention on Kersh, "Sorry." Skinner
looked up innocently, "Is there anything more, A.D. Kersh? I've got a
lot of work to get done to catch up. Have you got the last budget
proposals analyzed?"

Kersh pursed his lips in that very unfaltering habit that he had. "I
don't see why my department has to deal with your budget!"

"You don't. Just hand over the paperwork once the analysis is done
and I'll make the final decisions."

"I am not your employee. Have one of your own people do it."

"Director Sikora wanted you to do it." Skinner replied placidly.

"Oh." Kersh sat down, defeated.  "How about dinner tonight?"

Skinner leaned back, "Sorry, I've got a commitment. How about lunch
next week after I'm caught up here?"

Kersh knew something was going on and he wasn't in the loop. This was
totally unacceptable and he was totally pissed off. Skinner was in
the thick of it, the prick. Kersh eased back into his mentor persona.
He was at least fifteen years older than Skinner and used his age to
try to manipulate Skinner. He couldn't afford to make an enemy of
Skinner, the man had been way too successful, the lousy prick!

Skinner slumped in relief once Kersh had closed the door behind him.
God! What an asshole! But he was, under all the office politicking
and petty ambition, amazingly, a decent A.D., at least in Fraud.
Skinner had learned the hard way that it was much easier to let Kersh
posture and rant for ten minutes than to try to avoid the man.
Skinner got up and made his way to his secret door that led to the
Guest Room.
 

Skinner's condo
Monday afternoon
3:47 PM

Fox lay curled up in a fetal position on the bed. He was struggling
for air and trying to slow his breathing down at the same time. He
was having little success, but he refused to give in to his body's
reaction. He had remembered. It was just a small memory, not
traumatic in itself, just in the association.

He had been groggy and cold and had been laying on his back in the
backseat of a moving car. He had been vacantly watching the stars up
through the backseat car window and once in a great while, a dim
streetlight would hide the stars as they passed by. The car rolled to
a stop and a street sign came into view. It had said Coldwater Canyon
Rd. He remembered he had started to burn. He remembered he had
started to scream. He couldn't remember anymore. Coldwater, what a
horrid name.
 

Guest Room
Hoover Building
4:03 PM

Skinner entered the Guest Room and wandered over to the fridge and
grabbed a diet coke. He had only started drinking it after he saw
that Fox liked it, liked it better with a slice of lime. He'd pick up
some lime on his way home, or maybe he could borrow one from here. He
stooped lower to look in the fridge to see if he could locate some
limes. Ah, ya, there were a couple in the back. Where there was
liquor, there were usually lemons and limes. He'd pick up one before
he left.

When Skinner's head emerged from the fridge, Wiggins was barreling
right for him. Wiggins was built like a fire plug. Short and stocky
and for him, coming at top speed. The young man was visually excited.
Wiggins let out short staccato beat phases with every other foot fall
as he hurried across the large room. "Sir! Director Sikora is on his
way down! We have a break! Agent Mulder just called it in! Another
memory! We might have a location! Agent Callahan is starting the
research. I'm gathering Agents Towers* and Plant."

Agent Wiggins rapped sharply at Plant and Tower's pod and yelled the
news again through their door. Director Sikora and Sid came in and
seated themselves at the round table. Skinner came up and seated
himself. "Sir, I'd like to go back to the condo to check on Agent
Mulder."

Sikora shook his head, "I need you here. I sent for Dr. Grabbowski."
Sikora looked up and saw the undisguised look of concern on Badger's
face. He continued softly, "Badger, he called it into me and he
sounded fine. A bit shaky, but coherent and even a bit excited. Dr.
Grabbowski will call if he's concerned at all. OK?"  Skinner nodded
and looked down.

Sikora had his secure phone at hand and handed it to Skinner. "Have
Kim set up a conference call with SAIC Keswick in LA. I've got Kana
headed to LA and will be sending out Nava tonight. Skinner nodded and
made the call while Sikora and Sid looked over a satellite map.

"Sid, as soon as it gets dark, I want heat enhanced photos. I want to
see if there is any underground structures." Sid bent and folded up
the map. "I'll call General Minami, he owes us a favor. How many
sweeps? Two or Three?"

"Two ought to do it for now. Tell him to fax them ASAP, no protocol."

"Right." Sid reached for another secure phone. Noah and Keats arrived
at the table and took a seat as the phone rang. Kim's professional
voice came from the speaker unit, "Sir, I have SAIC Keswick holding
on the secure line. Do you want me to connect him now?"

Sikora leaned back, "Yes, Kim and thank you."

Keswick's baritone barked out of the speaker and Sikora reached to
turn down the volume. "Sir, Keswick here."

Sikora answered, "Hello Amos, hope you're well."

Keswick replied, "Fine, Sir."

Sikora, the preliminaries out of the way, leaned forward, "Amos, I'll
catch you up later, just listen closely. A.D. Skinner, Agents, Stein,
Towers, Plant, Calahand and Wiggins are here. We have been working a
very unique case that has roots in the mid-forties and involves Agent
Mulder. You worked with him before?"

"Yes, Sir. I can't believe he'd be involved with anything illegal,
Sir."

"He's not, but he is a source of information. We have reason, through
Agent Mulder, that some sort of lab or such is located on or near
Coldwater Canyon Dr. I want you to quietly, very quietly start to get
together an assault force. I'm sending Nava and Kana to help
organize. Make sure you have confidence in everyone you choose. Start
with a contingent of fifty.

We have a fly by tonight and hopefully we'll have an exact location
and size by later tonight. I'm sending A.D. Skinner and Agent Mulder
on to California tonight. Also Agent Dana Scully, Dr. Sam Kasahara
and Dr. Marcus Grabbowski will be coming sometime tomorrow. Agents
Calahand and Wiggins will be coming tonight, if they get a flight, or
tomorrow. They will need a work room set up with three computers
hooked up to the security net. Get secured rooms ready for them and
up to twelve additional agents. I want them all inside the bureau, is
there enough room?"

"Yes. What's going on?"

"Agent Keswick, I need to brief you later on this. I'll contact you
in about another two hours. I need to set up a few more things here.
Talk to you a then."

As Sikora switched off the speaker, Calahand leaned forward and broke
in excitedly, "Coldwater Canyon Rd. and the surrounding area is
relatively small. Large estates and a few resorts and one huge spa.
The building for the spa was built in 1942. It has been added onto
and worked on many times. Most of the blueprints are missing. I
traced some of our key items to it. It looks like a good possibility.
It's called Bio-link Body Systems and is run by Dr. William Barnes.
Before him it was run by Dr. Mason Reynolds. Both look like alias'.

I can't run them back through med-school. I can however run Michael
DeLyria through the mid-seventies where he drops out of sight. Mason
Reynolds is a good match for an alias as far as dates go. I have a
birth certificate for Kyle DeLyria in 65', but he drops out of sight
after junior high school and pops up in medical school and disappears
again. As far as age, he's a good match for Dr. William Barnes. No
pictures are available, just general bio. Dr. Barnes has no record of
a medical degree but a Kyle DeLyria has, one from the Philippines.
This really looks good!"

Skinner broke in, "This is a day spa? How many employees?"  Calahand
looked over to Wiggins, "Have you got that?"

Wiggins flipped a few pages of his papers and looked up, "It is a day
spa, but some of the employees do rent rooms. They have listed one
hundred and twenty-two employees, fifty-four of them live there.
Mostly massage therapists, aromatherapy providers and such. Some
administrative and maintenance people. I haven't cross checked to see
which live at the spa."

Calahand nodded, "Anything more right now, we'll get started on
gathering up more information."

Sikora looked at them, "Good job, both of you. Grab your laptops and
a few changes of clothes from the drawers over there. Get down to
National and get on the first plane to LA you can manage. Get to the
bureau, Agent Keswick should have your work space for you by then."

Sikora turned to Sid, "Go pack a bag and call Daisy and have her pack
a bag for Marcus. Go get Mulder and Marcus and come back here. I'll
have Kim get the jet squared away. How about Jamerson and Lecton to
pilot?"

"Sounds good to me. I'm off then, see you both later."

As Sid left, Noah looked questionably at Sikora. "What about us boss?"

"Grab your duffle bags, you'll be coming with us. The plane's an
eight seater so we'll have just enough room. You two are going to be
busy. You'll be working with a set of target questions. We need to
interrogate them all. Time is not an issue here, thoroughness and
consistency is. I want them all done by you two. Calahand and Wiggins
will be doing back ground checks and anything else you need."
 

Guest Room
Hoover Building
Monday 5:41 PM

Sid, Marcus and Mulder entered into the Guest Room laden with
numerous sacks of Chinese take out. Skinner rushed over to help
Mulder deposit the sacks onto a counter and drew him off into Keat's
and Noah's cleaned out pod and locked the door. Skinner pulled Mulder
into a hug and spoke softly into his ear. "How are you holding up?
God, I missed you today."

Mulder found his favorite hollow in Skinner's neck and burrowed in
and mumbled, "I'm OK, but I want this to be over. I need this to be
over. I don't want to think about any of this anymore. I just want to
go home with you."

Skinner held him a bit tighter, "Soon, baby, soon. Things are
beginning to roll. Are you going to be OK?."

Mulder pulled his head back so he could look into Badger's face, "I
don't know, Badger. I think sometimes that I'll fly apart any second
and then a minute later, I'm kind of disconnected. One minute I feel
rage and the next minute, I could care less. I've read about this but
experiencing it is awful. I've been taping myself talking about all
of this, it should be interesting to listen to when I'm sane again."

Mulder tucked his head back in Badger's neck hollow. He took comfort
in how perfectly they fit together. Mulder pulled Badger even closer
and said with a slight edge of desperation, "Be patient, don't give
up on me,