Chapter 1: The Box

1.
Dothan, Alabama
June 9th, 11:50 P.M.

Scully was having a nightmare. She was trapped. Her limbs
were numb. She was blind. Faint memories of another
confinement flitted like dark, laughing ghouls across her
memory. She fought them back. She forced herself to
concentrate, to break through the power of the dream.

In the dream, she was lying on a man's chest. They were both
naked. Their arms and legs were intertwined. His chest
hairs were tickling her nose. She grumbled and shifted to
escape the irritation. Her hips encountered his penis. She
panicked again and began to struggle. She couldn't break
free--their bodies were melded together.

Like a sharp spear slicing into her befuddled brain,
consciousness returned to her.

When she realized none of it was a dream, Scully had to
fight the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

Suddenly, she was calmed. It was Mulder. As horrifying as
the situation was, she found a ridiculous comfort in the
knowledge Mulder was with her.

She was in total darkness. She was left with only her
tactile senses to assess the circumstances.

Mulder lay beneath her. He was unconscious and naked. She
was bound hand and foot around his limp form.

She had some sort of collar on. When she shifted her body
she could hear a chain rattle. She lifted her head and felt
a tension. She realized she must be fastened to Mulder by
the collar.

Her arms were wrapped around his torso. Her hands were bound
behind his back and were numb from his weight lying on them.
Her legs were around his hips. Her ankles were fastened
together and pinned under the backs of his knees.

His heavy arms were around her shoulders, pressing her to
his chest. She could feel the rough rope that bound his
wrists against the tender skin of her back. She assumed
that his legs, lying between her legs, were tied together as
well.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she forced
herself to assess their surroundings rationally. It was
pitch black and hot. The thick, muggy, southern air made it
feel as if they were trapped in an aquarium.

She listened carefully. Their labored breathing echoed as
though they were in a small space.

The sensation of being trapped in a claustrophobic enclosure
revived the shadowy images of pain and fear. She tried to
move in some direction but was bound too tightly to Mulder
to get anywhere.

He moaned slightly under her wiggling form and she felt
something brush her thigh. God, no. Don't let this be
happening. She knew he wasn't awake, but his body was
following its own course. His hips bucked up, seeking her
warm body. She could feel his erection, pressing between
her legs and up the crack of her butt. She must wake him
somehow.

She had to risk making a sound. "Mulder," she whispered in
his ear.

He only grumbled slightly and continued rubbing against her.
She closed her eyes for a moment to try to stop her own
body, still feeling numb and drugged, from responding.

She needed to do something drastic. She wiggled up to his
ear, took the lobe in her mouth, and bit down hard. He woke
with a quick, mucus-clearing snort in her ear.

She whispered urgently, "Mulder! Keep quiet...it's me,
Scully."

"Scully?" His voice was rough and embarrassed. "What's
going on?"

"I don't know. Can you see anything?" she said.

Facing upward, perhaps he could see something she couldn't
with her face buried in his shoulder.

Her hair had settled across his face, and he had to spit it
out delicately to answer. "No, can you?"

"No." She was frustrated.

She could feel him shifting to try to get his hard-on away
from her sticky center. Suddenly, she could remember exactly
how many days it had been since she'd been in this position
with a man. Four thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight.
Until that moment, she hadn't realized she'd been keeping
track. She prayed he would merely assume it was sweat on
her damp thighs.

She forced herself to concentrate and asked, "Can you get
your hands free?"

He tugged at the bindings. "No, can you?"

"No, I don't think so--roll over on your side and I'll try."

He rolled them and his erection came down on her thigh. It
hadn't gone away. She felt her back brush against a surface.
"Damn, I think we're in a small box," she said.

She wiggled her hands, trying to ignore the feeling of the
smooth skin of his back.

"I think I can get my arms up high enough to get at the
collar," he said.

He pulled his arms up and she was forced even closer to him.
Her breasts were warm and heavy when pressed against his
firm chest. His fingers fumbled at the collar. "It has a
buckle--that's odd."

"It's as though whoever did this doesn't mind if we escape.
They just want us to work at it," she mumbled.

"This is definitely work," he agreed as he pulled at the
buckle until it opened.

Her neck was free at last. With a sigh of relief, she
lifted her head and arched her back, causing her crotch to
rub over his pubic hair and rest on his lower abdomen.

A faint moan escaped his lips. "Sorry," she murmured.

She tried to sound businesslike. "All right, let's see. If I
can scoot down your body I should be able to slip free. Does
that seem right to you?"

He gave a stifled grunt as an answer.

She began her descent. And immediately realized this was a
very bad idea. First she had to drag her hips across his
large erection, wiggling from side to side to move. There
was no where to go in this box, her feet had already hit the
wall. Her heart began to beat wildly in panic as the dark
walls closed in on her.

He sounded close to a sob. "I'm sorry, Scully."

She stopped for a moment, her belly pressing his hard-on
flat against her sweaty flesh. His chest hair tickled her
nose again.

She kept her tone dispassionate. "Mulder, it's okay. This
is a perfectly normal bodily response."

Her scientific explanation seemed to calm him. "You're
right. Just give me a moment, all right?"

She tried to keep the hysterical chuckle out of her voice.
"Maybe this is like taking off a Band-Aid-- we should just
move as quickly as possible."

"I like that idea," he groaned.

She could do this. She got a grip on the warm floor with her
toes and grabbed her lower lip between her teeth. She
started to shimmy as fast as she could, but her legs
couldn't fold up any tighter at the bottom of the box.

She was trapped with his penis between her slick breasts.
She had to stop and she was overwhelmed by the tangy odor of
his groin. Four thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight days
equals ninety-nine thousand and seventy-two hours...

He was panicking. "Scully?"

"I can't go any further. You're going to have to scoot up,"
she had to tell him.

"Oh, god. Okay..." he moaned, and started his own shambled
wiggle.

"Stop!" she was forced to hiss.

"What?!" He was frantic and didn't bother to keep his voice
down. She didn't shush him.

She didn't know how to word it delicately, so she just said
it. "Mulder, my necklace is stuck on your penis."

He couldn't help himself. He started to laugh, with high
barks like a strangling seal. She didn't see what was so
funny. His laughing caused his erection to brush against her
cheek.

She made her voice harsh. "Mulder!"

He was instantly serious. "Okay, let me concentrate."

They lay there for a few moments and she could feel the
tension on the chain slacken. She was dying to ask him what
he horrors he conjured up to make that happen, but she
didn't want to distract him.

"Okay," she said.

His voice was remote. "Let's go."

They both writhed and squirmed as best they could. A bony
knee struck her breast, knocking an 'oomph' out of her. The
toenails on long toes scraped her belly. For a brief
moment, their hips seemed to have will of their own, and
surged together, contact narrowly avoided.

As though the box was suddenly flooded with light, Scully
was able to illustrate the scene using her catalogue of
images of Mulder's body parts.

They were free of each other at last, and she heard the
rasping of his breath as he dragged his body to the other
end of the box.

She reached out to him. "Here, give me your hands."

Their hands fumbled and then found each other in the
darkness. Her small hands were able to wrench his bonds
loose and then he pulled hers free.

They each worked at the bonds on their ankles. When she had
them undone, Scully began examining the lid of their prison
with her fingertips. She found a small latch, flush with the
edge.

"Mulder, what's up with this?" she said as she snapped it
open.

"Who knows? Let's just get out of here." His voice still
sounded distant and remote.

She carefully opened the lid a crack and peeked out. The
box was lying in what appeared to be the middle of a large
empty warehouse. The faint light shining in through the
window caused her to blink. She could see the bundle of
their clothing.

They watched and listened carefully for a few moments.

"We have to risk it," he suggested and she agreed.

They lifted the lid and jumped out. Somehow they managed to
separate their clothes and pull them on quickly without
looking at each other.

Mulder found his watch in his pants' pocket. "It's been
about 28 hours since I can remember anything," he said as
they hurried across the warehouse towards the doorway,
swiveling their heads to search the shadows. Scully missed
her gun like missing a limb. The door was unlocked and when
they slipped through it, their car was sitting there, keys
in the ignition. They hopped into it.

She glanced at the car's clock when Mulder turned on the
engine and furrowed her brow. "The last thing I remember
was sitting in your hotel room-- going over the case file--
eating dinner. You had fallen asleep on the bed..."

He was backing the car away from the warehouse. "That jibes
with my memory. Eating, falling asleep...now the question
is, do we alert the local authorities?"

In the dim orange glow of the car's interior, their eyes
met. She spoke slowly. "I hate to falsify a police report,
but I'd really like to have possession of that box. Go over
it really well. Sweep through that warehouse. I just don't
relish the nudity part of the report."

He nodded. "We haven't exactly bonded with the local PD. It
could be something as simple as their idea of a practical
joke down here."

Her eyes turned cold. "I don't think it was funny. Let's
report it. I want that box."

2.
When the roar of the agents' car died away, three men
stepped out of the shadow of the looming building and into
the harsh light of a single fluorescent lamp by the doorway.

"Kenneth, dispose of the box and begin the clean-up," said
the shadow-laced man in a baggy dark suit.

The handsome, slim young man at his side nodded obediently
and entered the warehouse.

"Alex, do you have the next dosages prepared for Kenneth to
administer?" he asked as he lit a cigarette.

Alex Krycek ignored him and glanced over to watch the blond
man dragging the box through the door. "You need some help
with that, Kenneth?" he asked.

"Alex?" his voice had a hint of a warning.

Krycek whirled to face him. "Don't push me, old man! We're
full partners now, remember? Besides," he said with a small
smile, "I told you this wouldn't work. I think Mulder has
*issues*." His voice was like a velvet scarf, swirling in an
evil dance with the blue coils of cigarette smoke.

"Everything has gone exactly as I planned. Unlike you," his
look of contempt bore into Krycek, "Mulder was brought up to
be a gentleman. I will admit, this plan seems crude. But
trust me, it will be effective. He is a man after all."

The old man's grim smile hit Krycek with the deadening
warmth of an injection of heroin.

Krycek held back a shudder. The bastard sounded like his
Nana Olga telling him about the facts of life. He forced
himself to look into the man's death mask of a face.

"Now, do you have the dosages ready for Kenneth?" he asked
again, this time with a subtle warning in his tone.

Kenneth paused by the two arguing men, casually propping the
large box on his shoulder. He watched them silently.

Krycek conceded. "Yes. Everything is ready."

He nodded benevolently. "Good. Now help Kenneth," he
glanced at Krycek's stiff prosthetic arm, "as best you can,
to get that box into the van. Let's go over the warehouse
quickly. I want to get the samples back to the Factory as
soon as possible."

3.
Dothan Township Police Station
June 10th, 3:35 A.M.

The sheriff leaned against his desk, smirked down at the two
tired agents, holding themselves rigid in the hard plastic
chairs in his office. "Nothin' there, hate to tell you."

Mulder had been avoiding Scully's eyes since they'd arrived
at the police station, but now they exchanged irritated
glances. Mulder glanced over Sheriff Wilton again. He
wasn't the stereotypical red-necked Bull Sheriff. Instead
he had the oily decadence of a Tennessee Williams'
character.

The man continued. "Ya'll be headin' on home now, I assume.
You've finished your inves-tee-gation?"

The man's sneering drawl on the last word caused Mulder to
bridle. Without looking at him, Scully laid a calming hand
on his forearm.

She spoke up before he could. "I would say our
investigation has reached a dead-end. Do you have any
theories as to who may have perpetrated our abduction?"

Wilton watched them silently; a hard smile playing on his
lips under his thick black mustache, showing his tobacco
stained teeth. He reached behind himself onto the desk and
grabbed a pack of Morleys, lighting one. "Oh, we got some
bored folks around these parts. And ya haven't made
yourself welcome here with ya snoopin' around. I'm sure
it was just someone's idea of funnin' ya."

His dark eyebrows rose as they continued to sit, unmoving.
Mulder felt a threat from this man, as if the flickering,
jaundiced light reflecting from the single overhead bulb off
the sweating yellow walls turned him into a mustache-
twirling villain from an old serial movie. He had a strong
urge to get out of there.

"Thanks for everything, Sheriff Wilton," Mulder said
ungraciously as he pulled himself painfully from the chair
and touched Scully's shoulder to signal her to rise as well.
The storming gaze she shot him held a challenge. Regardless,
she rose to join him in exiting the small room.

In the hall, Scully swung to face him. "Damn it, I knew we
shouldn't have left the scene!"

Exhausted, Mulder leaned against the wall. "What were we
supposed to do? We had no phone. The kidnappers could have
been there and we didn't have our guns. And we know
nothing. It still could be a prank, just like he said."

She gnawed on her lower lip. He took the moment to enjoy
watching the gears whirl in her brain.

"I want to get back to DC as soon as possible and have some
tests done on us. Have you noticed any needle pricks, any
incisions on your body?"

"Not right off the bat." He reached for her and let his big
hand lift her hair off her neck. He gently rested it on the
spot where her chip lay.

"Is it still there?" His finger lightly ran over the slight
lump under her soft skin.

She glanced away from him as she said, "I think so. I'll
have an X-ray done, first thing."

He nodded and forced himself to pull his hand away from her
neck. "Let's get back to DC. I want to get started on our
new inves-tee-gation."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 2: The Kiss

1.
FBI Headquarters Laboratory
June 11th, 2:45 P.M.

When Mulder entered the room, Scully was bent over a microscope,
taking notes from her findings. She glanced up and smiled
slightly at him as a greeting, then went back to her work.

He watched her as he often did in these circumstances, admiring
the efficiency of her actions. This time was different, of
course. Everything was different now. He closed his eyes
briefly, trying to block out the images that rose up to blind him
with their erotic power.

It had killed him to finally shower and remove her scent from his
body. He had assumed the smell of arousal was all his doing in the
box. But as he sat on the toilet waiting for his shower to warm
up, he had carefully catalogued the odor left on his skin and
found something else. The sticky residue on his abdomen and legs
could only be one thing.

He had sagged back against the cold porcelain of the toilet tank
and grasped his sudden erection with desperate acceptance. From
the first moment he'd looked down into Scully's calm, professional
gaze, he had sworn he'd never do this.

He got the business over with as quickly as possible. It was as
empty and transparent as a discarded plastic bottle. He had
thrown himself into the shower to wash everything away, his shame
and the now tainted memory of her warm skin and smell.

'Once, just that one time,' he had promised himself as the hot
water pummeled his sore muscles.

But now he had a vivid film running on a continual loop in his
mind. Her hair, tucked behind her ear, fell loose as she leaned
over the paperwork to make a note from her findings. The sweep of
the red lock of hair dissolved into the images created from the
feeling of her skin, slick and warm, sliding down his body, from
the pleasurable scrape of her nipples down his chest, from the
sweep of that hair across his cock. He took two deep breaths and
this caught her attention.

She glanced up before he could take the hunger out of his eyes and
she looked first confused and then frightened. He chastised
himself. He never wanted her to be scared of him.

He had locked desire, hope, even love away in monastic cells, and
they had taken a vow of silence, a vow they broke only in times of
prayer--prayers said as soon as he saw pain in her eyes or a fleck
of red blood on her polished surface.

"I didn't do that to us, you have to believe me," he said.

"What?" she asked with shock.

"Just in case you were wondering..." he continued, "I may enjoy
some things...anyway, I didn't tie us up..." He shuffled his feet
and
stared at the wall. Suddenly, she was beside him, grabbing his
hand tightly to get his attention.

She was passionate. "I would never think that of you. It never
even entered my mind."

This was a mistake, Scully realized--standing this close to him.
She had always enjoyed the smell of him, all the little pieces
that made him: equal parts salt, sweat, Ivory soap, Paul Mitchell
shampoo, leather and gun oil. But now it all spun a different
image in her mind. Now she had a new odor to add to the list and
it made her knees weak.

When she had finally gotten back to her apartment, it seemed she
couldn't strip her clothes off fast enough to scrub it from her
body. Now she was regretting it. She had never allowed herself to
have sexual fantasies about Mulder but perhaps, just one time, she
should have gone to bed, naked, with his odor clinging to her and
allowed herself, just once...

He whispered to her, even though they were alone in the room. "I
would never do that. If I wanted to seduce you," he smiled at her
cocked brow, and stumbled on, saying words she dreaded and
desired. "If we decided to make love, I would take you to a bed
and breakfast somewhere, and there would be candles..."

She had to stop him. She turned away and grabbed her paperwork.
"I've found some unusual readings in our blood."

Mulder understood what she was telling him and shut the hell up.
"Yes?"

"Present in both of our blood samples are low levels of hormones.
I don't recognize them and can't find their composition in any
directory. The hormone present is different in each of us, but
the common factors are: they're unidentifiable and synthetic."

His brow creased as he looked at the chemical patterns she showed
him.

"I'm assuming these hormones were administered to us through the
needle pricks found on our backs." Her words were calm, but she
looked a little frightened and he reached out for her. She moved
just enough to be out of his reach and went on. "We each show
signs of rough treatment-- abrasions, slight contusions-- however,
there is no sign of severe trauma or incisions."

"Well, that's something," he offered.

She leveled a cool gaze at him. "I'm not finding any assurance in
that fact. I was returned from my abduction without a mark on me,
and look at everything they did to me."

He looked worried. "The chip?"

She nodded. "It's still there. Or at least something is there.
The scar tissue is in place. There's nothing more I can do."

He wanted to change the subject. "Now what?"

"I can keep working on these hormones. Obviously they have a
purpose..."

"Could they simply be part of our sedation?" he suggested.

"That's not likely..." she shook her head with frustration.

"What can I do to help?" he asked.

She looked hopeless. "I don't know what we can do. The warehouse
was clean. The box is gone. Our bodies have been examined and as
much data as possible has been collected..."

He gave the report of his findings. "The hotel manager saw
Nothing. There was no evidence in the rooms. Sheriff Wilton has
assured me he will notify me if anything turns up." He nodded as
she grimaced. "For what that's worth." He sighed. "Shall I open
an X-file?"

She went back to shuffling through her papers. "Well, I am going
for a world record..."

He grinned broadly and she smiled back, dropping her gaze so her
lashes covered the concern in her eyes. Everything was going to
be all right if he could just stop that warm sensation from
spreading through his bloodstream whenever she did that. They had
to find a way to get things back to normal.

2.
FBI Headquarters
June 16th, 4:35 P.M.

The road back to normal seemed to be blocked. They sat in their
office day after day, working on cases, eating lunch together on
the park bench every afternoon. They were both determined to prove
to each other that nothing had changed.

But they could no longer hang out in hotel rooms in the evening,
nor could Scully let herself drop by Mulder's place to continue
their yearlong Scrabble game. Any situation where their clothing
might be loosened or removed had to be avoided. And it seemed
ridiculous to sit fully suited up on Mulder's couch to play a
board game.

As the days of summer began and the stuffy office heated up, they
tried to concentrate on their work, but often their thoughts
drifted to running through every detail of their relationship up
until this point.

In their suddenly too small office, Mulder turned his chair so
that he didn't have to watch Scully's small white teeth chew on
her pencil. He wondered if when the whirling tape in his brain
finally broke, there would be no sound in his mind but the
slapping of the torn end.

He pretended to be looking across the spines his reference
books, but he was actually back in the hallway of his building,
remembering leaning in to kiss her; that moment was the one that
wouldn't go away. Since then he had been ridiculously gratefully,
due to her trauma, that she seemed to have no memory of it.

He had decided kissing her would have definitely been a
mistake that would have shattered their working relationship. He
had never thought he would be beholden to the Smoking Man for
doing him any favors, but this was one.

Scully stared stupidly at Mulder's broad back in his chair. It
took her a moment to realize he was turned in his chair. She was
so tired. She wondered if she would ever be able to close her
eyes again. She would only sleep when exhaustion overcame her.
And only one image would come to her, again and again.

In that weak moment, afraid of losing him, she had grabbed the
back of Mulder's neck in the hallway of his building, pulling his
face down to hers. If she ever had anything to thank the
Consortium for, it was shooting Mulder in the head so that he had
no memory of her desperate slip. But the curiosity-- wondering
what it would have been like-- had returned with a vengeance...

His chair creaked as he turned back to pull a file out of a stack
on his desk. His lips pursed in thought as he glanced over the
paperwork. Her eyes were drawn to his mouth. Perhaps she should
have been more forward, grabbed him sooner, it had seemed to take
forever for her to pull his head down towards her, and look what
slow and steady got her...

She shook the thought from her mind. 'Remember what you learned,'
she scolded herself.

When she had first started to work with Mulder, she had noted
she was developing a bit of a crush on him. She had caught
herself misinterpreting his every touch and glance.

Purely as research, she had glanced through the magazines he kept
in that lower drawer. Once, when she'd gone over to his apartment
to feed his fish, she had looked over the covers of his videos.
Not a single one featured a red-head, let alone a short, normally
endowed red-head.

That research had been incredibly beneficial. Whenever moments
like this arose for her, she would remember what she had now knew
about his taste in women and harden her resolve.

"Huh?" She shook her head to clear it. Mulder had been speaking
to her.

"I said, we're going to need to work on this through the evening
if we're going to get the report ready for a presentation
tomorrow," he repeated.

She looked at him closely, and answered slowly, "Okay."

He began shoving files into his briefcase. "Why don't we go grab
some take-out on the way to my apartment?"

She felt stupid and slow. The heat of the room had overcome her.
"Your apartment?"

He rooted through his drawers so she couldn't see his face.
Casually, he said, "Yeah, we might as well work there, it's more
comfortable than pulling an all-nighter here."

She bit down before she said, 'all-nighter?'

Instead, she sat and looked at him, listening to the loud, slow,
ticking of the clock on the wall. She felt the sensation of
standing at a cross-roads, whipping her head from side to side to
watch for traffic, but knowing no matter when she chose to step
off the corner, a semi was going to come out of nowhere and
flatten her.

He stopped filling his briefcase and finally met her eyes. He
looked terrified. That made up her mind for her. "Sure. You're
right. Chinese or Thai?"

3.
Mulder's Apartment
7:45 P.M.

Scully and Mulder leaned in to examine the report at the same
moment. She tried to move back quickly, but he had created a
barrier with his long arm draped across the back of the couch.

Scully was forced to stay tipped forward, and she made the mistake
of looking up into his eyes. They were soft and warm, like a
cashmere throw, luring her to crawl underneath them and nestle
down on his soft lips. His tongue lightly licked his lower lip.

She felt overwhelmed. "Mulder..."

He acted nonchalant, but she could see the slight vibration in his
arm from the tension of holding his muscles still. "What?"

If she said the words, the issue would be out there. She was so
tired suddenly. She needed to rest. "We can't..." Her voice
sounded weak. She must be strong, strong enough for both of them.

His long lashes swept down and cleared the want from his eyes. It
was replaced by disappointment. "Why not?"

At least he wasn't going to play dumb.

She was shocked. "Why not? You have to ask?"

He tilted towards her only slightly, but her heart began to beat a
hundred times faster. "All I want is a kiss. Don't you?"

Oh, he had such a way about him, able to convince her with his
sneaky, wheedling ways that his idea was best. Like right now.
Just a kiss. One little kiss. "We can't," she said with regret.

He pulled back slightly and she was bereft. "Scully, we both know
things haven't been the same since we got back from Alabama.
There's been a tension between us that was never there before. I
don't like that. I think this could be a way to right the
situation."

He was good. He was damn good. She cocked an eyebrow at him to
let him know she wasn't fooled for one moment. "And how is a kiss
going to solve anything?"

His gaze was on her lips and she had to concentrate not to lick
them. "Well, it could be all this tension we've been experiencing
is in our minds. Probably we'd kiss and nothing would happen. We
just need to get it over with and clear the air."

She felt an odd sense of anger. Nothing would happen? Clear the
air? Was he suggesting she was a cold fish? Or was this a trick?
She squinted at him, trying to read him. He looked at her with
his bland, open face.

She spoke slowly. "There is some logic in what you're saying.
The very fact we, a man and a woman, have been able to work
together so closely for so many years without anything happening,
would suggest any feelings we may currently be having are merely
curiosity triggered by an intimate situation."

It sounded so dispassionate. Good. She had to remain in control
of the situation. She never could count on Mulder to be.

He bit down on his lower lip and it squeezed out around his teeth
in protest.

Scully had always been the good girl. She shared her candy, even
with Bill and Charlie, even if they'd been mean to her that day.
She would divide up equally any treat she had.

But now, at this moment, she was overwhelmed with feelings of
greed. She wanted to eat the red-hot candy in front of her,
lick it until it was slick with her saliva and dissolved on her
tongue, leaving a burning trail down her throat.

He matched her detachment with his own calm voice. "True, and we
don't know what will happen. But I have faith in our friendship;
that it could survive a test like this."

A test, this is only a test of a sexual relationship. Your
regular programming will return momentarily...Mulder leaned in
towards her mouth and her bold thoughts flitted away shyly. She
moved back slightly, and hit his arm. He stopped.

His voice was gentle and she hated it. "I'm sorry. Too fast?"

He was coddling her. She was a tough girl. She should be able to
take it. She felt her cheeks burn with flames of cherry red. She
shook her head in denial.

He nodded, seeming happy. He took her face in his hands and she
welcomed his cool, slightly damp hands. They chilled her heat.
His face became larger and larger as he moved towards her mouth.

She couldn't think at all and she wanted to be thinking.

She hated herself, instantly transported back to her first
fumbling with a boy on her parents' couch. "Mulder..." Her breath
swept across his lips and he paused.

Mulder let go of her face and forced himself back into the depths
of the couch. She didn't want this. She was just being kind. He
needed to let her go.

Her gaze roamed the room with a frantic energy, as though
searching for an escape. He shifted his body away from hers, to
let her know he didn't mind if she left.

She turned back to him and looked at him with suddenly calm
eyes. "Mulder...I want to do this...it's just hard, you know?"

No, he didn't know. "You're just nervous, that's all." He was
suddenly determined as a teenager on prom night. He didn't
understand why it was suddenly so important after six years, but
tonight, dammit, Fox Mulder was going to get a kiss, even if it
killed them both.

He had to stop thinking like that. He had to be sensitive. "I
understand. It's been a while. I'm not going to force you. Why
don't you kiss me first? When you're ready."

He sat and waited. She sat beside him, looking straight ahead.
His stomach began sinking slowly, like the last crescent of the
tangerine sun setting outside his window. A full two minutes
passed, as he counted the ticks of his clock.

She finally twisted towards him, leaning in. He held his breath.
She seemed to be concentrating on his lips. Good, that was good.

She tipped her head to her left and he tipped his head to his
left. She moved in slowly, but her brow was furrowed. She tipped
her head further to the side. He forced down a groan.

It was his large nose. Women didn't seem to notice until they got
this close. It always took a little work to find the right
position...now that he was this close to her face, he couldn't
help but notice her nose was a tad...proud, too...

She pulled back quickly, giving out a shaky laugh. "This is
stupid," she said with the bravado of a mean little girl during a
game of Post Office.

A horrible thought occurred to him. "You aren't sexually
attracted to me?" He started fumbling for the words to get them
out of this humiliating situation. "I'm sorry. I've been pushing
and you're just trying to help me..."

She touched him for the first time, a light hand way back down his
arm at his wrist. "It's not that, not at all..." It was her time
to stumble. "You're a very attractive man, really."

Thanks. This was so embarrassing. He squirmed under her warm
gaze.

Her voice came into his head, low and fast. "It's just
that...I've been working really hard all these years. If
a...thought came up, I repressed it. It's hard to turn myself
on." Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. She stumbled on.
"So to speak."

He couldn't find the humor in her words. He was slightly
offended. He was turned on when she coughed. There's something
about the shape her mouth makes when she inhales...

He had to get away from the heat rolling off her body. He started
to get up off the couch. She kept her grip on his wrist and he
looked down to meet her eyes. They were pleading.

"Please, Mulder, I'm sorry...I'm being a baby." He shook his
head, but he was thinking the same thing.

Her words came out slowly and she seemed to be examining the back
of his hand intently. "Do you mind? I have an idea...It's
stupid...Can I...kiss your hand instead?"

He was dumbfounded. "What?"

She rushed on. "Girls practice kissing that way...you kiss the
back of your hand. You must have done that as a kid."

Actually he never had done that, but he wasn't going to stop her
now. "Uh, sure."

He sank back down beside her so she wasn't intimidated by his
looming height.

She held his hand lightly, in the small cradle of her two white
hands. His hand looked huge and dark in the refined company of
her grasp. Her hands were so soft. He always saw her applying
lotion to them; she said the surgical gloves made them dry.

He realized his hands were dry and rough, probably tearing the
silk of her skin.

Her hands disappeared under his large paw, and he was horrified.
He was too large for her delicate frame...this was never going to
work...They wouldn't ever be able to fit together.

She took in a hesitant breath and then her head dipped to descend
toward the back of his hand. Her hair fell forward and stroked
his skin lightly. He couldn't help the jerk that passed through
his body and she paused, glancing up at him, questioning.

He found his voice. "It's okay," he whispered.

She began to descend again and everything slowed down for him.
It was all over in the few seconds that it took her to press a
light kiss to the back of his hand, but he processed all the
information as it came in, with the speed of a Super Computer.

In the shadow under her hair, the colors of her face became deep
and rich. The shining pearl of her skin, the shifting dark tides
of her eyes, and the glow of her moist, red lips.

Her lips parted and he could feel her fast, shallow breaths on his
goose-pimpled flesh.

First, her upper lip touched down. He was fascinated by her upper
lip. It was a Baroque work of art, with its crisp, sharp edges
rising to proud tips under her nose.

This lip she could control and manipulate to show her emotions,
whether it was anger or disappointment with him. She worked it
like a tool.

Her lipstick made her upper lip slide easily across the fine hairs
standing on end on the back of his hand.

Another warm puff of breath...

Her lower lip pressed down...If her upper lip fascinated him, her
lower lip was his obsession. It was a primitive form, calling to
his dark, inner core. The swollen flesh was bursting with
the plumpness of a ripe tropical fruit, and he always wanted to
bite into it.

This lip had a will of its own. She couldn't control what it
showed him about her. When she wanted to be taken seriously, it
would tremble with fear or swell and pout with desire.

The tip of her tongue slipped out briefly, to touch his now
burning skin. He could feel every taste bud on its surface. Then
the lips met, the convergence of the two worlds that made up
Scully, rational and primal.

He had a sudden image of her other lips. The orderly
pleats of her folds, the throbbing, swollen nub of her clitoris,
dripping with glistening moisture, waiting to be picked by his
Adam in Eden.

His hand tensed to control the urge to force one of his fingers
between the lips he could reach. He wanted to bury his middle
finger in her mouth, to the knuckle. He wanted to feel her
strong, pink tongue wrap around his digit and have her suck hard.

He was instantly, completely, aroused, his hard cock fighting its
confinement in his suddenly tight trousers. He swore he could
hear the pulse thumping out of his cock, backed by the treble of
his tense balls. He was afraid to move. He was afraid to
breathe. He was one breath away from creaming his pants like a
horny schoolboy.

Scully had raised her head from the kiss and placed his hand
carefully down on his thigh, her eyes averted. He took light,
shallow breaths to keep his control. He looked away too, finding
sudden fascination in the stately swimming motion of his fish as
he settled his hand over his lap to cover his erection.

The cushion shifted as she lifted herself from the couch. He
could hear her mumbling low words, saw her picking up her coat
from the chair, noticed her moving towards the door.

He should stop her. She was misunderstanding his response. She
was completely wrong. But, if he moved now, followed her, it
would be to throw her up against the wall and fuck her hard and
fast. He knew that wasn't what she wanted, so as she slipped out
through the door, he remained rooted to the dark cushion of his
couch, terrified by his riotous emotions.

4.
The sharp click of her heels taunted Scully as she hurried down
the dingy hall of Mulder's building towards the elevator. 'Well,
that was humiliating,' commented a sour voice from somewhere in
the back of the classroom of her mind.

She punched the button to call the elevator and leaned her head
against the cool wall as she waited. Her treacherous ears were
pricked, listening for the sound of an opening door from the
direction of his apartment. Nothing.

'This is for the best,' said the good little girl sitting at the
front of the class. It was for the best. They had tested their
attraction and it had...failed.

She dove into the elevator, but waited a long moment before she
pushed the button for the ground floor. Now it was over and
things could only get better. She was good at putting on a stiff
upper lip. Sure, it would be uncomfortable for a few days, but
now things could go back to normal.

5.
Mulder was fumbling to insert a video in his VCR, trying to calm
his racing thoughts and heartbeats. As the moans from the film
filled the room, he threw himself down on the sofa, pulling his
straining penis through his fly.

He watched the flickering images with his eyes held wide open
until tears poured down his face from the burning pain. He
refused to blink because he knew his traitorous eyes would stay
shut, turning on the images they really wanted to see. His hand
blurred in his lap until he was tearing at his tender skin. He
didn't care. Release finally came, as empty as before. This was
not a solution. Normal was nowhere nearer than it had been ten
minutes ago.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 3: Durango

1.
Washington D.C.
June 17th, 9:25 P.M.

Krycek rolled over in bed and landed on the warm spot left by a
recently departed body. "Where're ya going?" he called out into
the dim room, suddenly awake.

In the shadows across the room, Kenneth was bent over but
straightened up when Krycek spoke to him. "I'm due on
surveillance in an hour, sir."

Krycek pushed his torso up with his one arm, propping himself up
on the headboard, relaxing again. "You have to stop calling me
that." He smirked as he rubbed his bare stomach.

He examined the young man in the cold light. His face was taken
from the surface of a silver Roman coin; the proud nose, full,
pouting lips, strong jaw, and flat soulless eyes.

"Sir?" Kenneth asked, as he buttoned his shirt.

"Yes, that," Krycek cocked his head to one side and watched the
young man through slit eyelids. "It's...well...not seemly."

"What would you prefer?" The young man spoke in a barely
interested tone.

"My name is Alex," Krycek offered.

"I am aware of that...Mr. Krycek," Kenneth said as he sat down on
a velvet-covered stool to tie his shoes.

Krycek suddenly exploded in laughter, rolling on the bed in his
merriment. Kenneth sat and watched him impassively.

"You're no fun at all," he scolded, but with a cold undertone. "I
might have to get rid of you if you don't learn to play nice."

The young man looked properly concerned. Good. It wouldn't do
for Kenneth to take on airs. And he had to get better control of
his emotions as well; he couldn't turn into one of those pathetic
old queens who would develop feelings for Kenneth's sort.

Like a gossamer silk curtain, his voice floated on the dark air.
"So, what do you think?"

"Sir?" Kenneth was back in form, standing rigid at attention
before him by the bed.

Krycek sighed. "About the likelihood of this plan's success."

"That's not my place, sir," Kenneth replied.

Krycek reached out and grasped Kenneth's hand in what could have
been an affectionate gesture until he tightened his grip. This
was actually a risky move for him. His prosthetic arm lay on the
bureau and he knew the other man was strong enough to overpower
him. This thought excited him, and he grinned as he continued,
"Think. Try it, just this once. What do you think the possibility
is that Mulder will finally let the old dog out to play?"

Kenneth could not keep the look of distaste from his perfect
features before carefully pulling his hand free. "I think...I
think perhaps you are underestimating both of them, and Agent
Scully in particular."

"Oh, her!" Krycek gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Yes sir, her. From what I've seen, reviewing the files made
available to me, she may not react as passively as you two would
like if you are able to carry the plan out to the end." Kenneth
spoke the most consecutive words Krycek had ever heard from him.

"Let her try. They'll end up as they always do, wailing in the
roaring wind," he finished with a chuckle.

Kenneth murmured, "As you say sir. Will there be anything else?"

Krycek squinted up at the young man and kept his voice as low as a
snake. "No. That will be all."

He watched Kenneth slip silently from the room. He rubbed his
stomach again. The young man was a cipher, completely empty. Why
did he cause the short hairs around Krycek's navel to stand on end
in warning?

2.
Durango, Colorado
June 19th, 6:54 PM

Everything was not going as Scully had assumed it would. Rather
than things returning to normal, the tension was building in
infinitesimal increments. She was dreading out-of-town
assignments, when they would be forced to spend every waking
moment together.

So, of course, that's what they were doing right now. Durango,
Colorado was nestled high in the Rockies. It was charming,
quaint, but with reports of possessed teens. Run-of-the mill
stuff-- unfortunately, no distraction whatsoever for the agents.

A local deputy had suggested the Silver Lode Inn for dinner.

The moment they entered the old brick railroad hotel, Scully
realized she had made a horrible mistake by pressuring Mulder to
go there. She was just so tired of eating at the greasy diner by
their motel out on the freeway.

The Inn had been converted into a bed and breakfast, and it was
necessary to pass through the sumptuous lobby to enter the
restaurant. The partners diverted their eyes from the wide,
sweeping staircase and the welcoming, dim hallway leading to the
rooms.

When they entered the candlelit dining room and were ushered to an
intimate table in a dark corner, Scully was very sure this was a
terrible mistake.

They both seemed to make a silent agreement and began shoveling
their dinners down as quickly as possible.

She couldn't look at Mulder. Good God, he was relentless! He
exuded the quivering energy of a big dog; begging at her side, his
cold, wet nose on her thigh, nudging her. She knew better than to
look him in the eye. If she did that, she'd have to give in to
his beseeching gaze.

She had regained control of her tumultuous emotions since their
aborted kiss, but apparently he hadn't. She would have to be the
one who kept them in line.

She took a quick swallow of the cold water and almost choked. She
could feel his body tense across the table. Oh, great--now he was
going to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

She kept her eyes on the plate, dissecting her food into perfect
little squares. Was it true what they said? If you didn't have
sex, after a period of time, you could call yourself a virgin
again? That was certainly what she felt like right now. Perhaps
her physical hymen hadn't grown back, but she felt that a tough
mental skin had developed as a barrier. It was keeping her
locked in the bathroom on her wedding night...where had that
thought come from?

Mulder realized he loved Scully in candlelight. It brought back a
rush of the memory of that first time he'd seen her body under the
light of a flickering flame--when he hadn't made a move on her as
she dropped her robe for him with so much trust. For some odd
reason, he had thought that it would be his one and only chance,
and he hadn't found the courage to try since.

He carefully wiped his lips with the thick napkin and his damp
brow as well. Okay, so he was anxious. Signals and messages were
being received at a phenomenal rate, and he couldn't process them
all yet. He had come to the realization that he was in love with
her a while ago. That was fine. He could deal with that. It was
a higher concept, like quantum physics: something he could look at
and mull over at his leisure, and congratulate himself for
understanding.

These new feelings frightened him, lusting after her, wanting her,
wanting to fuck her like an animal, wanting to eat her alive...his
gaze was drawn to her mouth, swiveling a bite slowly around as she
looked around the room, seemingly intent on the huge, ugly
paintings on the walls. This was a sudden, blinding, confusing
experience. He didn't have the slightest idea what to do.

Resisting the pull of Mulder's quivering energy, Scully finally
shifted her gaze back to the table, but down, firmly on the
tablecloth. She still would not look at him. She would not
wonder how dark his eyes could go before she was swallowed in the
blackness. She would not wonder if that golden glow of his skin
was a reflection of the candlelight or if it came from within him.
She would not allow herself to be mesmerized by the way the
condensation from his glass clung to his bottom lip. And she
would not reflect on the unspoken question emanating from his
body.

She gave a start when Mulder stood up suddenly. "I'm going to the
restroom."

She sighed in relief and put her fork down. The evening was
almost over. They would go back to their separate hotel rooms and
lock the doors.

Mulder returned all too soon and began chatting about
inconsequential things. But then his fist rested on the table and
opened to drop a large old-fashioned key on the expanse of ivory
tablecloth between their plates. His gaze shifted up to meet her
eyes.

She sucked her lower lip in sharply and forced herself to meet his
eyes. She was shocked when the answer to his unspoken question
was clearly written in bold letters across the dusty chalkboard in
her mind. Yes.

She motioned to the waiter to bring the bill and picked up the
conversation as though nothing had happened.

Mulder's eyes became greener rather than darker. Warm as a
comfortable velvet robe, wrapping around her, enveloping her. She
had to close her eyes against the onslaught.

They walked out of the dining room and into the bright lobby,
keeping a clear foot of space between their bodies. They entered
the tight old elevator and Mulder pushed the button for the fifth
floor. It began a creaky ascent.

All he had to do was brush free a strand of hair that was clinging
to her cheek and she turned her body into his. He paused for just
a second in which she feared she misunderstood. Then his head
dipped slowly towards her.

She lunged up on her toes, grabbed the back of his neck and drew
him down to her mouth with force. He wasn't prepared and gasped,
allowing her to invade his dark, warm, mouth with a purposeful
stroke of her tongue.

His hands fumbled but then found her hips to lift and press her
against him. It seemed to her everything was moving very slowly:
the groaning elevator, his big hands on her buttocks, her hands
through his hair and down his cheek and slowest of all, the
rapture of their tongues, lolling with decadent ecstasy back and
forth between their mouths.

Then the elevator arrived with a bump and everything was going too
Fast: their breathing, their shifting eyes, their heartbeats, his
hand slamming the door violently back, wrenching her from the tiny
space and down the hall.

He somehow managed to get the door to the room open on the first
try. She had to lean against the wall to regain control of her
breathing and then threw herself into the dark room, pulling him
behind her.

Mulder flicked on the bedside lamp and paused long enough to look
into Scully's eyes. What he saw frightened him. It was a want so
deep and painful it brought tears to his eyes and through the
glistening drops he realized he was looking into the reflection of
his own need.

Their bodies crashed together again, their lips tearing painfully
at each other. He pushed her backwards and lifted her up on the
high colonial bed. He had to get their clothes off somehow...

"Mulder, oh Mulder!" He had heard her cry out in pain before, but
nothing this deep. "I need..."

He knew what she needed. She needed the flow of pain to be
stemmed. She was yanking his belt open and his zipper down. They
both moaned in relief when she reached through the fly of his
boxers and pulled his erection free from its confines.

He was pushing her skirt up just to be able to feel the heat of
her sizzling thighs, but she urged him on. "Yes, oh God, Mulder-"

"Scully?" He didn't know what he was asking. His head was
buzzing and his cock was throbbing in her tight grip. He thought
both were going to explode.

She reached down between her thighs and frantically tore a hole in
her pantyhose, yanking the cotton crotch aside. She grabbed his
hand and forced it through the opening and he was touching her hot
and drenched panties. She was right. They didn't have the time
to undress.

Her pupils were dilated, almost blacking out her pale irises, and
she was gulping for air like a drowning woman. She could barely
squeeze out the words, "Oh, Mulder. Please."

Her hand was tugging his ready cock closer to her center. He
pushed aside the crotch of her panties and gently slipped his
fingers among her slick folds to find her opening. Both their
hands guided the tip of his penis there, and as soon as he was in
position, she fell back on the bed and wrapped her legs tightly
around his hips, pulling him into her.

He groaned with the first deep thrust and she smiled up at him
with delirious eyes, arching her back to welcome him inside. The
heels of her shoes bit into his ass, spurring him on.

He could hear himself chanting, "Oh, Jeez, Oh Scully, I...Oh
Scully..."

This wasn't what he wanted and he never wanted it to stop. They
were toppling off the side of the dark mountain looming over the
hotel and there was no stopping their painful fall.

He rammed into her again and again. Their hands fumbled and found
each other and she pulled him closer. His swollen cock was
trapped in her hot, wet grip and he couldn't possibly hold out any
longer.

His head fell from side to side as though he was being beaten.
Every muscle contracted and held iron tight as he pumped on. Her
body had begun to quake and the grasp on his cock became
impossibly tight. He sobbed with gratitude.

Suddenly Scully's body became still and quiet under him. The pain
in her eyes was silent and deadening. He had to stop, something
was wrong. But he couldn't stop his orgasm. He tried to pull
out, but she kept her legs tight around his hips.

As he kept slamming into her, he begged, "Oh God, Scully, let me
go, I can't...I can't stop..." He was weeping and lost all the
strength in his legs as he was finally spent.

Her legs let go of him at last and he slid to the ground, limp.
He rested his head against her nylon-encased thigh, the tears
falling unchecked.

She stroked his head, cooing to him. "It's okay, Mulder.
Everything's okay..."

He struggled to his feet and sputtered out, "It's not okay. I
hurt you."

She looked up at him with blank eyes. "I'm fine," she whispered
as she pushed her skirt back down carefully.

He looked down at the mess of her garments in horror. "Let me get
you something, some water..."

He fled to the bathroom, stuffing his penis back into his pants.
With shaking hands, he filled a glass and wet a washcloth. He had
probably torn her with his banging--

When he dashed back into the room she was gone. He ran into the
hall and noticed the light on the elevator descending. Tossing
aside the glass and cloth, he hurried down the stairs, getting to
the lobby in time to see a flash of red hair jump into the back
seat of the local cab.

He sagged against the reception desk, oblivious to the stares he
was attracting. He had fucked up big time.

3.
When he finally summoned the courage to return to their motel, he
wasn't surprised to find her waiting in his room. He had almost
chickened out and stayed at the inn. He knew she would be there.

She had obviously showered quickly and sat quietly on his bed in
her robe and pajamas, her small white feet pulled up under her.

He just stared at her for a moment. He loved her hair wet. It
was the color of dark, ripe strawberries and he had always wanted
to suck a strand into his mouth to see how it would taste. That
was never going to happen now.

The pain of her remoteness before was nothing like the searing
bolt that shot through him now when he looked into her eyes.

She began, "Mulder, I want to straighten this out right now."

He dropped into the chair by the small desk and nodded.

"I think we've made a terrible mistake."

He shrugged. What else would she say?

"But not a mistake we can't rectify."

He stared at the horrible painting hanging on the wall behind her
head.

"I want you to know that I in no way blame you for what happened.
I don't want you to think you forced me into anything I didn't
want to do."

He quickly met her gaze. It was steady and cool, without any of
the desire of just an hour ago. Where had that woman gone?

With a wry twist of her lips, she went on. "I don't blame myself
either. I've had some time to think, and I think I know where to
place the blame."

She had his interest now. She continued. "The hormones in our
system. They're there for a reason. The placement of us in that
box. Perhaps something was supposed to happen then, only we
controlled ourselves."

He raised his brows. She looked at him seriously. "Mulder, have
you noticed a heightened level of sexual arousal lately?"

He stifled the urge to giggle. "You could say that," he drawled.

She averted her eyes and blushed. "I have as well. And I think
those injections are to blame."

He tightened his lips and thought, 'Denial isn't just a river in
Egypt, my little sweet potato.' Out loud, he asked, "Shouldn't a
single injection of a substance have worked its way out of our
systems in two weeks?"

She shifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze. "Yes, that's true.
But I can't think of anything else to explain us acting so out of
character."

It took every ounce of self-control Fox Mulder possessed to not
answer that statement.

Instead he asked, "I've been wondering...how did you know it was
me?"

She was confused. "When?"

"When we were in the box...it was pitch black but you knew it was
me," he answered.

She gave him a look of hard steel and he realized he wasn't
playing the game right. He never had played well with others.

Carefully, she said, "Who else would it be?"

Oh, she was good. He could only nod in agreement.

She nodded back with confidence. "I want to get us back to DC and
take another blood test."

"Don't you think Skinner's going to be a little pissed at us
running home from a case again, leaving it unsolved?" he queried,
suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.

She rose from the bed and hissed with a passion he remembered with
an ache, "I don't care. I'm getting sick of being fucked with," as
she passed him on the way to the connecting door.

Poor choice of words, Scully. After the door closed he allowed
himself a humorless chuckle. He had to have the worst luck of any
man on the face of the earth when it came to the fairer sex.
After six years of a frighteningly vague desire, a tear in his
heart so deep he thought he would drown in his bleeding soul, he
had made love to Dana Scully.

However, those words could only be used in a technical sense. He
had not seen her naked. He had very briefly touched her genitalia
and she had very briefly touched his. He had not seen, touched or
kissed her breasts. They had kissed for a total of perhaps forty-
five seconds.

Oh, and there was the part where he couldn't be bothered to help
her come. Somehow, someway he had hurt her. Hurt her so bad she
was actually forgiving him. It could not have gone worse. It
should be incredibly easy for him to jump on her 'let's forget it'
bandwagon.

But of course he couldn't. He was never one to take the easy road
to anywhere.

4.
FBI Headquarters
June 21st, 10:20 A.M.

Scully entered their office in a high fume. She found that was
the best state to be in lately: it burned all the other emotions
away, those emotions that threatened to create their own infernos
if she let them.

Mulder sat at his desk, very still. He'd been that way ever since
*it* had happened. It was as though he didn't trust his legs to
hold him up anymore.

"Mulder the latest results are back and hormones are still
present," she reported.

He squinted his eyes and looked up at her like a mole. "So?"

He couldn't do this now. He couldn't crawl into that hole of his,
not when she needed him. "It means that someone, somehow," she
looked around the office, "is slipping us a Mickey."

He quickly looked around the room, too, and put his finger to his
lips to shush her.

She ranted, "I don't give a shit who hears me! This has got to
stop!"

He jumped up from his chair and tried to pull her into his arms.
She put a hand out to his chest and gave him a warning look.

He sagged against his desk, his eyes on fire. Message received.
Good.

She slapped the report down on the desk and looked around the
office again. She strode over to the coffee machine and yanked the
half-empty carafe out and picked up the coffee can. "Pull the
bottle off the water cooler--we're taking this stuff to the lab."

He followed her down the hall, dragging the heavy bottle behind
him. "They could be doing it in our homes."

"This is a good place to start as any," she spat out as she
stomped along.

When the test results came back, they showed the coffee grounds
contained yet another synthetic hormone.

Mulder shook his head. "I knew I should switch to decaf."

Scully gave him a withering glance. "I think we should show this
chemical work-up to the Gunmen. They may recognize something and I
don't feel as though I can trust anyone here. It's obvious someone
here is working for Them."

"You take the information over. I'll join you after I find out who
our coffee boy is," Mulder said.

4.
Mulder was losing patience with Gloria, the refreshment
coordinator. She was finally in the presence of the famous Fox
Mulder after five years of working in the Bureau, and she was
enthralled.

He was having difficulty keeping her on the subject. "Yes, yes, as
a matter of fact I have seen a ghost. It was.interesting. Anyway,
as I was asking, who supplies the coffee to our office?"

Now is a huff, she said, "As I explained, you get the same coffee
everyone else does."

"Does the same person drop the coffee cans off to us?" he pursued
relentlessly.

"Well, no, we have several people who perform that task," she
blustered. She had obviously been spending too much time around
fibbies, Mulder thought to himself.

He managed to keep his voice calm. "And those persons would
be...?"

She blinked her heavy lashes at him. "Bob Graham, Trudy Kwan,
Kenneth Bond, and Doug Glass."

Mulder reached out and patted the back of her hand lightly before
asking, "May I see their files, please?"

She gave a deep, pained sigh and heaved herself from her chair to
go to her filing cabinet.

He sensed the explanation that came out of her before he heard it.
He knew what that meant. They had gotten there before him.

"That's odd. The files are gone." Her ample bosom swung around
and into his face. He leaned back in the chair and peered up and
over her breasts to look at her with a tired acceptance.

"Gone? When did you see them last?" he asked as a formality.

"Well, Trudy started with us just last month, when she got out of
school. I put her paperwork in the files then. Everything seemed
to be in order." Gloria was beginning to fuss, peering behind her
cabinets and furniture, her large buttocks now finding their way
into his face.

Mulder eased out of his chair and moved behind her desk to access
her computer. "But their files will be in the database."

Her hot, moist breath was on his neck. She was a tall woman.
"Actually, I don't think much will be there. I mean, they just
deliver coffee."

He stifled a sigh. "Surely they have to pass some sort of
security clearance..." The computer told him what he already knew.
The files were neatly wiped clean. He held in a curse. "Gotta go.
Let me know who never comes back to work. I think I can safely
assume that's the perpetrator of this crime." He could tell she
appreciated the cop talk as he stormed from the tight, warm
office.

5.
Headquarters of the Lone Gunmen

Byers looked up from the sheets of paper that showed the different
chemical compositions of the synthetic hormones. "Well, Agent
Scully, I can't tell you anything definite for right now. I'm sure
you noticed the level of testosterone in some of the samples?"

Scully nodded. "That's what first made me suspect they were
hormones."

Frohike leered, "Although the level is much higher in Mulder's
happy little samples, it's nothing to sneeze at in yours. Noticed
any unsightly body hair lately?"

Scully cut through him with two blue lasers. "When I need someone
to pluck me clean, I'll know who to call."

He backed off with a look of horror on his face. Good. She knew
she wasn't acting like herself but she had the feeling she had
left that Dana behind in the black box.

She pulled another sheet of paper from the file. "And these
readings, from the coffee grounds, are another substance
altogether. Some of the components are the same, but..." Her
frustration was apparent in her voice.

Langly suggested, "There's been all those performance-enhancing
hormones developed recently for use by athletes."

Scully rubbed her forehead to try to clear her mind. "I can't
imagine that someone is plotting to make Mulder and I into a team
of ringers for pick-up basketball games. I just don't know..."

Byers' mild tones interrupted her thoughts. "I'll need some more
time to investigate, if this isn't too urgent."

Scully shook her head. "No. It's more of a mystery than anything
else." She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself
more than the three men when she said; "No serious damage seems to
have been done."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 4: The Test Results

1.
The Factory
June 24th, 2:15 P.M.

Krycek walked swiftly down the aisle of large tubes, avoiding
looking at the contents floating in the green liquid within them.
As he reached the end, he silently cursed the old man for
calling him into this room.

He was sure the bastard knew how he felt about being around
the experiments, therefore summoning him here was an attempt to
put
Krycek on the defensive. He hated the smell of the fluid used in
the experiments. He had thrown up the first time he'd smelled it,
and he'd decided that its stench must have been that of
the primordial ooze.

A low voice came out of the shadows to interrupt his pacing. "You
must find a way to calm yourself."

"What do you want?" Krycek had no patience for the older man's
manipulations.

He lit his ubiquitous cigarette. Krycek had given up asking him
if it was dangerous for the experiments to be exposed to smoke.
Frankly, he hoped the whole thing would explode--he just didn't
want to be there.

"What is the status of our agents?" the cool tone asked.

Krycek's eyebrows rose. "They have completed the next step."

Through the blue cloud, there was a brief flash of his wet tongue
licking his flat lips. "And you doubted Mulder."

Krycek allowed himself a chuckle. "From where I was sitting, it
looked as though *she* was leading the charge."

The smile disappeared. "Well, it doesn't matter. The point is,
the next step has been completed."

Krycek began pacing again. "I said it before. I don't think this
is the best method. Why didn't we bring them here and complete
the work under our control? I'd feel much more comfortable if the
merchandise was in our possession."

The older man took a deep drag on his cigarette. "I've
been working on this project for fifty years, and I must say, I've
seen very little success. The scientists were trying too hard.
Now is the time for simplicity. It's time to let nature take
its course." He almost laughed, but it came out as a hard, short
bark.

Krycek shuddered. That old man wouldn't know a natural act if it
bit him on the ass.

He continued. "Kenneth has left his position with the Bureau?"

Krycek nodded and was suddenly intent on the form floating in the
nearest tube.

"He knows to remain at the apartment?" the older man kept probing.

Krycek swung back around and glared at him. "Yes. He's
obedient."

He turned away and before he melted into the
shadows, tossed over his shoulder, "I certainly hope so."

2.
FBI Headquarters

Mulder sat at his desk, reviewing their case file and trying to
keep his lunch down. The nausea was rising again. He had already
thrown up his breakfast. Why had he bothered to eat again?

Scully came back from the lab. She spent a lot of time there now,
'working on their blood tests.' How much of that was a burning
need to find the truth, and how much was staying away from an
obvious troll with absolutely no sexual technique?

He had to stop having those thoughts. They were getting him
nowhere. He was convinced that he had manifested these feelings
of
guilt into psychosomatic health problems. He raised a shaking
hand
to his clammy brow. Not good, not good at all.

His flipped through the latest information aimlessly. Three of
the coffee delivery persons had eventually come to work. Kenneth
Bond was the only one missing. None of the other workers knew
anything about him. He was polite, but kept to himself. He
hadn't shared any personal information. His locker was empty and
wiped clean of fingerprints. Finally, Mulder had been able to
isolate the young man's image in a security tape. He looked at
the grainy photograph that the lab had sent over.

Kenneth Bond appeared to be around five feet, ten inches tall, one
hundred and fifty pounds, trim, with an athletic build. He seemed
to have straw blond hair, kept in a short, neat haircut, and was
clean-shaven. His eyes were light-colored, and he could be
described as attractive, with angular, regular features.

"Scully, I got this photo back today. Do you recognize him?" He
passed the picture across the desk to slide it under her bent
head.

She lifted the picture up and looked intently at the black and
white image.

"There's something familiar about him, but I'm sure I've seen him
in the halls at some point." She flipped it back to his side of
the desk without looking at him.

Mulder stared at her deep gold cap of hair, willing it to rise and
reveal her eyes. He went on with his report. "Gloria, his
supervisor, remembers little from his job interview. He was one
of those blank people, she said." He smiled ruefully. "All she
can recall is that he said he was attending college, was studying
to be a scientist. I've got a search going through all the local
schools, but that will take a while."

Frustrated, he stuffed the photo back in the file and flung
himself against the back of his chair. It groaned in protest.

Scully lifted her eyes from her paperwork for the first time since
she had returned and creased her brow in worry. "Are you all
right, Mulder? You haven't looked well for the past couple of
days." She rose to move to his side of the desk, reaching a hand
out for his forehead.

He let her touch him. He was such a whore. He would let her
think he was dying if it meant she would touch him for even a
second longer.

"You have a fever. Are you having any other symptoms of illness?"
she asked.

"Yeah, nausea, body aches, sleeplessness, weakness..." he mumbled.

She caused him to jump. "Mulder! We've been drugged with an
unknown substance for weeks now, you're showing signs of illness,
and you haven't said anything?" She went from looking angry to
looking terrified.

He shrugged. "I just thought I was feeling down."

She averted her eyes quickly. "Let's get you down to the clinic
and see what your vitals are."

3.
Later, after her battery of tests, Mulder buttoned his shirt back
up as she looked over the results, frowning. "What about you,
Scully? How have you been feeling?"

She glanced up and her eyes were suddenly open windows to him, sad
and troubled. "I've been feeling...unsettled. Weak. Like you I
just put it down to 'the blues'..." She shuttered her gaze again,
and
he felt lost. "Sometimes I just feel that way. It's nothing."
She
sounded determined.

He said, "I'm sure that's all this is. Nothing--just the flu."

She glanced back down to the paperwork and shrugged. "Well, you
have a slight fever, you're dehydrated, and I don't like the way
your glands are swollen, but the hormone levels are back down to
normal." She blushed.

Scully didn't want to remember her behavior three nights ago. She
had been overcome with a panic attack after barely choking down
her dinner. First she had filled garbage bags with all of her
food, cleaning out her refrigerator and emptying everything
digestible from her cupboards. She even threw away her
toothpaste--anything she would ingest. She went down to the
basement and checked all the water valves.

This should have been satisfied her, but if anything she was even
more paranoid. She had jumped in her car and had raced over to
Mulder's place to repeat the procedure there, with him chasing her
from room to room, begging for an explanation. He must have
thought she had gone mad.

She had to find a way to distract herself every minute of every
day. She couldn't do much about her sleeping time, when her cruel
memory could weave its intoxicating spell, dissecting every moment
of their physical encounter as she would take apart a human body.
It always ended at the same point, the spot when she went dead.

The need for completion, for resolution, was going to kill her.
She knew better than to try for relief though, something told her
the act would destroy her with its emptiness. She felt trapped
between circles of hell.

She shook her head and returned to the present. "I just don't
like this whole thing. It stinks."

"Have the Gunmen come up with anything?" he asked.

"No. Not yet." She slammed her palm on the table. "Dammit, if
we don't come up with some answers soon, I'm going to lose my
mind." She chose not to reflect on the thought that perhaps she
already had.

4.
Mulder's illness worsened until he was bedridden with a high fever
for two days. He refused to be hospitalized.

"There's nothing there, Scully! The tests show nothing! What's
the point? At least I feel safe in my apartment," he protested
when she tried to get him to leave his bed for the hospital.

He watched her pace around his bedroom in a furious state. "Any
leads on the coffee delivery people?" he asked.

She looked at him with an annoyed, distracted air. "I've sent out
some agents to the colleges to show around the photo of Bond,
especially in the science departments. But it's hard to justify a
full-blown investigation for acts against us that still seem
pointless."

She sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing his damp hair back
off his hot brow to feel it. "Are you going to leave me?" he
asked.

"What!?" She snatched her hand back.

"Are you going stop working with me because of what happened?" he
went on. She grasped her hands together in her lap. "'Cause, you
see, I've had a lot of time to think here..."

She cocked a brow and cut in. "And some very lucid thoughts, I'm
sure."

He looked her square in the eye. "As a matter of fact, I've had
some moments of great clarity. We still haven't come up with a
reason for Them to do this to us."

She shrugged and looked hopelessly around the room.

He was determined to ignore her evasion. "They've been trying to
stop my work for years. First they sent you to me, but then you
joined my quest. So they took you away to break me." She stopped
him with a wide-eyed look of amazement. Had she never seen her
abduction in this light? "The Smoking Man said he gave you back
because he liked you and I would've taken his word for that, but
for your cancer. Then I had to watch you suffer."

"So it is all about you," she said dryly, shifting on the bed to
get more comfortable.

He shook his head in frustration. "I'm trying to look at this
situation the way They would. They know how dangerous we are
together, so they've tried a dozen different ways to separate us.
Will They succeed this time?"

She blinked, once, slowly. He held back a satisfied grin.
Nothing like suggesting they were under attack to get her
protective instincts going. He lowered his voice and leaned his
mouth close to her ear to murmur in it. "Will They win at last?
Was this a plot to make it so we're never comfortable working
together again, to break our trust in each other?"

She was as fierce as he hoped. "I will always trust you."

He leaned back on his pillows. "I'll hold you to that."

5.
Within a week, just as he was feeling better and had returned to
work, Scully began to exhibit symptoms. Hers were not as severe
and she didn't develop the high fever, but Mulder was concerned
nevertheless.

"Scully, have you seen a doctor?" he asked, trying to keep the
worry from his voice.

She raised an eyebrow. "I am a doctor."

Scully..." he warned her.

"I think you said it yourself, Mulder, there's nothing for the
doctors to do. I have to go do an autopsy." She gathered her
things up and left the office before he could protest.

6.
He was called over to the autopsy bay within the hour. Her
assistant was fussing over her sprawled form on the floor, covered
with a sheet. Mulder's heart stopped for a moment at the image.

"What the fuck are you doing? Get her up off the floor!" he
yelled.

The assistant babbled, "She struck her head on the way down. I'm
not sure--she could have a neck injury."

Mulder fell to his knees beside her. "Shit! What happened?"

The assistant could answer this with confidence. "She was doing
the Y incision and she just turned green. That's not normal."
Mulder glared at him. "And then-Boom!--she went down!"

Mulder smoothed the damp hair from her clammy brow. "You think
she fainted?"

"I guess," he said doubtfully.

Just as the paramedics arrived, Scully regained consciousness.
She protested adamantly that she didn't want to go to the
hospital, she had only grazed her skull and the injury wasn't
serious.

Mulder put his foot down. "We are taking you to the hospital.
Something is wrong with you."

She was angry and wouldn't speak to him in the ambulance or the
waiting room. He insisted that he wanted to be with her when the
doctor came to review her test results.

Scully grudgingly agreed. "This concerns you as well. Perhaps
something new will appear in the tests that can explain what's
going on."

Mulder spent the time waiting caressing the back of Scully's hand.
She didn't seem to be enjoying it, but she didn't pull her hand
away either.

7.
Dr. Nancy Carpenter pulled the curtain aside and looked at the
couple. This was going to be a tough next few minutes, she could
tell. Even though she was only a second-year resident, she had
learned to read people quickly. She kept her sigh to herself.
They looked angry with each other and the world. She had the
feeling the test results were not going to make things any easier
for them.

"Dr. Scully, how are you feeling now?" she asked as a courtesy.

The female patient pulled the blanket aside as though to rise from
the bed. "Much better, thanks. Can I go home now?"

Her male companion shot her a dark look and they briefly wrestled
over her blanket before she lay back down.

Dr. Carpenter allowed herself that sigh. She addressed him.
"Mr. Mulder, perhaps you should wait over there while I go over
things with Dr. Scully."

He answered just as she knew he would. "I'm not going anywhere."

She glanced over to Dr. Scully. The woman looked away for a
moment and then back, straight into her eyes. "He stays. We're
concerned that we have both been injected with a substance that is
resulting in these health problems..."

Dr. Carpenter cut her off. "I'm sure as FBI agents you're used to
looking for the most nefarious of explanations. However, there's
a very simple reason for Dr. Scully's condition."

The couple looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
She let herself have one more sigh and said, "Dr. Scully is
pregnant."

Their reaction was not at all what Dr. Carpenter expected. The
man's face split open with a grin. He tightened his grip on the
woman's hand. "Scully, oh my god! Oh Scully, oh..." He grabbed
her around the shoulder, trying to pull him close to her.

Scully would have none of that. She remained stiff in his grasp
and stared right back at Dr. Carpenter. "You must be mistaken.
There's no way I can be pregnant. I'm sterile."

Mulder interrupted her. "Scully, how do you know They didn't find
a way to fix the test results? Just make you think your ovaries
were damaged? It could have just been another one of their mind
fucks."

She turned away from the doctor and hissed at him, "You think I
settled for the first test results? You don't think I didn't go
over and over them? Had more tests?"

He wouldn't let go of her hand and they struggled briefly.
"Scully..."

"No, Mulder. It can't be." She turned back to Dr. Carpenter.
"You have to do the test again."

Dr. Carpenter raised her eyebrows. "Dr. Scully, I'll be more than
happy to run the test again. I'm just telling you what's there.
Shall we pull another blood sample?"

"Please." Scully whispered. Dr. Carpenter swept the curtain
closed as she left them alone.

Mulder chewed his lower lip frantically. "Scully, all that's
neededis one egg. You could have had one egg left..."

"What were the odds? The first time I have sex in nearly a
decade, it last barely two minutes," Mulder winced, "my one egg
just happens to be there waiting, and I get pregnant. It just
couldn't happen that way, no matter how much you want to believe."
She sank back into the pillows.

He was silent with his tumultuous thoughts. She went on. "No, I
see something much worse. This was all a set-up to make us
believe this is our child. They put *something* in me while we
were in their custody. They set us up, perhaps hoping we would
have sex and allow this...pregnancy to continue."

He didn't give up hope. "It could still be our child. They have
your eggs. They could have gotten a sperm sample--"

"They decided to do us some big favor?" she burst out.

He tried to calm her. "No, I'm sure not, but perhaps they found
some way to reverse the damage to your ovaries--"

"Again, to do us a favor?" she was starting to cry, a trickle of
moisture spilling over her lashes.

The technician arrived to take a new blood sample and she wiped
the tears away quickly.

Mulder made his voice resolute. "Can we at least have some tests
Done-- get a new sonogram of your ovaries?"

She looked up and met his pained gaze. "All right. We have to
start somewhere. I'm just..." He nodded and grabbed her hand
again. This time she gripped his hand back.

Her next cold words struck his heart like bullets. "No. It can't
be true. No."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 5: Old Friend

1.
July 1st, 1:25 P.M.

Doctor Anita Mui was shocked when she returned the urgent page
from Scully and heard her say she was pregnant. She was shaking
her head, even though she knew Scully couldn't see her over the
phone. "Dana, I did those tests myself. It can't be possible,
perhaps..."

Scully cut her off. "I know, I know, but I've had them do the
test twice. There are some more recent developments though, that
could explain this. Do you have time to see me this afternoon?"

"Of course I can. Anything for you," Anita said.

Dana let out a big breath she must have been holding. "Thanks, I
appreciate it. I'll bring all the data I've collected so far, and
some people who might be able to shed some more light on this.
I...I'm probably going to need some help on this...as a friend,
too." She sounded so scared.

Anita spoke warmly. "Of course. We'll find out what's going on,
don't worry." Dana gave a frightening laugh at her words.

2.
Scully switched off the cell phone and slipped it back into the
pocket of her trench coat. Mulder was leaning against the side of
the car, waiting, his eyes hooded and unreadable under his
drooping eyelids.

She got into the passenger seat without a word to him, and he
opened his door to get behind the wheel. He pulled away from the
curb, and for a brief moment, she thought he was going to let her
have some peace.

His first words were a blow directly to her solar plexus. "Don't
you want a baby?"

She moved to protect herself. "I don't want to talk about this
now."

He was relentless in his assault. "I think we should. I think
this is important."

She reached over to adjust the air conditioner. The confining
interior of the car was sweltering. She leaned back against the
sweating vinyl seat and muttered, "I don't want to get angry right
now."

"Maybe you should get angry," Mulder suggested through tight lips.

She spit back: "You don't want to see me angry."

"Yes, I do--" he protested as he turned across the intersection.

She clutched the armrest to keep herself from sliding towards him.
"No you don't--"

"Yes I do!" he demanded. He took a deep breath and said, "Just
once. Just once I want a response from you that hasn't been
considered, evaluated, and delivered precisely. Just once I want
an honest emotion."

Blindly, she started swinging with her words, not caring if she
hurt both of them in the process. "Fine. I'll show you angry.
I'm angry because my choice has been taken away, again. They keep
using us, again and again. What now, what have they done now?!"
she demanded to know. "How much of this can I been expected to
take? When I can't imagine a greater pain, they find a new place
to probe." She moved in with a low blow. "You seem accustomed to
being manipulated by these bastards, but I'm not as comfortable
with the idea."

This earned her a few miles of silence. She was so drained she
couldn't even cry, she just stared out the window at the buildings
whipping by.

He felt trapped in the hot metal box of a car. Confined, his head
felt as though it was swelling to the point of bursting in the
heat. He watched her fingernails restlessly claw at the armrest.
Her lips were firmly clamped shut. She was through talking.

He had forgotten the flashes of cruelty that happened in a sexual
relationship. It sometimes seemed as though the urge to give out
pain was equal to the urge to give pleasure. Not that he'd know
anything about that, he mused darkly.

He was like a terrier with a bone, he knew that, but he wanted a
resolution before they picked up Byers. He broke the oppressive
silence. "So you don't want the baby?"

She gave a huge sigh of exasperation. "I don't know what I want.
I know--I want my choice back. First, they took my right to
choose away, but no, they haven't given that back. They are still
using me and my body for God knows what purpose." She took a gulp
of the cold air that was roaring from the vents. "I'm terrified
and I don't like that, Damnit!"

He was stubborn. "I can totally understand that, but you still
haven't said if you want this baby. Are you avoiding the question
because having my baby would mean you'd be stuck with me?"

He glanced over and saw her looking at him with resignation. That
wasn't the expression he wanted to see right now.

She sounded exhausted when she answered. "Right now, I can't think
about this as a baby. I can't."

He noticed she hadn't said anything about their relationship. He
struck out. Peevishly, he said, "It's not healthy for the baby
for you to remain emotionally detached."

Her voice lowered until it was a frightening dark roar coming from
deep inside of her. "Don't you dare tell me--so this is what I've
become to you? The vessel that may hold your child?"

He protested, "That isn't what I meant."

She was cold. "You're right. I shouldn't get upset. Let me out
of this car."

Good lord, how had this happened? How many times had he witnessed
this scene from the backseat of his parents' wood-paneled station
wagon?

He ignored her demands. "There's Byers."

John Byers was waiting for them on the curb in front of his
building, the files clutched to the front of his neatly pressed
suit.

'Polyester doesn't crumple in the heat', Mulder thought sourly.
He shook his head like an irritated bear, trying to clear his
buzzing, confused thoughts.

Fortunately, Scully did not jump out of the car when he pulled up
to the curb beside Byers. Instead, she greeted him politely
and put on a show of civility for the drive to her doctor's
office, explaining to the astonished man the latest details.
Mulder gripped the wheel with sweaty fists and played along.

2.
Fairfax Hospital, 2:20 P.M.

Anita Mui had attended medical school with Dana Scully. They
had been drawn to each other, despite Dana's reserve and Anita's
exuberant nature. Anita always said the two of them had to stick
together and take turns standing on each other's shoulders in lab
classes to see over their taller classmates.

Dana hadn't needed to stand on anyone's shoulders. She was always
at the front, right at the edge of the gurney, peering into the
body cavity. Anita should have known she would go into forensic
medicine.

Anita herself preferred interaction with live human beings, but
Dana was a lot of fun when she allowed herself to let loose.
Anita would force her to go out to the Irish pubs and they would
try to convince men they were sisters. With Anita's freckled face
and red highlights on her hair, sometimes they could pull it off.

Men were attracted to Anita's bubbly, exuberant nature at first,
but they always seemed to be fascinated by Dana, wanting to draw
her out of her shyness, and make her laugh. Dana had a great
giggle, one that she hadn't heard a lot in a long time.

Anita had been Dana's gynecologist since she had entered the FBI.
Although Dana hadn't chosen to practice, they had stayed in touch.
In the early years after school, they'd even gone out to those
Irish pubs every now and then. Now it had become a friendship
that could be crushing for her at times.

She had always admired Dana's reserve, but at sometimes it was
difficult to reach her as a patient. She wondered if she could do
more for Dana if she only would be more open with Anita. It had
been hard to watch the vibrant young woman Dana had been in
college become more and more remote, with each passing yearly
check up and a negative answer to the question, "Are you currently
sexually active?" Anita had started to wince even before she heard
the answer.

In those ensuing years, Anita herself had been married and
divorced twice, had to have a restraining order put on a third
man, contemplated a lesbian fling: all while Dana had just
developed a worry wrinkle between her eyebrows. So she had found
herself babbling all these details of her life over Dana's knees
in the stirrups, receiving only grunts as replies. Dana told her
the barest, necessary details of her life, a simple statement
like, "I have cancer."

She tried not to think of that day as she pulled Dana's file out
of the cabinet with a shaking hand and turned to answer the knock
at her office door.

She blinked when she saw Dana's entourage which was comprised of a
tall, dark, and yes, handsome man and a shorter, well-groomed,
awfully cute man. Both had soulful eyes, in different ways.

Scully introduced her to the shorter man with the beard first.
"This is John Byers. He's been kind enough to work on some things
we've found."

'Oh dear, here I go again,' Anita realized as she held John's hand
a moment too long and smiled with all her teeth at him. He
blushed under his beard, and his palm went damp in her grip.

"This is Fox Mulder, my..." Scully seemed confused.

Anita felt a female friend's prickle of animosity towards this
man. This was the first time they'd met, but it was always Mulder
on the other end of the cell phone when Dana had to leave
gatherings early. And, Dana's 'dry spell' was roughly as long as
she had worked with this Mulder.

"...My partner at the FBI...and...friend," she ended weakly.

Mulder looked as though he was sucking on a lemon, but just shook
her hand without comment. Oh dear, this was going to be
complicated, she could tell. She felt herself warming to him
despite her concerns.

They all sat down, Mulder and Scully side by side in front of her
desk, and Byers in another chair towards the rear of the room.
Anita looked at the results of the pregnancy test. "I can do this
again..." she began.

Scully briskly cut her off. "That won't be necessary. I have no
doubt there is a embryo in my uterus." Both of the men looked
distressed.

"However, the question is, *whose* embryo, or even *what
creature's* embryo it is," she said coldly.

Anita gasped in shock and Mulder reached out blindly to grab
Scully's hand. She lets him lay his hand on top of hers, but she
didn't turn her palm up to return the grasp.

"Dana, how can this be?" Anita asked as calmly as she could.

"Mulder and I were abducted recently. We were both
unconsciousness for over 24 hours. Blood tests show..." Scully
nodded for Byers to hand Anita his paperwork. The doctor looked
it over. "We had traces of synthetic hormones in our bloodstream.
Since then, even after we returned to DC, we seem to be have been
administered more hormones."

Scully paused for a moment and glanced at Mulder. Holding his
gaze, she continued, "Mulder and I engaged in sexual relations
once, Anita. Once. The first and only time. The timing of that
sexual encounter would correlate with my pregnancy."

Anita interrupted her, noting the horror in both of the men's
faces. "Where did this encounter fall in your cycle?"

Scully ground her teeth. "During my fertile period. If I
happened to have working ovaries and was producing an egg," she
protested.

"Scully," Mulder murmured.

She seemed to ignore him and went on. "It's my theory that this
is a deliberate ruse to make Mulder and me believe that we are
pregnant."

Everyone in the room looked amazed at Scully's use of the word,
'we'. She went on, "I wouldn't be surprised at all to see my old
test results now saying there is no damage to my ovaries."

Anita dug out the paperwork from the file on her desk. "That I
can't help you with. The results from the three separate tests
are here and they all show the same thing." She slid the
photographs from the sonogram across the desk and Mulder leaned in
to look. She traced the misshapen organ with her finger.
"Severe, permanent damage to the ovaries as a result of
radiation."

Scully spoke in a low passionate voice. "Anita, they have my
ova."

"What?" Anita was stunned.

"The damage didn't result from my chemo. I was abducted
by persons--a group--in 1994. They are the ones who damaged my
ovaries. But before that, they removed my ova. They have made a
genetic child of mine before--They could do it again," she said
fiercely.

"Dana, do you know what you're suggesting?" Anita asked. She
looked from Scully's cool face to the two men. They both nodded
at her. They believed this was true too.

"They could be performing a new experiment. They could have taken
one of my eggs and made another embryo and put it in me."

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"My genetic child--" she stumbled. "Her name was Emily. She died
a painful, horrible death at the age of three. They make...They
do experiments, Anita. They don't make children."

Mulder had raised her hand to his mouth and was pressing it to his
lips. All Anita could think to say was, "Oh, Dana. I'm so
sorry."

She shook her head. Dana had come to her as a doctor and as a
friend. She had to be strong in both roles.

Briskly she said, "The first thing I want to do is do another
sonogram of your ovaries, for my curiosity if nothing else. Any
chance you've been exposed to a miracle lately, received a cure?"
Mulder opened his mouth as though to speak, but Scully shot him a
squelching look. Byers, in the background, stifled a gulping
sound. These were very odd people.

"At around twelve weeks we can do the first sonogram on the fetus
that will show us see what--how the fetus is developing," she
plowed on, "and at sixteen weeks we can possibly draw blood from
the fetus to make a DNA test."

Mulder gasped in relief at these words.

"I know there's nothing worse than sitting on your hands and
waiting. That's all we can do for now," she finished.

Scully brought a chill to the room with her next words. "At
sixteen weeks, I can still receive an abortion?"

Anita answered carefully, "Yes, Dana. It would be a late-term
abortion and they are currently still legal with a doctor's
request. But let's not think about that until it's necessary."

Scully whispered, "It's all I think about."

3.
Immediately Anita procured a machine and did the sonogram of
Scully's reproductive organs. They pored over the grainy
photographs. Mulder seemed entranced by the one that showed the
tiny beginning of life.

Anita said, "It's not much to look at now--it could be just about
anything, even an elephant." She immediately regretted her lame
joke, but he gave her a smile nonetheless. Scully didn't look
at it. Instead, she scrutinized the pictures of her ovaries and
shook her head.

"This doesn't make any sense," she sputtered.

Anita had to agree. "Your right ovary seems to be perfectly
healthy. Don't ask me how they did that without making an
incision, but there it is."

"What's the point? There are no eggs to go in it," Scully asked.

Byers finally spoke. "Here's a thought." They all turned to
listen. "They wouldn't be able to replace your ova in your ovary.
However, theoretically, if They can clone whole humans, it seems
to me they could reproduce new eggs for you."

Mulder looked relieved at another vote cast in favor of the
possibility of the child being theirs, but Scully protested. "To
what end? So let's say They somehow create more eggs, and God
knows how, they were placed in my rejuvenated ovary. And then I
even have sex when I'm fertile. Having sex for two minutes, once,
could hardly be guaranteed to result in pregnancy."

Byers seemed to make a concerted effort not to look at the red-
faced Mulder. "Mulder was given hormones as well. Dr. Mui, do you
know much about the recent low levels of fertility among Western
white males?"

Anita nodded. "Yes, it's a subject of great concern. A variety
of factors are resulting in low sperm counts and reduced
motility."

Byers became excited. "Yes, exactly. I've seen some reports
lately about work being done to find a cure for this problem."

He pulled the chemical composition from Mulder's first blood
sample for everyone to look at again. "It's my suggestion that
this is a compound meant to ensure optimum activity in the male
sperm."

A big grin spread across Mulder's face for the first time since
they had entered Anita's office. Scully ignored him and shook
her head. "That explains the initial injection, but what about
the substances in the coffee? We both ingested those. What was
their purpose?"

Byers looked embarrassed. "Actually, I isolated the purpose of
them fairly early on. I just didn't feel they were relevant to
your concerns."

"What is it?" Mulder asked.

"Uh, the best I can figure out.most of the components are commonly
found in aphrodisiacs." Byers ended his report with a gulp.

A deadly silence fell over Scully and Mulder. For the first time
since they entered the office, she looked as though she wanted to
cry. Mulder reached out to her but she moved just far enough away
so that he couldn't touch her.

She spoke slowly. "That just completes the whole picture.
Perfect."

Anita tried to change the subject but her choice was no better.
"Mr. Mulder--Fox--I don't want to concern you, but something about
the configuration of these chemicals worries me."

Byers nodded, shifting his eyes to her. Mulder asked him, "What's
wrong?"

Byers spoke calmly. "Listen to the doctor, Mulder."

"Mr. Mulder, I'd like you to undergo some more tests. Tests that
require a sperm sample," Anita said.

Mulder looked horrified and Scully glanced up from the paper work,
instantly frightened. "Anita, what is it?" she asked.

"Like I said, let me just get the tests and see if my concerns are
justified," she answered.

After he was finished giving a sample, Mulder re-entered Anita's
office, and caught Scully looking at the print of the image of the
embryo. She glanced up, blinking to focus on him. "Mulder,
what'd she say?"

He ran his hand through his hair. "Nothing yet. She said she'd
have something to tell me by this afternoon." He moved behind her
to look over her shoulder at the photo.

She slid it carefully into her file. He had to say something.
"Can you tell anything from it?"

"There is something that I suppose we can find some hope in. The
embryo is the right size for fertilization having taking place on
the 19th and not the 9th, when we were abducted," she said slowly.

He couldn't stop himself from placing his hands lightly on her
shoulders and he rejoiced when her muscles didn't tighten under
his palms. He murmured, "I want to hang onto that hope." He had
to say it, whether she wanted to hear it or not. "I want this
baby to be ours."

He didn't think she would say anything, but when she did, he
remembered how brave she could be in the face of adversity. "I
want this to be our baby, too," she whispered.

They remained still for a few moments, the only motion being
the sweep of his big hands across her back and neck. She leaned
into his ministrations, allowing him to give her comfort.

She shook her head as though to wake from a dream, and said, "Well
then, I guess we should go back to Headquarters."

She pushed all the papers into the file folder before continuing.
"I need to talk to Skinner."

"Oh?" Mulder said carefully.

"Yes. I have to give him my request for a transfer," she said,
her body stiffening under his touch.

He exploded. "What?!"

She stood to face him, silencing him with an upheld hand. "Yes.
If this pregnancy is some experiment," she stumbled on her words,
"I could be a danger to you and others. If it's our child..." she
continued fiercely, "I don't want to do anything that could harm
it."

"Don't go far, please. I want you close so I can keep an eye on
you," he murmured.

She shot him a hard look and opened her mouth to rebuke him, but
stopped, suddenly looking resigned. "Okay, I guess I'll go back
to teaching at Quantico again."

4.
FBI Headquarters

Skinner sat staring at Scully across his desk, stunned. The woman
was in front of him was cool as always, despite the fact she had
just asked him to transfer her away from her long-time partner and
was offering no explanation.

He tried to stay calm. "Agent Scully, frankly, I'm at a loss.
What's this all about?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't tell you at this time. All I can tell
you is that it concerns something of vital importance to me."

Skinner kept pressing. "Has it something to do with you two being
abducted in Alabama?"

"Sir, this is not a guessing game." Scully sounded as though she
was trying hard to control her temper. "You just have to trust
me. As soon as I can, I will tell you more. I only have one
thing to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"For Mulder. Find him a partner he can rely on." Her voice
caught. "A partner who will back him up and take care of him."

Skinner couldn't stop himself from saying, "No one can do that as
well as you have, Agent Scully."

She burned him with her bright gaze. "Try, sir. Try."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 6: Tiff Davis

1.
FBI Headquarters
July 1st, 4:50 P.M.

Scully was packing up her personal possessions from the basement
office with automatic motions. She was tiring of this, the
constant disruptions in their lives and work, but she had a
sinking feeling it was only the beginning.

Mulder came in, closing the door behind him softly. She didn't
want to look at him and see the sorrow in his eyes, so she kept
hurriedly stuffing her things in the box. He threw himself into
his chair.

He started speaking, his voice a monotone. "Anita called me, so I
went over to get the results of my tests--"

She faced him and cut in. "What! I was going to go with you! Why
didn't you call?"

He looked at her with flat, empty eyes, and went on. "I didn't
want you there in case there was something that might upset you."
She gasped with exasperation. He continued, "Her concerns were
well founded."

She moved quickly to his side, and clutched his shoulder. "What?"

He laughed humorlessly. "Well, I'm gonna give Them points for a
sense of humor. The high levels of hormone--this cure for
sterility--there's a reason they aren't marketing it yet. The
'treatment' has a severe side effect. It's left me sterile."

"What!?"

"Apparently, that fever I had was an indication of a reaction to
the 'treatment', like having the mumps. My sperm motility is at
such a low level now it would be nearly impossible for me to
impregnate a woman naturally." He laughed again, a sharp, empty
bark.

She gripped his shoulder tightly as he tipped his head to brush
his cheek against her hand. "I'm so sorry," she soothed.

He reached out to caress her abdomen lightly. "Each day, the
stakes are raised."

She covered his hand with hers, warming his cold fingers. "Was
there anything else?" she murmured.

He smiled at her. "Well, there is good news. Other than their dead
tails, my sperm were perfectly healthy. No abnormalities."

"That is good to hear," she said.

"But," he continued, "Anita wants to do some more tests on you."
He sensed her tension. He hurried on. "She and Byers continued
to work after we left," he smiled again, and she had to join him.
"They are interested in doing a brain scan to see if what sort of
activity is taking place in your hypothalamus and pituitary
gland."

Scully had to remind herself that this man was a trained
psychologist who would know something about brain function. "But
without eggs for the FTH hormones to affect...?"

"Anita and Byers enhanced those ultrasounds she took of your
ovary. She thinks she sees immature eggs present." Scully
gripped his hand tightly and he stopped to glance at her. "She
also wants to extract an egg and then they can check the DNA, see
if it's your tissue."

She started to protest again and then stopped. She settled down
on the arm of his chair and he slipped his arm around her waist to
help her balance. "You know, a few days after our abduction, I
felt abdominal pain for about a couple of hours. Nothing serious,
just symptoms I would put down to cramps. But now, I wonder."

"What do you think it was?"

"It could have been.I used to get what they call 'mittelschmerz'
when I ovulated. I knew it couldn't be that, so I never considered
it..." He tickled her ribs with his fingertips, but she ignored him.

"Mittelschmerz sounds like some odd Viennese dessert. One with
lots of whipped cream on top," he said.

She slapped the back of his head lightly and he looked bewildered
"What?"

She grumbled, "Somehow, I got the feeling you were having a dirty
thought." Nevertheless, she settled back against his chest.

His hand moved up from her waist to rest under her breast and his
fingers began to stroke her sensitive skin through her blouse. She
stiffened and pulled herself away from him. "I should call Anita
and get the tests done ASAP." She rose and went back to packing
her box.

She mumbled, but he was still able to catch her words. "And I
want to know where that ovary came from..."

He said the last thing she wanted to hear right now. "I think we
should be hypnotized."

"Why?" She sounded so tired to her ears, weak and unsure. She
swore she could feel the dark circles that she knew were under her
eyes, like bruises. It had been a very long day.

"To try to remember what happened. It could really make a
difference. If we could even find out where we were taken, it
would give us," He stumbled and changed his words. "Me--a place to
start my investigation."

She glanced away and then finally met his eyes for the first time
since he had entered the room. "I'll think about it." He nodded,
seeming to be satisfied for now.

She lifted her box and shifted it to her hip, like a baby.

He jumped up to take the box from her but she wouldn't let him.
"I'll call you," she said, her voice sounding insincere.

"That's what all the girls say," he said to himself as the door
shut behind her.

2.
Tiff needed to find the right rhythm to catch his thrusts. Ah,
there it was. Now she could sit back and relax and get some
answers out of him. "So tell me what I can expect from this
Mulder," she demanded.

The man under her just gurgled. Her brow furrowed. "I've heard all
the crazy stuff, of course, but that can't all be true." She
shifted her weight to her knees, lifting herself off his hard cock
so that her grip on him wasn't so tight.

He gasped and said, "He's a good agent, brilliant actually--don't
believe everything you've heard."

"Even if it came from you?" she asked as she tunneled her long,
dark fingers through his thick, gray chest hair.

"I have the highest respect for Agent Mulder," he moaned.

"Better make that the highest respect for Agent Tiff, Big Dog,"
she growled as she rolled over on her back and pulled him on top
of her. It was difficult to find a man big enough for her, but
still small enough that she could toss him around in the right
circumstances. She decided she had hit the jackpot in Walter
Skinner.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said in his best Marine voice. She expected him
to salute, but instead he started pounding into her hard enough to
grind the questions about her new partner out of her mind. She
grasped his firm, square ass to help him along.

Later, she was picking her hair back out to its smooth short afro
when Skinner came up behind her to plant a kiss on the back of her
neck. The romantic fool.

"That better hold you, Bulldog," she said as she put in her hoop
earrings.

The look of dismay on his face was comical, but she was serious.
"I wanted to be the first one to say it, so I didn't get all
feminine and misty-eyed when you said it."

"I wasn't going to say that," he protested. "This isn't in
violation of any rules. You aren't technically under my command,"
she lifted a brow at that statement. "Well, you aren't. You're on
temporary assignment from Violent Crime. If anything, you're doing
me a favor-- looking after Mulder-- so I should be rewarding you."
He reached for her again with his big rough hands.

She evaded him. "Temporary? How temporary? You've been very
mysterious about this."

He sighed. "The thing is--Mulder's partner has asked for
reassignment under...stressful circumstances." She shot him a hard
look, but he just looked stubborn. "I can't tell you more than
that right now. I just need you to keep Mulder on an even keel and
get the cases solved. I don't trust anyone else in the Bureau to
do that for me."

Now she was getting misty-eyed. That was the sweetest thing he had
said to her in their eighteen-month relationship. "You know you
can trust me," she said fiercely.

3.
FBI Headquarters
July 5th, 9:15 A.M.

Tiff wasn't feeling quite as noble as she wound her tall form
through the shelving and stacked boxes to pick her way to the
basement office. She rapped sharply on the door and heard, "Come
in!"

She entered and looked around to find the source of the voice. She
found it. Oh boy. What was Skinner doing dropping her in the
middle of this patch of clover? He was cute, perhaps just a little
too cute. He was giving her a very charming smile and approaching
with an outstretched hand.

Tiff didn't trust men who were better looking than she was. She
was concerned that they spent too much time on personal grooming.
It was possible he was born looking like this, but she doubted it.
It would make him too good to be true. His darker side would come
out soon enough.

"Agent Davis? I'm Fox Mulder. Please call me...well, whatever you're
comfortable with," he finished lamely. The warning bell began to
toll in the back of Tiff's mind.

"You may call me Davis, or if you prefer, my friends call me Tiff.
I will address you...well, that'll depend on my mood, I suppose."
She looked him in the eye. As she was over six feet tall, she
could do that. He smiled weakly.

She spent the next hour trying to raise her office chair a foot
higher and find a way to position it along the back of the one
desk, sorting through paperwork and setting the voice mail. She
watched Mulder out of the corner of her eye. He sat perfectly
still, staring at the wall. Occasionally he would suddenly whirl
in his chair, make some furious notes on a pad of a paper and then
go back to 'work'.

Finally everything came to a head. He had been playing a flipping
game with his pen. It flew out of his hand and landed under the
desk. He was down on his hands and knees before she could even
speak, his soft hair brushing her knees. She said slowly and
carefully, "Agent Mulder, I will be putting in a requisition
immediately for another desk."

Only muffled words could be heard. It sounded like, "Boof,
Skoolly nebber gob aba doosk!"

'I'll bet she didn't get her own desk, if your hot breath on her
knee was one of the perks,' Tiff thought to herself as she
answered the ringing phone.

Before she could speak, a whispering woman's voice started,
"Mulder, what time can you get away?"

She didn't want to hear more of this conversation. "Excuse me,
this is Agent Davis. May I help you?"

The line was silent and then the voice was brisk. "Where's
Mulder?"

Tiff was getting mad. "He's not currently available. May I help
you?"

The voice continued to be impolite. "Where is he?"

That was it. "He's under me right now. Can I help you?"

She had to give her credit, the mystery woman knew how to put a
lot of venom in a few words. "Put him on the line."

Tiff slammed the receiver on the desktop and tapped Mulder's back.
"Mulder, someone's on the phone for you."

His tousled head popped out from under the desk and reached for
the phone with an apologetic grin. "Mulder here."

She watched his face with interest. Fear-- pain-- anger--- angst--
whipped across it. He whined, "Scullee...But...I didn't know...that's
why..."

Tiff tried to act like she wasn't listening, although she could
make out the now sharp high tones of the woman's voice coming down
the line. Scully. That would be the missing partner. Her neat,
concise handwriting was on a number of the reports Tiff had
glanced through. The name Skinner had not mentioned.

He interrupted her thoughts. "Excuse me, what's your first name?"

She knew she had told him, but she played along. "Tiffany," she
said loud and close enough to the receiver that she knew Scully
could hear. Thus she was able to hear the slam of the woman
hanging up her end of the line.

He winced and then carefully put the phone back down on the
cradle. He glanced casually at his watch. How long was he
gauging it would take her to get to the office? Was she still at
the Bureau? Damn Skinner and damn Mulder! When she said she
didn't want to play in the little boys' club, this is just what
she meant.

Mulder escaped the office while she brooded. Great. That meant
Scully would arrive under full steam any moment.

When the door swung open, and the woman Tiff assumed was Scully
burst into the room, she was stunned. This isn't what she
expected at all. From her quick, highly subjective, judgement of
Mulder, she had envisioned a dark swan, tall and brunette, bitchy-
looking, perhaps.

This woman looked just like the porcelain doll her Aunt Petty had
given her when she was ten. Small and delicate, with china-smooth
white skin, bottle-blue eyes, thick black lashes, and red-gold
shiny hair. Tiff had thrown that doll against the wall in a fit of
pique. She had wanted the black Barbie. Come to think of it,
Aunt Petty was the one who pressured her mom into naming her
Tiffany, saying it would give her class. Tiff ground her teeth.

Scully strode in and her hard gaze raked the room. "Where's Agent Mulder?"

Tiff tried again. "I'm Agent Davis. May I help you?"

Scully looked surprised and then let her gaze sweep over Tiff in
assessment. Oh, it was gonna be like that, huh?

Tiff got up from her chair and towered over the little red hen.

When Scully spoke, Tiff was shocked. "Do you play basketball?"

Oh, boy--some white people... "What makes you think that?" she said
coolly, her hands on her hips.

Scully blinked, then blushed. "The size of your hands and your
height. Coaches look for those sorts of things. I know..." she
glanced down at her perfect little lily-white hands, "'cause I
didn't have those things," she finished wistfully.

Tiff had to laugh. Suddenly she liked this woman. "Yeah...I played
ball through college. It was the days before the pros or I might
not be speaking to you now--"

Scully grinned evilly. "Great. Mulder loves basketball. Bring a
ball to work. Suggest a game at lunch. You'll have fun. I
guarantee it."

Tiff grinned back. "I'll do that. Thanks for the tip."

Mulder came up behind Scully, Skinner in tow. "Scully?" He acted
surprised.

She turned and shot him a nasty look. Skinner pushed past them
both. "Dr. Scully, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh, I thought I'd drop by and give some advice to Agent Davis
here," she said, giving Skinner an assessing look.

He pulled her arm gently to draw her away from Mulder and Tiff.
Tiff watched him bend his big head down to Scully's bright cap of
hair. Oh boy, indeed. He kept his hand lightly on her elbow as
he whispered in her ear.

Mulder was busy pretending not to watch either, shuffling through
some papers. Everyone seemed to be paused in an awkward tableau
until Scully's voice rang out. "Thank you, sir, for your concern.
Mulder, may I speak to you for a moment? It's important."

With that, she grabbed Mulder's arm and dragged him from the room,
slamming the door behind them. Tiff turned and noticed Skinner
was still staring at the door.

She believed in being up front. "Just so you know, Dog, I'm not
partial to other women's sloppy seconds."

Skinner looked startled, then confused, then realization spread
across his broad features. "Don't worry, you're not getting any."
Tiff nodded after a moment's reflection.

"Just so you know, Agent Davis, you may want to be careful down
here. There's a lot of bugs.and they bite," he said briskly as he
exited without looking back at her.

Tiff settled back on the edge of the desk. Maybe this wasn't
going to be the romp on the spooky side she had envisioned. She
was already feeling choked by the entanglements.

4.
As Scully roughly pulled him towards a supply closet Mulder found
himself suddenly aroused. He had to find a way to stop these
reactions; they were not helping the situation at all.

She pushed him through the door and he let her toss him against
the shelving. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a sparkle of
excitement in her eyes, too.

She paced in front of him. "You like your new partner, Mulder?"
she hissed at him.

"Just met her. She seems as though she'll work out." He couldn't
stop himself, "--if properly trained."

He watched her eyes close to angry slits and he felt an erection
beginning to develop in his loose dress pants. She wouldn't be
able to miss that, even in the poor light from a forty-watt bulb.

He hurried on. "But don't worry, you've got me trained."

She raised a brow and his dick hopped up another notch. "Oh?" So
much in that one word.

"Yeah," his voice sounded drugged and lazy. "I'm a good puppy.
I'm eager for your every command."

Her lips trembled and she looked as if she didn't know whether to
laugh or cry. She tilted her head back and caught him with the
edge of her sharp gaze. He felt himself begin to slowly bleed,
the throbbing pain centered in his cock. He pushed himself off
the shelving and approached her. God, don't let her push him away
again.

She looked away and he moved closer until he was as near as he
could be without touching her. Then she rolled her head back on
the slim, strong column of her neck, and he couldn't stop himself
from bending down to run his tongue lightly along the fluttering
pulse. She was so alive.

Her hand came up to cradle his neck and he took that as
encouragement. She had said nothing so far, so he continued. He
didn't want to mark her, so he kept caressing her neck with his
tongue, his mouth moving down to her heaving chest. His tongue
lifted the chain of her necklace from her collarbone and ran along
the length until he came to the cross.

He paused for a moment with the small charm resting on his tongue.
He felt as though he possessed her spirit in his mouth. He tipped
his head back to look at her and she was gazing down at him with a
mixture of desire and pain. He gently sucked on the cross until
the chain became taut, pulling her closer to him. A slow, loose,
aroused smile formed on her soft lips.

He knew she was remembering the last time the chain was tight and
he was this close. Only then did he push her against the wall.
She moved willingly. He lifted her and pressed his hips against
her skirt-confined thighs so she could feel his erection. He
heard the faintest of gasps from her and his cock throbbed even
harder.

He let go of the cross and quickly clasped his mouth over her
parted lips, smoothly sliding his tongue between her teeth. Her
tongue greeted it and they rolled like children playing in the
fresh grass after being confined indoors for a long, dark winter.

He reached down and pulled up her skirt to give her some more
mobility. His hand felt hot on her cool thigh, and she gasped and
pulled their mouths apart.

"Mulder, stop!" He had known that was coming. He was surprised
she had let it go this far.

He lowered her and stepped back. She pushed her skirt down. "I
must check your coffee again, this is ridiculous."

He exploded. "Why would They be doing that? You're already
pregnant. Mission accomplished. No, I've got a news flash for
you, Scully. I wanted you before the spiked coffee. I wanted you
ever since I met you."

She cut him off. "But you only decided to act on this
overwhelming desire at the exact moment you were having
aphrodisiacs forced down your throat. Pardon me if I don't find
any reassurance in that."

He was exasperated. "Believe what you will, Scully. Ask yourself
This: Why didn't I just go out to some bar and jump the first
woman I saw?"

She looked as though she was going to speak and then stopped
herself. He goaded her on. "Go ahead. I saw you wanted to say
something."

"I was going to say--you could have any woman you want, anytime
you want. You just choose not to. So I doubt any aphrodisiac
would suddenly make you a hound dog in the bars. You went with
safe," she said with a cool, logical tone.

He was so mad at her he didn't know if he could stand to look at
her for another minute. "Did you want something? I mean besides
a fuck in the supply closet." It was a cheap shot but it was all
he could afford right now.

She bit down hard on her lower lip and then snapped, "Yes. I got
the test results back. There are high levels of activity in my
brain, and the DNA of the tested egg is mine. It seems to me They
probably administered the necessary hormone to release the egg,
put it in my yogurt on the correct day, something like that. It
seems possible to me now that this could be a perfectly normal
pregnancy."

Mulder was overwhelmed with regret. He had fucked up. If he had
just kept his mouth shut... "Oh, Scully, that's great." He reached
for her, but she had turned to open the door.

With her back to him, she spoke. "It's another ten weeks until
the next sonogram. It'll give us a stronger clue as to my
impregnation date, a better look at what this thing is. I'm let
you know when the appointment is."

He started to speak and then silenced himself. He had to let her
get comfortable with this situation. She was the one who had to
live with it every moment. He let her go.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 7: Visions

1.
FBI Headquarters
July 5th, 10:30 A.M.

Returning to the office, Mulder threw himself back into his chair
and ignored Tiff's inquiring look. He had gotten distracted from
his search for Kenneth Bond, but he had to get back on that. He
had to feel like he was doing something.

The file was gone. He frantically pawed through the piles of
papers on his desk. They had taken the file.

Tiff asked, "What're you looking for?"

"A file," he said as he craned his head to look under the desk.

"The background check on Bond?" she queried.

She was shocked at the cold look he gave her. His voice was soft
and dangerous when he answered. "Yes. Do you have it?"

She bristled. "Yes. I thought I'd help you with it. It seemed as
though it was very important."

He put out his hand. "It is important. I'd rather you not work on
it, however. It could be dangerous for you."

Exasperated, she replied, "That's my job. I'm your partner and a
fully qualified FBI agent."

His face was suddenly sad. "This is outside the realm of the FBI.
It's something that goes beyond the boundaries of justice."

She raised a brow. Well, wasn't he a melodramatic thing? "Agent
Higgins brought in some information. I merely put it in the
file."

He snatched the file from her. "What is it?"

"They've identified this Bond person as a student at George
Washington University, in the Chemistry department. The school
sent over his records and an address. Do you want to go pick him
up?"

Mulder scanned the paperwork furiously. Slowly, he said, "No. I
don't want to tip Them off. Let's go talk to some of his fellow
students, try to get a fix on this guy."

"What's he's done?" Tiff asked.

"I'm not sure, that's one of the problems." Mulder flipped the
file closed. "I'm more interested in the organization he works
for."

His gaze burned into her. "This is a matter of life and death,
Davis. Any false move may spook his employers and sent them
underground. I have to find those men, do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I got it. I won't let you down, trust me," Tiff tried to
reassure him.

He looked as though she had slapped him. His eyes shifted to a
small photograph pinned to the bulletin board. It was of him and
Agent Scully. "I can't give my trust easily, Davis. Don't be
offended. Too much is at stake for me."

She nodded. She understood the sentiment, even if the causes
evaded her. "Shall I send out agents to the campus?"

"Yes, thank you. Have them report directly to me, however," he
said, returning to the file.

She willed herself to not be offended as she reached for the
phone.

2.
7:35 PM

It had been a very long day. Scully sank into her couch, carefully
placing the steaming cup of herbal tea on the table in front of
her.

She was tired in a way she had never felt tired in her life. It
frightened her. It seemed to take over her body and her will. She
felt a slight fluttering in her abdomen, like the stroke of moth's
wings.

She gently laid a hand on her stomach. It must be the fetus. She
had allowed herself to review some of her textbooks on the early
stages of pregnancy.

She closed her eyes for a moment to visualize a growing child
inside her. Instead she felt as though she were seized by the
throat and pinned to the couch by some heavy unseen hand.

Her breathing became shallow and frantic. She opened her eyes, but
all she saw was darkness through a sickening, swirling haze of
green. She was back in the tube.

She could feel the fluttering again. She remembered feeling the
movement then, confined in the freezing liquid. This wasn't her and
Mulder's child. It was one of those.things--growing in her,
feeding off of her until it was ready to rip itself free from her
body.

She managed to shake her head hard enough to break the spell. She
was just regaining control of her breathing when Mulder opened her
door, unannounced.

She attacked him. "What the hell are you doing?"

He must have been numb enough not care about her rudeness. "We
need to talk."

He sat down beside her on the sofa, tossing a file on the coffee
table, and she went stiff, staring straight ahead.

He mumbled, "You've gotten plenty of chances to speak your mind,
set the rules. Well, I thought I'd come over and put in some
words of my own."

"Would you like some tea?" She played the little hostess.

He was firm. "No. Stay here."

They sat next to each other in silence. She had almost fallen into
a trance when he spoke and startled her.

"I think we should get married."

Perhaps that's why she had been avoiding him. She had known he
would say this at some point.

"No."

His voice was calm. "We're having a baby and we love each other.
Why shouldn't we get married?"

She turned to give him a hard look. He raised a brow at her and
his eyes dripped dark moss. "You don't love me?"

She snapped her gaze back front and center and pressed her lips
together.

He gave a bitter chuckle. "I always assumed the problem was that
you didn't want to love me, not that you didn't love me."

She had to be rational. "Mulder, you're moving ahead too fast. We
have to find out what's in me first, then we can make decisions
for the future. If we get married and something goes wrong..."

She was surprised he hadn't tried to touch her yet. Maybe he was
serious. "Scully, sometimes in life you have to take a leap of
faith. I believe this is my child. I know it is. I love and want
to protect the two of you." She had never heard such conviction in
his voice.

That's what broke her. She could barely hold in the tears as she
said, "I know you want to believe, but that's not enough. I have
to have the proof first. I have to know that whatever is in me
won't hurt you."

He sat silent, shaking his head, and she reached out to grasp his
hand.

"I know you. You're not strong enough for what it'll be like if
something goes wrong. And then you'll leave me."

He didn't argue with her assessment of his strength and this
vaguely disturbed her. "So this is all about how you don't want
to be alone? I hate to tell you, you are alone. You just want
control."

She had to swing back at him. "And you want to take away what
little control I have left."

He finally faced her and his eyes were black. "That's how you see
my love? Taking something away from you? I want to give you what
little pathetic support I have to give."

She dropped her gaze under the weight of his darkness. "You think
love's enough, and maybe it is for you. But for me, it isn't.
There are too many confusing issues: there's my career, our work
on the X-files--just because we're having a baby doesn't
mean we'd have a good marriage--"

He leaned in close to whisper in her ear with a small smile
playing on his lips. "So you love me?"

He always found the one thing he wanted to hear and hung onto it.
She turned her head slightly so that her mouth was next to his
neck. She murmured one word, branding it into his skin. "Yes."

He bent his neck, pressing her head into his shoulder, surrounding
her with his warmth and hard muscles. "Yes too," drifted into her
ear.

She had to stop him from seeing this as such a simple issue. She
pulled away from him and pushed her hair away from her face in
frustration. "If everything goes all right with the tests, and
this is our baby, I'll marry you. I believe a child should be
raised by two parents whenever possible. And I know you would be
a wonderful father."

He stopped her with his big, beautiful smile. "Yeah?"

She had to reach out and trace those lips with her fingertip,
memorizing that moment of pure joy. "Yes. But..."

The smiled disappeared. "But?"

She chose her words carefully. They needed to be said but she
didn't want to hurt him any more than she had already. "Mulder, I
won't have time for your emotional baggage. If this is our child,
the train has left the station and is going full speed ahead. I'm
gonna kick your steamer trunk full of crap off the back."

He laughed, and this time it was rich and deep. "I'm keeping you
to your word. You'll marry me." He grinned impishly. "This went
better than I thought. You met me halfway."

"Are you suggesting I'm rigid?" she asked, reaching forward to
pick up her cup of tea.

"Yes, but in a wonderful sort of way," he mumbled as he brushed
the soft hair from her neck and touched his lips gently to her
scar.

Mulder rested his mouth on the soft skin of Scully's neck, his breath
lifting her tiny pale hairs. She didn't move away and he
rejoiced. He sucked a piece of her skin between his teeth and bit
down gently.

She pulled away, but only to twist her head and search out his
mouth, grabbing his lower lip between her own teeth and biting
harder than he would dare. He gasped and she invaded his open
mouth with ease.

He always had been aware at how small she was, but only now, when
he covered her body with his own, did he realize how delicate she
was. He spanned her waist with his great paws, feeling like some
bumbling brute as he pulled her up to feel his arousal.

She was a fairy, all light and shimmering skin, while he was the
big dark tortoise, grumbling and groaning his way through the
forest. He was fumbling at her breasts and hips, stroking her
face with a shaking hand.

He was frantic. He didn't know where to start. He was too
large. He didn't fit on the couch. He didn't fit on her.

She was able to slither out from under him and reluctantly pull
her lips free. He let his glowing face fall to the cushions. He
had to let her know that he would never hurt her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push." He rolled over to watch her
slip down to the floor beside him. "I want you to know, if it's
what you want, this can be a marriage in name only."

She burst out laughing which would have exhilarated him were he
not so humiliated. "Oh God, Mulder, I've haven't heard that term
since I spent the summer I was 15 reading nothing but Harlequin
Romances."

He pushed himself up on his elbow, trying to be suave, but feeling
perturbed. "I just want to be sensitive to your needs."

She gave him one of her soft, devastating smiles. His body went
lax and his dick went hard. She reached out and ran her fingers
through his hair until it stood on end to match his erection.

He gulped. "I understand if you have some problems you need to
work through--"

She looked puzzled. "What?"

His voice squeaked. Oh, yeah, he was ready to be married. "I mean,
with sex."

Her face went still and her tone was cool. "Excuse me?"

He wasn't going to back down. He'd done all right so far this
evening. "When we were--having sex--I came--" He finished in a rush.
"And you didn't." He touched her shoulder lightly. "I'm sorry, it
was hardly a roses and moonlight encounter. I'm not normally that
bad."

She looked as though she was trying to control a grin.

He hurried on. "Not that I'm bad. Not to say I'm great. Well, I
mean, it's hard to judge oneself--"

She must have taken mercy on him. She began to explain. "Mulder,
has a woman ever told you what goes through her mind sometimes
when she feels the man about to come?"

He shook his head.

She let her head drop back onto the cushion beside his knee.
"You're having sex, everything feels wonderful, the guy is coming,
you're coming...but I don't care how many forms of birth-control
you're using, when you feel that man about to come, there's this
moment of panic. What'll I do if I get pregnant?"

He stroked her soft hair, brushing it back behind her ear.

She looked embarrassed. "It'd been a long time. A really long
time." He smiled. "I hadn't had to confront my sterility in that
situation. So I was coming and you were coming and the thought
popped into my head."

She rolled her head over to look at him. "Suddenly I was
overwhelmed. I wasn't going to get pregnant. I wasn't going to
have your child. The grief just shut everything down."

He couldn't stop himself. "There's an irony in here somewhere."

She wasn't upset with him and laughed. "Yeah, that's occurred to
me." Her voice was lazy and gentle, like a warm summer breeze.

"So there's nothing wrong?" he whispered as he leaned in again to
stroke her lower lip with his damp tongue.

"Mulder," she moaned right before he sealed her protest off with a
kiss. He was folded in half like a clam to reach her mouth. Her
little hands were running through his hair, creating static
electricity that caused his skin to jump.

"Mulder." She pushed him away gently and he thought he would cry.
Here it comes. "I don't think we should do this." Yep. There it
was.

"Why not?" He couldn't keep the whine from his voice.

She began rearranging the magazines piled on her coffee table. "I
think we need to sort out if these feelings are residual, left
over from our drugging."

He hurried to correct her. "Scully, I meant what I said at work.
I've always desired you--in a general way." She looked at him and
cocked a brow, but her eyes were hurt-filled. He grumbled, "You
know what I mean. I didn't acknowledge the realm of my feelings,
but the drugs certainly gave me some clarity."

He lightly gripped her shoulders and squeezed them. "Byers did
some more work on the composition of the drugs, and it's his
opinion that they would only lower inhibitions, opening us to
feelings that were already there, rather than create new
feelings."

She broke in. "Oh? You and Byers talked about this?"

He winced. "Yes--he said he thought most of the chemicals were
intended to have an effect on my sperm and your eggs." He tried
to inject some humor into the situation. "I wondered why the
whole floor was coming to drink our coffee. There'll be plenty of
playmates for our kid in the FBI daycare center."

He could see he'd gone too far when she rolled her head back on
her neck to look at him, her expression overwhelmed and hurt.

"Scully--" He tried to kiss her again, but she lowered her head,
blocking his descent.

She started to talk as though he hadn't said anything. "This is
all too much, too fast. If this isn't our baby, if we have to go
back to normal--we shouldn't have any more complications than we
already have."

He sucked his lips into his mouth and bit down hard. He had
prodded her enough for one night. If he meant it when he said he
loved her and wanted to protect her, he wouldn't break down her
reserves while she felt vulnerable. She had said she needed her
strength.

"Can I at least stay here tonight, though? I'm so worried about
you, I can't sleep," he asked.

She thought a moment, and said, "Okay, I'm worried about you too."
She glanced over the couch. "You'll have to share my bed, though.
You can't fit on this."

She pursed her lips when he couldn't hold back his grin. "Goody."
He raised his hands in surrender. "I promise. I'll be a good
boy."

All he got for that wise-ass remark was the raised eyebrow.

'How come I feel like the virgin on her wedding night?' he thought
as he sat, ridiculously stiff, against the headboard of her bed.
His eyes roamed the room. No TV. What to do, what to do...

He strained his ears. There were all sorts of soft, feminine
sounds coming from the bathroom. Splashing, sponging, wiping,
applying...He rolled over onto his side quickly, pulling his knees
up to his chest, squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to go
to sleep.

He got himself in such a deep meditative state reviewing his
mantra, 'thou shalt not touch Scully', that he jumped a foot when
she laid a light hand on his shoulder. "Mulder, you're on my
side--or is it your side too?"

He opened his eyes and almost died. She was leaned over him, her
hair a cloud of gold from vigorous brushing, her skin damp and
glowing from its scrubbing, her breath minty fresh...all he could
find to do was pant like a sad puppy.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he scooted to the other side of the mattress.
"I don't have a side. I can go either way."

"God, I hope not," she murmured as she slid under the covers.

He did a mental Homer Simpson slap, 'D'oh!' on his forehead. If
he got any smoother tonight he was going to have to beat her off
with a stick.

She burrowed down into the covers and whispered, "Oh, warm
sheets..."

His confidence returned. She needed him. He reached down with
his long arms and found her cold little feet with his big, warm
hands. He rubbed them lightly. "I've got my advantages--" he
muttered into the little bit of hot soft skin peeking out between
the collar of her pajamas and her hair.

"Mulder--" she warned but she wiggled her toes in his palms
happily.

"I'm just offering comfort to a friend in her time of need. No
sex," he stated.

She reached out to snap off the light, and the room was plunged in
darkness. Perhaps it gave her the confidence of being in the
confessional. "Mulder, I have desires too, you know. I'm not
pushing you away because I don't want you. I'm pushing you away
because I do..."

He slipped up against her back and pulled her tight against him,
happy beyond reason, and enveloped her tiny form in his warmth.
He breathed in her ear, "Don't worry, I'll be strong for both of
us. You try anything and I'll make sure you regret it."

"Oh, trust me. I already do," she said in a sleepy voice.

'Why does she always have to have the last word?' he thought with
irritation as he slipped away as well.

3.
July 6th, 6:45 A.M.

Mulder was normally an early riser, so he was surprised at the
brightness of the light when he awoke.

Where was he? Scully's bed. Oh, yeah.

What was that sound? Someone...Scully? --Throwing up. It must be
Scully.

He leapt from the bed and hurried towards the bathroom.

Scully was having her morning prayer session in front of the
porcelain altar when Mulder burst into the room. Great. She'd
forgotten for a minute that she had left something big and warm
in her bed in her rush to the bathroom.

She was embarrassed, but there was nothing she could do. He wet a
washcloth in the sink and got down on his knees beside her on the
cold floor.

Mercifully, the heaving stopped for a moment, but she only had the
strength to rest her cheek on the edge of the bowl. He carefully
lifted her head and kept it away from the toilet. He brushed the
hair away from her clammy face and wiped the tears away from her
red cheeks.

"Don't do that, Scully. You've got a man using that toilet now,"
he admonished her.

Now, that was a pleasant thought. She could only groan.

He was worried. "Is this normal? I mean, I understand it's
morning sickness, but should it be this severe?"

She nodded and felt it coming up again. She pushed at him, but he
wouldn't go away. He didn't leave and she tried to decide which
was worse, him seeing her like this or being alone to suffer.

When she finally pushed herself away from the toilet, she groaned,
"That's all there is, thank God." He helped her to her feet and
gave her face a final wipe with the cloth. She staggered to the
sink to brush her teeth.

She noticed him shifting from foot to foot, glancing down at the
toilet. She beat a hasty retreat, hearing the seat clang up
against the tank. This was going take some getting used to.

She stopped herself. He had stayed one night and she was already
mentally arranging things in her bureau to make room for his
socks. This was exactly the type of thinking she needed to avoid
at this time.

Listlessly, she went out to the kitchen and started the coffee,
although she had lost her taste for the stuff since the incident
with the drugging at work. She heard the phone ring. Out of the
corner of her eye, she saw him heading towards it.

"Don't answer that! It's probably my mother," she said as she
quickly reached for it.

He looked at her, questioning. "You haven't told her what's going
on?"

She turned her back on him as she picked up the receiver. "I
don't want to worry her unnecessarily." She heard him gasp in
exasperation.

It was her mother. She put off their usual lunch date for the
coming weekend. It wasn't uncommon when she thought a case would
take her out of town. Her mother suspected nothing, although she
usually didn't have a disapproving half-naked man standing behind
her, aimlessly scratching his armpit.

"She'll know you were lying," he chided.

"Thanks. I need that right now," was her retort. She changed the
subject. "What do you want for breakfast?"

He looked surprised. "I'll get something on the way over to my
apartment."

She sniffed, offended. "I've got a refrigerator full of food.
Someone should eat it--I'm certainly not."

He was immediately concerned. "You should eat. Something bland,
perhaps, oatmeal?"

The thought of that coming up made her vision swim. She just
waved a hand at him as though to ward him off.

He came close and said, "Can I move in permanently? You can toss
me out anytime you...need to."

Well, there was no beating around the bush for him. Give him an
inch and he was going to take a mile. She thought about it--for a
whole two seconds. She couldn't imagine why she would seem an
appealing roommate at this point, but she said, "Okay," as she
ambled back into the kitchen.

She couldn't cook for him after all. The smell of the eggs was
too stomach-turning. She sat on the couch, chewing on dry toast
and sipping tea, as he banged around in her kitchen. She flipped
through the file he had brought over that had been abandoned and
forgotten last night.

"I'm still trying to place Kenneth Bond," she yelled to him.

Mulder came in to sit in the chair, with his scrambled eggs in a
bowl and his orange juice in her nephew's Flintstones mug. His
boxers gaped open when he sat down and she forced her gaze back
down onto the photographs.

He peered over at the picture. "Do you think you've seen him
around the Bureau or could it be a memory from our abduction?"

She shook her head in frustration. "I don't know. It's as though
I've seen the face, but I just can't remember where."

Mulder picked up the file and flipped through to the latest
additions to Bond's paperwork. "Perfect. Is there such a thing as
being too perfect?"

"Oh, definitely. Doing those background checks taught me that,"
she said with a smile.

"Good family, military father, scholarship in water polo," Mulder
grimaced at this point, "working at the Bureau to earn a little
extra cash for college, straight-A student, lives in cheap studio
apartment--" He shrugged.

He stood up and stretched, giving her a nice view of his long,
muscular torso. "I think Tiff and I will stake this guy out for a
while, see what a perfect life is like." He gathered up his
dishes and went back into the kitchen. "Do you think we can trust
Tiff? I realize Skinner picked her personally..."

He wasn't able to see the wry expression on Scully's face. "I
believe we can trust her. Mr. Skinner takes our concerns very
seriously."

He appeared in the doorway with a little frown on his face, made
all the more sexy by his five o'clock shadow. "Yeah, Skinner
seems really concerned about you." With studied indifference he
added, "When are you going to tell him--or have you already?"

She stopped him cold. "I haven't told him a thing. And I won't
until absolutely necessary and not without consulting you."

He looked properly ashamed. "I guess I better go home and get
dressed. So...I'll bring some things by after work, okay?"

"Okay," she was worried what his reaction was going to be to her
next words. "And I don't want anyone else at work to know about
this--about us--even if we do tell Skinner. We don't know who is
reporting to whom, we don't know how this is going to end... What
we'll do if the baby turns out..." She rubbed at her eyes in
frustration.

He spoke slowly. "I understand. You're right. We don't know
what's going to happen, and if things end up...going back to normal,
we don't want your career to suffer."

She was relieved and was going to thank him, but he'd already
headed back into her bedroom.

When he returned to the living room with his wrinkled clothes back
on, he came towards her like he was going to kiss her good-bye.
She jumped up to open the door for him, avoiding the contact.

He went past her, looking dejected, and she suddenly felt cruel.
She tugged at his arm and pulled his rough cheek down to give it a
peck. Now she felt stupid. The grin he gave her made her feel
less stupid, but not much.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 8: Surveillance

1.
July 6th, 8:45 A.M.

Tiff shifted in the seat of sedan. She glanced over at her
partner, who was staring out into space. She certainly hoped he
was capable of running on several planes of existence at once, or
she was in deep shit.

"Mulder, why are we staking this guy out?" Bond was swimming laps
at the community pool down the street from his apartment. Through
the chain link fence, she watched his gleaming pale back slice
through the water.

"Just a routine investigation," he said.

"Hey, bud, I'm your partner, remember?" she shot back.

He started to say something and then stopped. She said it for
him. "Scully's your partner. I know that. But she's not here
right now. If I'm going to back you up, I need to know what to
expect."

He turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Tiff. Understand that I meant
it when I said I'm being secretive to protect you. Take these
people very seriously. They play for keeps."

"Who're *they*?" she asked.

"Someone I thought was dead and now...I don't know. I'm afraid of
the dark, you know why?" He was being spooky again. He answered
before she could ask. "You can't see what's there in the dark."

She decided to cut through all his mumbo jumbo. "Is that why you
have so many flashlights?"

"Huh?" he asked.

"They're everywhere." She opened the glove box and pulled out a
large flashlight and two small ones. "Here. All over the office.
The trunk."

He looked at her blankly. It was going to be a long day.

Bond came out of the swimming pool, dressed, but with his hair
dark and slick from water, unlocked his bicycle and pedaled away.
Mulder pulled away from the curb to follow at a distance.

2.
The Factory

In the part of his attention that he always reserved to observe
activity around him, Krycek heard his partner end his conversation
on the phone and hang it up. The he heard a lighter flick on as
the man lit a cigarette. "This was to be expected."

Interrupted in his task of reviewing some reports, Krycek looked
up at him, bored. "What?"

"It was only a matter of time before Mulder found Kenneth. We may
have to dispose of the young man."

"No." Krycek's tone was low and tight.

"I certainly do not relish losing expensive merchandise like him,
but may be necessary, for our protection," he continued as though
he hadn't heard the younger man's coiled serpent word.

"It won't be necessary. Stay calm. It'll all be over soon,"
Krycek answered.

Now the older man was on the defensive. "What do you mean? There
are eight months until delivery of the merchandise."

Krycek coolly looked him in the eye. "When was that decided,
partner? My understanding was we would collect it at sixteen
weeks."

"Don't you dare do anything without my permission. You'll regret
it." A threat filtered his thick blue cloud of smoke.

"I think our current employers would be interested in your changes
in the original plan. I think you may find them more desperate
for results than their predecessors," Krycek hissed back.

The two men regarded each other for a few moments, testing each
other's mettle. The older man nodded first. "Perhaps you're
right. Kenneth can still be of some use to us."

Krycek grinned saucily and relaxed. "Oh, yes--we can find many
uses for him."

The sloped shoulders of the figure behind the desk straightened.
"Don't push it. We don't make these things for you to have a
whore."

"If they aren't whores, what else are they?" Krycek asked,
unruffled by the man's contempt.

"I suppose it takes one to know one," the other man murmured as he
lit another cigarette.

His lightning fast temper ignited, Krycek snarled, "What the fuck
do you mean?"

"We've used your...talents...in the past for such purposes," he
answered easily, with the ghost of an empty smile.

Krycek blustered, "I never sold myself--" He pulled himself up, and
finished speaking, covering his agitation with his sharp grin. "I
look at it as one of the perks of the job. At least I use this
position to its full advantage."

Slowly and carefully, the man said, "I have my needs taken care of
without jeopardizing my work."

Krycek had the sudden, horrible vision of his bent, wrinkled body
laboring over a deluxe model of a blow-up sex doll, the ashes
falling off the end of his cigarette as he grunted, threatening to
explode the doll before he finished.

He squeezed both his eyes shut to burn that image from his mind.

He had to concentrate. He wanted to regain control of this
situation, regardless of whatever agreement he had made with the
cold-hearted bastard. Obviously his *partner* had one of his
crazy plans going again, and those plans always cost him. He
squeezed his fake arm reflectively. Damn that man! He would get
his money and be rid of that old fool, once and for all!

He kept his voice bland. "I'll contact Kenneth and tell him it's
time to disappear."

The death skull in the shadows tipped forward, nodding at him.

As Krycek exited the small, dark office, he heard behind him,
"I'll continue to monitor the situation."

3.
Mulder pulled the car up across the street from Bond's apartment
building.

"Why don't you watch his window? I'll go in and arrest him," he
said as they watched the young man maneuver his bicycle through
the doorway.

Tiff was worried already. "I don't like that. Let's call for
backup, or let me follow you in."

Mulder shook his head. "No backup."

They got out of the car and as they watched traffic for a chance
to cross the street, Tiff's palm caressed the gun at her side,
reassuring herself with weapon's warmth and weight.

He mused, "I guess you can come in. The window doesn't look easy
to get out of."

They glanced at the grill covering Bond's low, narrow window, down
at pavement level as they passed it on their way to the front
door. Mulder rang the manager's apartment to let them in.

Tiff hated apartment buildings in the afternoon. They were too
quiet, with just the occasional, muffled moans of a soap opera
seeping from under a doorway. Quiet gave no cover for a sneak
attack.

They moved in unison to the short stairwell that led down to the
basement apartments. The light streaming in through a window at
the end of the hall shone in their eyes, momentarily blinding
them. Tiff was spooked.

They took up positions on either side of Bond's apartment door.
After a nod from her assured Mulder that she was ready, he rapped
sharply on the door.

"Open up, Bond--FBI!" Mulder's voice was tight and controlled.

Nothing. Again, he pounded on the door.

"Do you think he went through the window?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

He moved to the front of the door and prepared himself to kick it
in. Tiff shook her head to stop him. She reached out and tried
the knob. It turned in her hand. They exchanged questioning
glances. She was really spooked now.

The door swung slowly open. They both waited for a moment, their
backs pressed against the wall outside the door. Nothing. Their
eyes met and Mulder nodded wordlessly.

He swung around the doorjamb, and Tiff held her breath as he
ducked into the room. Nothing. She slipped around the door and
ran right into Mulder's back.

As she peered over his shoulder, she saw Kenneth Bond in the
middle of the room, sitting very still on a chair. For a minute,
she thought he was dead, and then she saw his eyes blink, slowly.

She noticed that Mulder seemed transfixed and had lowered his gun.
Quickly, she moved around him and leveled her gun at Bond's head.
This activated Mulder.

"Don't shoot him!" He yelled in her ear.

Bond nodded and said calmly, "I don't want to hurt you."

Tiff could feel the tension coming off of Mulder in waves. She
was confused. She motioned at Bond with her gun. "Get up."

Bond remained in his chair for a moment and then seemed to make a
decision. He rose slowly, and began to walk towards them.

Mulder yelled one last command. "Don't shoot him, whatever
happens!" He had holstered his gun, and pushed her aside to block
Bond's escape.

She gave a grunt of exasperation as she holstered her own weapon.
Two of them, one skinny guy--this should be easy.

She wasn't thinking that two minutes later. Bond had looked at
them both with a cool contempt as they advanced on him. First, he
had planted his palms in Mulder's chest and had pushed him aside.
Tiff was amazed at the distance Mulder's body had flown, but then
she turned her attention to the business at hand.

She had planted both feet solidly beneath her and had twisted her
body to bring a low swing of her right fist towards his solar
plexus. The blow connected, but there was no give to his flesh,
no expulsion of air.

Instead, he backhanded her easily across the face, sending her
reeling. She caught a hip on a chair and allowed a moan of pain
to escape. Spitting out the mouthful of blood that had instantly
accumulated, she jumped back into the battle.

Mulder had grabbed Bond around the middle, trying to pin his arms
down. Tiff snapped out a hard, sharp jab to his nose, but Bond
whipped his head back, slamming into Mulder's face, getting a
brief yelp from her partner.

Bond elbowed Mulder's midsection and the man had to let go. Bond
advanced on her, and for the first time in her life, Tiff felt
fear.

Bond must have seen it, and a look of concern passed across his
face. This infuriated her for some reason, so she went for the
old street-fighting standard, the lunge at the body, grabbing him
around the middle and trying to wrestle him to the ground.
Nothing happened.

He continued towards the door, dragging her 165 pounds behind him.
She felt ridiculous, and then her skull was caught on the
doorjamb. She saw stars, and had to let go. She heard Mulder
staggering past her in pursuit.

She tried to call after him, to make him give up, but he was gone.
She hauled herself to her feet and followed. She found Mulder in
the hall, limbs askew like a fallen puppet. She crouched by him,
but he motioned at the stairwell. "Go! Get him!"

She didn't care what he'd said, she drew her weapon and sprinted
up the stairs. As she burst through the door, she saw the flash
of blond hair as Bond leapt into the back of a black van, license
plate missing, naturally.

She allowed herself a string of colorful curses and worked her way
through the traffic to their car. On the walkie-talkie, she
called in an APB on the van, knowing it was useless. Bond had
escaped.

Skinner arrived to find the two of them picking through Bond's
apartment for clues, occasionally stopping to sop up the dripping
blood from their injuries.

"What happened here?!" he bellowed as he stared at her swollen,
cut lip. She cautioned him with a sharp gaze.

"The suspect resisted arrest," she said dryly. She noticed
Skinner and Mulder's eyes meet across the room, and Mulder gave a
very slight nod.

She was furious. "By the way, partner, boss: What the fuck was
that thing, anyway?" she roared.

They both looked stunned and then Mulder played stupid. "What do
you mean?"

"That little boy tossed us aside like trash. My cousin Ray-Ray
from the PJs couldn't have taken that thing," she pointed out.

Skinner and Mulder looked confused, and then Mulder shrugged. "It
doesn't matter. The thing is, he got away. I'm back to square
one."

Skinner steered the conversation in another direction, ignoring
Tiff's imploring gaze. "What have you found here?"

Mulder was frustrated. "Zippo. Nada. Bubkus."

Tiff had to agree. "There's no sign of a life whatsoever. But
somehow I doubt that thing had the same needs as you and I."

Mulder pulled a neatly folded tee-shirt from the dirty clothes
hamper, wrinkling his brow. He lifted it to his swollen, bruised
nose, and a look of resignation crossed his face.

"What is it?" Skinner asked.

Mulder shook his head. "Krycek. I'd know that stench anywhere.
Don't ask me why a guy who's doing the Secret Operative Man act
would bathe in Homme, but he does."

"Who's Krycek?" Tiff questioned, dropping the empty address book
back down by the phone.

"A guy I've had the misfortune to smell a time or two. Don't
worry about it," Mulder said as he turned to throw the shirt back
into the basket.

4.
Scully's Apartment
4:30 P.M.

Scully had left work early. She was tired, her feet hurt, there
were no interesting bodies in the drawers, and Mulder wasn't
answering his cell phone. It was going to be a long eight months.
She was bored stiff already.

She had spent the last hour sorting through her closets, drawers
and shelves, making room for Mulder's things. She instantly
regretted it. It would make her appear a little eager if she
flung open her closet's door and pointed to the area on the pole
ready for his suits. It would look as though she was desperate.

She decided to take a break. She had just settled in a chair with
a tall glass of cold iced tea when she heard a muffled thumping on
the front door. Curious, she got up and peered through the
peephole.

Gasping in shock, she flung the door open. He didn't appear as
bad as he had through the distortion of the peephole, but Mulder's
face did look as though he'd come in contact with a frying pan at
some time during the day.

As he staggered past under the weight of a large box, she asked
the obvious question. "What happened?"

He dropped the box in the middle of the floor and threw himself in
her chair. Large, dark sweat-stains had formed under the arms of
his blue tee shirt. He pushed damp hair off his brow and leaned
over to take a deep swallow from her glass of tea.

Her brow furrowed in irritation as she watched him spit an ice-
cube back into the glass.

He sighed dramatically and finally said, "We went to get Bond. He
turned out to be a clone with a nasty head-butt in his
repertoire."

"Oh," She said as she propped herself up on the arm of the sofa.
Feigning indifference, she asked, "So he got away?"

He gave her a withering glance, rendered comical by his faint
raccoon markings. "Yeah, he got away. Tiff put up a good fight,"
he defended his new partner.

Scully felt ashamed. "Is she okay?" she asked.

He took another gulp of her tea and offered her the glass. After
a momentary hesitation, she accepted it and took a discreet sip.
"She will be. She's got a nasty split lip and a big bump on her
head. She can't seem to keep her cranium from getting cracked
anymore than you could."

She frowned at his use of the past tense and he hurried on. "She
wants to know more, but I'm stonewalling her."

She nodded. "That's for the best."

He hauled himself up from the chair and picked up the box again.
She trailed after him fretfully as he staggered down the hall
towards her bedroom, bumping into the walls, chipping the paint.

He dropped the box in the middle of the bedroom and turned to
address her again. "So we're officially out of leads."
Stubbornly, he insisted, "I think we should get hypnotized. We
need to know where to find these guys."

She chewed on her lower lip, absentmindedly noticing that his body
odor had turned from earthy to sour. Slowly, she said, "Yes, I
suppose you're right."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "Great! Let me go get the rest of
my things, before someone steals all my suits out of my backseat,
and then I'll call Dr. Werber."

She called after his long figure as he hurried out of the room.
"You don't have to worry. This is a much better neighborhood than
yours."

5.
FBI Headquarters
July 8th, 11:30 A.M.

Skinner entered the office without knocking and Tiff glanced up,
oddly irritated. He scanned the room. "Where's Mulder?"

"He had an errand to run," she answered carefully.

"Scully isn't on the job either," he said.

"I didn't realize she was still under your command," she whipped
back at him.

He regarded her. "You're spending too much time with him. You're
starting to sound like him."

She knew he was pissed because he wasn't getting any, but he
better start treating her a little better, or he wasn't ever going
to get any again.

"Was there something I could help you with, sir?" She might as
well watch him squirm. She made her gaze fix firmly onto the area
four inches below his belt. She let herself grin at the
corresponding swelling behind his fly.

In a completely businesslike tone, he said, "Yes, as a matter of
fact. I was wondering if you could assist me in the supply room.
I can't seem to find the glue sticks."

She contemplated him for a minute. She had told herself she was
going to hold firm to her convictions, but she rose from her chair
anyway. "I'm not sure sir, but perhaps I can assist you in your
search."

She loved those big thighs of his; they gave him so much strength
to lift, for example, her size fourteen body right off the floor
as he drove into her. She bent her knees and wrapped her legs
around his thick torso up high, under his armpits. She breathed
through her open mouth, letting him knock the air out of her as
her brain spasmed from the lack of oxygen. She came with a hard
grunt as he made his Bulldog snorts in her ear.

As they hastily tried to straighten their clothing to its original
appearance, he began to question her. "What's Mulder working on?"

This pulled her up short. Was this what the quick, hard,
delicious fuck was about? Finding out what the hell Mulder was up
to? He didn't know either?

She heard herself saying, "I don't know, sir. I just follow his
instructions."

Skinner moved in close and caressed her full lower lip with his
big callused thumb. "What happened to Bulldog?"

"I'll start calling you that when you start acting like my Dog
again, not some cop," she retorted as she stormed out, pushing his
tie into her pants pocket. That would keep him busy for a while.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 9: Memories

1.
July 8th, 11:05 A.M.

Dr. Heitz Werber held the door open for Mulder and Scully to enter
his office.

"I'm so happy to see the two of you again," he said. They both
nodded self-consciously.

He motioned to the black sofa and they settled onto it. Scully
let her palm run along the smooth surface of the cushion. This
was good. She always felt comfortable on a black leather couch.
She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Dr.
Werber addressed them.

"So, Fox told me what happened, and how you want to explore
the events. Which one of you wants to go first?" he asked as he
settled into his own chair.

They exchanged glances. Mulder quickly said, "I think I should go
first." Scully was a little perturbed--he was protecting her
again.

She nodded though and Dr. Werber shifted his chair until he was in
front of Mulder. Quickly, the doctor reminded him of the procedure.

When Mulder was relaxed and calm, Werber began to ask him
questions. "Fox, concentrate. You're back in Dothan, it's the
9th of June." Mulder nodded. "You're in your motel room at The
Roadside Inn. You've eaten your dinner-- you're on the bed. Now
what?"

Mulder furrowed his brow as though he was trying to see something
in the distance. "I'm sleepy...The room is dim. Scully's at the
table, reading the report..."

"Yes," encouraged the doctor.

Mulder smiled as though a revelation had come to him. "She's
pretty."

Scully looked surprised, but the doctor gave her a reassuring
smile. "Yes, she is...What happens next?"

Mulder looked worried. "It's dark."

"Are you asleep?" he was asked.

"No. It's just dark," Mulder answered.

"Can you see anything at all?"

Mulder shook his head, frustrated.

"All right, can you hear anything, smell anything?"

"There're voices, but I can't make out the words...I can smell..."
He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It's Krycek."

Dr. Werber gave Scully a puzzled look, but she nodded. "And
smoke, cigarette smoke...*he* must be there too..."

Mulder began to pant with quick, shallow bursts. Scully reached out
to take his hand.

Dr. Werber prompted, "What is happening now, Fox?"

Mulder's voice was faint. "Someone, something is...touching me."

"Where?" The doctor asked as Scully tightened her fingers around
Mulder's cold fingers.

Mulder lifted his free hand hesitantly, and pointed to his lap.
"There." His voice cracked and he sounded as frightened as a
little boy.

Scully shot Dr. Werber a worried look, but he was intent on
Mulder. "What are they doing?"

Mulder shook his head as though to shake off a nightmare. "I
don't know. It hurts..." he protested.

Scully hissed at the doctor, "Stop this, dammit!"

He glanced at her, and shook his head 'no'.

Mulder rambled on, "It hurts, it hurts..." Tears were leaking
between his closed lids.

Scully leapt to her feet, still clutching Mulder's hand. "Stop
this!"

The doctor rose to his feet too, and gripped her shoulder to
silence her. He murmured, "Let me start slow--"

"No, I want you to stop hurting him," she demanded.

Suddenly Mulder began to gasp and gurgle. Realizing what was
happening, Scully glanced around the room and quickly snatched up
the wastepaper basket. She was able to position it under Mulder's
bent head just as he started to throw up.

The action brought him out of the trance. "Whaaa? What happened?"
he asked after wiping his mouth on the handkerchief offered by the
doctor.

"Do you remember anything?" Doctor Werber asked as he took the
basket from Scully's limp fingers and set it away from them.

Mulder shook his head as he wiped the tears from his face. "No,
not really. It was all jumbled and dark."

Dr. Werber had called in a nurse, and she gave Mulder a glass of
water and removed the wastepaper basket.

Mulder had slowed his breathing to his normal rate, and Scully
wiped his face with a damp towel the nurse had brought in.

Scully was still furious. She wanted to leave, now. Mulder
looked at her, concerned. "I don't think you should do this," he
said.

Suddenly, she changed her mind. She wanted to know what they had
done to him. Perhaps the answer was locked in her memory. "No,
let's do it."

It took Dr. Werber half an hour to get Scully calm enough to have
her in a trance. Mulder never took his eyes from her now-placid
face.

The doctor started with the same questions. "It's the night of
the 9th..." She nodded. "You're at The Roadside Inn with your
partner, Fox Mulder. You've eaten dinner. You're reviewing the
report. What do you see now?"

"Mulder." Her voice was soft, but sure.

"What's he doing?" was the next question.

"He's fallen asleep, like he always does. I have to wake him.
Make him go to his room," she murmured and Mulder smiled at her
chiding tone, even in a hypnotic state.

"I don't wanna, though..." she continued.

"What do you want to do?" The doctor's voice was soothing.

"I want to go to sleep too. On my bed. Next to him." She
sounded frightened of the prospect even in this relaxed condition
and Mulder had to give a slightly bitter chuckle.

Dr. Werber steered her back to the task at hand. "Does anyone
come to the room?"

She furrowed her brow. "No. I must...I think I fell asleep.
It's dark."

"Can you smell anything?" She shook her head. "Can you hear
anything?"

She stayed silent for so long, Mulder thought she hadn't heard the
question. Dr. Werber remained still and waited.

Finally, she shook her head. "No. I can't make anything out. I
hear things. I don't know what they are. I smell...a hospital.
That's all."

Mulder chewed his lower lip in frustration.

Suddenly, Scully's eyes shot open, but he could tell she was still
in the trance. Her voice sounded distant, as though she was
calling to him from the bottom of a well. "Someone's coming."

"Can you see them?" Dr. Werber leaned closer to her, intent.

"Someone's coming," she repeated.

"Can you see them? How do you know?" he asked.

She seemed not to hear him, concentrating on the moment in her
memory. "I see..." she screwed her eyes shut. "I see a hand, a
white hand."

"Is someone touching you?"

She shook her head violently. "I don't know. I can't move. I
can't feel my limbs. I can see the hand."

"What is the hand doing?"

"It has...It has a syringe. It's gone." She cried a sudden,
startled, animal sound. Mulder jumped in his seat and grabbed her
hand to cradle it in his grasp.

"Have you been stuck with the syringe?" the doctor asked.

She clutched her lower abdomen over her right ovary. "I think so.
It hurts. It burns." She seemed to be intent on isolating the
sensation.

"Can you see anything else?" he pressed on, ignoring
Mulder's pleading eyes.

She opened her eyes again and looked over at Mulder, but he could
tell she did not see him. "There's a white circle."

"Is it close to you? A light perhaps?" suggested the doctor.

"It's close, it's getting closer." In triumph, she said, "It's a
face...It's Kenneth Bond."

Mulder gripped her hand tighter to reassure her.

She went on. "He's leaning in...He's speaking..."

"Can you make out the words?" The doctor was intense in his
questioning now, carried away by the experience.

She stopped herself just as she started to give a negative shake
of her head. "He says...he says...'I won't let them hurt you.'"
She
looked puzzled.

"Are you still in pain?" Werber returned to his original track.

Mulder became concerned. Scully didn't speak, and sank back into
the sofa, her head falling back into the cushion.

"Dr. Scully?" The doctor's tone showed his concern.

Scully's breathing suddenly became rapid and her body rigid.
Mulder swung on the doctor. "Bring her out, something's wrong!"

"Yes, of course," the doctor said as he reached out to grasp
Scully's free hand. "Dana, Dana, listen to me."

Scully suddenly took a great gasp of air, as though she was
drowning, and went limp. Dr. Werber lunged out of his chair to
check her pulse.

Mulder had felt her cold hand go still and he swore he could feel
the blood stop in her veins. He helped the doctor hurriedly lower
Scully to the floor. Even as he saw the doctor place his ear to
her chest, he knew she had stopped breathing.

He adjusted her neck for artificial respiration to begin, and the
two men labored silently for the excruciating minutes it
took to revive her. She gasped again, this time, back to life.

Dr. Werber hauled his now rumpled form up off the floor and
frantically reached for the phone.

"No!" Mulder barked out, as he gathered Scully's weak body against
his. She was slowly moving, as though she was trying to swim in
molasses, and her could see her eyes were trying to focus and
comprehend.

He hissed out, "We don't want EMTs. I'll take her to a doctor to
be checked out. She'll be fine."

Dr. Werber looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "I can't
do that. I have a license!"

Mulder decided to play hardball, even as he gently caressed
Scully's head. "You won't for long if I tell the 'truth'
about this session. Let me write you a check and we'll leave."

The doctor plopped himself in his chair and turned it away from
the couple. "I'll send you a bill."

Mulder carefully helped Scully to her feet, and was supporting
her towards the door when the doctor's tired voice called after
him.

"I think you and Dana were given a 'kill switch' of sorts, to
stop any attempt to retrieve your true memories of the events of
what happened to you. I'm not sure how it was done, but from what
you've told me of these individuals, I think it's possible.
I wouldn't trust any of what you remembered as the absolute
truth."

Mulder merely nodded as the two of them slipped through the door.

He helped her into her seat in the car, slid behind the wheel,
and then took a few moments to regain control of his breathing.

He thought she was still out of it until she spoke drowsily. "I
was back there."

"Where?" he asked.

"I was back in the tube. I couldn't breathe. That thing had to
breathe for me. And then I was free and you were there, again."

He turned and grinned at her as he started the car. "Always."

As he pulled the car out of the parking structure, he asked, "Do
you think you should go the hospital?"

"I feel fine," she replied as she propped her head up on the
window of the car.

Dryly, he responded, "I didn't ask that. Is it your opinion as a
physician that you should seek medical attention?"

She gave him a soft smile. "Nah...I've suffered worse than dying
for a few minutes."

He gripped the wheel until his knuckles showed white. "I know.
Do you feel up to a visit to our own personal crime lab?"

He'd piqued her curiosity, he could tell. She smiled. "You mean
go to see the Lone Gun Men?"

He grinned, happy to have his partner back with him. "No--better.
When I moved out, I didn't see the point in trying to get out of my
lease--I might need the apartment later." He hurried on when he
saw the shadow cross her face. "So I set up a center of sorts
there, for Byers to be able to work in peace, away from the other
two, on whatever scraps we manage to find."

"Good idea." She rewarded him with a pat on the shoulder and he
felt ridiculously proud.

He took a long, slow route to his old apartment, keeping the
interior of the car cooled against the oppressive heat and
humidity outside. He didn't pull up to his building until he was
satisfied that her face had returned to its usual white peach
tone.

Mulder knocked on his own door, and this struck Scully as odd. A
moment passed and Mulder had his fist raised to rap again when the
door was wrenched open.

John Byers stood there in a state Scully rarely saw him in:
disheveled. He was down to his dress shirt, collar open, and it
was wrinkled as though someone had wadded it up in a ball before
he put it on. His belt buckle was only on the first hole. He
looked surprised to see them, not a happy surprise.

"Mulder...Agent Scully...what are you doing here?" he squeaked
out.

Mulder raised a brow to this question. "We have some new
information. Thought we'd deliver it."

Byers said with obviously false enthusiasm, "Oh, good--well...come
in." He moved aside and swept his arm out as an invitation to enter.

As soon as Scully moved into the room, she saw the source of
his discomfort.

Anita was curled up on the black sofa like a half-grown kitten,
loose-limbed and sleek. Her downcast eyes shifted up to meet
Scully's. Scully gave her one quick shake of her head to show her
disapproval. All she got in return was a wrinkle of Anita's
little freckled nose, capped with guilt-free dark sloe eyes.

Byers was bumbling behind them. "Uh, and Anita--that is, Dr. Mui
is here. Helping me. She's been very helpful."

Mulder beat Scully to it, saying, with a leer she would have left out,
"I bet she is."

Anita rose from the couch, smoothing her own disheveled, rumpled
clothing,
and casually said, "Yes, I took the afternoon off to come over and
go over some details with John." She steered the conversation
away from the awkward scene they'd stumbled on. "What's the
latest?"

They all found somewhere to sit in the small room, which had been
transformed. The walls were now covered by push-pin boards, with
neat rows of printouts tacked to them. Two computers were set up
on the desk, and other computer equipment lurked in the shadows.
The blinds were firmly drawn.

Mulder and Scully explained what little they could remember of
their hypnosis, ending with Dr. Werber's warning. Scully said, "I
don't understand. Perhaps they were extracting a sample of his
sperm somehow...But why would they need to do that?"

Byers crossed his legs. "It could be they just needed to test it
to make sure it was viable."

Scully didn't look satisfied. Slowly, she said, "True. Or
something else..."

Anita gave her a glass of heavily sweetened tea she had prepared.
"Drink this. I don't like your color," she said briskly as she
sank back down on the couch next to Byers. He shifted slightly
away and this earned him a raised brow. "If you're suggesting
that they took sperm samples from Mulder to create embryos with,
then why go through all this with the two of you?"

Scully shook her head in frustration. "Too many pieces are
still a mystery."

Mulder asked the doctor, "What about the injection they gave
Scully?"

"I've been going over some journals and reports since our initial
conversations. I'm not an expert on infertility, that's not my
specialty. John suggested that the work being done with
tissue regeneration may be the key." Anita gave Byers a warm
glance and he wiggled like a fish on a hook. "Theoretically, in
the future, it may be possible to repair damaged tissues with
injections of fetal tissue. He said that the people you suspect
are responsible for this situation have advanced medical knowledge,
true?"

Mulder and Scully nodded in unison. "Well, perhaps it's a case of
what the evil bastards took away, the evil bastards gave back,"
she finished.

Scully grumbled, "I want to find them so we can thank them
properly."

Byers spoke. "Anita...Dr. Mui...has another thought."

Anita gave him another smile. "Yes, John, thank you for reminding
me. The reason the two of you weren't merely robbed of your
genetic material and dumped by the side of the road could be very
simple. Artificial fertilization is still only about 20%
successful. It could they were going with the method that is
still the most successful--the ever-faithful woman's uterus." She
shrugged.

Scully found no reassurance. "Where did the egg come from? I
still don't trust it."

Byers soothed her with his words. "Through cloning technology,
it's possible to take another woman's eggs and 'wash' the DNA out
to be replaced with yours. I'm sure that's what they did. I'm
sure this is your child."

Mulder looked grateful, but Scully still wasn't convinced. "We'll
see when we get the DNA test back. And there's the sonogram in
eight weeks. Why? We still come back to, 'why create a child
from us?'"

Everyone looked concerned, but Anita dismissed her worries. "But
there's no sense imagining the worst until we get those answers.
You've got to take care of yourself, get rest, drink lots of
water, eat more..."

Scully tuned her out. She didn't understand. None of them knew
what this felt like, the constant fluttering of...something, a
beating in time with her anxious heart.

2.
They arrived at her apartment, suddenly exhausted. She could tell
the day had been very draining to Mulder, although he wouldn't say
anything to complain. He lay himself out on her couch, curled up
like a napping little boy and instantly fell asleep.

She roamed the apartment, rearranging the knickknacks, doing a
little light dusting, alphabetizing her CDs. The light faded from
the room, but she didn't turn on a lamp.

She thought about making some dinner, and rejected the idea. Her
stomach was in such a tight knot, there was no room for food.

Finally, she managed to push herself into a small area on the
cushions that Mulder's frame wasn't covering, and snuggled in
like a nut into its shell. She wasn't comfortable and she
didn't care.

Hours passed and she didn't sleep. She found comfort in the
steady deep breaths from Mulder, warming the back of her neck.
She counted each one, committing it to memory like the notes of a
symphony. Just as dawn began to light the room, she slept.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 10: Doors

1.
September 14th
5:45 P.M.

For the third time that week, Scully got up on a ladder and dusted
the upper shelves of her bookcases. She didn't have to worry
about Mulder chastising her. He was away on assignment again.

Scully had moved past bored to lonely. Technically, she was
living with Mulder. But he was as busy as he always was,
so consequently, she never saw him.

She missed him. She hadn't realized what a habit his company was
for her. She was beginning to wonder if they had been in a
romantic relationship already and simply hadn't realized it.

Her days were puttering by in a monotonous pattern. Up in the
morning, to work by nine, autopsies all morning, classes in the
mid-afternoon, perhaps some consultations before she left for the
day.

Then, home by five to stare at her walls until it was time to go
to bed. She found herself listening to old Aretha Franklin CDs a
lot. She seemed to find some solace in the intimate, blues-
dripping words of the Queen of Soul.

It was another such evening. Her tea cooled in the mug balanced
on her knee, as her grandmother's clock ticked off the wasted
minutes.

She couldn't take it anymore. She decided it was time to visit
the new neighbors. Pay a call as the welcome wagon, so to speak.

Right after Mulder had moved in, the Finches, who had lived the
building nearly as long as she had, had begun to complain about
cockroaches. Their apartment seemed to be the only one infested,
and no amount of exterminator's gas could get rid of the insects.

So the Finches had left, and a Richard Starkey had immediately
rented the apartment.

At least that's what the card on his mailbox said. Scully had yet
to see him. It was time to change that. She hauled herself out
of the couch, ran a quick hand through her limp hair, and strode
purposefully out her door.

There was no answer to her sharp rap on the door across the hall.
She waited patiently a moment and then pounded loudly. Nothing.

She put her mouth up to the crack of the door and bellowed,
"Ringo Langly, open this door! I know you're in there!"

There was another moment, and then the door opened a crack to
reveal the sheepish gnome-like features of Frohike. Apparently,
Langly had decided to send their ringleader into the mouth of the
lion first.

"Something I can help you with, Agent Scully?"

"Yeah, I'm bored. You and Langly need to come over and keep me
company." Without waiting to see if they would agree, she turned
and stalked back to her open doorway.

The two men followed her and stood in the middle of her living
room, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Langly asked, "How did you know it was us?"

She answered with an exasperated explanation. "I, like every
other girl in America, went through my Beatles phase. I know who
the hell Richard Starkey is."

Langly blustered, "Mulder's gonna be pissed." He shot Frohike
an accusatory look. Frohike shrugged his shoulders in reply.

"No, he's going to be too busy groveling to come after you,"
Scully said as she began rooting around in a drawer.

Frohike tried turning on the charm. "He just wanted to make sure
you were looked after. I mean..."

Scully popped back up and pushed the hair off her face. "You
mean--in my condition?"

Frohike and Langly looked uncomfortable.

She excused them. "It isn't on a need-to-know basis or anything.
I think you guys have earned our trust more than once." She
carried the board game she'd found in the bottom of the drawer
over to the kitchen table. "Now perform your assigned duties and
come in here."

The two men trailed into the dining area, curious.

Langly looked horrified. "Scrabble? On a board? Don't you have
the computer version?"

Scully went into the kitchen to fetch some drinks for the men. "I
prefer the tactile experience of feeling the tiles. Live with
it."

She returned to find the two men seated at the table, seemingly
resigned to their fate.

She incorporated their presence into her new life pattern. The
gentle purr of the VW bus followed her to and from work. Frohike
brought home-cooked hot lunches to her office every afternoon, and
she managed to appear grateful. She was almost able to ignore the
constant presence of the variety of their odd, nerdy little friends
who followed her around when she went out shopping.

Langly dusted the top shelves for her now. And every evening the
three of them gathered around the kitchen table for more board
games to keep her occupied until her eyes burned and she could
fall into bed, exhausted.

The only time they weren't by her side was when Mulder returned
from his assignments. But as much as she missed him, she didn't
quite know what to do with him when he was there. He reminded her
of a very large, very clumsy, but painfully well-trained, St.
Bernard.

He sat at attention, but with his eyes bashfully downcast at all
times as though he was waiting for her commands. And he had a
tendency to bump into her furniture.

She'd never realized how small her apartment and possessions were
until a much larger person was moving through them, sitting in a
chair with his knees under his chin, or bending over to look in a
mirror.

When he was in town, he would take over Frohike's job as chief
cook and bottle washer, a role that shocked her, 'Kiss the Chef'
apron notwithstanding. He wasn't a particularly good cook, but
he made up for it with his enthusiasm. Her crockery suffered, but
she was past the point of caring. She spent her time trying to
distract him from noticing how little she really did eat.

It always seemed as though he didn't want to impose. He kept a
good twelve inches of space between their bodies when they were in
bed. She took to wearing his shirts to bed, and wrapped in the
warmth and smell of his body, so that she felt as though he was
holding her instead of gripping the edge of his side of the bed
to keep himself from rolling to her.

He was using up his entire backlog of six years worth of
apologies. It got so that if she heard the words 'I'm sorry' come
out of his mouth one more time, she was going to slap him.

"I'm sorry." The words wafted over her shoulder as she sat
hunched over her bowl of bland cereal. She managed to control
herself, telling herself she was merely suffering from a hormonal
reaction.

"About what?" she asked.

"Going out of town again," he mumbled through the piece of toast
he'd shoved into his mouth. She noticed he'd cut himself shaving
and had a corner of toilet paper stuck to his chin. The romance
was dead, and it hadn't even begun.

"It's your job." She choked slightly on the word 'your'. She had
an almost uncontrollable urge to stow away in his suitcase. The
pain of missing their work was unbearable.

"My job is to take care of you," he dared to say. She raised her
eyes, shooting flames at his gentle face.

The hurt in his eyes reproached her, and she dropped her face to
her hands to calm herself. She had to accept the possibility that
she would not be able to do this alone.

"There'd be nothing for you to do here, anyway, except to sit
here staring at me, and Frohike and Langly have that covered."
She gave him a weak smile.

He fretted, "The sonogram's Friday. I'll be back by Thursday, at
the latest."

"Of course you will," she soothed him. She pulled herself out of
her chair, wondering why the less she did, the more tired she
felt. Her greatest accomplishment now was making sure her socks
matched before leaving for work.

He picked up his suitcase and with hunched shoulders, shuffled to
the doorway. Instead of giving him his usual peck on the cheek,
she pulled the toilet paper free from his wound, and went up on
her tiptoes to lick the dried blood from his skin.

Now it was his eyes turn to flame, only this fire was passionate.
She shifted her gaze away and chose to ignore the large hand that
lingered on her hip before slipping down to grasp the handle of
his suitcase again.

2.
St. Joseph, Missouri
September 17th, 9 A.M.

Tiff watched Mulder pace the airport waiting area. He had reached
a fever pitch of anger, venting it on any airline personnel who
unwittingly crossed his path and any airline representative he
could reach on the phone. He had foolishly tried to get snippy
with her and she had knocked him back on his ass. Now he kept to
himself and avoided her questioning gaze.

All she knew was this had started yesterday, when the case had
dragged on into the evening. Their suspect's confession had
fallen apart. Mulder had begun having whispered conversations on
his cell-phone, each one becoming more agitated.

He had worked through the night, pulling together the scraps of
evidence with superhuman determination to find the actual
perpetrator. The morning had seen a new suspect booked but also
the descent of a pouring rainstorm. All flights were canceled
until further notice.

She watched him pull the cell phone from his trench coat pocket
again and speed dial a number. Her curiosity overruled her
decency and manners. She got up painfully from the hard plastic
chair and sidled up behind him to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Scully--It's me." His voice was low and full of pain.

Scully leaned back in her chair, listening to the latest report
from Mulder. She tried to reassure him. "I don't want you taking
risks to get here. It's more important that you stay in one
piece. I can't lose you now." She had to stop because the sudden
lump in her throat had made it difficult to speak. "I'll call
you as soon as I have the results. The minute."

There were no words from his end. "Mulder?"

"Yeah--I'm here." He sounded so defeated. "What are you going to
do if the fetus is--what are you going to do?"

She choked out, "I'll have an abortion."

"I don't want you to be alone with this. Promise me you'll call
your mother. Don't go alone. Promise me." His voice sounded
thin and distant on the crackling line.

She managed to swallow the lump. "I promise." Drowning in a wave
of swirling emotions, she felt suddenly uninhibited. "I love
you." She barely gave him time to respond in kind before she cut
the line off.

She knew she couldn't call her mother.

Two weeks ago she had opened her door, expecting one of the Gunmen
with her dinner, only to find her mother, with a set, angry face.
She had been avoiding her mother for weeks and now, with a sense
of dread, she knew the game was up as her mother's eyes swept
over her. She hadn't thought she was showing yet, despite the
tightening waistline on her pants, but there were things she was
sure a mother would know.

When she had watched the fear and then the blankness of a sense of
betrayal sweep across Maggie Scully's face, she knew she was
right. She had heard herself babbling, "Mom--I couldn't--I
didn't want to put you in danger..."

Maggie Scully had gripped the doorjamb to keep herself upright.
"Come inside, Mom. Sit down." Scully had led her shocked mother
into the apartment. She'd fussed over the silent woman, wanting
and dreading her words at the same time.

She'd started speaking, slowly and carefully. Scully cringed.
She knew that tone from many a childhood dressing down. "What's
happened?"

"I was abducted again. This time, They fixed the damage to my
ovaries somehow. We're not sure what happened--we won't know
until some more tests are done." She had so much she didn't want
to share with her mother that she didn't know what to tell her.

Maggie had seen right through her. With tight lips, she'd said,
"Is this baby your own?"

Scully had to be honest. "I don't know. We won't know
that until a DNA test can be performed on the fetus. Until then,
I wait."

Maggie had looked around the apartment. "Where's Fox?"

Scully had to give her mother credit. She was good. "He's out of
town, working."

"Is that safe? What do these people hope to gain by doing this to
you?" Maggie had pressed.

"I've got guards." She'd decided not to tell her mother they were
the Gunmen. "We have no idea what They're up to this time. I
guess we'll find out eventually."

"What can I do to help?" her mother had asked.

Scully had been overcome by frustration. "There isn't anything
any of us can do but wait."

"And you're not good at that, are you?" Her mother had looked at
her sharply. "Or asking for help and support? You want to know
what frightens me even more than what may be happening to you?"
She didn't wait for Scully to respond. "It's that you think you
can keep something like this under control all on your own. How
many more times will you do something like this to our
relationship before our life together is over?"

Scully had realized she deserved a reprimand, but it didn't make
it hurt any less.

When her mother had left promising support, Scully could
see she was still holding back her anger at Scully's betrayal of
her trust. She had known her mother would come to peace with this
eventually, but she didn't want to see the woman hurt any more.

She realized she couldn't ask her mother to come with her for the
sonogram. She couldn't expose her to what might be a horrible
sight. She put on her trench coat and picked up her purse. It
was time to go.

As she pulled her door shut behind her, the door across the hall
opened. Frohike peeked out. "Mulder didn't get back?"

She knew that he knew Mulder wasn't back. She played along
anyway. "No, he's trapped out of town by a storm. I'm going
alone."

"Not taking your mother?" Frohike asked.

She pulled her purse up onto her shoulder and avoided his
searching gaze. "No, I don't want to expose her to
something...bad." She shook her head to clear the images that
leapt forward from the catalogue of six years of horrors.

Frohike suggested, "I could go with you. I could stay in the
waiting room, or...I wouldn't mind coming in with you--as a
substitute for Mulder. I did a tour in Vietnam. I'm used
to bad things."

Scully met his eyes and saw warmth and strength there. All she
could find to say was, "Thank you. I'd appreciate that."

If Scully's attendant surprised Anita, she didn't show it.
Frohike was cold towards the doctor, however, and Scully shot him
a questioning look as she crawled up on the table to wait for the
sonogram to begin.

Frohike pulled a chair up beside her and settled his squat form on
it. With a surprising gentleness, he lifted one of her hands from
where it was clawing at the paper cover on the table and nestled
it between his two hands.

She noticed he was wearing his half-finger gloves, a black wool
pair. Good. Her cold hand wouldn't chill him.

She wondered about his attitude concerning Dr. Mui and then
realized she hadn't ever seen Byers at the apartment across the
hall. She decided to probe. It would take her mind off of the
coming procedure.

"Byers has been so much help in our work on this case," she said.

Frohike grunted down deep in his barrel chest. She continued,
feeling slightly ridiculous, like she was gossiping in the girl's
bathroom at school. "He seems to have moved in over at Mulder's
apartment."

Frohike couldn't hold back. "That's for sure. He's behind on his
columns for the newsletter--"

Scully interrupted. "I hope we haven't distracted him from his
work."

He reassured her, giving her hand a squeeze. "It's not you guys--
that work is important--it's--"

Anita reentered the exam room, and Frohike stopped, but his
burning glance over at the doctor finished his sentence. Scully
felt a giggle rising in her chest and nearly choked on the
sensation. It would be obscene to laugh right now.

Anita took her other hand and began to quietly reassure her,
seeming to be able to ignore the dark, accusing eyes under thick
brows glaring at her over Scully's gown-draped form. "This will
only take a few minutes to get ready."

Scully nodded, and then tuned out everything else she said. No
words could reassure her, only the image of a healthy human fetus
would do that. She had to ask the question. "If it's bad--you
could do an abortion today?"

"Of course, Dana. But let's not jump ahead of ourselves. You
have a tendency to do that," Anita scolded her as she pushed
Scully's gown up and smeared jelly on her abdomen.

Scully chose to ignore the comment and turned her head to stare
intently at the screen. The image flickered and dark shadows
appeared. A form became recognizable. Frohike burst out, "It's a
baby!"

Anita confirmed his statement. "So it would seem." She patted
Scully's shoulder and kept moving the wand.

Scully realized she couldn't allow herself to feel relief. This
was only the first step. She noticed her hand in Frohike's grip
was aching and glanced over at him. His eyes were misted over as
he stared at the floating fetus. "It's a baby," he said again,
this time in a whisper.

She felt twice as bad. It wouldn't be just their dreams shattered
if this didn't turn out to be their child. Everyone seemed to be
investing a part of themselves in this creation.

3.
9:15 P.M.

Mulder thought he would never be as happy to see anything as he
was to see Scully's door. Although she had called him with the
good news, it did nothing to alleviate his overwhelming need to be
with her right now.

When he let himself into the apartment, all the lights were off
except for a floor lamp, glowing dimly by the couch. As he
crept forward, he could see Scully curled up under an afghan,
asleep.

As he approached her, he must have startled her. Suddenly, she
reared up, tossed her head back to clear the hair from her eyes
and leveled her pistol at him. Quickly he dropped his bag and
raised his hands, but she had already lowered the gun. She shook
her head as though clearing a nightmare away as she carefully
placed the weapon on the table beside her.

"I'm sorry," he said, which earned him a hard look. He was
trying to ignore her moodiness. The pregnancy books he kept
hidden in his desk at work said this was normal, but frankly it
was becoming annoying.

She struggled out from under the throw. "Have you eaten? Let me
get you something."

He settled a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Do you
have the video?"

"It's in the VCR already," she said as she pulled herself into a
corner of the sofa, rearranging the throw over her legs.

Loosening his tie with one hand, he pulled the TV cart closer
to the couch. He turned on the set and started the tape with
a shaking hand. This was it. He would be able to see for
himself, reassure himself right now. He sank to the floor in
front of the TV, propping himself up on the couch.

The film flickered and then a shape began to appear out in the
grainy darkness. He couldn't make anything of it. He rubbed his
eyes in frustration.

He was startled by the light touch of Scully's hand on his
shoulder as she pushed herself off the couch to join him on the
floor. Her slender white finger began to trace the shape on the
screen, her calm voice creating a reality out of his confusion.

"Here's the head--and an arm. See, the arm is bent..." He nodded,
overwhelmed. "The legs--now the fetus is shifting around, the
buttocks--"

He stopped her, stabbing at the screen with a shaking finger.
"What's that thing?"

Dryly, she answered, "The genitalia--a penis."

Numbly, he responded. "Oh...does that mean it's a boy?"

She sucked her lips into her mouth to control her mirth in the
face of his obvious befuddlement. "That's generally what a penis
indicates. However, we'll have to wait for the DNA test to give
us final conformation." Her face darkened at the reminder. "The
DNA test will tell us everything we want to know."

He tried to divert her. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here today. I
would have loved to see this with you."

She pulled herself up off the floor. "It went all right. Of
course, Anita was there, and Frohike came along."

He couldn't control his jealousy. "Frohike?"

She ruffled his hair as she plopped back down on the sofa. "Yes.
He was a great comfort."

Mulder stabbed the stop button on the VCR. The joy of the vision
of his son was lost. "I'm going to quit the X-files, the FBI if I
have to. I need to stay close to you. Today proved that. I
can't expect a couple of computer nerds to look after you."

She exploded. "What? Dammit, Mulder! The Gunmen are doing fine,
I feel perfectly safe, and in case you've forgotten, I'm a trained
Federal Agent, perfectly capable of looking after myself!"

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I know, I
know--"

"I wonder if you do. I've had to give up my career, work I
really, really love--" she spit at him.

She continued, "If this is our child, I'll have to abandon that
career anyway, and that wasn't my choice. But you don't care--
you seem to be fitting me for a little white apron and string of
pearls. That's not what I want. I don't want this to be
happening," she muttered, pulling the afghan up under her chin.

He twisted around to look at her with astonishment. "You can
manage to kill the happiness in every gain we've achieved during
this experience, can't you? What's it going to take? What if
this is our son, but he's born less than perfect anyway? What
will you do then?"

Her eyes were huge and dark on her white face. "What are you
trying to say?"

He couldn't stop himself. "Your love always seems to have
conditions attached. I can live with that, but how can a baby?"

Her head rolled back on the sofa cushions. Her voice was
distant. "I can't take this anymore--"

He hauled himself up off the floor with a jerk as his knees
screamed in protest. Damned body, falling apart--he stormed back
to the door; now it was mocking him.

He was through the door and had slammed it behind him before
Scully had a chance to stop him. Now what? He looked at the
door across the hall with resignation and raised a hand to knock
on it. It swung open before he could strike it.

Langly looked out at him, shaking his head. "We could hear you
guys in here. Man, I'm surprised someone didn't call the cops on
the two of you."

Mulder brushed past him. "Thank you for the support, bud. How
much beer do you guys have?"

Frohike came out of the kitchen carrying three bottles of beer.
"Damn boy, you're a bastard." His tone was affectionate, however,
and he slapped Mulder on the back after he handed him his drink.

Mulder trailed after then into the dark and cluttered living room.
He looked around with approval. This was more like it. No Navajo
white walls, or crisp linens. He noticed a monitor showing her
blank and accusing front door. He threw himself down on the sofa
and turned his eyes away from the image.

All three men jumped when Byers opened the front door. His brow
wrinkled with confusion as he joined them in the living room.
"What's wrong with you guys? What are you doing here, Mulder?"

Frohike was snide. "A more important question might be, what are
you doing here? Don't you have some research to conduct?"

Byers said stiffly, "I came over to deliver my column for the
newsletter and I wanted to apologize for its lateness. I've been
distracted lately."

Langly handed Byers his half-drunk beer and headed towards the
kitchen. "So she threw you out on your ass?"

After glancing at the warm bottle with resignation, Byers settled
on the edge of a chair. "I don't want to talk about it."

Mulder nodded in agreement.

4.
When the phone rang, Scully realized she had been sitting on the
sofa the whole time Mulder had been gone, staring unseeing at the
snowy TV screen. She snatched the receiver up, expecting Mulder
but being surprised to hear Anita's voice instead. This irritated
her, though she couldn't say why.

"How's it going?" Anita asked.

What could she say? "Fine."

"I was really pleased with the sonogram today. I have a really
good feeling about this," Anita's voice held all the cheerfulness
she possessed.

"Yeah," Scully said listlessly.

Anita rambled on with more pleasantries for a while longer, and
then arrived at the point that Scully suspected was the original
intention of the call.

"You've known John awhile now, right?" Anita asked.

Scully felt dread fill her. "Yeah--"

"You think you know him well?" she went on.

Scully hedged. "Well, I've known him a few years, but it isn't
like we hang out or anything..." She suddenly wondered how close to
anyone she was anymore. How much more depressing would this
evening get?

Anita hit her with a bombshell. "Do you think John's a virgin?"

"What!?" Scully gasped.

"You heard me." Anita was brisk. "Well?"

Scully was firm with a sharp tone. "I really wouldn't know.
That's none of my business. What I'm sure of is that I would hate
to see him hurt by anyone."

"What are you saying?" Scully heard her own tone echoed in the
other woman's voice, and she didn't like the hurt she heard there.

"I'm saying, what does it matter if he is? He's a wonderful
person. That's what counts," she said.

"True," Anita mused. "It's just so...frightening--I mean, where do
I begin?"

Scully found some humor in this ridiculous situation. "Look at
the positive. If it's true, you get to train him from the ground
up-- so to speak."

Anita squealed and Scully was suddenly glad to have the
distraction of this conversation. "True! Oh, Dana, I'm glad I
called you, I was beside myself."

Scully was overcome with exhaustion. "Anita, if you don't mind, I
really need to get to bed."

The doctor came out. "Of course, and are you drinking enough
water?"

Scully managed to eventually get Anita off the phone and wandered
into her bedroom. Once she was in bed however, she found herself
unable to sleep, her ears trained for the sound of Mulder's
return.

She was almost asleep when his bulky shape was outlined in her
bedroom door. She smelled the beer on him.

She was overwhelmed with the memory of those few dark years when
she was a young girl, doing chores around the house and gagging
at the odor of stale beer on her parents' sheets. She would always
connect that smell with the sound of her mother's soft sobs on late
nights spent waiting, wanting her father to return and dreading it
at the same time.

She heard her voice, sharp and shrill. "Take a shower. I don't
want you in my bed smelling like that."

The dark shape, bent in the act of undressing, wavered on one leg,
and then moved to the bathroom without a word.

Grateful, she closed her eyes again. In thirty more days, when
they were able to have a DNA test on the fetus, all this
uncertainty would be cleared away, one way or another.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 11: Ignition

1.
The Factory
October 18th, 7:45 A.M.

Krycek found Kenneth waiting for him in the shadows between the
glowing green cylinders outside the offices. He stopped for a
moment to examine the young man unnoticed.

The ghostly glowing light emanating from the tanks danced across
his face, and Krycek was reminded of the first time that he'd seen
him floating nude in the ooze. Krycek had crouched down to stare
at his perfect features, willing his eyes to open, like Sleeping
Beauty. An empty smile crossed his face at the thought.

"Do you and Kirk have everything in the van?" he asked.

The blond head turned and bobbed obediently.

"Good," he said with malice glee. "It's time to pick up the
merchandise. What about the hospital? Everything ready there?"

This time Kenneth spoke. Tipping his head towards the closed
office door, he said, "What about the gentleman?"

Krycek looked at him coolly. "He's left me in charge of this
project."

The young man paused before he spoke again, and then seemed to
choose his words carefully. "As you say, sir."

"Yes I do," Krycek said cheerfully as he grabbed Kenneth's arm and
pulled him down the corridor of tubes. "Let's get going. Today
is going to be a busy day."

2.
Fairfax Hospital
9:15 A.M.

Mulder paced nervously in Anita's office, talking to Byers on
his cell-phone.

"When are you going to get here?"

"Actually, I think I can be of more use working on
the current data. I've started to develop a theory--"

Mulder cut in sharply. "What?"

"I don't want to get your hopes up at this point, not without more
proof," Byers answered primly.

Mulder sighed with exasperation. "Byers--" he warned.

Byers remained firm. "The theory is in a very preliminary stage,
I need to examine all the data. And it relates to the situation
only if things go well with the DNA collection today. It won't
make any difference if things don't fall in place on your end. As
it is, I have to go over to the Starkey apartment right now. I
seem to have left an important piece of data there."

"So I can reach you there?"

"Yes. And I want to wish you and Agent Scully luck today," Byers
said.

"You too," Mulder replied. He hung up just as Scully and Anita
entered the office.

3.
Listening to his tap on Mulder's cell phone in his van on the
street in front of the hospital, Krycek cursed quietly as the call
between Byers and Mulder ended. Kenneth and Kirk sat impassively,
waiting for his commands.

"Kirk, keep listening to the trace on this line of Mulder's. I
don't want little Mr. Science to tell him anything that may ruin
our plans," he hissed.

"Yes, sir," Kirk replied as he adjusted the settings on the
scanners.

He glanced over at Kenneth's blank face. "Are you ready to
rumble?"

"Sir?" The single word in an insolent tone came out of the
pouting mouth.

He wondered if the young man was baiting him. He moved in very
close to the chiseled features. "Are you with me on this,
Kenneth?" he hissed.

He saw Kenneth's eyes shift from his to meet Kirk's uplifted gaze.
"Of course, sir," he answered smoothly.

Krycek leaned back, suddenly hating the slightly antiseptic odor
that seemed to cling to the skin of the clones. Sharply, he
barked, "Let's go then."

4.
Mulder concentrated very hard to understand the words coming out
of Anita's mouth. He was sure it was solely for his benefit. He
knew Scully would have read everything on the procedure. He
hadn't been able to make himself do so, and now he regretted it.

Anita was wasting time with this when she could be starting. He
forced himself to hold Scully's hand with a light grip and
concentrate.

"I'll be doing a PUBS--that means I'll insert a needle into the
umbilical cord and extract a blood sample. There is a risk to the
fetus, as with any invasive procedure..." Anita shifted her eyes
from Mulder to Scully.

Scully nodded slightly, so Anita continued. "The procedure is
simple, if I can get the needle into the cord. This may take a
few tries. We'll take our time and remain calm. I understand
this is very important--"

Scully interrupted. "Can we start?" Mulder realized a crack was
showing in her calm manner.

Anita nodded. "Of course." The three of them stood up together
and moved a shuffling single file line towards the door to the
examination room.

The procedure went smoothly, with all the predictability of a
training exercise. Mulder knew what his role was. He sat quietly
by Scully's side, letting the creases of her palm now become
familiar patterns under his fingers. He found himself tracing her
life-line lightly with a fingertip, as though he could draw the
length out by his own sheer will.

With Scully lying on her back, he was able to see the slight
swelling to her belly and he had to force himself to watch as the
needle was inserted into it. She watched too. The blood seemed
so dark as it filled the vials.

Anita spoke the first words heard since they entered the room.
"I'll hurry."

Scully chuckled, an odd sound, as though she had a mouthful of
dry crackers. "Do."

Scully dressed slowly, seemingly trying to draw the activity out
to fill the silence. Mulder waited for her to speak because he
couldn't think of a single thing to say. Apparently, neither
could she, so she pulled a chair up to join him, and they linked
hands again.

Anita popped her head into the room, calling them back into her
office. They rose in unison from their chairs, and he found his
hand resting in the small of her back, leading her ahead of him.
He was surprised how quickly the time had passed, considering they
had done nothing but stare at the odd medical diagrams on the
wall.

They gathered around the lab results. Mulder's brow furrowed at
the smudges on the DNA bands. Anita's voice sounded faint above
the rushing of his blood in his head.

She began, "I don't recognize these patterns..."

Scully's low tone was like the thumping of a drum. "I do. I'll
need the abortion."

Mulder gripped the edge of the desk and leaned on it to keep
himself from falling. He blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his
vision and look at the report again. "Maybe..."

Anita broke the news to him. "There are signs of a massive number
of anomalies. And there are these other patterns which I've never
seen in human DNA..."

Scully interrupted. "Now. I want you to do it now."

Mulder turned to look at her set face. He swallowed all the
thousands of protests that were rising up from his gut, and the
bile burned on the way back down his throat.

He met her eyes and held her gaze. "Anita, Scully wants to do
this right now. Can it be done?"

Anita carefully suggested, "Perhaps you should wait a day or two.
Having the procedure today will be very draining to Dana."

Scully's voice was gentle but with the subtle insistence of a
Southern belle. "No, Anita, I would prefer to be done with this
whole business--today."

Anita relented. "Of course. Let me arrange things now, quickly."
She left the room to give them some privacy.

Mulder quickly pulled out his cell phone, taking the coward's
refuge in a familiar activity.

"Davis here."

"Tiff, it's Mulder. Come to Fairfax Hospital. I think that the
suspects, Kenneth Bond and Alex Krycek may appear," he said.

Her voice crackled, irritated. "Where are you going to be? What
does this Krycek look like?"

"Pull his file, you'll find a picture. I'll be at the hospital,
but I'll have my phone off. I'm leaving this duty up to you."

Exasperated, she asked, "And what do I do if I see them?"

Mulder spat out, "Shoot them on sight." He disconnected before
she could respond. He could feel the reproach in Scully's gaze,
but he couldn't trust himself to look at her.

5.
Starkey Apartment
11:00 A.M.

Byers looked up from the paperwork he'd been scanning when Frohike
entered the apartment. The little man sneered at him and said,
"What're you doing here?"

Byers took in a breath to maintain his patience. "I have work to
do here. I think I may be getting close to resolving this
mystery."

Frohike was immediately interested. "What is it?"

Byers moved to the phone. "I'll need to double-check my data when
the latest test results come back today."

Frohike's eyes narrowed to slits as he observed the tidy man from
under his bushy eyebrows. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

Byers rested his hand on the phone receiver. "What?"

"The chance to play the hero, even if you're just wearing a three
piece suit instead of a pair of tights and a cape," Frohike
suggested.

Byers picked up the receiver. "I don't know what you mean." He
dialed Mulder's cell number.

His brow creased. "The voice mail is on--I hope things are going
all right..." He waited for a beep. "Agent Mulder, this is John
Byers. Please call me right away. I'm very interested in seeing
the DNA results."

6.
Back in his van, Krycek listened to Byers' words on the scanner,
chewing his lower lip. He ordered Kirk, "Erase that message,
Damnit!"

The two young men seemed to wait with limitless patience while he
thought furiously. "I can't risk one of those trolls getting the
information to Mulder and Scully. I'll have to go take care of
them myself. Kenneth?"

He turned and looked into the clear, pale eyes of Bond. "I'm
trusting you to pick up the merchandise. Can I do that?"

"Of course, sir," was his mechanical answer.

Krycek slid open the door of the van and paused for a moment
uncertainly. Finally, he hopped out and got into a waiting car.
He twisted his head to watch the young man now crouched in the
doorway of the van as the car sped away.

7.
The elevator doors opened. Anita, Scully, and Mulder emerged and
began to slowly walk down the hall. The sign on the entrance of
the ward read, 'Labor and Delivery'.

Anita said, "I'm sorry. This is the ward where the procedure is
normally performed. It's usually considered better for the women
to feel as though they've given birth to their child--we could try
to procure another room elsewhere..."

"No, that's all right." Scully seemed calm.

Anita hurried them past the reception desk to enter a room. They
were in the hallway long enough for Mulder to notice the brightly
colored murals on the walls, of storks with pink and blue bundles
in their beaks. He heard the faint cry of newborn babies and saw
several heavily pregnant women pacing the halls.

It was all enough to cause a crushing weight to descend onto his
chest, and he had to concentrate to keep himself from
hyperventilating in an effort to breathe.

He had to remain in control for Scully, even though she seemed as
calm as always. Scully undressed again. Anita waited patiently
as Mulder helped her up on the bed.

"I'm going to giving you a painkiller. Then we'll wait about
twenty minutes for it to take effect and I'll give you the Pitocin
to begin contractions."

Realizing that Mulder probably didn't know what was going to
happen again, Anita turned to him. "This is the same medication
that we give to women who are past their due date. It will cause
contractions to begin. As this is Dana's first pregnancy it will
take longer than it would take a woman who has already given
birth." She faltered. "I'm sorry...this may only take several
hours, but it could take several days, just like a regular birth."

Mulder was afraid to take Scully's hand, for fear he would crush
the fragile bones. His voice sounded shaky to his ears. "Will
there be pain?"

Anita soothed him. "She won't be in pain. I'll make sure of
that."

Scully was abrupt. "Hey, I'm here."

Both Anita and Mulder instantly reached to touch her and she
shrunk back on the mattress, suddenly tiny. "I'm sorry, Scully, I
just don't want to see you in pain." In the face of everything
that had happened to her recently, he realized how ridiculous
the statement sounded as soon as the words left his mouth.

Scully asked Anita in a businesslike tone, "You've set up the
proper disposal techniques for the fetus per my suggestions?"

Anita stroked Scully's arm gently. "Yes, honey, I've
taken care of it. I don't want you to worry about that."

Fortunately, Anita's pager went off so she didn't see the burning
look Scully gave her as she reached for the phone.

Anita turned back from checking her message, distressed. "I'm
sorry. There's an emergency. I don't know..."

Scully cut her off. "Don't worry. A nurse can begin
administering the Pitocin. It doesn't matter."

Anita leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back
as soon as I can. You know what?"

Mulder watched Scully force her eyes up to look at the doctor.
"What?"

Anita choked the words out. "You're the bravest person I've ever
known."

Scully didn't seem to know what to say to that, and Mulder could
only nod. Anita squeezed his shoulder as she turned to leave, and
then they were alone.

Mulder pulled his chair up as close as he could to the bed.

Scully lay back on the pillows and gave out a long, shattering
sigh. It was the first sign she'd shown him that suggested she
wasn't perfectly calm.

Her voice was as strong as ever when she spoke. "It isn't as
though we're aborting our child. We're simply disposing of
mutated tissue."

He had to agree. He had to support her. He nodded slowly, so the
tears trapped at the edge of his eyelids wouldn't be jarred loose.

She was right; it wasn't their child that was dying today. Their
child had never existed. But their dreams were dying and he was
sure he was going to lose her as well.

Her voice continued, a swelling drone, like a swarm of bees coming
to sting him. "Don't worry about me. I've seen an abortion
before."

He cleared his throat and tried to match her flat tone. "Yes,
I've seen films too."

He noticed she had begun to tremble slightly. He took her hand
again, and it was cold. He rubbed it lightly, hoping to restore
the circulation.

"Not films. I was there. Melissa, my sister, had to have an
abortion. I went with her." The words came out in gasps as
Scully stared at the ceiling.

Mulder was surprised. "When was this?"

Scully seemed to have to concentrate to come up with the answer.
"Uh...she was twenty and so I was...I had just turned eighteen."

He tried to keep the shock from his voice. "Oh--I mean, to be so
young and go with her..."

Scully burst out, "My sister had to kill her baby! She couldn't
go alone. We couldn't tell our parents--it would have killed
them..."

He tried to calm her, reaching out to smooth the hair clinging to
her sweaty brow. "That was good of you to go with her--"

Scully rambled, "I had to be the strong one...I always have to be
the strong one...she needed me..."

He leaned in and laid his head on the pillow beside her. She
still stared up at the ceiling. He whispered in her ear as though
the room was full of people. "You don't have to be strong today.
I can be strong for you." He cursed himself and his false bravado
when his traitorous tears began to fall.

He watched, fascinated, as a single tear slipped out of the corner
of her eye. He reached out to gently stroke it away, and all the
others that followed.

"I wasn't strong. I was a coward. Mom found out and she was
furious with Missy. They were never close again because of it.
But Missy never told her that I was there--she always wanted me to
be the good girl..." She started to struggle up off the bed.
Wildly, she said, "I gotta call Mom. I gotta tell Mom, now."

"No, no--please, Dana!" This got her attention, and she finally
looked at him. He pushed her back down on the bed. "Not today.
Tomorrow. Later. Not now."

She seemed to be absorbed into the mattress. Her flat voice
started again. "That's why I wanted Emily to be Missy's child,
more than I could ever make myself want her to be mine. I grew to
accept the fact that she was my genetic child, my responsibility,
but I wanted her to be Missy's little girl so much. You know what
I mean?"

"I understand," Mulder managed to say. "You're a very generous
person."

Scully choked on an empty laugh. "I don't know about that. I
don't know if I could have ever cared enough, because of what she
was."

He curled his arm around her head and stroked her neck. Her skin
had become papery in the dry air of the room. "You're too tough
on yourself."

There was no reproach in her voice as she replied, "You said
the same about me after the sonogram."

He damned himself to hell and back a few times as she gasped on
harsh breath after harsh breath through chapped, pale lips.

A throat being cleared drew their attention. A nurse stood in the
doorway, and Mulder could see a cluster of cheerful men behind her
in the hall, slapping a new father on the back in congratulations.

The nurse nodded to them, as though answering the question that
hung in the air.

8.
Tiff strode down the hallway in the bowels of the hospital,
cursing first herself for being a fool, then Walter Skinner for
being a bastard, and finally Fox Mulder for waking up that
morning. She'd seen no sign of the suspects and doubted she
would.

Her cell-phone rang, its sharp cry bouncing off the walls.
"Yeah?" she bellowed into the phone, expecting Mulder.

It wasn't him. A flat, emotionless voice said, "Agent Davis,
proceed immediately to Labor and Delivery to find Dana Scully in
Room 10. Stop her from having the abortion." Tiff gasped at the
word, but the voice didn't stop. "Hurry!" It urged her. She
started running, the phone still pressed to her ear. "Tell her
the tests are wrong. And if you don't get there in time--" For the
first time, the voice faltered. "Tell her they'll pay for what
they've done--they'll pay." The line went dead.

Tiff allowed herself the one moment of complete confusion and then
went into action. She grabbed a passing orderly, slamming him
against the wall.

"What floor is Labor and Delivery on?" she barked.

"Three," he garbled out. She dropped her grip on him and scanned
the hall for the entrance to the stairwell.

Three floors, no problem. She dove through the door, her long
legs loping up the stairs four at a time, and her arm grabbing
the rail to pull her higher, faster. She didn't allow herself to
think of anything but keeping her balance.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Chapter 12: Believe

1.
Starkey Residence
October 18th, 12:15 P.M.

Frohike tried to peek over Byers' shoulder as he shuffled the
papers into a file. "Good news?"

Byers fussed, "I won't know until I see the report from the test
at the hospital. Why haven't they called me back?"

Frohike shrugged. "I'm going out to get some lunch. You want
anything?"

"I suppose. Chinese?" At Frohike's nod, Byers said, "I'll have
Kung Pao chicken with extra peanuts."

After the little man left, Byers decided to lie down in the
bedroom until he returned. This might be the only peace he'd have
the rest of the day.

He must have dozed off accidentally, but something woke him. It
wasn't a sound, but an unsettling feeling. Unsure, he crept
through the doorway to the dim front room.

A man was standing at the desk, gathering up his reports. His
leather coat caught the reflection from the desk lamp. He turned
as though he had been expecting Byers.

Byers noticed a small object sitting on the desk beside the man's
stiffly held left arm. He recognized it as a US Army CE-17
incineration device. Only after absorbing this information did he
raise his eyes to meet the man's gaze.

The man smiled slightly. "You must be John Byers. Allow me to
introduce myself. I'm Alex Krycek."

Byers let out a sigh. "I see." Frohike had armed all of them,
and had insisted that they practice daily. Byers didn't have
particularly good aim, and had fallen behind in his target
practice.

He was sure the man could easily outshoot him, but Frohike had
said the person who got off the first shot was usually the one who
came out ahead. And he had the element of surprise.

He flipped his jacket back to yank the pistol free from the hip
holster and did allow himself the moment of satisfaction at the
look of shock that crossed Krycek's face.

He heard him snap, "You little bitch!" and his heart dropped as he
saw Krycek whip his own gun out smoothly. He started firing
blindly.

2.
Labor and Delivery Ward

Tiff burst through the swinging doors into the ward, scanning the
hall for room 10. With her pistol in one hand and her
identification in another, she pushed the babbling masses of
personnel aside.

She slammed the door to the room open and all the figures in it
froze. Scully lay in a hospital bed, Mulder holding her left
hand. On her right side, a nurse was preparing to push down the
plunger of a syringe whose needle was inserted into the IV tube
connected to Scully's hand.

Tiff pointed her gun at the nurse and roared, "Freeze!"

As she watched in horror, the nurse gasped and with what seemed to
be an automatic action, pushed down the plunger on the syringe.

Scully wrenched the IV needle out of the back of her hand before
the medication could be delivered into her system. Blood spurted
out of her vein, but she just pressed the bed sheet down on the
back of her hand and briskly began questioning Tiff. "What's
happening?"

Tiff had to lean against the wall to calm her racing heart. She
gasped, "I got a call. A man said you were having an abortion,
something about the tests being wrong."

Mulder's hand settled on his own pistol and his eyes shifted to
the frightened looking nurse. "Who was it?"

Tiff shook her head. "I don't know. Male, sounded white, sounded
young."

Anita burst into the room, startling everyone again, and gaining
herself two guns trained on her head. "What the fuck is going
on?!"

Scully was struggling out of the bed, but the painkiller had taken
its full effect and she had to hold herself up on the rail to
stand. "Someone is claiming the test was false. We have to test
another sample. This may be a ruse."

Anita looked around at the collection of drawn faces. "All right,
let's go get the blood sample I held aside for John. But I was
there while the blood was tested..."

Grimly, Mulder said, "Tiff, go to the lab and check things out. I
don't want to leave Scully."

"Of course," Tiff said as she hurried from the room.

Scully began to pull her clothes on with all the coordination of a
drunk. Mulder tried to help her, allowing himself a chuckle or
two and the first prickling feeling of hope.

They proceeded to the lab and found Tiff there with several
security guards. She greeted them with the news. "The lab tech,
one Jake Murphy?" She looked to Anita for conformation and got a
nod. "He was found dead, broken neck, in the supply closet down
the hall. I don't think they wanted to pay him."

Mulder scanned the room. "Is it safe to use this lab?"

Anita rubbed her eyes with frustration. "I guess so. I was in
the room, guys--he must have palmed a tainted sample. I can't
imagine they would mess with all the equipment for something like
this."

Scully had plopped down on a stool, woozy, but her eyes were
bright with excitement. "Let's do it. I want to see what they
didn't want us to know."

Tiff left to deal with the dead body, but the remaining three
gathered around the new results.

Anita announced the words the other two were too overwhelmed to
voice. "Using your DNA samples for comparison, it appears that
the fetus is a perfectly normal human male, the genetic child
of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully."

Mulder felt as drugged as Scully. He moved behind her on her
stool, and swooped down to envelop her with his long arms,
nestling his nose into the crook of her neck. "Hey, Mommy--" he
whispered in her ear.

She gave out a little gasp of a sob, and he was sorry he'd made
her cry. They had both cried too much this day. He tipped her
head up with a fingertip, and smiled down at her oddly inverted
features. Sure enough, a single tear had escaped her glistening
eyes. He carefully kissed it away.

Anita said, "I think the two of you have had a long day. Why
don't you go home, get some rest and try to absorb all of this
tomorrow."

Mulder cleared his voice and spoke. "Good idea. Let's get out of
here before the police want to question us. We gotta find out
what Byers is up to as well."

Anita just rolled her eyes, but kissed their cheeks as she pushed
them out the door.

3.
"We'll have to get a house, with a yard, and a big tree for a
swing--" Mulder was babbling as he steered the car carefully
through traffic, but Scully remained silent.

Her body was still trying to overcome the effects of the
narcotics and the shock of the events of the day. She felt loose
and boneless. But for the first time in many weeks, she didn't
feel as though dark glasses was obscuring her vision.

"We'll need a lawn mower. Do you have a lawn mower?" Mulder
asked.

She raised an eyebrow, but then decided to humor him. "No,
Mulder, I don't have a lawn mower."

He didn't seem to hear the smile in her voice and continued
seriously, "Okay, then we'll have to get one. I don't
like the environmental damage caused by the use of a gas-powered
motor. I guess I would have to decide if I have the energy for a
push mower, or if I should go electric."

As she pulled one of his hands loose from the steering wheel to
grip it between her palms, Scully realized Mulder was behaving in
a way that she would never have imagined: Like some long-legged
heron, he was carefully constructing a nest for her and their egg.

She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand and innocently said,
"I'm sure we can find something else to do with your excess energy
on the weekends."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, and she saw his eyes
shift in her direction, she realized her statement sounded
provocative. Suddenly, she didn't care. Perhaps she had meant it
the way it sounded.

He kept his eyes firmly on the road, his free hand gripping the
steering wheel tightly as he kept the car's speed a prudent five
miles an hour under the speed limit.

But the hand under her mouth trembled slightly and she could feel
sweat form on the palm. She kept her lips pressed to his skin and
swore she could feel the blood beat faster in the tiny veins close
to its surface.

As she let her lips slide across the fine hairs on the broad, warm
back of his hand, biting his knuckle lightly on her journey to his
fingers, he trundled onward. "I'm not opposed to lawn gnomes,
either. Or would you prefer pink flamingos? Anyway--that's not
important--"

She bit down on his finger, relishing the feeling of the firm,
small muscles between her teeth. He was breathing quickly now.
"Three bedrooms or four? I suppose we should go with four to be
safe--"

"Uh-huh..." she breathed onto his skin, feeling as though she
should participate somewhat in the conversation. The tip of her
tongue flicked out to play with the end of his middle finger.

He gasped out, "And Berber carpet, I think it's better than shag--"

The scream of sirens coming up behind their car interrupted their
separate trains of thought, and Mulder carefully steered the
vehicle to the curb to let the fire truck pass. As he pulled back
into traffic, he continued, "We need everything don't we? Dishes,
furniture, a car, oh my god," he finally allowed himself to look
at Scully, his eyes panic-filled. She tried to look serious, but
it was difficult with the end of his middle finger in her mouth.
"We need a car, hell, we need two cars!"

She decided he needed to calm down. She drew his finger all the
way into her mouth, sucking lightly, absorbing his salty taste.
Her tongue pressed his digit up against the roof of her mouth, and
he moaned, finally.

She grinned around his finger as she twisted her body to lean back
against the door. She enjoyed watching his face as he tried
valiantly to keep his attention on his driving while she
ministered to his hot flesh.

She liked this. She liked forgetting about everything but the
feeling and taste of his skin. She was floating free from her
body for a few minutes, away from the problem held within it.

Mulder might think everything was now reduced to an endless list--
beginning with finding financing for a mortgage and ending with
deciding minivan versus SUV. She had a shorter but more urgent
list. What was the purpose of this child? Why had They wanted
him dead? When would They try again?

For now though, she only wanted to live in this car, have their
whole world exist within the four doors and the blood swirling in
their three bodies.

Mulder pulled the car over again, this time for an ambulance. He
didn't rejoin traffic, but leaned over, yanking his finger from
her mouth with an audible pop. She widened her eyes in an attempt
to look shocked, but had her mouth open and waiting for his
lunging mouth.

They met over the armrest between the seats, straining against
their seatbelts, and their mouths tore at each other until her
lips felt raw. Scully pulled away first and now she was the one
gasping. She whispered, "Let's go home."

Mulder couldn't seem to answer verbally, but an odd gulping sound
came out of his throat. Nodding like a loose-necked Chihuahua, he
forced his eyes back onto the road, and turned the car back into
the traffic.

4.
They found out where the emergency vehicles had been rushing.
Scully's apartment building was in flames.

Mulder pulled the car up as close as he could, and they hurried
towards the police barriers. Frohike was up on his toes,
straining to see around the wall of bodies. A bag of take-out
food dangled from one gloved hand.

"Frohike!" Scully reached him first, and grabbed his shoulder.

He turned to face her, and his face was dark with soot, rivulets
created by tears running into his beard. He sobbed out, "John--
they can't find John."

Scully pulled the grimy little man into her arms and looked at
Mulder with fear-filled eyes over his shoulder.

Mulder joined them, wrapping his arms around both their bodies.
He tipped his head back to stare up at the building engulfed by
flames.

Today they had won a battle, but the war was just beginning.