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 ou