Hx03 "Doggett & Scully Interview"
Written by: Cassie & Kristi
Air Date: November 24, 208
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Doggett and Scully are interviewed during the 2008 FRVS Hiatus.

Interview URL: http://www.foxandrat.com/HIATUS/Hx03.php

Read, comment, and then come up with your own questions to ask the
characters for a follow up interview in January. A form has been added
to the Hiatus page and at the end of each interview for your convenience.

Season 10 Premiere: February 9, 2009

Enjoy the interview!

http://www.foxandrat.com/

-Executive Producers-
Cassie & Kristi

This is a fragment of a story that ended up not going anywhere. But I
have always liked it, and hope to find something to graft it onto one
day. The Phantom Stranger is a copyright of  DC Comics.



J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING

FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON D.C.

JANUARY 1, 2000

"I'll be right back," Scully said. She made her way, a little
unsteadily, out of Mulder's office and to the women's restroom, where
she stood in front of the aluminum sink, ran some cold water,
splashed it on her face, rubbed her eyes. They were sore from fatigue
and rubbing them felt good. When she opened them, she saw a dark
figure reflected in the mirror above the sink. It was a man. A man in
a dark suit and a cloak, with a black, wide-brimmed hat pulled down
over his eyes. He had some kind of strange-looking amulet hanging
around his neck from a heavy chain.


Terriffic.


"Sir," she said wearily, turning to confront the man. "I think you're
in the wrong room ..."
He cocked his head slightly, regarding her with eyes that were
invisible under the shadow of his hat brim. "Dana Scully," he
said. "I need to speak with you." Scully could feel the eyes on her.
This wasn't an ordinary man, she knew immediately. She wasn't afraid;
she felt more weary irritation than anything. She was a bit fed up
with mysterious strangers and their cryptic pronouncements. Ever
since she finally took the plunge, and began giving credence to ideas
that she would once have found out of the question, she had learned
that the paranormal is generally more annoying than scary.


"Okay," she said with a sigh. "Who are you and what cosmic secret do
you want to reveal to me or wipe from my mind?" She glanced at her
watch. "I really don't have all day, you know."


The man seemed momentarily taken aback. Then he smiled, just a
little. "I am ... a stranger."


"No S***." She looked him up and down. "Well, you're not the
strangest stranger I've ever seen, by a long shot. I hope you won't
be offended if I don't go all slack-jawed in your presence. I've
spent most of the past 24 hours shooting zombies in order to prevent
the Apocalypse, so you'll understand if my shock threshold is pretty
high this morning."
Now the man, if that's what he was, was definitely smiling.


"I've had many reactions from mortals through the centuries," he
remarked, "but nothing quite like this. I must admit, I find it ...
refreshing."


"I'm thrilled for you," Scully said dryly. "Now, can we please get to
the point?"


"Of course. Oh, may I say that the creatures you fought were not
proper zombies. A zombie is a creature animated by a very specific
Voodoo ritual process. What you fought would more properly be called
a ghoul, or perhaps a�"

He stopped short, having detected the look in Scully's eyes, a glare
that might very well have enough intensity behind it to kill even
him. He cleared his throat and began again.



While you and your partner made a valiant effort, I'm afraid you did
not `prevent the Apocalypse,' as you put it. Your necromancer was
nothing more than a distraction. The Millennium Group has other plans
afoot, as I think you knew in your heart they would."
Scully made a face. It was true, she hadn't been satisfied with their
latest bit of work. From what she had learned of the Millennium
Group, she found it hard to believe that the plan that she and Mulder
and Frank Black had interfered with was the only one the Group had in
place.


The Stranger's face and voice became grave. "There are awful times
ahead, Dana Scully. You will play a role in the drama that is to
unfold. You will survive, but the cost will be terrible. Not more
than you can bear, for you are strong, but terrible nonetheless."


Scully rolled her eyes. "I knew it. I knew you were gonna go cryptic
on me. I suppose you can't tell me any of the details because there
are some things that it is better for mere mortals not to know, or
something like that. Am I right?"


"Uh ... well, yes. Though I would not necessarily say `mere,'
although�"


"SO," Scully snapped, and the Stranger decided that if her eyes
didn't kill him, her tone would. "the point of this visitation would
be ...?"


The Stranger became even more solemn. "To tell you not to give up.
You will want to. A moment will come, very soon, when you will be
tempted to give in, to cease caring. You will doubt yourself and the
future. Please, Dana, do not. Much will depend upon the decision you
will make. You have great inner strength, more than you have ever
been aware of. When the time comes, use it. Look into your heart and
you will find what you need."


Scully nodded slowly. "Yes, okay. Very good. You used to work for
Hallmark, right?"

She rubbed her eyes again. "I'll tell you what I'm hoping right now,"
she said as she rubbed. "I'm really, really hoping you are an
hallucination brought on by fatigue, a bit of undigested beef
perhaps, and when I open my eyes again, you'll be gone." She stopped
rubbing but kept her eyes shut. "Okay, are you gone yet?"


"No," came the Stranger's voice.


"I didn't think so." Scully sighed and opened her eyes. Sure enough,
he was still there, very solid and real. She studied his face, tried
to get a glimpse of the eyes beneath the hat brim. "I'm not going to
ask you what you are," she said, "because I know you'll say something
weird and I'll be tempted to shoot you. If I find you have mirrors on
your shoes, I will not hesitate."


The Stranger smiled again. "It wouldn't have much of an effect, I'm
afraid."


" But it would sure make me feel a lot better."


The Stranger raised his hand in a gesture of farewell. "Remember what
I have told you, Dana Scully. Everything you will need is already
inside you. I have faith that you will make the right choices."


"Then why did you have to run me down in the ladies' room?"



"Before I answer," said the Stranger, gesturing toward the opposite
wall, "tell me why there are no urinals in this restroom."

Scully's head had turned in the direction the Stranger had indicated
and she stared blankly at the row of stalls. Her eyebrows went up.
She said, "Damn, you really ARE a Stranger." She turned back around
and started to speak. "Are you being serious�"

But the Stranger was gone. Just like that. No noise, no puff of
smoke, nothing.


Scully shook her head. She resolved that if she ever met this phantom
of the lavatory again, he would pay for his little joke. Not the
cryptic prophesy. That was par for the course. The thing about the
urinals, though, that was too much.

All that was left for her now was to shrug and sigh and jump back
into the meat grinder.


It was going to be one of THOSE days.

Hx02 "Brad & Marita Interview"
Written by: Cassie & Kristi
Air Date: November 17, 2008
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Brad and Marita are interviewed during the 2008 FRVS Hiatus.

Interview URL: http://www.foxandrat.com/HIATUS/Hx02.php

Read, comment, and then come up with your own questions to ask the
characters for a follow up interview in January. A form has been added
to the Hiatus page and at the end of each interview for your convenience.

Season 10 Premiere: February 9, 2009

Enjoy the interview!

http://www.foxandrat.com/

-Executive Producers-
Cassie & Kristi

Reimagined: IWTB
By ML

-x-

Chapter Fifteen - Don't Give Up

Scully sat in her office, head in her hands.  She'd been so certain
the day before, but today...the interview with Father Joe had been
very upsetting, not just because of the way Mulder had left, but that
the ex-priest now seemed a confirmed fraud.

If he was a fraud, what business did she have taking his words to
her as something to act upon?  And why was she letting the words he
spoke to her just now unsettle her so?

No, she told herself sternly.  You had very good reasons for making
the decision to operate.  Maybe you had a tiny doubt, but it had
nothing to do with the rightness of the decision.  You don't believe
in signs and portents.

Sighing, she gathered up the folders with all her research, stacking
them to one side so that she could transcribe her notes.  She could
have gotten her administrative assistant to do them, but she
preferred doing them herself, just as she'd done in the FBI.

Some discarded articles lay under the pile of folders.  She picked
them up, checking that there was nothing important in them before
throwing them into the recycle bin.

A word caught her eye in the first paragraph: "transplant."  Almost
in spite of herself, she skimmed the article.

She'd printed this one by accident in her haste a few days before,
discovering that it had little to do with her research.  But now, the
subject of the article held her attention for a different reason.

She vaguely remembered reading about these experiments, many years
before; had probably even seen some newsreel footage in some long-
forgotten basic biology class.

Russian scientists, doing early transplant research in the middle of
the last century, using dogs as test subjects.  She looked closely at
the picture accompanying the article.  Even in a poor-quality black
and white reproduction, it was clear, and clearly unspeakable: a
second head grafted onto a dog's body.

Dogs.  Transplants.  Acepromazine in the human limbs found...

What Scully was thinking was unspeakable.  Why?  What awful
experiments were going on, and what had she gotten Mulder into?

Without even thinking twice, she dialed his cell phone number.

"It's Fox Mulder.  I must be busy.  Leave me a message."

"Mulder, it's me," she started, almost incoherent with fear and
horror.  "You've got to call me back.  I've found something --
whoever it is, they're experimenting, with dogs and humans -- I don't
know why or where, but please call me as soon as you get this."
Just in case she had a bad connection, she went out into the hallway
outside her office, where the reception was better.  Her phone showed
a clear signal, but it didn't ring.

She couldn't wait.  What if he was already in danger?  Knowing
Mulder, he wouldn't wait for backup.  If he could even get backup...

*She* was his backup.  No one else.  There was no one else, not for
him, not for her.

Unwilling to wait a moment more, she went back to her office and
found Agent Drummy's card, dialing the number as she grabbed her coat
and purse.

"FBI, SAC Fossa," a female answered the call.

"I'm trying to reach Agent Drummy," Scully said, and waited
impatiently for him to come to the phone.

"Agent Drummy," she finally heard, after an interminable several
seconds.

"Agent Drummy, I need your help.  Mulder may be in trouble --"

"Is this Dr. Scully?" he interrupted.

"Yes, it's Dr. Scully," she said impatiently.  "Look, I don't have
time --"

"What seems to be the problem, Dr. Scully?"

"I think Mulder has found something, but he's on his own.  Do you --"

"Where is Mulder?" Agent Drummy interrupted again.

"If I knew, would I be calling you?" she asked in frustration.

"Hold on a moment," he said, and he muffled the phone.  She could
hear some exchange going on in the background but couldn't tell what
was being said.

Agent Drummy came back on the line.  "Dr. Scully, I'm going to
suggest you call the police."

"WHAT?" she yelled into the phone, startling the few people in the
corridor.

"This is not an FBI matter," Drummy said flatly.

"But he's working on your case!  You called him in!"

"It wasn't my call," Drummy said.  "That was Agent Whitney's."

"I understand that, and I know that she died chasing the suspect
that Mulder is pursuing now.  I need your help!"

There was a pause.  "I'm sorry," he said in the same flat tone.  "I
can't help you."

Unbelievable, she thought.  "Then connect me with someone in the FBI
with balls who *can*!"

Her phone went dead.  She thought her connection had degraded, but
no, it was just as good as it had been a moment before.

In the situation room at the FBI, Agent Drummy looked at SAC Fossa,
who nodded approvingly as she left the room.

Agent Mosley Drummy watched her go.  Dr. Scully was right; someone
should be out there helping Fox Mulder with whatever it was he'd
found.  Drummy didn't agree with his methods, but it didn't mean he'd
leave a man out on his own.

But it wasn't his call.  He watched SAC Fossa's retreating form,
wondering what the hell was going on.

At the hospital, Scully dialed another FBI number.  "I'd like to
speak to Assistant Director Walter Skinner, on an urgent matter."

"Who's calling for him, please?" asked the operator.

"Former Agent Dana Scully."

x-x-x

Rural Virginia

The snow that had started falling before dusk was getting heavier,
covering the tracks in the road where Mulder's car had been pushed.

Down the slope, falling snow and ice had almost covered the car
already.  But if anyone had been watching from the road above, they
would have seen some shifting of the pile forming over the passenger
side of the car.  The shifting turned into a hole, and out of it
reached a gloved hand.  The hand became two, and the hole enlarged to
reveal the dazed and bloodied head of Fox Mulder.  Little by little
he made the hole big enough so that he could pull himself out of the
car through the broken window.  He'd been cut by flying glass, and
was slightly concussed, but it was nothing he hadn't experienced
before.  He knew he had to keep moving -- not just for his own
safety, but to find Dacyshyn's latest -- and, he hoped, last --
victim.

He looked up the steep slope and looked for a place to start the
climb back up to the road.

x-x-x

Cheryl Cunningham knew that there was something afoot.  Her prison
had been moved to the edge of the lighted room, and she could see her
surroundings more clearly than before.  It didn't inspire hope or
confidence in her to see the operating room set up, and to understand
what her fate was likely to be.

The dogs set up another chorus of frenzied barking, heralding the
arrival of Mean Man.  Sure enough, he came through the far door.  He
handed a bag to Hat Man, who handed it to White Legs.

Hat Man and Grey Pants approached Cheryl's box.  She braced herself,
ready to come out fighting.  She was sure her life depended on it;
these people certainly could have no intention of letting her go,
after what she'd seen and heard.

Tense moments passed, and she heard some exchanges in whatever
foreign tongue these people used, and the clatter of metal against
metal.

She heard the hasp of the lock on her prison.  She tensed, ready to
bolt.

The door swung wide and the two men reached in for her.  She
screamed, "NO! DON'T TOUCH ME!" at the top of her lungs, and did her
best to elude their grasp.

She never had a chance.  The two men held her thrashing body as the
woman approached, pressed the pneumatic syringe against her neck and
she stopped resisting, going limp almost immediately.

Janke Dacyshyn watched from his vantage point next to Franz's
gurney, whispering into his ear.  "You don't need this body any more;
it has betrayed you.  I have a fine, strong body for you.  Soon you
will be healthy again."

Franz made no reply.  He couldn't even turn toward Janke; he
couldn't speak if he'd wanted to.  His head was held onto its body by
sutures within and without; the result of a painstaking surgery
performed a few days ago.

But despite the best efforts of the doctor and his assistants, the
body was dying.  It would soon take what was left of Franz Tomczeszyn
with it, if they didn't operate tonight.

So much had been leading up to this moment: the careful
experimentation over the years, both animal and human; the long
periods of time between attempts, so as not to draw attention.  Janke
had ranged far and wide to find compatible donors.  Even when Franz
had been in remission, the experiments had continued.  Janke had
wanted to be ready.  Franz was all he had in the world, and he owed
him everything.  This gift, the gift of a new body, was his repayment.

The doctor and his assistants lowered Cheryl's inert body into the
ice-and-water bath that would lower her temperature during the
procedure.  The nurse began to insert the needles and lines that
would connect the girl to the bypass machine for the surgery.

Approaching Franz's gurney, the doctor waved Janke away with
irritation.  He wasn't even sterile, and here he was, hanging over
the patient in his great filthy coat.

Janke retreated, thinking that this might be a good time to go make
sure that the man he'd run off the road -- for all he knew, an FBI
agent -- hadn't survived the crash.  And if he had...

x-x-x

By the time Skinner picked up Scully in Richmond, he'd already
gotten the location and description of the crashed car, called in by
a man who'd seen the accident site on his way home.  They were
approaching the site now.  Scully sat on the edge of her seat,
willing the SUV to move faster through the thickening snow.  She
could see the flashing red and blue lights of the cruiser ahead, and
the spotlight of the tow truck pointing down into a ravine, where the
Taurus was being winched up, foot by foot.

Almost before the vehicle stopped, she was opening the door, rushing
to the deputy who stood by the tow truck.

"My name's Dana Scully," she said.  "That's my car."

"Right," the deputy said.  "I have your name.  Some bigwig over to
the FBI in Washington called already."

"That would be this man," Scully said, gesturing to Walter Skinner,
who'd just walked up.  "Any sign of the driver?"

"Not a sign of him," the deputy said.  "He could have been thrown
clear; the windows were broken.  We did find this."  She held up a
zip-lock bag with a cell phone in it.

"It's got blood on it," Scully said with fear.

Skinner said, "Now, calm down and think, Scully.  He's nowhere to be
found; that says he survived the crash and walked away under his own
power.  Any sign of tracks?" he asked the deputy.

"No sir, but snow's been pretty heavy since nightfall.  We wouldn't
even have seen the place where the car went off the road if it hadn't
been for this man."  She gestured to the proprietor of the feed store
who had talked to Mulder earlier in the day.

Skinner turned back to Scully.  "He had to have climbed out.  If he
climbed out, he climbed up -- so he's probably somewhere along this
road.  You know Mulder, and you were a damned good investigator --
where do we go from here?"

Scully got a grip on herself.  Skinner was right; her worry and fear
for Mulder was drowning out that part of her that could think coolly
and logically in this kind of situation.  She took a deep breath and
looked around.

"Which way would you say he was heading?" she asked.

The feed store proprietor said, "He was at my store about an hour
before.  If he was on this road leading away, he'd be heading up that
way."  He pointed in the direction Mulder had indeed been heading, as
he followed the white truck.

Scully gave her card to the tow truck driver and got back into the
car with Skinner.  At least they had a place to start now.

x-x-x

As he left the compound, Janke lowered the plow into place.  He'd
risked driving without it on the way, but in the intervening hour or
so the snow had gotten much thicker.  It was slow going but he wasn't
going to take foolish chances now.

About half a mile from the main road, the plow mechanism made a
dreadful clanking noise and the truck stalled.  With a curse, Janke
got out of the truck and looked at the plow.

The hydraulic line was broken, and fluid was leaking out of it.
Pushing that car over the edge had probably caused the damage.  Janke
kicked at it angrily and futilely.  He slammed the driver's door and
considered his options.  Surely the cold and his injuries would
finish the man off.  And if they didn't, there was still no way he'd
find the way to the compound.  Janke headed back there himself.

x-x-x

Mulder was getting more and more tired.  He knew he was slightly
concussed, and he also knew that if he sat down to rest, he might
never get up again.  He kept on, looking for a road that might lead
off the main road, one that appeared to be recently traveled, even in
this heavy snow.

The thing is, how could he tell what was more, or less, traveled?
In the end, he picked the first road he saw, shuffling through the
snow, on the lookout for sign of civilization.  As he came around a
curve in the road, he froze in his tracks.

There was the truck, headed straight toward him.  He couldn't hear
the engine running, and the only light he saw was reflected from the
snow.  It was eerily quiet, but he approached with caution, just in
case Dacyshyn was lying in wait.

The engine was still slightly warm, and the driver's door was open.
There were no keys in it, and Mulder didn't want to take the chance
of being surprised by its owner while he fumbled with half-frozen
fingers to hot-wire the thing.

Instead, he rummaged around in the cab, looking for anything he
could use as a weapon.

-x-

Chapter Sixteen - The Surgery

Janke Dacyshyn was back in the primitive operating room, this time
keeping his distance from the activities.  He could see the new donor
body in its ice bath, and the lines of tubing circulating the life-
giving blood through the dialysis machine.  The doctor and his
assistant were working on Franz now, carefully cutting the stitches
that held him to the dying body.

It had to work this time.  He was sure that Franz could not
withstand much more of this, and neither could he.

x-x-x

It was very slow going, inching along the country roads in this
hellish weather.  Skinner had been on the phone, trying to muster
what support he could, and letting SAC Fossa know that she *would*
cooperate with this part of the investigation.  She was instructed to
send Agent Drummy to the Richmond office, and as soon as they knew
the right location, to dispatch him and his men where Skinner ordered
them to go.

Scully listened to Skinner barking orders into his phone and felt a
bittersweet longing for those days.

They'd made a good team, she and Mulder.  They'd probably still be a
good team, had things been different.  But they weren't; events had
played out in ways beyond their control, and they'd done the best
that they could in the circumstances.

Now, they'd established a different path for themselves.  They were
together in life, but separate in their life's work.  Again, it was a
choice thrust upon them, but she had made her way through it, and she
couldn't just walk away.

But would she best be able to fight the future by being a doctor?

No, she hadn't forgotten that there was a larger issue at stake; it
was always in the back of her mind.  Mulder had never stopped
thinking of the big picture either, and had been doing what he could
to find answers, even while hamstrung by his exile.  Now the
opportunity presented itself for them to once again enter the larger
stage.

But first, she had to ensure that Mulder would be there to argue
with, to make the hard decisions with her.

She would find him.  There simply was no other option.

x-x-x

The only way to go, Mulder reasoned, was in the direction the truck
had come from.  He tucked the big wrench inside his coat and jogged
down the road.  The jogging made his head hurt but it warmed him up.
He kept it up until he came to a tall cyclone fence, locked with a
serious padlock and chain array.  He could see the faint outlines of
tire tracks, partly obscured by the falling snow.  A collection of
dilapidated buildings was illuminated by floodlights, but the area
around the fence itself was in shadow.

The fence looked impossibly high, and it was topped with barbed
wire.  The wrench was not long enough to use as a lever to try and
break the chain, and frankly it looked too thick to be snapped by
anyone other than The Incredible Hulk.  He squared his shoulders and
started to climb.

He dropped awkwardly into a snowdrift on the other side, thankful it
was there to break his fall.  He crouched down low, in case there was
anyone outside to see him.

Something was outside to see him, but it wasn't human.  He heard the
growling and snapping before he saw anything and he gripped the
wrench tightly in one hand, watching.

The dog came running out of the darkness, barking and snarling.
Mulder blinked.  Was he seeing double?  Or did the dog really have
two heads?

Then he could spare no thoughts as the dog leaped for his throat.

In the operating room, Janke hovered around the edges, watching the
procedure carefully.  The doctor's assistant was swabbing Betadine
over the girl's neck, marking the path for the surgeon's cut.
Everything seemed to be going the way it should be.

Then the dogs started up.  Usually once they were in their kennels,
only a disturbance outside set them off.  They were more agitated
than usual, and Janke felt a thrill of fear.  Had someone found this
place?

The doctor paused in his delicate work and suggested rather
forcefully that he go and find out what was happening.

He shouted to the dogs to be quiet, and they began to calm.
Something still didn't feel right.  He walked past the circle of
light near the buildings and cautiously approached the fence.

There he found it: evidence that an intruder had somehow breached
their security.  The dog the doctor called Cerberus lay dying -- at
least part of him was, one head quiet in the snow while the other
panted, tongue lolling.  There was fresh blood nearby, and not all of
it was the dog's.  He could see a few spots of it leading away,
toward the light.

Mulder burst into the operating room, brandishing his wrench.  The
warmth of the room after being cold for so long made him almost dizzy.

"Stop what you're doing!" he yelled as forcefully as he could,
though his voice sounded unbelievably weak in his ears.  He held the
wrench high.

A tall, gaunt looking man turned to look at him, some kind of
surgical instrument in his hand.  He spoke what Mulder recognized as
Russian, though he didn't understand the words.

He looked around the room, holding his weapon at the ready.  He saw
a female body in a tank of what looked like yellow slush, tubes of
red attached to her.

"I want her out of there," he said as forcefully as he could.  "Take
those tubes out and sew up her neck.  *Now*!"

The table where the surgeon had been standing held a body covered by
a sheet, and something else nearby, also covered.  Mulder approached
it cautiously, removing the cloth from the smaller object.

A man's severed head stared up at him.  As Mulder looked on in
shock, it blinked.

The doctor, or someone, was still speaking to him, approaching him
slowly.

"Back off!" Mulder said.  "And *shut up*! Do any of you speak
English?"

No one answered, at least not in English.

The doctor put his now empty hands out, in an apparently
conciliatory gesture.  He spoke calmly.

"I don't understand you!"  Mulder shouted.

And then he was grabbed from behind.  He managed to wrest himself
from the grip of Janke Dacyshyn, who then threw a roundhouse punch
that made him reel.  Before he could recover, the doctor had gotten a
hypodermic in hand, and had administered the drug.

Mulder didn't need to speak Russian to know what it was.  And after
a moment, he knew nothing at all.

x-x-x

Scully could feel hope draining away with every moment that passed.
Skinner drove slowly out of necessity both due to the weather and so
that they wouldn't miss anything, but she was so afraid that they
wouldn't get there, wherever 'there' was, in time...

"Don't worry, we'll find him," Skinner said from the driver's seat,
sensing her worry.  "I know Mulder, he won't do anything crazy."

Scully didn't answer; she just looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"Well, not overly crazy," Skinner amended.

She turned her attention back to her side of the road.  They were
passing a row of mailboxes, battered by years of weather and probably
the random baseball bat.  She didn't look at them closely, her
attention more focused on the road ahead.

And then, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

"Stop," she said.  "Back up."

Mystified, Skinner did as she requested.  The SUV's headlights
illuminated the mailboxes, and Scully saw it:  one mailbox, evidently
missing a digit so that it read "25 2."

"I don't believe it," she breathed.

"What?"  Skinner asked.

"Proverbs 25-2," she said.

"What?" Skinner asked again.

"'God's glory to conceal a thing...'" Scully quoted softly.  Without
hesitation she opened the mailbox and reached inside.

x-x-x

Mulder had regained a hazy consciousness, but he couldn't move.  He
was aware that there was some activity around him; now he was on the
move, being dragged across the floor, over the threshold, and down
the steps.  He couldn't raise his head, so it bumped against the
steps as Dacyshyn dragged him outside.

He ended up next to a woodpile, in full view of a stump with an axe
stuck in it.

Now I know what the Thanksgiving turkey feels like, he thought.  Try
as he might, he could not make himself move.

As he watched, the axe was yanked out of the stump.  He heard a
scraping of metal on metal, the sound of an axe being sharpened.

x-x-x

Scully shuffled through the mail, looking for any recognizable name.
Most were addressed to "occupant", but finally she found a bill --
and from a medical supply company.  The spark of hope inside her
grew, just a little.

"Dr. Uroff-Koltoff," she said.  "I think this must be the place.
It's an address on Bellflower Road."

"I'll check the GPS," Skinner said.

"Wait," Scully said, listening.  Somewhere in the distance, she
could hear dogs barking.  Not one dog, but a chorus of them.

It was more than a spark of hope now.

Hang on, Mulder, she thought, climbing back into the SUV as Skinner
gunned the engine.

x-x-x

Mulder found that by concentrating very, very hard, he could move
his head slightly.  He turned away from the stump to see what else he
could see.

To his left, there was a very pale, naked body.  Headless.

Even without a head, he was pretty sure that he'd just found Monica
Bannan.  Then Janke pulled the body away, out of his line of vision,
and he heard the sickening sound of the axe biting into flesh and
bone.

Numbly, he waited his turn.  A long, dreadful interval later, the
axe was returned to its stump.

There were more dragging sounds and a rustling of plastic.  Mulder
didn't need to see; his mind supplied the details of Dacyshyn
wrapping body parts in plastic, prior to disposal.

Mulder strained to move his arm.  He was just about in reach of the
axe, if he could just make his arm move...and it did, excruciatingly
slowly, his hand and fingers still limp.  He dragged his arm toward
the stump, willing his fingers to regain their strength so he could
try to grab the axe.

Dacyshyn's hand reached down and pushed Mulder's arm off the stump
as if it belonged to a rag doll.  He pulled the axe from the stump
and dragged Mulder so that his head and shoulders were now resting on
it, face up.

He heard sharpening sounds again.  He wondered if it was harder to
chop up a living body than a dead one, and whether or not he stood a
chance of rolling out of range at the last minute -- and how long
he'd be able to fight back in his weakened state.

I can't believe it's gonna end like this, he thought disgustedly.
After all we've been through, it's not just pathetic, it's ludicrous.

He raised his eyes to Dacyshyn, who now towered over him, axe raised
above his head.

"HEY!" A familiar, much-loved voice distracted Dacyshyn and he turned.

Mulder heard a loud THWACK that sounded for all the world like a
baseball bat hitting a good, hard, fastball.

The next sound was of a body falling behind him.

His next sight was of Scully.  She pulled him off the stump and ran
her hands gently through his hair, lightly touching the cut on his
forehead.  "Mulder, are you okay?" she asked anxiously.

He smiled up at her.  "Sorry about your car," he rasped.

"Oh, Mulder," she said through her tears.

"Cheryl Cunningham...she's still alive," he said.

"I'll be right back, I promise," she said.  "Don't move."

If he could have laughed, he would have.

Inside the building, Skinner leveled his gun at the group around
Cheryl Cunningham and yelled, "Hands where I can see them!  Now!"

They might not have understood the words, but they did understand
the intention.  Somehow a tall man leveling a gun at them commanded
more respect than a disheveled, bloody man holding a wrench.  They
huddled together, watching Skinner warily.

Skinner approached cautiously, checking for any other entrances or
other persons who might be lying in wait.  He gestured for the doctor
and his helpers to step away from their victim.

He noted a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see,
to his horror, a severed head, seemingly connected to the woman's
body by various tubes.  As he watched, the eyes blinked slowly.

"My God," Skinner breathed.  "What have you done?"

He motioned them to move further away from the operating theatre,
and spied a large plywood box behind them, its door open, obviously
some kind of holding pen or cage.

"Get in!" he shouted, gesturing with his gun, and the three did as
they were bid.  Skinner locked the door behind them and turned to see
Scully entering the room.

He marveled at how calmly she took everything in at a glance, taking
her coat off and rolling up her sleeves.

"Mulder's outside," she said.  "He's alive, but he needs fluids and
warm clothes.  Please, can you help him?  I've got work to do here."

"What about Dacyshyn?" Skinner asked.

"He's out there too," Scully said.  "I don't know if he's alive or
not."

Skinner left her to her task.  He'd already called Richmond and
reinforcements were on the way, but it appeared to him that Scully
could handle it all, without anyone's help.  Including his.

He found Mulder lying huddled next to a stump by the woodpile.
Dacyshyn didn't look good, but he cuffed him and kicked the axe away,
just in case, and then turned to Mulder.

Mulder opened his eyes as Skinner knelt next to him.  He smiled a
broad, disbelieving smile.  "Skinner?" he asked incredulously.
"Girl...inside...still alive..."

"Scully's got her," Skinner said, taking off his overcoat.  "How're
you doing?"

"C-cold," Mulder said, and he soon found himself wrapped in the coat
and the arms of his former boss.

-x-

Chapter Seventeen - Home Again

Here he was, right back where he started from.  Mulder sat at the
desk in his study, trying not to pick at the stitches on his
forehead, already itching.

He'd have stayed at the hospital, but Skinner insisted that Scully
wanted him to go home while she made sure that Cheryl Cunningham was
stabilized.

He'd been questioned while they patched him up, and according to
Skinner, Scully had been questioned, too.  He'd been treated as more
or less a victim, but they'd had a couple more questions for Scully,
such as, what did she know about the big dent in Janke Dacyshyn's
head?

When you were an FBI agent and you shot or injured someone in the
pursuit of a crime, you surrendered your gun, you went before a
review board, and maybe had to go in for some counseling.  It
appeared that when you were merely a civilian, there was quite a bit
more paperwork involved.  Fortunately, Skinner insisted that it was
self-defense -- that Dacyshyn had threatened her with an axe.

It was true enough to pass.  No doubt Scully would have been next,
if she'd arrived just five minutes later.  Those who didn't know
Scully might not believe that she could get the better of an axe-
wielding madman, but that was their problem.

There was also the mitigating circumstance that she'd saved the life
of Cheryl Cunningham.

Of course, that's not how the paper told it.  Agent Drummy and his
team had arrived on the scene at the same time as the ambulances and
made the arrests, and it was Drummy on the front page of the morning
paper.

Not that Mulder wanted any credit or the publicity.  He was
perfectly happy to let someone else take the credit; he just didn't
think it should be Agent Drummy.

That wasn't the main thing that concerned him, though.  What
concerned him more was where he stood with Scully.  They hadn't
really spoken since that last exchange in the hospital the day
before, and he wished he could take those bitter words back.

He wasn't even sure if Scully was coming home, or if she just wanted
him out of her hair.

The sound of a car pulling up outside ended his self-recrimination.
He sat still, listening.

A key turned in the front door, and light footsteps approached his
inner sanctum.  He didn't turn as the door opened, giving instead his
traditional greeting:

"What's up, Doc?"

There was silence for so long that he was forced to turn around.

It was indeed Scully, looking mournful.  He should have known that
the reason she drove all the way out her was to deliver bad news in
person.  They had a history of this.

"Mulder," she said gently, "Father Joe died early this morning."

Mulder nodded, saying nothing, his face betraying nothing.

"He was obviously a very sick man," she continued.

Mulder picked up the paper he'd been reading, with news of the
grisly crime splashed across its front page.  "Did you see this?" he
asked her.  "'FBI Arrest of Modern-Day Frankenstein'," he read the
headline.  "No mention of all about Father Joe, except as a possible
accomplice."

"Well, we'll never know the truth now," Scully replied.

"*I* know," Mulder insisted.  "And so do you."

"But I don't."

"Well, I can prove it," Mulder said.  "Father Joe died of lung
cancer, right?  Same as Franz Tomczeszyn had.  What time did you pull
the tubes from Cheryl Cunningham's neck and cut off the blood supply
to his head?"

Scully shook her head, but there was no stopping him.

"That's the exact moment Father Joe died, Scully.  Get me the death
certificate and I'll prove it.  And then I'll take it to the FBI and-"

"Do you really think after all that's happened they'll take your
call?"

"Skinner would," he said stubbornly.

"And then what?"

"It's an injustice to the man's name.  Father Joe saved that woman.
We both know it."

"After what he did to those young boys, who's really going to care?
He doesn't have a reputation to save."

"I care," Mulder said.  "And I think you do, too."

Scully said nothing.  He was beginning to tread on dangerous ground.

"What makes you think that?" she asked.

"I think you believed him, same as I did, Scully," he said quietly.

"I *wanted* to believe," she said, "and I acted on that belief."

"Why don't you just tell me what he said to you?" he asked.

Scully turned away.

For a long, agonizing minute, it didn't look like she was going to.

He waited her out as patiently as he could, knowing that everything
was riding on whether or not she replied.  He bowed his head.  If she
still couldn't talk to him about it, maybe there was nothing more to
be said at all.  He rubbed his eyes.

"He said, don't give up," Scully said quietly.

Without being told anything more, Mulder thought he understood.
Still, he let Scully continue, and continue she did, her words
spilling out like water over a dam.

"And I didn't give up, Mulder, and it saved your life."  She
swallowed, near tears.  "But I put that young boy through hell, and
I've got another surgery scheduled later this morning.  All because I
believed that God was talking to me -- through a pedophile priest, no
less."  She rolled her eyes at her credulity, and gave him a watery
half-smile.

On surer ground now, Mulder could argue the case in terms that she
could accept.  "Doesn't it make sense, Scully?  If Father Joe was
seeking redemption, what better way?  What if Father Joe *was*
forgiven?  What if his prayers were answered?"

"Why him, though?" she asked.  "Why would God choose to answer the
prayers of a sinner like Father Joe?"

"Maybe...maybe because he didn't give up," Mulder offered.

Scully smiled sadly.  "Try proving *that* one, Mulder."

He smiled sadly back, knowing as well as she did that belief and
proof seldom went hand in hand.

"Why is this still so hard for you?" he asked gently.  "After all
we've been through together, why are you still so afraid to believe?"

"I'm afraid," she whispered, tears starting down her cheeks,
"because I don't want to lose myself in the darkness.  Or lose you."

"I can't get lost if you're with me," he said, "and neither can you.
Not as long as we're together."

"I want to believe that," she said through her tears, "but it's just
so hard.  I believe you, Mulder.  But I doubt myself.  I don't know
what to believe, how to tell what to believe in."

"I have enough belief for both of us," he said.  "I couldn't ask you
to stop questioning any more than I'd want you to stop breathing.
It's your questioning that's saved me, more times than I can count.
It's one of the many reasons I fell in love with you."

He watched as she registered his words, waiting for her response.

"I'm due at the hospital," she said, and turned to go.

Maybe it was too little, too late.  Sure, he'd gotten her to confess
her doubts and fears, but had it done either of them any good?  He
couldn't just let her walk away now.

He went after her.  "Scully," he called from the front porch.

She turned from unlocking the car door.

"Why did he say it?"  Mulder asked her, walking down from the porch.
"Don't give up.  Why to you, of all people?"

"Clearly, he meant it for you, not me, Mulder," Scully answered.

"But he didn't say it to me, he said it to you.  Why?"

Scully shrugged.  "I couldn't begin to tell you."

"If Father Joe was the Devil, why would he say the opposite of what
the Devil might say?"

Scully shook her head, but he had her attention.

"Maybe it's the larger answer, Scully.  Not about you, or me, or
even the boy, but all of us."

"What do you mean, Mulder?"

He got as close to her as he could, just as he had in the old days
when he wanted to talk to her, to tell her something that he wanted
only her to hear.  "Don't.  Give.  Up," he said simply.

She closed her eyes briefly, divining the larger question he was
asking in those three small words.  "Please don't make this any
harder than it already is," she pleaded.

Mulder put his arms around her, and she leaned into him.  He held
her close, twining one arm around her waist and the other in her
hair.  He whispered, "If you have any doubts, Scully, any at all,
call off the surgery this morning."

Scully looked up at him.  He wasn't trying to persuade her to give
up; he was telling her as he had at least once before, that it was
okay to be afraid.  To have doubts.  And that no matter what, he
would be there for her.

"And then we'll get out of here," he said.  "Just you and me."

She smiled tremulously.  "As far away from the darkness as we can
get?"

"I don't think it works that way," he said, answering her smile.  "I
think the darkness finds you.  And me."

She nodded solemnly at his words, looking up at him with such love
and trust that it took his breath away.  He smiled into her eyes, and
continued, "but let it try."

He held her face in his hands and kissed her, investing it with all
the love and hope and promise he could.  They held each other close
for long moments, Scully finally pulling away reluctantly.

"I'll be here when you get back," he said.  "Whatever you decide."

She touched his hand one more time, for luck, and got into the car.

He watched her go, silently willing her to believe.

x-x-x

Scully felt that all eyes were upon her as she walked down the
corridors of the hospital.  Father Ybarra stood with the Fearons, and
she had no doubt that he was trying again to talk them out of the
treatment.  The board, almost miraculously, had decided in her favor
after a late meeting the night before, but she knew that there was
still a long, hard road ahead.

If in fact, she was still going to take the journey.  She headed for
the operating room, where Christian and the staff already awaited.

Christian was already prepped, lying so small and vulnerable looking
on the table.  She smiled at him, and he gave her a very small smile
back.

*What if I'm wrong?* the thought came unbidden.  She looked around
the busy OR.  It seemed to her that no one here would look her in the
eye.  Even Michael was subdued this morning.

She scrubbed in and returned to the OR.  Everyone waited for the
word from her.

Will I know when to say, "Enough is enough," or will I insist on
continuing despite all evidence to the contrary?  Will I listen to
what others are telling me, or will I listen to my heart?

Like Mulder.  So often they appeared at odds when really they were
so much alike.  Neither of them wanted to give up, despite the odds,
despite what seemed like the rational course.

"It's why I fell in love with you," she'd told him.

*Don't give up* she heard, this time in Mulder's voice.  She looked
to the door of the operating room and saw three nuns standing there,
watching, waiting.

*Don't give up.* Don't give up on what you believe in.  Don't give
up on me.  Don't give up on us.

"Are you ready to begin, Dr. Scully?" the assisting surgeon asked.

"Yes," Scully said decisively.  And I'm ready to go on, she thought,
turning to the operating table.

x-x-x

Epilogue

The sun went down early in the tropics, but here the darkness held
no fears for them.

By day they explored their domain, reveling in the freedom such
privacy afforded them, to laugh and enjoy their surroundings and each
other.

By night they were free to explore more intimate territory, without
the fear that any prying eyes could see them.

When their time out of time ended, they returned to their new
reality, their bond strengthened and their faith restored, united in
purpose, and ready to face whatever was to come.

And what was to come?

That's another story...

-x- end -x-


Author's notes:

I loved IWTB the movie.  The novelization, not so much.  I bought it
after seeing the movie a time or two.  After reading it, I shared my
opinion with a couple of friends, and told them I thought any one of
us could have done a better job.

"Why don't you do it?" someone asked.

Why not, indeed?

So what you will find here is a fanfic treatment of the movie, more
or less, with a few added scenes, some different explanations for
things, maybe even a couple of guest appearances.  I tried not to use
the novel at all, though I did use it to check on the order of a
couple of scenes or a setting or two.  Still, overall, I took my
inspiration from the movie.

Special thanks go to Carol, who was always urging me to get back in
that chair and write; Tess and Donna, who dared (or maybe guilted )
me into writing it; and Char, who gave me that final push that made
me buckle down and finish it, already!

All the ladies helped with beta duties.  I owe a debt of gratitude
to them all for some great suggestions and tweaks.  They are better
than any Spell Check or Grammar Check.  I don't think Microsoft
offers Reality Check, but even if it did, I'd still go with these
ladies.  So, HKs all around!

And now, I can go read some of the post-IWTB fanfic that I've denied
myself lo these many months...

Thanks so much for reading!

ML - msnsc21@...

Circe Invidiosa has made a lovely home for my stories here:

http://ml.invidiosa.com/index.html

Reimagined: IWTB
by ML

-x-

Chapter Six: Field Trip

A sharp jolt awakened Mulder from his uneasy sleep.  They were still
driving, must have been for some hours now.  His watch indicated it
was not long until sunrise, and he wondered where they were.

The excitement he'd felt at being involved in a case again had
dissipated somewhat with Scully's refusal to go along for the ride.
It was strange, being in the back seat of a car with a bunch of
strangers.  He was still a little unsure about the whole enterprise.
If the two agents in the front, and the ones following in the second
SUV, decided he was no longer necessary, they could just drop him out
of the car anywhere.  If this whole thing truly was nothing more than
a way to smoke him out, then he was more vulnerable now than he'd
ever been.  No gun, no cell phone, nothing but the coat on his back
and a wallet that probably still had his latest fake ID in it.  Worst
of all, no Scully to back him up.

Scully wouldn't have let him go if she'd felt there was any danger,
of that he was certain.  Still, he missed her.  Being on a case
without her just wasn't the same.

"Where are we?"  He heard the raspy voice of Father Joe ask from the
seat next to him.

Agent Whitney spoke.  "That's for you to tell us," she reminded him.

"I haven't a clue where we are," Father Joe admitted.

"That's okay," Mulder assured him.  "Everyone works differently.
Just take your time."

Father Joe gave him a sideways look.  "So what are you, the good cop?"

"I'm a non-cop, actually," Mulder said with a small smile.  He took
Monica Bannan's official FBI photo out of the folder and handed it to
him.

Father Joe studied it for a few moments, and handed it back.  "I
haven't the faintest idea who this girl is," he said.  "I don't know
what the connection is, I'm sorry."

"There's always something," Mulder said, "a connection of some kind,
however small."

"So you believe in this sort of thing?"  Father Joe asked, rather as
if he didn't believe himself.

"Let's just say, I want to believe," Mulder replied.  "I used to
investigate paranormal cases for the FBI.  It was a long time ago."
He turned to look out his window at the dim landscape.

"And his sister was abducted by E.T." Agent Drummy's sarcastic voice
broke through his reverie.

"Is that true?" asked Father Joe.

"It was a long time ago," Mulder repeated.

"Something you don't care to discuss?" the priest asked.

Mulder said nothing.

"She's dead, isn't she?"  Father Joe persisted.  "Your sister?"

Mulder turned and saw the compassion in Father Joe's eyes.  This was
no psychic intuition; Mulder knew he wore his heart on his sleeve.

He caught Agent Whitney's look in the rear view mirror.  He shook
his head very slightly, willing her not to say anything.  He could
see she was familiar with at least one version of the story, and
wondered which one it was.

Suddenly Father Joe's voice changed.  "We're here!"  He exclaimed.
"This is where she was taken!"

Mulder leaned between the seats and said, "I want him to see the
crime scene."  He caught a look between Agents Whitney and Drummy, as
Agent Drummy brought the car to a stop near a rustic house.

The house was one of half a dozen in a small enclave; far enough
apart to offer privacy but close enough for neighbors to feel
neighborly, if they were so inclined.  The sun was all the way up
now, but it had snowed in the night and all was fresh and pristine
around them.  No footsteps or tire tracks marred the snow, sparkling
in the sun.

Father Joe walked forward to the driveway of the house they'd
stopped near.  He looked around, puzzled.  "This isn't right," he
muttered to himself, and took another step or two forward.  Finally
he turned and said accusingly, "You brought me to the wrong house."

Mulder grinned at the disconcerted Agent Drummy and murmured,
"Pulled that one right out of his ass, didn't he?"

Father Joe was already on the move, and the others followed him,
though not too closely.  He walked without hesitating past another
house and headed for one not visible from the road, where the carport
was crisscrossed with crime scene tape.

Father Joe was already inside the carport by the time the others had
caught up to him.  With a nod, Dakota Whitney sent her partner after
him, while she stood outside with Mulder.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

Dakota shrugged.  "There were news crews out here, covering the
scene, pictures of the neighborhood -- he could've seen it on TV."

"Sure," Mulder agreed, "but why?  Why fabricate such an elaborate
story?"

"Expiation," she said.  "Forgiveness of his sins."

"Father Joe thinks he can fool God?"

"Not God.  He's written dozens of letters to the Vatican, pleading
reengagement with the church."

"Seems like a pretty far-fetched way to impress the Holy See."

"God's voice talking through a man?  That's been a winner a few
times," Dakota said as they followed the priest and Agent Drummy
through the carport and to the back of the house.

Mulder stopped.  "You still think he's involved somehow, don't you?'

"We do have to consider him a suspect, yes."

"Even though you've found nothing, no connection."

Maybe another agent would have bridled at this, considered it a
criticism, but Dakota Whitney smiled.  "My guys are still looking,
believe me.  And they think they'll find something."

"But you're not so sure," Mulder persisted.  "Otherwise, why am I
here?"

She turned her wide blue eyes on him, and admitted, "Let's just say
I'm not the most popular girl at the FBI right now for calling you
in."

"Well, I wasn't exactly 'Miss Popularity' at the Bureau either.
Really, what do you think you can gain by calling me in?"

She said earnestly, "You've dealt with psychics before: Luther Lee
Boggs, Clyde Bruckman, Gerald Schnauz...I've read those cases.  The
work done there was extremely impressive."

"Thanks, but," he said, "I'm only half of the team."

"But it's your expertise I need," she insisted, giving him that look
again.

Flattery will get you nowhere, he thought.  I've been down that road
before.  He turned toward the field beyond the house, where Mosley
Drummy was watching Father Joe wander about.

Drummy said nothing, but Mulder could feel the disapproval coming
off him in waves.  It didn't take a psychic to know how he felt.

"This is a waste of time," he said to Dakota, ignoring Mulder
completely.

Mulder was about to argue his point again, when Father Joe stopped
in his tracks and fell to his knees.  Mulder ran toward him.  "Father
Joe?"

"It was here!"  Father Joe shouted hoarsely.  "Right here!"

The others moved to his side as quickly as the soft snow allowed them.

"She ran," Father Joe said in a pained voice, "but she couldn't get
away.  There were two men...he pushed her down...it happened right
here...they put her...they put her..."

"Put her in *what*?" Agent Whitney interrupted.  "What did they do
to her?"

"They put her in a car...no, a truck, a truck with
something...something on it..."

"*Where* did they take her?  Who are they?"  The agent continued to
question Father Joe, and would have shaken his shoulder but for
Mulder putting his arm out to hold her back.

"I don't know...I hear dogs..."

"What can you see?  Can you tell where she is?"

"She's in pain, very great pain..."

"We need to find her!" she shouted at him.  "Where is she?"

Father Joe bowed his head again.  "I don't know.  I can't see!  I
CAN'T SEE!"  His shoulders shook as if with weeping.  Sobs escaped
him, an agonized sound.

Impassive as always, Agent Drummy said, "He's pulling it out of his
ass, just like you said."

Head bowed, supported by his hands, Father Joe continued to weep.
It could be an act, but Mulder wasn't so sure.  Then he noticed the
drops of blood in the snow.

"Father Joe?"  He put a hand on the priest's shoulder.

Father Joe raised his head, and Mulder could see genuine tears,
mixed with genuine blood, coursing down his face.

x-x-x

The sun streamed brightly through the windows of the pediatric ward
as Scully approached Christian Fearon's room.  She'd had a restless
night, what had been left of it when she got home, missing Mulder's
presence in their little house.  But now she put on what she hoped
was a cheerful face to greet her small patient.

"Hi Christian," she said.  "You're looking very chipper this
morning. What's up?"

"Hello, Dr. Scully," Christian replied.  "I was thinking."  He
pleated the edge of his blanket with his fingers as he looked at her,
bright eyes framed by impossibly curly lashes.

"What were you thinking about?"  As always, his trusting little face
squeezed her heart.  She ducked her head, noting that his chart was
missing from its place at the foot of the bed.

"About how I could get out of here," he admitted.  "Dr. Scully, can
I get out of here *soon*?"

Scully looked up at that.  "Why, Christian?  Has something
frightened you?"  She looked around the room, but there was nothing
and no one to be seen.

"The way that man is looking at me," Christian said, and pointed at
the open door of the ward.

Scully turned and saw Father Ybarra standing down the hall, studying
someone's charts.  She had a good idea whose they were.  "Don't you
worry, Christian," she said.  "There's nothing to be afraid of, from
him, or from anyone."

She strode quickly down the hall to Father Ybarra.

"Doctor Scully," he greeted her.  "I've been looking for you.  You
haven't been avoiding me, have you?"

"Of course not," she said, "but I have been looking for Christian's
charts."

"I have them right here.  I was looking at the results of the latest
round of tests you ordered."

"That's not really your purview, is it Father?  It's his primary
physician's, which is me."  She held out her hand for the charts.

"What is in my purview, Doctor Scully, is to ensure that my
physicians are making the best choices -- both for their patients,
and for the hospital."

She was in no mood to argue with Father Ybarra.  Not until she had a
chance to review the results herself, to think about what could be
done.  "The charts, please?"

Father Ybarra handed them over with the sigh of a man who'd been
more than reasonable, and was giving in against his better judgment.
"We're here to heal the sick, Doctor Scully, not to prolong the
ordeal of the dying.  At this point there are other facilities better
able to handle the care of this child."

Fortunately at that moment a crash coming from the end of the
hallway startled them both and Scully retreated to her office to
review the charts, and to think.

x-x-x

The atmosphere in the SUV was thick with unasked and unanswered
questions on the way back from Agent Bannan's house.  Mulder could
tell that there was going to be quite a discussion between Agents
Whitney and Drummy, out of earshot of the civilians.

"Where can we drop you?"  Dakota asked him brightly.

"Richmond is fine," Mulder said.  "I have some business to take care
of."

He'd suggested that Father Joe be taken to the hospital to be
checked out, but Father Joe protested.  He just wanted to go home, he
said.  He'd spent most of the trip back slumped against the window,
snoring softly.

There was no mention of Mulder's further involvement with the case.
Agent Whitney thanked him, and said she'd "be in touch."

It was already afternoon; if he played his cards right, he could
catch a ride home with Scully later.  In the meantime, he went about
getting his life back.

x-x-x

Scully rubbed her tired eyes.  Any time she'd had between patients
over the past few weeks, she'd spent researching alternative
treatments for Christian Fearon.  She'd reviewed every professional
medical database she had access to, and any other source she could
think of.  As the consultant suggested, there were no proven
treatments for Sandhoff disease.  Scully had already read of at least
one experimental procedure, though the highly-paid consultant had not
seen fit to mention it.  She understood why, at least intellectually.
After all, what were the chances of being able to perform such a
procedure?  And would she just be putting Christian through too much
misery for an uncertain outcome?

Her cell phone rang.  It was an unfamiliar number so she answered it
with some puzzlement.  "Scully," she said.

"Hey Scully, it's me," came a familiar voice.

Hearing Mulder's voice on her cell phone filled her with unexpected
joy.  "Mulder, where are you?"

"I'm not far from the hospital.  Can I get a ride home with you?"

"Okay.  You want me to come pick you up?"

"No, I'll come there, if that's okay.  See you in about an hour?"

"I'll meet you in front."

In her concern over Christian, she'd forgotten about her promise to
review the file on the severed arm.  She opened the file.  If she
couldn't do anything for Christian, at least she might be able to
help Mulder a little bit with his case.

She knew, however, that there was no "little bit" with Mulder.  He'd
jumped back into the fray, and it was obvious that his expectation
was that she would be right beside him.  But how could she do both?
She was happy that Mulder was now free to do whatever he wanted, and
she didn't regret urging him to take this case on, as a way to help
him get his life back.

But was it the life she wanted too?  She was beginning to see how
easy it would be to be pulled back into that world.  And if she went,
what would happen to this one?

x-x-x

The sight of Dr. Scully talking to a mysterious bearded man outside
of Our Lady of Sorrows that evening was a source of curiosity to
those who thought they knew her.  Even more interesting was the fact
that she seemed to know him pretty well, and in fact drove away with
him in her car.

"I think you just put me on the top of today's gossip news," Scully
observed as they drove home.

"Glad to know I'm good for something," he said, only half-kidding.

-x-

Chapter Seven: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Somerset Natatorium
Somerset, Virginia

Cheryl Cunningham plunged into the pool, enjoying the feel of the
silken water against her skin.  This was her favorite time to come
swimming, late in the afternoon before the commute crowds came in,
and after the morning fitness classes.  She especially liked it this
time of year, when regular attendance dropped off significantly.  She
liked the idea of swimming when it was snowing outside.  The pool
felt cozy and safe, protected from the weather.  Swimming in winter
was so different than swimming in summer, and she liked different.

She picked up a kickboard to do her laps.  She noted that there were
a few other people in the pool, but both seemed done with their swims
and were just cooling down, treading water or floating for a few
minutes before getting out.

The man in the lane next to hers was watching her intently, though.
He'd been there before, made note of this particular swimmer, as he
had one or two others in the past.

It was a risk, coming back here again so soon, but a risk he had to
take.  Time and options were running out.  He watched her for a few
minutes, then left the pool and went to the men's locker room to
change.

Forty-five minutes later, Cheryl was dressed and ready to go.  Her
hair was still wet, but she was running late and the snow seemed to
be getting worse.  She had promised to be back online for work by six
p.m. and would now be lucky to get home in time to boot up.

A rattletrap truck next to her in the parking lot started up and
backed out noisily, lurching out of the parking lot as a couple of
dogs who had been sniffing around it ran after it, barking.  What a
jerk.  She shrugged and backed out a little more carefully than he
had, hoping that the road wasn't too bad on the way home.

Fortunately the snow hadn't yet made the road impassable, and her
tires were good.  Just ahead of her, she saw the same truck from the
parking lot.  She caught up with it easily.  Should she pass it?  She
could certainly try.  She needed to get home.

But as she tried to pass, the truck nearly lurched into her.  She
laid her hand on the horn, shouting, "Hey!  Hey!" as if he could hear
her.  Maybe he did, because he swerved back over.  She pressed her
foot down on the accelerator, only to have the truck swerve back and
this time, actually hit her, causing her to lose control and sail off
the road, finally coming to an abrupt stop against a hay bale.

The airbag had deployed, and though she was shaken up, Cheryl felt
okay, if a little hazy.  She sat still for a moment, noting that the
driver of the truck was approaching, carrying something.

He walked over the hood of her car, boots making dents.  Not that it
mattered, she thought crazily.  What's another dent or two?

She smiled at him as he came up to her window.  "I'm okay," she
called through the window, leaning down to unfasten her seat belt.

With a crash of glass, the man's fist came through the window of her
car and gripped her shoulder.  His other hand pressed something
against her neck, and Cheryl slipped into blackness.

There was no one else around to see the man open the car door and
carefully lay the unconscious young woman in a body bag, dragging it
with him to the truck idling by the side of the road.  There was
nothing but the falling snow, and the howling of dogs in the distance.

x-x-x

Over dinner at home, Mulder told Scully a little bit about the
morning's activities.  Scully seemed preoccupied.  She did ask some
questions, but her mind was obviously elsewhere.  He knew the signs;
she was puzzling something out, and she would talk to him about it
when she was ready.  He'd learned not to push her too hard when she
was like this.

The sudden change in their lives was also a topic that begged for
discussion, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what Scully was
worrying over.

They followed their usual evening routine, finishing up the kitchen
chores together.  Mulder did his nightly check of doors and windows
and by the time he came into the bedroom, Scully was already in bed,
burrowed under the comforter, apparently asleep.  He got ready for
bed himself and crawled in next to her.  He lay still for a while,
listening to Scully's even breathing.

Finally unable to stand it any longer, he said, "I can feel you
thinking."

He heard her sigh.  "I'm sorry," she said softly.  "I can't sleep."

He rolled over to spoon up behind her, hand on her hip.  "I may have
a little something for that."

She turned her head to look him in the eye.  "Only a 'little'
something?"

He grinned.  "Thank you."  He kissed her cheek.  "But really, what's
the problem?"

She sighed.  "I have a patient, a young boy, with a brain disease.
He's very ill."

Aha, Mulder thought.  "You've been carrying this around for a while,
haven't you?  Why haven't you said anything before?"

"I thought there was something I could do."

"And there isn't?"

"Well, there's some radical treatments, but no one wants to talk
about them.  Even the experts say that there's nothing to be done."

"Nothing?"  Mulder echoed.  He put his arm around her, holding her
close.

"Nothing, but...let him die.  That just isn't acceptable."

Mulder murmured his assent.

"So, I've been lying here cursing God for all his cruelty."

"And do you think God is losing any sleep over this?"

She turned toward him.  "Why bring a kid into this world just to
make him suffer?  I don't know, Mulder, I just feel such a connection
to this boy."

"How old is he?"  Mulder asked.

Scully didn't say anything for a few moments.  "You think it's
because of William, don't you?"

Now it was Mulder's turn to be thoughtful.  "I think...losing our
son left us with an emptiness that can't be filled."

They were both silent for a while, considering the past.  He knew
Scully still blamed herself, just as he blamed himself, despite the
reassurances they gave each other.

"Tell you what," he said at length.  "You go to sleep, and let me
take over.  I'll curse God for a while."

She smiled sadly.  "Thank you."

He leaned in to kiss her, landing a peck at the side of her mouth.
She turned toward him so she could kiss him back, full on the lips.
She giggled a little.  "Scratchy beard..."

He'd have to do something about that one of these days.  It wouldn't
do for Dr. Scully to show up with beard burn.  But for the moment he
rubbed his whiskered cheek along the back of her neck, making her
giggle again, then giving her one last long kiss before he turned
back to contemplate the ceiling.

His promise must have done the trick because Scully settled, and
this time it did appear that she was falling asleep.

He was glad to have helped her, but a little disappointed that she
didn't take up his offer for that "little something".  Oh well, she
needed to talk and he needed to listen to her, more than she needed a
physical demonstration of how much he cared for her, he guessed.

What an evolved man he was.  He smirked to himself in the darkness.

"Oh," Scully said suddenly.

Ever hopeful, Mulder was instantly fully awake, though all he did
was say "Hm?" to acknowledge he'd heard her.

"I looked at the file again, the one for the severed arm.  There was
something weird in the toxicology report."

"Weird how?" he asked.

"Well, there were traces of a drug commonly given to people
undergoing radiation treatment.  And also traces of a drug called
acepromazine."

"Why's that weird?"

"Because acepromazine's an animal tranquilizer."

Mulder sat up suddenly.  "Now I can't sleep."  He vaulted out of bed.

Scully sat up too.  "Mulder?  Mulder, what is it?"  The air in the
bedroom was cold after being huddled under the comforter next to
Mulder.  She put her robe on and followed him to the bathroom.

Mulder never seemed to notice the cold; he'd been wearing only
pajama bottoms to bed, and here he was in the chilly bathroom, still
bare-chested, splashing cold water on his face.

"Why is there an animal tranquilizer in a man's severed arm?" he
asked his reflection, and Scully standing behind him.

"Maybe the doctor involved isn't licensed to practice, but could
obtain the acepromazine through a veterinarian."

"Father Joe said he heard barking dogs.  He said it more than once."

As she watched, he got out the shaving cream and lathered up.

"Mulder, what are you doing?"  What did what she said have to do
with him getting up to shave in the middle of the night?

"Is it a tranquilizer you'd give a dog?"  He pulled the razor over
his cheek, wincing a little at the unaccustomed feel.  He met
Scully's eyes in the mirror, waiting for her reply, willing her to
work with him on this idea.

"Mulder, this Father Joe -- he's a phony.  He's pulling these so-
called visions out of thin air, and now he's got you straining to
connect them.  It's the oldest trick in the book.  We've both seen it
a time or two."

"Well, when I see someone crying tears of blood at a crime scene he
recognizes, without ever having been there before, I've got to go out
on a limb and say that maybe he's got something."

"Tears of blood?"  Scully repeated.

"Yeah," Mulder said.  "Tell me how you fake *that*."

Scully drew breath to continue arguing, but at that moment she heard
her cell phone ringing.  Not many people had that number; it could be
the hospital --

Praying that it wasn't bad news about Christian or another of her
patients, Scully answered.  "Scully."

"Please hold for Dakota Whitney," Agent Drummy said without preamble.

"I'm sorry for calling so late, Dr. Scully," Dakota said.  "I'm
trying to get hold of Fox Mulder."

Mulder appeared in the doorway as if he'd heard his name, face half-
shaved and a dollop of shaving cream on his bare chest.  "Who is it?"
He asked.

"Is there a break in the case?"  Scully asked, and Mulder asked
almost simultaneously, "Did they find her?"

"We've got another lead," Agent Whitney said.

Scully suppressed a sigh.  "A new source?"  She asked.

"No, but he's got a new lead.  Can you ask Fox if he can get to the
same scene as this morning?"

"I'll ask him," she said, making a face at the agent's familiarity.

Mulder watched her from the doorway.  It was plain to her that he
wanted to go.  He wanted to see this thing through, wherever it took
him.

"But you'd better give me the directions," she said.

x-x-x

Location Unknown

Cheryl Cunningham had no idea where she was.  She could hear muffled
sounds, and as she came to full consciousness, she realized she was
in a box of some kind.  Not so small that she couldn't move around a
little, but only if she crawled. Someone had taken her clothes away
and put her in a cotton shift of some kind, and there was a pile of
blankets in one corner, a bedpan in the other.  She felt like a
trapped animal.

She explored her surroundings as best she could.  Her prison
appeared to be heavy plywood, its surface unfinished.  There were
small holes at regular intervals, like air holes.  She put her eye to
one of them, but could see nothing.  Some light seeped through an
oblong slot cut at about her present eye level, and she peered out of
it, trying to glean more information about her location.  Even
through this larger opening she couldn't see much, but she could
smell and hear plenty.  There were dogs barking nearby, and the stink
of wet fur.  She tried to reach her hand out of the slot, but it was
too narrow to get more than part of her forearm through it.  The raw
edge scratched her skin.

The dogs set up a louder chorus of barks and howls, and she realized
that someone was coming.  Instinctively she tried to stand up,
banging her head.

A face appeared at the slot, wearing a white cotton cap.  She reared
back, fearing it was the man who'd driven her off the road, but this
man was a stranger to her.  His face was older and not unkind
looking.  She spoke to him.  "Please," she said, "help me get out of
here.  I didn't mean to hit his truck.  I won't tell anyone.  Please,
help me!"

The man said something she didn't understand and stood up, speaking
to others out of her sight.  The box began to move, as if it were
being pushed on casters.

Cheryl kept up her begging and shouting as the box juddered along.
It swung around and now she could see a brightly-lit room.  At first
it appeared as a confused jumble of bright lights and metal tables.
When the box came to a stop, it came to her:  it was a makeshift
operating room.

By now her shouts had diminished to a whimper as the import of what
she was seeing struck her.  One of the tables contained a body, and
she feared the worst, but its head turned toward her.  His face was
streaked with healing cuts and he looked as though he was in great
pain.  His body was draped with a blanket, though somehow it looked
too small for his head.

"Help me," she whispered, seeing his attention on her.  "Help me,
and I'll help you.  I'll help you get out of here."

The man opened his mouth but made no sound.  His face contorted with
pain, and tears ran down his face.  Not just regular tears; tears of
blood.

Cheryl Cunningham howled, her voice blending with the cacophony of
the dogs.

-x-

Chapter Eight - Ice Field

Rural Virginia

Even if Mulder hadn't known where to go, there was no mistaking the
place, with all the activity there in the wee hours of the morning.
Several flashlights illuminated a snowy field, like out of season
fireflies in the wintry night.  A phalanx of FBI agents, in their
regulation jackets, searched the field in an organized chaos.

Mulder and Scully approached the clearing where Agents Whitney and
Drummy were in the middle of a heated discussion.  "Another ten
minutes," she was saying to him, and Agent Drummy turned away, his
face tight with disapproval.

"Did you find her?"  Scully asked as they approached.

Agent Whitney started to greet Scully, but her eyes were immediately
drawn to the tall man behind her.  She stared a little longer than
was polite, and then seemed to realize what she was doing.  "What did
you do?" she asked.

Mulder looked puzzled.  Agent Whitney reached out to his face, where
a bit of tissue was stick to a small nick on his cheek.  He batted
her hand away, and Scully repeated her question:  "Did you find her?"

"No," Agent Whitney said.  "Father Joe has led us back to the first
place we searched.  I'm afraid it's looking like a false alarm.  I'm
sorry I dragged you both out here."  She signaled her partner and
after a brief discussion, Agent Drummy whistled shrilly, calling the
agents in.

Mulder stalked past Whitney, toward Father Joe.  Whitney's eyes
followed him.  What was he up to?

Scully looked at the female agent, sizing her up yet again.  This
had better not be just an excuse to bring Mulder back into it, she
thought darkly.  I'll have a thing or two to say about that.  She
followed Mulder.

"She's out there," Father Joe was saying.  "I *feel* her."

"What do you see?"  Mulder asked him.

"I see -- a face.  I see eyes.  Staring out."

"Is it Monica Bannan's face?"

"Can't tell," Father Joe said between puffs of cigarette.  "It's
like I'm seeing it through dirty glass."

Mulder turned to Scully.  "Scully, what do you suppose he means,
'through dirty glass'?"

"Mulder," Scully said warningly.

Mulder turned to face her.  "What?"

"Stop," she said.

He considered her for a moment, then said, "Okay, sure, feel free to
give up, just like everyone else."

"This is not my job any more, Mulder," Scully said.

"So you keep reminding me," Mulder said.  "What does that make you,
my booking agent?"

That one struck home, he could tell.  He was immediately sorry he'd
said it.

"You're right, this is all my fault," Scully replied.

"What?" asked Mulder.  "What do you mean, your fault?"

"I should never have talked you into this," she explained.

Mulder shook his head.  "It was the right thing to do, Scully."  He
began to follow Father Joe.

"Mulder, please stop.  This isn't getting you -- or Agent Bannan --
anywhere.  Father Joe is leading you down the path, same as he's
leading everyone else."

"Except that I do expect him to lead me to an answer.  I get that
you disapprove of the man, that you think he's a fraud.  But I don't,
Scully.  I think there's a connection here, something outside of the
crime."

"I know you want to believe, Mulder.  But I think this has become
about more than a missing FBI agent for you.  I think it's about
finding your sister."

That stopped him in his tracks.  And he'd been worried about hurting
Scully's feelings.  "My sister is dead," he said very deliberately.

"Yes, she is.  But that hasn't stopped you from looking for her,"
Scully said.  "Mulder, I've been down this road with you too many
times to stand by and say nothing.  Every case, you're there again.
Believing you can save her.  But you can't, Mulder.  Not now, and not
ever."

Mulder stared at her.  Maybe he wasn't used to this anymore, but the
words stung.  Scully stared up at him earnestly, her eyes pleading
for him to understand what she was saying.

He turned and walked away from her before he said something truly
unforgivable.

"Mulder, where are you going?"

"I'm trying to ignore you," his voice floated back.

She could, in fact, leave right now if she wanted to.  It was her
car, and she had the keys.  But that was not a line that she could
cross.  Not now, and certainly not in front of all these people.
What passed between them was meant to be private, and it would stay
that way.  She hadn't said it to hurt Mulder, though his words to her
had hurt.  That was the thing with knowing someone so intimately, she
reflected.  You knew everything about them -- including what would
hurt them the most.

She followed in Mulder's footsteps as he followed Father Joe.

Dakota Whitney watched Mulder and Scully from a distance.  Her mind
was running a hundred miles a minute, and not all of it was on the
case.

What was it about those two?  Yes, they'd been partners for a number
of years, and on the one hand she'd have sworn that they were a
couple in private life as well.  The phone call tonight seemed to
confirm that, and the looks Dr. Scully threw her would have melted
snow at ten paces.

And yet the way these two treated each other...it didn't make sense.
Maybe what she was seeing was the remains of a personal relationship.
She, Dakota Whitney, had forced a reluctant reunion between the two
of them, and they were not going to show any real rift in public.

She'd bet that in private they'd gone their separate ways, no matter
what had been between them at one time.  She could see the signs.
The kind of life Fox Mulder had been forced to live the past six
years -- obviously Dr. Scully was ambitious and had gotten restless
and gone off on her own.  How they both ended up in the same vicinity
was something she'd have to work out later.

Or maybe she'd ask Fox Mulder.  When this case was over, she'd take
some time to get to know him better.

Past the edge of the snowy field, the ex-priest stopped at what
looked like the base of a waterfall, frozen solid.

"It's here!"  He cried, dropping to his knees and starting to dig
with his hands.  Mulder turned and gave out an even more piercing
whistle than Agent Drummy had, minutes ago.

"I need those men back!  Bring shovels!"  Mulder shouted, and Agent
Whitney rallied her reluctant troops to trudge across the snow.

Mulder had dropped to his knees near Father Joe and helped him to
clear the accumulated snow from the frozen ground.

"Feel free to join in," Mulder suggested to the agents standing with
their shovels at the ready.  Agent Drummy handed him one.  He
shrugged and kept scraping away at the snow.  After a minute or so, a
dull metallic clang indicated that they'd gotten down to ice.

Mulder kept scraping away at the snow, throwing shovels of it behind
him.

"It's solid ice," Drummy observed.

"Hand me your flashlight," Mulder said in reply.  He shone it along
the surface, and in the added light, something encased in the ice
caught the beam.

"Not ice," Mulder confirmed. "'Dirty glass.'"  He angled the
flashlight so that all could see what he saw:  a female severed head,
staring out at the group.

Tossing Agent Drummy his flashlight, Mulder addressed Agent Whitney.
"You're gonna need resources."

She nodded and got on her phone, ordering the heavy equipment they'd
need.

Shoulders slumped, Mulder walked right past Scully, following the
agents who were hurrying back to their vehicles.  She turned to
follow him and realized that Father Joe had been standing right
behind her.

Startled, she just looked at him.  His gaze was intense, his eyes
narrowed behind his glasses.

Staring directly into her eyes, he said simply, "Don't give up."

She waited a moment, but he said nothing else.  For less than a
second, she had a fleeting glimpse of something else besides the
monster that she saw whenever she looked at him.  She stared at him,
and he continued to stare back.  Then she turned away, following
Mulder to the car.

x-x-x

Unknown location

The pain was nearly unbearable.  And yet he would endure it.  For
Janke.

For Janke.  Janke who had endured so many things in his life;
couldn't *he* hold on just a while longer?

He floated in and out of consciousness, not always aware of where he
was or what was happening.  He remembered a few things.  He'd gone on
a collecting job with Janke, and it had not gone well.  He generally
had left that side of the business to Janke.  Although he'd
reluctantly agreed to Janke's pleadings, he hadn't really wanted to
be a part of this.

But it was wonderful, the persistence of life.  When given a chance
to prolong it, he'd grasped at it, just as anyone would have.  He
could tell himself it was for Janke, but it wasn't.  Not entirely.
He wanted to breathe freely again.  To stand, reveling in a strong,
healthy body: it was his dream, too, not just Janke's.

Yet he could sense that he was in trouble.  He felt things that
didn't seem to be a part of him.  He thought things that didn't seem
to be his thoughts.  The doctor said they'd have to operate again.
Janke told him not to give up.  So he lay in his semi-dreaming state,
waiting.

-x-

Chapter Nine - Allies

Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital
8:15 a.m.

"We can resolve then, in good conscience and without objection, to
relocate this patient to a facility better suited for and humane to
his condition?"  Father Ybarra was saying as Scully entered the daily
patient status meeting.

She had rushed to get here on time, but the continuing snowy weather
and the long drive from the crime scene meant she'd barely had time
to change her clothes.  Mulder had elected to stay and watch the
excavation at the ice field.

But she couldn't think about that right now.  "I'm sorry?"  She
asked, with the sinking feeling that she knew whose patient Father
Ybarra was referring to.

Father Ybarra said smoothly, "As we discussed, Dr. Scully, I was
informing the staff and doctors of the hospital's decision on
Christian Fearon."

"Decision?"

"To remove him to a hospice that can better manage his palliative
care," Father Ybarra said.

"That was a discussion, not a decision," Scully corrected him.

"Well," Father Ybarra said with a great show of patience, "it has
been discussed here at length, and with no objection from your
colleagues."  He looked around the room, and indeed no one said a
word.  In fact, few even looked up to meet either Father Ybarra's or
Scully's eyes.

"*I* have an objection," she insisted.

In the same patient tone, Father Ybarra said, "What you have, Dr.
Scully, is a patient with an untreatable condition.  You requested,
and received, an outside opinion, which is that there is no course of
treatment.  Now that's all very sad, and very unfortunate -- no one
disagrees with that --"

"But he's my patient," she said a little desperately.

"Yes, he is, but unless you've come here today with a cure for
Sandhoff disease, we all respectfully request that you let the boy go
in peace."

She wasn't sure what she'd expected from the other doctors in the
room, but no one spoke up.  The silence pressed on her; she couldn't
think.  Why this morning, of all mornings?  She felt blindsided by
Father Ybarra.  She hadn't been prepared for this conversation to
take place yet.

Father Ybarra took her silence for acquiescence and said, "Thank
you.  Now, let's get this meeting wrapped up so we can get on with
today's good work.  We have one more case to discuss --"

The eyes of her colleagues swiveled to Father Ybarra.

Father Ybarra's words became a drone in the background as Scully
gathered her wits.  She couldn't allow this.  She couldn't give up.

*Don't give up*

She turned back to the room.

"There is a treatment," she said, interrupting Father Ybarra.  Now
all eyes were upon her.

"The matter is closed, Dr. Scully," Father Ybarra said, his tone
gentle but his eyes cold.

"No it's not," she said.  "The boy can be treated with intercostal
stem cell therapy."

There was a gasp in the room, though some doctors looked interested.

Only one doctor spoke up, however, one of her lunchroom
acquaintances.  "You'd put that boy through hell for an uncertain
treatment?"

"Would you do it if it was your son?"  Scully countered.

Before the other woman could reply, Father Ybarra said, "It's not
her son, nor is he yours, Dr. Scully.  The decision has been made to
send the patient to hospice."

"I don't believe," Scully said in a tone she'd perfected at
countless OPR hearings, "that it's a decision for hospital
administration.  It's his doctor's decision.  If you want to
challenge that, I suggest you take the matter to a higher authority."

"I *have* taken it up with the *highest* authority, Dr. Scully,"
replied Father Ybarra, casting his eyes up to the crucifix on the
wall.  "As should you."

She did not answer, leaving the room in stunned silence behind her.
Once in the hallway, she faltered a bit in her iron control, her
shoulders slumping for a second as she gathered her forces again.

*What have I gotten myself into?* she thought.  She knew that Father
Ybarra would do everything he could to prevent this procedure, and if
he did take it up with the governing board, she wouldn't stand a
chance.  She went to her office and gathered all the research she'd
done on the treatment, preparing to do battle.  She would not give up
on this boy, even if everyone else had.

There was a tap on her door.  It opened slightly, and Dr. Michael
Fitzpatrick peered around it.  "Am I disturbing you?"

Scully gestured for him to take a seat.  Dr. Fitzpatrick had
befriended Scully when she first started at Our Lady, and though he
was probably ten years younger, there had been plenty of match-makers
who thought that the petite red-haired doctor looked good with the
tall, blonde, and handsome doctor.

There were several reasons why it would never happen, though neither
bothered to correct anyone's misapprehension on that score.  They
both had a healthy respect for privacy and personal space, and left
it at that.

Dr. Mike was generally well-liked, open and friendly where Scully
was reserved.  They had been allies a few times on difficult cases,
and she had in fact been a little surprised that he'd said nothing in
the conference room.

"Are you trying to steal my thunder?" he asked.  "Usually I'm the
one to question Father Y's authority.  You're always such a good
girl."

Scully smiled wanly.  "Maybe I just finally found a case -- um,
cause, I wanted to fight for."

"He'll stop you if he can, you know," Dr. Mike said.

"I know," she said.  "I've got a fight on my hands."

"There might be another way," he said.  "What are you prepared to do?"

"Whatever I have to do," Scully said.  "I've got to convince
Christian's parents that this is the right course."  She looked down
at the folders where she'd put all of her research and notes.  *And
be sure myself,* she thought.

"How soon can you be ready to operate?"  Dr. Mike asked.

"It needs to be pretty soon, or Father Ybarra will find a way to
send Christian away," she said.

"Are you prepared to operate this afternoon?" he asked.

"Me?" Scully said.

"Who else will do it?  I think the sooner the better," her colleague
said.  "I've done some work with this type of treatment myself.  I'd
be happy to scrub in and assist."

Scully stared at him.  "But --"

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"No.  But I can't --"

"Can't what?  Perform the surgery?  You're not an amateur, and you
won't be on your own.  Or are you reluctant to accept help when it's
offered?  You don't have to go this alone, Dana.  You have more
allies than you realize, but you have to have faith."

*Don't give up*

She looked at the man standing before her.  That's what it came down
to, she thought.  Trust not just in myself, but in another.  Trust
and belief.

Maybe, just maybe, this was one of those signs along the way.

"Yes, I can," she answered.

"Good," he said decisively.  "Can you get the parents' consent?  You
do that, and I'll take care of the logistics."

"But how can I get an operating room at such short notice?  And what
about --"

"Sometimes it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission," he said.
"Remember who you're talking to."

It was true that Michael Fitzpatrick somehow was able to charm
anyone out of anything.  Fortunately, he used his powers for good,
not evil.  Scully smiled for the first time in what seemed like days.

"Thank you," she said.

x-x-x

New rumors had begun to circulate at the FBI -- no one knew from
where.   Former Agent Mulder's reputation was undergoing a
transformation.  Though the most persistent rumor had been that he'd
left the FBI in disgrace, it was now whispered that he had gone
underground -- so deep no one could find him, and it had been doubted
for a while that he would ever come back.  Suddenly there were so
many stories it was hard to tell what to believe:  His firing had
been part of a disinformation campaign.  He had infiltrated a
terrorist cell.  He had been on a joint task force with the CIA.   A
couple of wags suggested he'd been abducted by aliens, not once but
twice -- but these were soon dismissed as old jokes.

Intertwined with the rumors about Fox Mulder were those about Dana
Scully -- she had a child, she didn't have a child, she'd pretended
to have a child -- that she was part of the disinformation campaign
against Fox Mulder, that she was his champion.  That he had gone so
deep undercover, she was the only one who could find him and bring
him back.

This last rumor seemed to be validated when it was reported that Fox
Mulder had been seen stalking the upper corridors of the Hoover
Building, with Dana Scully by his side.  He looked like he'd barely
come back from his deep undercover, still in his guise as a
survivalist, or a member of a terrorist cell, someone who'd had to
forget everything about his real life and live a lie.

In his office, Kersh heard the rumors and grinned to himself,
patting the folder that contained his retirement papers.

One floor down, Skinner listened to, and denied some of the more
outrageous rumors with an abruptness that made others think that
there must be something to them after all.

Skinner rarely allowed himself to smile, but sometimes, as he drove
home, he felt a grim satisfaction that his two best -- albeit most
high-maintenance -- former agents were well on the way to coming in
from the cold.

x-x-x

Quantico, Virginia
FBI Forensics Lab

The boulder of ice stood in the middle of the lab, slowly melting
away, revealing its horrifying contents.  Forensics techs swarmed
around it, using blow dryers and small drills and saws to hasten the
process, carefully extracting more and more grisly specimens from its
grip.

Mulder paced around the perimeter, unable to settle.  Scully should
be here, he thought.  He understood that she couldn't just walk away
from her work, but he thought she would at least try to stay in touch
with him.  She had promised to stay involved, after all.

He tried calling her again, still getting her voice mail.
Frustrated, he hung up without leaving a message.

"We've gotten some preliminary lab tests back," Dakota Whitney said
at his shoulder.  She handed him a folder.  "I'll save you having to
interpret the data.  Of the body parts extracted so far, most appear
to be from distinctly different bodies.  There are obvious visible
differences, apart from any chemical tests."

"Anything to connect them with the arm?"  Mulder asked.

"Not so far.  We expect some preliminary lab tests within the hour.
Why don't you take a break, go get a cup of coffee or something?  You
look beat."

He made a non-committal noise and gestured to the conference room
next door.  "What's happening with Father Joe?"

"Nothing right now," she said.  "He insists he doesn't know what the
connection is."

"And your guys?  Have they found anything else?"

Dakota sighed.  "No, nothing.  But they're still looking."

Mulder rubbed his eyes.  He'd not gotten any real sleep for more
than forty-eight hours and it was beginning to tell on him.  *I'm
getting too old for this shit*, he thought.

"Maybe I will go get that coffee," he said, and walked out of the
lab.

As he headed for the cafe, a familiar voice called him from the end
of the hall.  "Mulder!"

John Doggett was advancing on him, holding out his hand.  Right
behind him was Monica Reyes.

"I don't believe it!"  Doggett pumped his hand, grinning like a jack
o'lantern.  "You son of a --"

Monica caught up and swooped down on Mulder, giving him a hug and
kissing his cheek.  "It's so good to see you!  Where's Dana?  Is she
here too?"

"Scully's at a hospital in Richmond," Mulder said.

Monica was instantly concerned.  "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she works there.  She's a doctor."

"Wow," Monica said.  "Good for her."

"I never thought I'd see you in these halls again," John Doggett was
saying.  "Doesn't that just beat everything."

"Yeah.  I never expected to see you guys again, either.  I only
heard recently that you guys were -- I thought -- New Mexico...it was
a big explosion," Mulder stammered, uncharacteristically at a loss
for words.

"Yeah," Doggett agreed.  "It was the damnedest thing.  Once they'd
destroyed the pueblo, they didn't even try for us.  They flew off in
another direction.  I though maybe they were after you."

Mulder shook his head.  "No, we didn't see them again."

"Weird."  Monica said.  "I'm surprised you didn't know, though.
Didn't Skinner tell you?"

"We haven't been in touch, though I have an idea he's why I'm here,"
Mulder said.  "I got called in for this case --"

"Yeah, I know, Monica Bannan.  Hell of a thing," Doggett shook his
head.  "I'm surprised not to see Scully here with you, though."

"I take it you're not on the X Files anymore?"  Mulder asked, to
change the subject.

"Long story.  We've been on a long-term field assignment.  We've
just been called back to DC, something about a new assignment for us
both."

"Huh." said Mulder, his mind was not entirely on the subject at
hand.

"What about you?" Monica asked.  "Are you really coming back to the
FBI?"

"The jury's still out on that," Mulder said, deadpan.  "There's a
little too much history there."

"I dunno, Mulder," Doggett said.  "We've only been here a day, and
already we're hearing about the return of the prodigal.  You do good
here, you can write your own ticket."

"Seriously, you should talk to Skinner," Monica chimed in.

"Yeah, well, I've got a lot of catching up to do," Mulder said, "and
a lot of questions to ask."

"Once you get this case wrapped up, we'll talk," Monica said, "and
Dana, too.  Please tell her I said hello."

"Me too," Doggett said, and with one more shake of Mulder's hand and
another hug, the two agents strode away.

Mulder couldn't help but grin to himself and shake his head.
Wait'll I tell Scully, he thought.

"Fox," he heard from behind him.  He turned, wondering who the next
mystery guest was going to be.  But it was Dakota Whitney, holding a
file folder in her hand.  "We've got some more results."

What he read pushed everything else out of his mind.

-x-

Chapter Ten - Cracks in the Ice

The phone vibrated insistently just out of her line of sight.
Scully continued to ignore it as she gathered her research and made
her final notes.  She even wouldn't look at it to see who it was.
Whether it was Mulder, or Father Ybarra, she couldn't break her
concentration.  She'd have this one chance to get everything right,
and she couldn't risk the life of this little boy, no matter what.

"Come on, come on, answer," Mulder muttered under his breath for the
hundredth time.  Why wasn't she picking up?  He'd only requested that
she call him back before, but this time he really needed to tell her
what he'd learned.

Mulder took a deep breath as the call rolled over into voice mail
again.  "Scully, it's me.  I keep leaving you messages, but you're
apparently not picking them up.  Here's what I've been trying to call
you about.  Of the thirteen body parts pulled out of the ice so far,
they're all from different people, men and women.  All cut cleanly,
just as the arm was.  And none of them are Monica Bannan's.  But
here's the thing, what I need you to know, Scully.  In each body part
that's been tested, they've found traces of the same animal
tranquilizer -- acepromazine -- that you identified before.  I don't
know what the hell it means.  I'm hoping you can make some sense of
it."

He hung up without saying goodbye, as always, just as Dakota Whitney
walked up to him.  "Anything new?" she asked.

Mulder shook his head.  "I can't reach her, but she'll get back to
us.  This is a big break.  I'm feeling it."

Dakota shook her head.  "You're feeling it, Father Joe's feeling it,
but all I'm feeling is my head spinning."

"No, this is a big break," Mulder repeated.  "You're going to solve
over a dozen murders here.  This is a serial case you're about to
break wide open.  You should be feeling good right now."

"But it's not bringing us any closer to finding Monica Bannan," she
said.

"We're going to find her," he insisted.  "I know it."

"Well, she might have to wait in line," Dakota said.  "I came to get
you to hear Father Joe's latest vision."

They entered the conference room next door where Father Joe sat with
a half dozen agents.  Everyone but Father Joe turned to them as they
entered; Father Joe remained seated with his head slightly bowed, his
eyes squeezed shut.

"Father Joe, can you please repeat what you just told us to Mr.
Mulder?"  Agent Whitney asked.

"I see another woman's face," Father Joe said, as Mulder seated
himself beside him.  "It's not your agent's face, though."

"Another woman?"  Mulder asked.  "Is she with Monica Bannan?"

"Can't tell," the ex-priest said.  "She's being held...in a box, I
think.  Yes."

"Where is she being held?"  Mulder asked.

"I can't tell," Father Joe said again.

"Did the same men take her as took Monica Bannan?"

"I *think* so...yes, the same men."

Mulder looked around the room at the others.  They'd already heard
most of this.  Now they waited to hear Mulder's verdict on Father
Joe's veracity.

"Can you see them?  Or are you just saying what you think these
people want to hear?"  Mulder asked him.

"No."

"No, you can't see them, or no, they aren't the same men?"  Mulder
persisted.

Father Joe opened his eyes at last.  "They are the same men.  I'm
sure of it."

Without taking his eyes off Father Joe, Mulder said, "I'm going to
need a car."

Predictably, Agent Drummy chimed in.  "To go where?"

"Don't know yet," Mulder said.

"I don't believe this," Agent Drummy muttered.

Now Mulder looked up.  "That's been your problem from the start,
hasn't it?"

"I can get you a car," Dakota Whitney said quickly.  She wasn't sure
why her partner had taken against Fox Mulder so strongly, but she
didn't want it to escalate.

"And I'll need a list of any missing persons in the greater area in
the past twenty-four to seventy-two hours," Mulder said.

x-x-x

The light tap on her office door startled Scully, even though she
was expecting it.

"Let's get this show on the road," Michael Fitzpatrick said.  "All
the eyes are dotted and the tees are crossed.  The Fearons consented?"

"Yes," Scully said shortly.  She wasn't having second thoughts,
exactly.  This would be the first time she'd performed this
particular procedure, but she'd operated under much worse
circumstances, and at least here she had someone skilled to assist.
"Do I want to know how you managed this?"

"Probably not," he said.  "I called in a few favors, and the Chief
Surgeon is not a bad guy, really.  You'll have some of the best staff
in the OR."

"I don't want anyone to jeopardize their jobs for this," she said,
worried.

"They won't," Michael said with assurance.  Scully wished she had
that kind of confidence.  She wasn't afraid of Father Ybarra or what
the board might do to her; she just didn't want to take anyone down
with her.  For now, her sole concern had to be for Christian and what
was best for him.

She hoped that she was right, and that this was the best thing for
him.  She had to believe.  She took a deep breath and entered the OR.

Christian lay on the gurney, already prepped for surgery, but still
awake.  Scully smiled at him.  "You have a lot of very good people
looking after you today, Christian," she said.  "Don't be scared."

"Okay, Doctor Scully," he said with a tiny smile.  "Don't you be
scared either."

She smiled back at him, and went into the other room to scrub up.

x-x-x

Somerset County, Virginia

The Somerset County Sheriff's Department was already on the scene
when Agents Whitney and Drummy drove up with Mulder.  They'd gotten a
call from another motorist who'd passed that morning and had seen the
car, already half-buried in accumulated snow.  The agents had already
been on their way to investigate another report when Mulder insisted
that they check this one out first.

The car was still mostly buried.  The locals had dug out around the
driver's side of the car and partly uncovered the back, revealing the
license plate that had enabled them to make the ID of the car's owner.

Agent Whitney turned to Mulder and said, "Let *us* talk to the
deputy first."  She smiled a little self-deprecatingly.  "These guys
don't always take to civilians asking questions."

Mulder rolled his eyes but complied, walking a few paces behind the
agents.  Agent Drummy showed his ID and started to look at the
interior of the car with one deputy while Agent Whitney conferred
with another.

"Cheryl Cunningham," she told Mulder as he approached.  "She didn't
check in with work last night.  Calls to her home went unanswered."

"Airbag was deployed, but there's no blood on it," Drummy chimed in.
"This was a survivable accident.  She could have gotten out, walked
away, got tired and fell asleep in the snow.  Happens all the time."

"Pretty hard right turn for such a straight stretch of road, don't
you think?" was Mulder's reply, as he stepped forward and examined
the area himself.  "But why settle for *my* opinion?" he added, as
Father Joe came forward.  The ex-priest looked miserably cold as he
plodded along the path cleared by the cops.

Mulder stepped aside and gestured for Father Joe to sit in the
driver's seat.  "Take her for a spin," he said.

Father Joe sat, touching the steering wheel and peering through the
partly-cleared windshield.  He sat for a long time.

Everyone waited, shifting from foot to foot in the cold, as Father
Joe stared straight ahead, then at his lap.

Finally, he said, "I'm sorry.  I'm not getting anything."

"What a surprise," Agent Drummy said.  "*What* a surprise."

Father Joe looked at him a little sheepishly and trudged back toward
the waiting SUVs.

"I think we're about done with Father Joe," Agent Whitney said to
Agent Drummy.  She walked around to the back of the car, resting her
hand on the trunk.

Mulder sat in the car for a moment, recreating what might have
happened in his mind.  There was no purse on the passenger seat or on
the floorboard of the car; could she have done what Mosley Drummy
suggested and struck out on foot?  It seemed too simple an
explanation.

"Has anyone looked in the trunk?" he asked.  He pulled the trunk
release lever.

The first thing Dakota pulled out was a bright orange automobile
emergency kit.  "Well, that didn't do her much good," she commented.

Mulder zeroed in on a gym bag, unzipping it and examining the
contents.  "Take a look at this," he said, pulling out a stiff wad of
fabric.

"It's a swimsuit," Whitney said, "frozen stiff."

"Smells like chlorine," Mulder said.  Then, realizing what that
meant, he turned to the closest deputy.  "Where's the nearest public
swimming pool?"

He'd found the connection that Father Joe couldn't, Whitney
reflected.  Mulder might not be psychic, but he was a damned good
investigator.

x-x-x

Somerset Natatorium

The old facility was shaped like a giant Quonset hut.  The curved
surface helped keep snow from piling up on the roof, and no doubt in
sunnier weather, allowed some outside light through the heavy
translucent fiberglass that made up some of the panels.

The elderly man at the front desk seemed unsurprised at the sudden
crowd of people at his check in counter.  "Do y'all want lockers?" he
asked.

Dakota Whitney flashed her badge, as did Mosley Drummy.  Mulder
started to reach for his, stopping as he realized what he was doing.
"We're with the FBI.  We'd like to show you a picture, if you don't
mind," said Dakota.

"Why would I mind?" the old man said.

Dakota pulled out Monica Bannan's photograph.  "Do you recognize
this woman?"

The man looked at the picture for a few seconds, then said, "These
young people all look the same to me."

Exhibiting amazing patience as her companions shifted restlessly
behind her, Dakota persisted.  "Can you tell us if you keep a sign-in
sheet for the pool?"

"Sure do," the man said.  "Every day."

"Do you suppose we could see it?"  Dakota prompted.

"Don't see why not," he said, and handed over the clip board
containing a few sheets of paper.

Dakota flipped past the first page to a blank one below.  "How about
yesterday's?"

"I threw yesterday's away," he said.  "Why would I want to keep it?"

Mulder rolled his eyes and looked around the lobby.  Spying the
entrance to the women's dressing room, he headed toward it.

This caught the notice of the desk attendant.  "Where's he going?
Doesn't he know that's the ladies' side?"

Before anyone could follow him, Mulder came back out.  "Do you
happen to have a set of bolt cutters?" he asked their unflappable
host.

"You found something," Dakota Whitney said.

"I found something," Mulder confirmed, looking at Agent Drummy, who
turned without a word and went out to get what was needed out of the
SUV.

"So none of you want to swim?" the elderly gent shook his head.
"Young people these days.  So flighty."

-x-

Continued in Part Four -

Reimagined: IWTB
By ML

-x-

Chapter Eleven - Good Luck

Dana Scully was beyond tired.  She sat in the empty surgeon's locker
room, still in her scrubs, writing up her surgical notes.  She had no
idea what time it was, but her exhaustion told her it had been a long
day, and it wasn't over yet.

She didn't hear the outer door open, and she started a little when a
familiar voice said, "And people say *I* went underground..."

She looked up to see Mulder's half-smile.  He looked pretty tired,
too, but he seemed elated.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she said, glancing down at her notes.  "I'm
trying to keep my focus here."

He sat down beside her.  "It's the boy, isn't it?"  He'd almost
forgotten Scully's patient in the events of the day, and he felt a
twinge of guilt for it.

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"I thought there was nothing to be done for him," he prodded gently.

"I'm taking a big chance on something," she said.  "A radical new
procedure."

"The one you said last night wasn't an option?"

She nodded, still looking down at her notes.

"What made you change your mind?"

Scully rose and turned away, unwilling to answer his direct question.

Mulder waited for her reply, chewing his lip thoughtfully.  He had a
sense that there was something she wasn't telling him, wasn't ready
to tell him.  This was familiar, but it had been a long time since
he'd felt her withholding something from him.  He changed tack.

"When will you know if it's a success?"

"This is the first of a series of procedures," Scully said, "and we
won't really know the outcome until they're done."  She looked at him
as he nodded.  "But that's not what you came to talk to me about, is
it?"

Mulder knew she was changing the subject deliberately, but he was
willing to go along for now.  This was too urgent not to talk about,
and there was nothing he could do to help her with her patient.  But
she might be able to help him.

"Another young woman has gone missing," he said, "but this time we
have something to go on.  She and Monica Bannan swam at the same
pool.  And get this: they have the same blood type, and it's a rare
type: AB negative."

"Organ donors," Scully breathed.  It seemed so obvious to her.  "A
donor's and a recipient's type has to match."

Mulder nodded excitedly, all thoughts of anything but the case now
out of his mind.  "Black market -- someone filling orders?"

"That's how they were targeted -- they must be on a donor registry,
and someone else using that pool had access to that knowledge."

"That's your world, Scully.  Your knowledge of that world will save
us time, and time's our enemy."

"You can start with transporters, get the District Attorney's
help..." Scully said.

Mulder shook his head.  "I need you on this, Scully.  You asked me
to get involved, now I'm asking you to stay involved."

She shook her head, and some of Mulder's enthusiasm dimmed.  "You
don't need me, Mulder.  They don't even really need you any longer.
You broke the case, now let them handle it.  You've done everything
you can do."

"But we're so close now," Mulder insisted.

"And I'm asking you to let it go," she said gently.

He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.  Scully had sometimes
been resistant to his enthusiasm for a case in the past, but she'd
never asked him to just drop one.  Why now?

"It's not that simple," he began.

"No, it's not," she agreed.  "It's complicated."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mulder demanded.

She sighed.  "It's something I knew might happen, but I've been
afraid to face it.  Something that I haven't had to face before now,
before this case."

"Just say it, Scully."  He was trying to be patient, but she was
killing him.

She wasn't sure how to say what she was feeling.  There were so many
thoughts, so many fears.  How could she make him understand?  "I'm a
doctor now, Mulder.  Psychics, severed heads, abducted women: they
aren't my life any more."

"I know that," Mulder started to say, but Scully gave him a look,
and he held his peace.  For now.

"When I was with the FBI, the FBI was my focus.  I used my medical
training, yes, but not in the way I'd originally intended.  I don't
regret that time, but things are different now.  My work is here now."

"I'm not asking you to give it up, Scully," Mulder said.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying, Mulder.  I can't do it any
more.  I can't look into the darkness with you.  I can't stand what
it does to you...or me."

"But I'm okay with it, Scully," Mulder said, a little bewildered.
"I'm fine with it, really."

"That's what scares me," she whispered.

"Where else would you have me look?" he asked, frustrated.

"I'm asking you to look inside yourself, Mulder."

"Why?  I'm not the one who's changed," he insisted.  This was
beginning to sound like the kind of argument his parents had, and
that scared *him*.  He struggled to keep his anger in check.

Scully still spoke in gentle, measured tones.  "We're not FBI
anymore, Mulder.  We are two people who have made a home together.
And I don't want that darkness in my home."

"But it's what I do," Mulder said.  "It's what I did before I ever
met you.  It's all I know."

"Then write it down.  Put it in a book.  You can tell the world
now," she said.  "You've paid your debt, whatever you owed, over and
over."

"Are you asking me to quit?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I could never ask you to do that," she said sadly.  She made
herself look at him.  "But what I can tell you is that I won't be
coming home.  I have my own battles to fight right now."

"Scully --"

"Please don't argue with me," she pleaded.

"Please don't do this," he replied.  "Not now."

"I don't know what else to do," she said.

Mulder reeled with those simple words, and the fight was knocked
right out of him.  Scully could be as immovable as a mountain once
she'd made up her mind, and all the pushing in the world would get
him nowhere.

Except maybe an even more final declaration.

Scully was silent as she watched Mulder process what she said.  She
hadn't meant it as a threat, but she knew that nothing short of this
would keep him from trying to lure her in again.  He couldn't help
himself.  He would use all of his considerable persuasive powers on
her, and she knew it would be impossible to resist him.  Unless she
just stayed away.  She couldn't afford to lose her focus on her
patient.

Mulder rubbed his eyes, finding himself dangerously close to crying.
His throat almost closing, he said, "Well.  Good luck, then."

He got up, and without looking at her again, left the room.

"You too," Scully whispered, the sighing of the shutting door nearly
drowning her words out.

x-x-x

Manners General Hospital
Fairfax, Virginia

The two surgeons worked over the open abdominal cavity, snipping and
stitching with efficiency but without the sort of delicate care for
the patient usually seen in an operating room.  No anesthesiologist
oversaw the procedure, and only two nurses.

The patient before them was past saving; they were removing the
organs specified for donation.  They needed to work quickly; the
transplant agency's courier waited outside the operating room to be
summoned for his role in the process.  It was a miraculous thing, to
be able to prolong the life of someone by gifting them with an organ
that was no longer of use to its original owner.

The liver was removed and prepared for transport.  The courier
entered, wearing a precautionary mask, gown and gloves to oversee the
placement of the organ in his insulated carrier.

Janke Dacyshyn's mind was not entirely on his work, however.  His
lover lay on a table not unlike this one, waiting for his own
miracle.  Unfortunately, the kind of miracle he needed called for
even more extraordinary measures than an organ transplant.

The most recent procedure hadn't been an unqualified success, and
they didn't have much time.  He couldn't be as careful or as choosy
as he'd been in the past and that worried him.  Josef needed him, and
he was failing.

He discarded gown and mask at the operating room door, hurrying to
the elevator.  He'd noted the uniformed police officer with a couple
of plain-clothed law enforcement types at the other end of the
corridor before he'd entered the OR; he always paid attention to his
surroundings while doing his best to be anonymous.

He debated taking the stairs; the elevators in this hospital were
notoriously slow.  But before he could make that decision, someone
called to him.

"Excuse me," said one of the suited men, showing a badge.  "Can we
have a moment of your time?"  The uniformed cop was right at his
shoulder.

He had never gotten over his fear of the police.  It was a rational
fear where he came from, as they were often corrupt and were
especially brutal toward boys and men like him.

He had reason to be afraid of these men too, but not the same
reasons as he had in his home country.  He did his best to hide his
fear, trying to sound merely impatient, but coming off as angry,
which put the men on alert.

"I am transplanting vital organ," Janke said.  "I have little time."
As always when he was under stress or feeling emotional, his speech
patterns became more heavily accented.

"I understand," he said.  I'm Richard Koell, with the District
Attorney's Office in Richmond.  May I see your paperwork and license?"

Reluctantly, Janke put down the ice chest and reached for his
wallet.  "I have green card," he said.

Koell nodded.  What are you transporting and where?"

"Liver for transplantation.  I am due at Bowman Clinic.  There is
patient waiting."

"I understand," Koell said.  Paperwork and license, please?"

Janke handed over the clipboard he carried and pulled his license
out of his wallet.

Koell examined the papers and asked, "Have you ever procured or
transported an organ outside or normal or lawful channels?"

"No!" Janke said emphatically.

"Ever been asked to?"

"No!" he said again.

Koell handed back the clipboard and license.  "You're an employee of
this company.  How would your employer answer these questions?"

"My employer, he is sick.  He has cancer."  He said the last word
with a snarl, showing uneven and yellowed teeth.

"That's not what I asked you, Mr...Dacyshyn?"

Janke didn't bother to correct his pronunciation.  "Am I under
suspicion?  It is important I get this organ to hospital.  I am doing
good work."

"Have a seat, Mr. Dacyshyn.  We'll let you go as soon as possible."
Koell got out his cell phone and moved a few feet away to talk
privately, but the uniformed officer kept his eye on Janke.

Janke had no choice but to sit and wait.

x-x-x

Scully walked down the steps to the lobby level, dressed in street
clothes.  She'd finished her notes and managed to avoid Father
Ybarra.  Normally she wouldn't avoid such a confrontation, but she'd
had her quota for that day.

She wanted to go home, but she'd already made her choice, and the
reasons for making it still remained.  And, even if she went home,
the chance that Mulder would be there was slim.  He was determined to
see this case through, whatever the cost.  She just hadn't thought
that she'd be part of that cost.  She stood at the bottom of the
steps, irresolute.

Dr. Mike passed by.  "Dana, is everything okay?  Is Christian okay?
You look like you lost your best friend."

How apt, she thought.  It's exactly how I feel.

"No, he's fine.  I checked on him and he's back in his room,
sleeping.  Thank you again for your help today."

"No trouble," he said with a smile.  "Seriously, though, has Father
Y been at you already?  I've heard he's not best pleased about this."

"I can imagine," she said dryly, but frankly Father Ybarra was the
least of her worries now.

"Well, go home, get some rest, and it'll look better in the morning,
no doubt," he said.  "That's my plan."

"I'm staying here tonight," she said.  "I'll sleep in the on-call
room."

"Suit yourself," he said, "but if I had a guy like your bearded
friend waiting for me at home, I'd be making tracks."

Scully stared at him in shock.

"Yes, I saw you with him yesterday, and I can read you like a book,"
he said, "but your secret's safe with me.  Honor among thieves and
all that."

She managed to muster a small smile.  "Thanks, Michael."

"No worries," he said.  "See you in the morning."

Scully turned away and saw Margaret and Blair Fearon, not two steps
away.

"Doctor Scully, can we speak with you a moment?"  The couple had
perpetually worried expressions, understandably; however, this time
they looked not only worried, but fearful.

Her heart sank.  Putting a brave face on, she said, "Certainly.
Have you seen Christian?"

"Yes, he's still asleep," Margaret said.

"That's what we want to talk to you about," Blair said, "our son."

"We think..." Margaret trailed off, and looked up at her husband.

"We've changed our minds about this treatment," Blair said.  "We
think Christian's been through enough."

"But we've only done the first step," Scully said.  "It's too early
to tell if it's working or not."

"We want to put our faith in God now," Margaret said softly, and in
her words Scully heard the echo of someone else's.

"It's nothing against you," Margaret added quickly.  "We know you've
done your best.  But science can only do so much, Dr. Scully.  If you
were a mother, you'd understand."

"I take it," Scully said stiffly, "that you've spoken with Father
Ybarra?"

"Yes," Margaret admitted, glancing quickly at her husband, "but the
decision is ours."

Blair nodded emphatically.

Scully was certain that the good Father made them believe it was
their decision, but in their words she could hear his influence.

She took a deep breath, keeping herself calm.  "I understand your
fears," she said gently.  "But what if it did work, and we find out
later that we've made the wrong choice by stopping?"

The hope in Margaret's eyes was almost painful to see.  "You mean
you can save our son?"

"I'm saying that it's too early to tell.  That if we quit now..."
she stopped.  "I can't promise you.  But I don't want to give up now.
Please give it time to work."

Margaret and Blair Fearon nodded, but she could see that they
weren't entirely convinced.

And now, she wasn't so sure either.  Had she put her faith in the
wrong thing?  Had the words she'd heard meant something entirely
different?

There was only one way to find out.

-x-

Chapter Twelve - Separate Ways

FBI Field Office
Richmond, Virginia

Mulder stared glumly at the files scattered over the table, awaiting
information from the DA's office.

Even when he was officially with the FBI, he hadn't had much
patience with the intricacies of dealing with local law enforcement.
It made him even more restless now.  He sat trying to concentrate on
the files, drinking bad coffee and refusing to engage in conversation
with either Mosley Drummy or Dakota Whitney.

Mosley was working the phones, talking to hospitals about their
transplant policies and inquiring about what transport agencies they
used.  Dakota Whitney was talking the Richmond SAC.  Mulder supposed
that it meant he wasn't really ignoring them, they were ignoring him.

He missed Scully.  If she were there, they'd be discussing the case,
trying theories out on each other, arguing, and probably solving it
before the locals got back to them, confirming what they'd already
figured out.

Really, what was he still doing there?  Agent Whitney occasionally
threw him a look that seemed to say that she still needed him to
stick around.  Agent Mosley gave him nothing, but that was to be
expected.  But if Father Joe's usefulness had reached its limits,
hadn't his as well?

"We should be getting a warrant any time now," Dakota said as she
entered the room.  "But we have a name at least.  Janke Dacyshyn.
Assuming the permits he had were legitimate, we should be able to
track down the owner of the business as well."

"We should show Father Joe the picture we have, see if it means
anything to him," Mulder said.  "It might be faster."

Agent Drummy rolled his eyes but Dakota Whitney said, "That's a good
idea.  Let's do that, while we're waiting."

x-x-x

Sex Offender's Dormitories
Richmond, Virginia

Scully shivered in her wool coat.  She'd willed herself up the
stairs, but hesitated to knock.  She raised her hand, faltered,
raised it again.  Finally, she watched her knuckles rap on the door,
as if she had no control over her hand.

A few seconds passed and she backed away from the door, ready to
hurry away.  As she started to turn, she heard the click of the latch
on the door.

An eddy of warm, stale air escaped as Father Joe stepped out and
peered at her, braced against the railing at the far end of the
walkway.

"A vision if ever I had one," he said.

Scully swallowed, her dry mouth not wanting to form words.  At last
she said, "May I speak with you?"

"Of course," he said, and gestured to his door.  "Won't you come in?"

Reluctantly, Scully approached the door.  The last thing she wanted
was to enter that apartment, but she'd come this far now.

Father Joe stood to one side to let her enter.  "Have you come on
your own?" he asked, looking past her.

She nodded, biting her lip.  This was not a good idea, not at all.
Maybe she should tell him to leave the front door open.

"Please, sit down," he invited.  The couch had certainly seen better
days, and tonight it appeared that Father Joe, or someone, had been
using it for a bed.  Father Joe pushed the sheets and blankets aside.

"I won't be staying long," she said.

"Please, I insist," he said, and she reluctantly sat.

Father Joe sat uncomfortably close to her.  "You've come to ask me
something," he prompted.

She nodded, and licked her lips.  She just couldn't ask him.  She
looked around, trying to think of something else to say.

He smiled gently, "My roommate's out.  We're quite alone here, free
to speak in confidence."

Scully gathered her courage.  "You said something to me.  Out in the
field, last night."

Father Joe nodded.  "Yes.  I said, 'don't give up.'"

She hadn't realized how much she'd expected him to deny it until he
spoke.  "I need to know why you said that."

"I haven't the faintest idea," he said.

Her shoulders slumped.

"You were hoping for another answer?"  Father Joe asked.

Scully couldn't sit still anymore.  She rose and faced Father Joe.
"Do you know anything about me?"

"Other than the fact you loathe me, no," he replied.

"You don't know what I do?  What I used to do, or what I do now?"
She would not let herself fall into the trap that Luther Lee Boggs
had set for her, back when she was a green agent.  "Did you look me
up on the internet?"

"I know nothing at all about you.  Though I can see you're a woman
of *faith*."

The way he said it rankled her.

"Though not the same faith as your husband, it appears."

"He's not my husband," she blurted, and immediately wished she
hadn't.  What Mulder was or wasn't to her was none of this man's
business.

"Would you care to tell me about yourself?" the ex-priest asked.

"No!"

"Perhaps you'd like me to take your confession?"

She almost laughed.  "I don't think you're in any position to --"

"To what?" he interrupted.  "To judge?  Perhaps not.  But *you've*
judged *me*."

"Don't you deserve to be judged?"

"Certainly not by *you*," he said.  "Am I not God's creature, same
as you?"

"I don't think God would claim you, after what you did to those
young boys," she countered.  She headed for the door.  Father Joe
followed her.

"Do you know why we live here, we men who call this vile box of
monsters our home?"

Scully shrugged, unwilling to engage in further debate with him.

"We hate each other, as much as we hate ourselves for our sickening
appetites."

"That doesn't make them any less sickening," she said.

"So where do these appetites come from, then?  These uncontrollable
impulses of ours?"

"Not from God," Scully said firmly.

"Not from me," Father Joe countered.  "I castrated myself when I was
twenty-seven."

His declaration shocked her.  There was nothing further to say to
him; it was a foolish idea to come in the first place.

"And," he added as she walked to the door, "I didn't ask for these
visions, either."

She didn't even acknowledge him; she reached for the door.

"Proverbs 25:2," he said.

"What?" Scully asked in spite of herself.

"'God's glory to conceal a thing, but the honor of kings to search
out a matter.'"

"Don't you dare quote Scripture to me!" she shouted.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

"You said, 'Don't give up'.  Why?  What was it for?"

Father Joe shrugged and started to light another cigarette.  He
couldn't seem to hold his hand still and the match went out.

"'Don't give up,'" she repeated.  "Why did you say it?"

Father Joe peered up at her.  "I don't know," he whispered.

"I don't *believe* you!"

"I'm telling the truth," he insisted.

"You stood there, and said it to me, right to my face!"  As small as
she was, she towered over him.

Unaccountably, his eyes filled with tears.  "All I wanted was to
serve Him...all I ever wanted..."  He bowed his head.

"You can ask God's forgiveness," Scully said, "but don't expect mine."

Head still bowed, Father Joe began to shake.  Was he sobbing?  This
was just too much.

He raised his head to hers, jaw set tightly, eyes rolling back in
his head.

"You can stop the act any time," she told him.  As if she'd be
fooled by this charlatan's bid for pity.

Then suddenly she knew he wasn't acting.  Spittle and flecks of foam
appeared at the corners of his mouth, and his body went rigid.

x-x-x

The barking of the dogs close by woke Cheryl from her half-slumber.
She thought vaguely that there must have been something put into her
food to keep her so lethargic, but it never quite seemed to put her
entirely out.

She heard the rattle of kennel doors and the clank of metal dishes,
then the barking quieted as the dogs got their dinner.

A face appeared at the slot in her prison door.  It was Hat Man.
She had no idea of anyone's names, so she'd given them nicknames.
Hat Man wore a white stocking cap and seemed kindly; he always said
something soothing sounding in his incomprehensible language.  White
Legs must be a nurse; she wore white stockings and Cheryl could see
the edge of a uniform and sometimes white shoes.  There was another
man, whom she called Grey Pants, since that's all she saw of him;
Mean Man, the one who apparently was the reason she was here, was
never in her range of vision, though she was sure she'd heard a third
male voice from time to time.

Otherwise, there was Scarface on the table.  He mostly lay quietly,
and sometimes the others hovered around him, tucking in blankets or
checking the IV that hung by his head.  She caught a glimpse once of
a distinctly feminine looking hand by his side, but maybe it was
whatever drugs they gave her that made her think so.  It couldn't be
possible.

Hat Man was talking to her again, showing her a tray with a battered
enamel bowl on it.  Steam rose from it; she must be on the same
feeding schedule as the dogs.  She hoped it wasn't dog food.

The man said his soothing nonsense and made lip-smacking sounds that
needed no interpretation.  Her door rattled as he unlocked it.
Evidently the soup bowl wouldn't fit through the slot.

But as he removed the lock, a commotion started behind him.  Beeping
from various machines, and a metallic rattling sound distracted him.

Through the slot, Cheryl could see people gathered around Scarface
on the table, who appeared to be having some kind of seizure.

But of more interest to her was the fact that her prison door had
swung open.  In his haste, Hat Man had left her door unlocked.

Without a second thought, Cheryl quietly crawled out of the box and
headed to the only exit that she knew she couldn't be seen from: the
dog door at the end of the kennels.

The dogs were already baying frantically; the commotion in the lab
had disturbed them.  She hoped that they were all locked up.

Only a few feet more...her mind was focused only on the door, not on
what lay on the other side, or how she would survive in a hospital
gown in the bitter cold which was seeping around the edges of the
door flap.  She tumbled down a small incline, mere feet from freedom.

She burst through the door onto a snowy, moonlit yard, and breathed
in the fresh air.

Something was coming toward her, though.  She could hear barking and
snarling but couldn't tell where it was coming from.  It sounded like
two dogs.  She looked frantically around.

It was coming straight at her.  Was it a trick of the moonlight?
She saw one dog's body...but with two heads.

Instinctively she threw her hands in front of her face, trying to
protect herself from attack.

Meanwhile, inside the makeshift lab, the doctor and his assistants
were trying to help their patient in the throes of a mysterious
seizure.  Two attendants held the body down while the doctor
administered a shot.  The blanket covering the patient's body fell
away, revealing a slight female form, its flesh looking pale and
clammy in the harsh overhead light.

Even through all the activity, Hat Man heard a high, thin scream.
He spat out an order to Grey Pants, who ran out of the room to rescue
their escapee.  Without her, there would be no reason to save the
person thrashing on the table before them.

x-x-x

Mulder could see the flashing red and blue lights from the back seat
as their vehicle negotiated the icy streets and pulled into the sex
offenders' dorm parking lot.

"This can't be good," Dakota said.  She opened her door and got out
even as the driver put the vehicle into park.  Mulder followed suit
from his back seat.

The paramedics had just made it down the stairs and were approaching
the ambulance as Mulder and the others got there.  One look at the
stretcher confirmed their worst fears: it was Father Joe, oxygen mask
over his features but his wild grey hair identifying him.

Another familiar figure stood nearby, talking to one of the
paramedics and on her cell phone at the same time.  She was the last
person Mulder expected to see anywhere near Father Joe:  Dana Scully.

Mulder got to her side first.  "What happened?" he asked without
preamble.

"He had a seizure and collapsed," Scully said.  "That's all we know
right now."  She said something further into her phone and ended the
call.

"Who called you?"  Mulder asked.

"No one," Scully said.

"Then what are *you* doing here?" Mulder asked more pointedly.

Scully looked past him, ignoring the question.  She turned back to
the paramedics.

Dakota Whitney said from behind Mulder, "What's going on?"

Mulder replied, "Let me ask.  Civilians don't always take to you
guys asking questions."

If Dakota recognized the dig from earlier that day, she made no
sign.  She did, however, back away.

Mulder approached Scully again, supervising the loading of Father
Joe onto the ambulance.

"We need to talk to Father Joe," he told her.

"That may not be possible for a while," Scully said.

Only a step behind Mulder, Dakota Whitney said, "It's important.  We
have a suspect."

"In custody?"  Scully asked.

"No," Dakota said.  "We're working on getting a warrant to search
his employer's office.  Here's the suspect."

Scully found it easier to talk to Dakota than Mulder at the moment.
She took the picture of Janke Dacyshyn from her and examined it.

"We've got a fairly credible witness who says she's seen this man at
the same pool as Monica Bannan and Cheryl Cunningham," Dakota told
her.   "He was identified as being there the last day Cheryl swam
there."

"Credible enough to make an arrest?"  Scully asked her.

Mulder fumed in the background as Dakota answered, "We think so.
We're moving in on him."

"Then why do you need Father Joe?" she asked.

"To show him that picture," Mulder said, loudly.  Scully still
wouldn't look directly at him.

Damn it, they'd been through too much together to let work get
between them.

Another black SUV entered the parking lot with a squeal of tires.
After speaking with the new arrivals briefly, Agent Drummy came up
and spoke to Dakota, who excused herself and walked over to the newly-
arrived agents.

"I'm convinced that's the man in Father Joe's visions," Mulder said
to Scully, tapping the picture in her hands.

Scully looked at the picture again, then up at Mulder.  "I think now
you're wasting *their* time, Mulder," she said, and turned back to
the ambulance.

"Tell me why you're here again?"  Mulder called after her.

"Here's a vision for you," Agent Drummy approached with Agent
Whitney.  "Couple of my guys just brought it over."  He held out a
second photocopied image.

A gaunt face stared back from the page.  His face was thin and
angular, with almond-shaped eyes, and a head either bald or shaved.
Franz Tomczeszyn, it said below the picture.

"This man is Janke Dacyshyn's employer," Drummy continued.  "And an
old friend of Father Joe's, we've just learned."

Scully turned around at that news.  "Are you saying Father Joe is
connected to a man who is trafficking in black market body parts?"

"*Allegedly* trafficking," Drummy said.  "It's an old association.
The Father knew him some twenty-odd years ago."

"Knew him how?" Mulder asked, in spite of himself.  As if he didn't
know.

"Turns out Franz was one of Father Joe's special altar boys," Drummy
said, enjoying his moment of vindication.  "And three guesses who
Franz is married to in the state of Massachusetts?  Our friend Janke."

Dakota Whitney had been on her cell phone and now said, "We've got
it covered.  We have the warrant for the offices."  She took the
pictures from Mulder and Scully, and turned with Drummy to the SUV.

Mulder turned to go with them.

"Mulder," he heard Scully say softly.

When he turned to look at her, there was nothing but compassion in
her eyes.  She knew how he felt; they'd been partners for too long
for her not to.  How many times in the past had they been right here?

"It's over," she said.  "Let them take it from here."

It wasn't over for him.  He wasn't going to quit now, no matter
what.  Without a word, he turned from Scully and flagged down the
second SUV.

-x-

Chapter Thirteen - Cornered

The SUVs pulled up in front of a building in an older part of town,
not many blocks away from Our Lady of Sorrows.  Mulder spilled out of
the second vehicle with everyone else and started toward the entrance
to the building, but Dakota Whitney stopped him.

"Why don't you hold up," she said with a slight smile.  "Let these
men do their job."

He didn't argue with her, but it stung all the same.  He didn't need
to be reminded again that this wasn't really his job anymore; he had
Scully to do that.

Yeah, even thinking that was unfair to Scully, but right now he
didn't much care.

"Look," Dakota was saying, "we were all fooled on this one.  I
wanted to believe this as bad as anyone."

Mulder grunted an acknowledgment, his eyes on the door the agents
had disappeared into.  Any moment now, they'd see some light on the
floor above.

"It didn't break the way we expected," she continued, "but still,
give yourself some credit.  *You* broke the case."

Damn straight I did, he thought, and glanced at her.  She had on a
very sincere expression, her blue eyes shining in the darkness.  Her
eyes were almost the same color as Scully's, but not quite.

"I don't need the sweet talk," he said, turning away.  "I'm a big
boy."

"But it's true, you led us here," she insisted.

"Father Joe led us here," Mulder corrected her.

"I called you in because I thought you could help with this case.
Because I valued your beliefs."

He wasn't sure how sincere she was; this was certainly a line he'd
heard before, and the person who'd uttered it had turned out to be
the biggest betrayer in his life.

"Yeah?" he said.  "And what do you think now?"

"I think," she said, her eyes wide, "that this is a longer
conversation."

He wasn't wrong; that line was definitely a come-on.  He didn't need
psychic powers to tell that much.

The adrenaline Dakota Whitney had felt when they were finally on
their way to search the building was still zinging through her
system.  She should be up there, searching with the others, but she
couldn't leave Mulder on his own, and she valued her job too much to
let him in on this search.

She was playing with fire, and she knew it.  She hadn't overstepped
the bounds of professionalism yet, but she was teetering.  The longer
they stood out here, the more likely she'd say something, take the
gamble that she could interest Mulder in sticking around, getting to
know her better.

Neither of them noticed the white van pulling into the alley half a
block away, driven by their suspect.

Janke Dacyshyn knew immediately that there was something wrong.
After being detained earlier that day, he knew he had to act.
Fortunately the DA hadn't been able to get a warrant that afternoon
to search his van.  He decided he'd better stop by the offices, just
to be sure that nothing incriminating had been left there by mistake.
He could hear the voices and see the lights in the office as he
stepped off the elevator.  As quietly as he could, he took the stairs
down to the lobby and exited.  He'd almost forgotten the transport
container he carried in his hands that he'd been too afraid to leave
in the van.

He managed to slip out of the front entrance without the agents at
the elevator seeing him.  They weren't familiar with the building and
were watching the wrong set of stairs.

Once out on the street, he tried to look as normal as a man coming
out of a dark building late at night could look.  He didn't see the
two figures standing by the SUV about ten feet back from the
entrance; their voices startled him and he turned.

Mulder got a good look at Janke's face, immediately recognizing it
from the photocopy.

Janke dropped what he was carrying and ran.

"Hey!" Mulder yelled, and took off after him.

After a second's shocked realization, Dakota Whitney ran too, gun at
the ready.  "FBI!" she yelled.  "STOP!"

Mulder heard her, but judged that she was too far back to actually
draw down on the suspect.  He put on speed, keeping the fugitive in
sight.

It wasn't easy.  He was out of shape, and the suspect obviously was
not.  Mulder's lungs were burning already as he took gulps of cold
air.

Janke headed up a side street and out into a more heavily trafficked
road.  Mulder still had him in sight, but now had to be more mindful
of his surroundings -- even at this late hour, there were buses and
taxis to dodge.  He turned back to see if Agent Whitney was catching
up, and was almost hit head-on by a bus.  He swerved just in time,
and bounced off the hood of a taxi which screeched to a stop next to
the bus.  He landed on his feet and lurched forward.

There were several buildings in the area under construction, and it
appeared that at some of them, work was going on, even at this late
hour.  Afraid he'd soon lose Janke in the welter of half-built
structures, Mulder pushed himself harder.

Janke ran through an open cyclone fence, dodging around an earth-
mover.  Mulder was gaining ground now that they were no longer in the
open.  It was almost as dangerous as the road, though.  The crews
here were working overtime, and there was movement of heavy
machinery, building materials, and people to watch out for.

"Stop that man!" he shouted to a couple of hardhats he saw in the
distance.  They looked up, startled, but Janke had already run past
them and up some temporary access stairs.

Mulder heard him clamber up the stairs and was close enough behind
him to catch a plastic bucket filled with metal pieces right at the
knees.

No damage done, fortunately, though even if there had been, he
wouldn't have stopped.  Failure was not an option; this man
represented their best hope of finding Monica Bannan and possibly,
Cheryl Cunningham as well.

The unfinished building had nothing more than plywood floors and
great empty gaps where there was no footing at all.  Tattered yellow
tape marked some of the areas, but in the dark Mulder did not want to
take the chance that some were not, and he picked his way carefully.
The higher he went, the more gaps there were.  Further obscuring his
vision were tattered sheets of translucent plastic, meant to provide
a makeshift windbreak.  Following Janke was a combination of maze,
obstacle course, and booby trap.  What light there was came from the
floodlights being used on the floors below, and the occasional shop
light marking the paths up and down.  Mulder could hear Dakota
calling from a floor below.  "Do you have him?" she called up to him.
He heard her clanking up the stairs he'd run up a few minutes before.

"No," he said briefly.  He was sweating and gasping for air, but he
tried to control his breathing and stood still to listen for sounds
of movement around him.  This was reminiscent of too many chases in
dark places.  He wished he had his gun.

A rustle of plastic and the flash of a shadow alerted him to Janke's
position, heading for a ladder to another floor.  Mulder ran for the
ladder, seeing the soles of his quarry's shoes several rungs above
him.

Once up at the top of the building, he could see more clearly, but
Janke was nowhere to be found.  Another ladder led back to the lower
floor, so Mulder went down again.

"Fox!" Dakota called.  "Do you see him?"

Her use of his first name reminded him uncomfortably that he had no
idea what Dakota Whitney might do, or how she might think.  Where
he'd have known instinctively what Scully would do, here they were
both at a disadvantage, even beyond the fact that he was unarmed.
And of course, Dacyshyn could hear every exchange between them.
Their only advantage was that Dacyshyn might assume that they were
both armed.

"I lost him," Mulder answered her.  He heard footsteps, and twisted
around just in time to see Dacyshyn taking another ladder down.
"He's coming toward you!" he shouted, and ran for the ladder.  He
looked around for a weapon, any weapon, but there was nothing loose
that he could use.

On the floor below Mulder, Dakota turned slowly in a circle, her gun
at the ready.  She was certain that Janke Dacyshyn didn't have a gun,
or he would have used it by now.  Mulder was unarmed, too.  He
shouldn't even be in on this chase, but he'd gotten the jump on her,
recognizing their suspect seconds before she did.  And she wasn't
likely to turn down his experience at a time like this.

"Where is he?" she shouted up to Mulder, and scanned around again,
and looked out the side of the open floor to see Mulder's head poking
over the edge of the upper floor.

"Do you see him?" Mulder called.

"No," said Dakota.  How on earth did Mulder get up there so fast?
she wondered.  "He must have got past me.  I'm going down."

As she turned to go, she came face to face with their quarry.  He
was too close for her to raise her gun; as she started to, he knocked
it out of her hand.  She didn't hear it land, but had no time to
wonder why because Dacyshyn was lunging toward her.  He gave her a
powerful shove and she fell back -- into nothing.  Her arms
windmilled frantically as she fell down, down, down.

Mulder ran down as fast as he could, but Dacyshyn was long gone.
Hoping against hope, he got to street level, calling for assistance
from the workers he could find.  "Call 9-1-1!" he yelled frantically.
"Tell them there's an agent down at this address!"

He found where Dakota Whitney lay at the bottom of an unfinished
elevator shaft.  Her gun lay beside her and she'd missed being
impaled by rebar by mere inches.  Nonetheless, he didn't need
Scully's trained medical eye to tell him that Agent Whitney was dead,
even though her eyes were still open.

He rocked back on his heels but stayed there, keeping watch over the
agent's body until help arrived.

x-x-x

Back at the Medical Arts Building, the agents in the lobby heard the
shouts from outside and went out to investigate, finding that Mulder
and Agent Whitney had disappeared, and a thermal carrier sat
abandoned on the sidewalk just down from the entrance.

"Agent Drummy," one of them said on the radio.  "You'd better come
down here."

Summoned from his so far fruitless search of the office, Agent
Drummy approached the thermal carrier with caution.  He put on his
gloves and carefully unzipped first one side, then the other.  Two or
three agents stood behind him, stepping back slightly as he prepared
to open the lid.  He extended his arm as far as he could, looking out
of the corner of his eye as he opened the carrier.  His observers
stepped back as well -- already there was a horrible smell emanating
from the it.  Drummy recoiled as the contents were revealed to be the
severed head of Agent Monica Bannan, her sightless eyes still open,
unknowingly mirroring the expression of the other murdered agent a
few blocks away.

-x-

Chapter Fourteen - Crossroads

Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital

Scully wasn't surprised to see Mulder standing at the foot of the
stairs as she hurried down the corridor to her office.  She'd already
seen Agent Drummy, inarticulate with rage and sadness, down in the
ER.  The nurse on duty had told her that "the tall man" had been
ordered out of the ER by Drummy, and she knew he'd instinctively seek
her out.

She couldn't deny him solace at a time like this.  She didn't
hesitate to walk right up to him and take his hand in the middle of
the busy hospital, let people say what they would, and despite their
hard words the day before.  Mulder needed her.

"Monica Bannan is dead," he said, "and Dakota Whitney."

"I know, I heard.  I'm so sorry, Mulder," she said, squeezing his
hand.

"We were so close," he said dejectedly.  "I thought we were winning."

"I know you did," she said sympathetically.  She wasn't sure who
moved first, but suddenly they weren't holding hands any more, and
Mulder was reaching into his coat pocket.

"I'd still like to see Father Joe," he said.  "I need to ask him
about these men."

Scully looked away, shaking her head slightly.  When she turned back
to Mulder, she said, "You should know that he's been diagnosed with a
terminal illness.  End-stage lung cancer."

Mulder nodded.  "I still need to talk to him, just to be sure."

Scully bit back her opinion of Father Joe.  Mulder had already heard
it and he didn't need to hear it again.  She would be as supportive
of him as she could.

"Let me ask him, then," she said, and Mulder nodded.  He followed
her down the corridor to the oncology ward.

The ward had only a few patients at the moment so there was some
privacy.  Father Joe was dozing, his face slack.  His eyes opened
slowly as Mulder and Scully approached, and he smiled slightly as he
recognized Mulder.

"Would you believe I was thinking of you?"  Father Joe said,
fumbling for his glasses.  "I had a vision.  Of a man, speaking a
foreign language."

Mulder let Scully do the speaking.  She unrolled the photocopies and
showed Father Joe Janke Dacyshyn's picture.  "Was the vision of this
man?" she asked.

"Yes!" Father Joe said excitedly.  "How did you know?  That's the
man!"

Scully said, "We think that he may have been the one who abducted
Monica Bannan and the other woman you say you saw, maybe more.  And
he was helped by this man."

She showed him the other photocopy, but Father Joe shook his head.
"I don't know this man."

"Are you *sure*?  Not just from your visions, but from your past?"
Scully persisted.

"I'm fairly certain I don't know him," Father Joe said, throwing a
look at Mulder that seemed to say, can't you get her to leave me
alone?

"I'm fairly certain that you do," Scully said.  "Take a look at the
name.  You knew him as a little boy.  An altar boy?"

If possible, Father Joe's face went paler as he read the name and
realized she was right.  "Oh, no..." he moaned.  "Oh dear God, no...I
don't believe it..."

"Neither does anybody else," she said coldly.

"He must be my connection to those women -- the reason I had those
visions was to save them.  This is God's work.  It's *God's work*!"
He turned to look at Mulder, appealing to him.

Mulder remained silent, trying to see what the truth was in the
words.  He still wanted to believe, to know that all that had
happened had happened for a reason.

"Just one last question," Scully said relentlessly.  "The young
woman of your visions, Monica Bannan.  Is she still alive?"

Father Joe closed his tear-filled eyes.  "Yes..." he said after a
few moments.  "Yes -- I can still feel her.  I feel that she is
alive."

Without a word Scully turned to Mulder.  Mulder nodded at Father Joe
and left the room.

Scully wasn't sure what she expected, but she was still surprised to
see Mulder already heading down the corridor.

"Mulder, where are you going?"

He turned at the head of the stairs.  "There's still another woman
out there, Scully.  I need to find her, if she's still alive.  Even
if everyone else has given up."

Once again, they were at a standstill.  Whatever outcome Scully had
hoped for, this was not it.

"Mulder," she tried again.  "You think I don't understand, but I do.
You don't give up.  You can't give up.  It's one of the reasons I
fell in love with you."

That hit home; she could see it.

"Maybe," he said slowly, "that's why we can't be together."  He
looked at her for a long moment, and then turned to go.

"Mulder," she said one last time.

He turned, to see her holding out her car keys.  "You'll need these.
I don't imagine Agent Drummy will help you."

He took the keys, his fingers brushing hers.  He couldn't speak but
he nodded in acknowledgment before he turned away again.

"Be careful," she whispered to his retreating back.

Mulder clutched the keys, imagining that they were still warm from
Scully's hand.  It wasn't much of a lifeline, but he would take what
he could get, especially after what he'd said to her.

How many times had they been here, right here, totally unable to see
eye to eye?  Always, eventually, they'd made peace with each other.
At least before there had always been the work that tied them
together.

He wondered if what they had together now was enough without the
work, or if the very thing that brought them together originally
would be the thing that finally, inexorably, tore them apart.

x-x-x

This time, instead of barking dogs, loud voices woke Cheryl from her
uneasy sleep.  She'd been rescued from the nightmare dog or dogs that
she'd seen, or hallucinated, by Grey Pants.  They'd treated her
superficial wounds and had given her a shot, which only now was
wearing off.  She had no idea what time it was, or how long she'd
been asleep.

Mean Man was spitting something at Hat Man, who was speaking in his
usual measured tones.  Mean Man waved him away and knelt down by the
gurney.

For the first time since the accident, she could see his face.  He
had an unaccountably gentle expression, and he was speaking to
Scarface.  His tone was so low she couldn't make out the words he
said, but he looked like an entirely different man than the one who'd
run her off the road.  His hand stroked down Scarface's cheek,
avoiding the healing cuts.

Hat Man approached the gurney, waving a piece of paper.  Mean Man
stood up and took it from him, his usual harsh expression returning
as he turned away from Scarface.

x-x-x

Somerset County, Virginia

Under the leaden sky, Mulder paced the field where the ice-encased
body parts had been exhumed.  He paced around the pit, still ringed
with yellow caution tape.  Initial forensic evidence indicated that
the parts had accumulated over time.  He suspected that they hadn't
actually been buried there originally, but somehow had ended up here.
Where did they come from, and how long had they been accumulating?
Why had the initial severed arm been found elsewhere?

Turning away from the pit, he scanned the mountains around him.
This was rugged country, not far from the border of West Virginia.
There had to be something somewhere that they'd overlooked.
Someplace fairly isolated, or at least without close neighbors.  That
seemed like basic investigation, but the agents had been putting all
their faith in Father Joe, and ignoring what seemed to him to be
obvious clues.

He trudged back to the car and headed back down the road, back to
the natatorium.  He'd use that as the center of his search, and
search each road from there.  He looked up at the sky, sucking on his
lower lip.  It was getting late, and soon it would no doubt be
snowing again.  Time was indeed his enemy.

x-x-x

Scully made her afternoon rounds, ending as she usually did at
Christian's room.  By all appearances, he'd come through the surgery
just fine, but as she'd told Mulder, it would take time, and more
procedures, before she knew the outcome.  When she looked in,
Margaret Fearon was sitting by him, holding his hand as he slept.

She held her finger to her lips as she came into the room.  Margaret
smiled tremulously.  Scully noted that she held a rosary in the hand
that held Christian's.  She checked Christian's chart and smiled once
more at Margaret, mouthed, "I'll talk with you later," and went on
her way.

Restless, she found herself in the oncology ward, telling herself
that she was just checking on a patient in whom she had an interest,
nothing more.  What more could she have to say to him, or he to her?
He had been proved pretty conclusively to be a liar, since it seemed
to be proven without a doubt that Monica Bannan was dead, despite his
"feelings."

And, of course, she hadn't operated on Christian because the ex-
priest had urged her not to give up.  She'd made the decision because
it was the best course of action for the boy.

The ex-priest was asleep when she entered.  She looked briefly at
his chart, though she had nothing to do with his treatment, and stood
at the foot of his bed.  What was it about this man that made Mulder
want to believe in him?  How did he manage to keep on hoping, in the
face of so much evidence to the contrary?

She wished she had his conviction.  After seeing so much over the
years, she still had doubts.  Maybe it came from putting so much of
her faith in science, that her initial reaction would always be
skepticism.  Maybe that's what kept her from confiding in Mulder what
the ex-priest had said to her.

So, instead, they'd argued more fiercely than they'd done for some
time.  She knew she'd hurt him deeply when she told him she couldn't
help him.  He'd wounded her back this morning, with his parting words.

She couldn't lose Mulder over this, but she couldn't simply give in
to him, either.  And, of course, there were other, larger concerns
that neither of them had yet talked about.

The ex-priest's eyes fluttered open.  His breathing was somewhat
labored but he seemed otherwise calm.  His fingers moved restlessly,
and Scully noted the rosary in his hands.  His lips moved and she
nodded and began to turn away, not wishing to interrupt his prayers.

"You...gave...up," she heard him whisper as she turned away.

"What?" she said, more sharply than she meant to.

"You gave up," he said again.

"I don't know what you mean," she said coldly.

His eyes were closed and his lips were stilled, though his restless
hands continued telling his beads.

Scully backed out the door.

x-x-x

One dead end after another, Mulder thought.  He'd tried all but a
few roads, stopped and talked to a few locals, but no one had been
able to tell him anything.

He was cold, and miserable, but he wasn't going to quit.  He came to
a very small town, no more than a wide spot in the road, really,
after the fruitless search of a secondary road led him to another
dead end.  He pulled in front of a small store.  Maybe they'd have
some coffee or something.

He glanced up at the sign: "Nutter's Feed and Fuel," it said, which
seemed a sort of cutesy name for a convenience store.  Then he noted
the smaller print on the sign: "Animal Supply."

The proprietor was at the door when Mulder approached.

"I'm closing," he told Mulder.

"I just need a minute of your time," Mulder said.

The man looked at the sky, sucking his teeth.  "You know, if you're
going somewhere, you'd better get to getting.  It's gonna come down
but good pretty quick."  He stood back to let Mulder come in.

The store seemed to be a combination of many things: a rural one-
stop shop and impromptu community bulletin board, with flyers on the
bulletin board by the door touting casino bus tours and local tag
sales.

"Well," the man said with a great show of patience, "what can I do
you for?"

"Do you sell an animal tranquilizer called acepromazine?"  Mulder
asked.

"Sure, if you got a 'scrip for it," the man said.

Mulder shook his head.  "I don't," he said, and reached into his
pocket for the pictures of Janke Dacyshyn and Franz Tomczeszyn.  He
held out Dacyshyn's picture first.  "Have you seen this man?"

Just as he leaned forward to look at it, the phone rang in his
office.  He rolled his eyes good-humoredly.  "I am *never* gonna get
out of here!"

Mulder waited at the counter while the man answered the phone.  His
eyes roamed idly around the store, waiting for the man to finish his
call.  As he looked out the big front window of the store, another
vehicle pulled up, a large, dirty, rattletrap-sounding truck.  It was
still light enough to see the driver's face as he got out of the
truck: Janke Dacyshyn.

Now Mulder really, really wished he had a gun.  He slipped out the
side door as Dacyshyn stomped the snow off his boots and entered the
store.

The store's proprietor looked at him with puzzlement.  "Where'd the
other guy go?"

"What other guy?" Janke asked.

"There was another guy standing right there!" the man insisted.

Janke shrugged and handed the man a paper.  "I need these things."

If the proprietor thought that it was unusual for two people to come
in asking for acepromazine in such a short space of time, he didn't
comment on it, which was probably fortunate for him.  Janke Dacyshyn
had become a desperate man.

A few moments later, Janke loaded his supplies into the truck and
juddered off down the road, followed by a couple of local dogs who
were very interested in something that was, or had been, in his truck.

A short way down the road, a white Taurus pulled quietly behind him,
its lights off in the gathering dusk, gliding like a ghost in the
wake of the truck's diesel exhaust.

The truck rattled along at a pretty good pace.  It swerved into a
side road, thankfully a paved one, since it seemed to consist of
hairpin turns.  Mulder hung back as far as he could.  Dacyshyn
wouldn't know the car, but it would be pretty obvious that someone
was following him if he got too close...and Dacyshyn might recognize
his face from the night before.

The truck took another turn and Mulder fished out his cell phone.
He didn't want to pester Scully, but he needed to let her know he was
on the trail.  Maybe she'd agree to at least get hold of Agent
Drummy.  He had a card somewhere, but he didn't want to stop and dig
it out, and risk losing his quarry.

He flipped open his phone, keeping an eye on the road ahead as he
looked for the right button on the unfamiliar keypad.  The truck had
momentarily disappeared around a corner and Mulder slowed to
negotiate the tight turn.

He nearly rear-ended the truck, stopped in the middle of the road.
He managed to swerve around it, but caught a patch of black ice which
caused the car to spin around and fetch up against the snow piled up
along the edge of the road.  The airbag deployed and the car stalled
out, hung up on the icy ridge of snow.

Disoriented, Mulder shook his head.  He tried the door handle, but
it wasn't budging.  He looked out his driver's side window, facing
the road, and was greeted by a startling sight:  the white truck was
now perpendicular to him, and revving its engine.

He didn't think that the guy was going to help pull him out of the
snowbank.  Mulder braced himself for the impact.  There was some kind
of a snow scoop or plow attached to the front, and it loomed larger
and larger as the truck approached.  It didn't have to gather much
speed; it was so much larger than the Taurus and it had the advantage
of the clear pavement.

The first impact shattered the driver's side window, showering
Mulder with glass and a blast of cold air.  The truck backed up a
little, and lurched forward again.

The car was now almost sideways over the steep edge of the road,
kept in place only by the amount of snow pilled up around it.  In the
flash of a second, Mulder thought of trying to climb out of the
passenger side or through the broken driver's window, but realized
he'd be crushed by the truck or by his own car.

In the time it took him to think these thoughts, the truck hit him
again, and the car scraped over the snow bank, hanging for what
seemed like an eternity before gravity pulled it down, tumbling over
and over into the ravine where it finally stopped upside down against
a sturdy tree.  The tree's branches released their accumulation of
snow onto the undercarriage of the car, half-burying it in melting
snow that rapidly turned to ice.

Janke Dacyshyn watched from his vantage point for several minutes,
but there was no movement from the car.  If he wasn't dead now, the
cold would finish him off that night.  He'd come back later to make
sure.

After he'd made sure that his Franz had what he needed.

-x-

Concluded in Part Five -

Reimagined: IWTB
by ML

-x-

Chapter Two - Go Be a Doctor

Skinner had actually been in touch with his former agents for some
time now.  Never directly; it had always been through intermediaries,
but as soon as he was able, he'd gotten word to them that Scully, at
least, was safe.

It took some time to make the necessary arrangements, but eventually
Scully took the coursework required to re-qualify for medical
practice, specializing in pediatrics.  She found employment in a
Catholic hospital, and set about trying to fit in to a world miles
off course from her former career.

As for Mulder, Skinner told him to lay low.  And that's what he did.

x-x-x

Richmond, Virginia

Our Lady of Sorrows was an older hospital, far from the city center.
They had been in desperate need of a pediatric specialist, and felt
very lucky to get Dana Scully.  The work was difficult and demanding,
and the children tugged at her heart.  But she was doing good work,
she felt.

In fact, she had thrown herself into her work headlong.  She brought
the same attention to detail to her new career that she'd done at the
FBI; perhaps even more so, spending her spare time learning
everything she could.  In medical school, she'd been known as a
grind; here at the hospital some of her colleagues called her "Super
Scully," though not always in an entirely complimentary way.

It beat being called "Mrs. Spooky", she supposed.  On her long
drives home, she sometimes reflected upon what had changed and what
had stayed the same in her life.  She had friends: people to have a
cup of coffee with, or talk over the latest hospital gossip, but few
really close friends.  There were too many questions she couldn't
truthfully answer, and that kept her somewhat apart.  But if she
didn't have close friends, she did have the respect of her peers.
And most days there were at least small victories to be celebrated.

This morning, however, she was running into a brick wall in the form
of a television monitor, delivering news that she didn't want to
hear.

"...There is no course of treatment for Sandhoff disease," the
consultant asserted from the videoconference screen.  Then she added,
sotto voce, "...but if there was, I'm sure you'd tell me."

"Thank you," Scully replied in a clipped tone to the monitor, and
turned her back.  The conference room, full of her colleagues as well
as the hospital's administrator, was silent.  She wasn't sure what
she had expected from them; some kind of support on behalf of her
patient, perhaps?  No one would even meet her eyes.

The news was a blow, but not entirely unexpected.  She had done her
research.  She'd hoped she was wrong.  Nonetheless, Scully would not
show defeat.  This was only a temporary setback; she'd find a way.
In the meantime, she squared her shoulders and left the conference
room.  The chief administrator, Father Ybarra, watched her go, but
said nothing.  She knew she'd have to deal with him later.

Although Dr. Scully cared deeply for all her patients, the one she'd
requested a consult on, Christian Fearon, was special.  From the
moment she laid eyes on him, she'd felt a bond with him.  He was a
sweet-natured boy, bright eyed with an impish grin.  It broke her
heart that she couldn't do more for him.  That she couldn't save him.

As she approached her office, Margaret and Blair Fearon came out of
the solarium, wheeling Christian ahead of them.  Scully changed her
expression to one of delight, her smile solely for the little boy in
front of her.  "Hi Christian, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay Dr. Scully.  How are you?"

"Me?  I'm doing just fine."  She raised her eyes to the hopeful
expressions of Christian's parents, keeping her smile in place with
an effort she hoped she was concealing.

"You got some outside opinions?"  Blair Fearon asked anxiously.

She couldn't tell them there was no hope.  She could not let them
think she'd given up.  Not yet.  "I did."

"And?"  Margaret Fearon prompted softly, her tired eyes still
reflecting a ray of hope.

Scully faltered inside, just for a nanosecond.  "I'm ordering some
new tests."

But before the Fearons could ask another question, a new voice broke
into the conversation.

"Dana Scully?"  The deep voice inquired, sounding too loud in the
echoing corridor.  "Doctor Dana Scully?"

Excusing herself from the Fearons, Scully turned.  "Yes?"

She saw before her a very serious young man, dressed in a dark suit
and exuding authority.  She knew instinctively where he came from.

His next words confirmed it.  "I'm looking for Fox Mulder."

Her heart started beating faster.  Was Skinner wrong?  Was she not
safe to be out in the world after all?  "I don't work with Fox Mulder
any more," she replied icily.

"I'm Special Agent Mosley Drummy of the FBI," the stern young man
continued.

"I can tell who you're with," she interrupted.  I don't work with
the FBI any longer."

A lesser man would have backed down.  But Mosley Drummy, while
disapproving of his partner's decision to call the former Agent
Mulder in, would pursue this avenue as far as he needed to.  In a
slightly more conciliatory tone, he said, "The FBI needs urgently to
speak with Fox Mulder.  It could save an agent's life.  Is there some
place we can speak privately?"

Scully hesitated.  What if it was a trap?  So far, she hadn't
admitted to knowing the whereabouts of Mulder.  Where had he gotten
his information?  As far as anyone at Our Lady of Sorrows knew, she
was single, and had always been a doctor.  If she'd ever had a
partner, she didn't now, and she did not share any details about her
past with anyone.  She slept at the hospital on those occasions when
an extra long shift made it impractical to leave.  As far as anyone
at the hospital knew, she lived alone.   She took precautions to
ensure that no one knew of her former life.

With some misgivings, she chose to hear him out.  "Come to my
office," she offered, leading him there.

Once inside, he withdrew a sealed envelope from his jacket.  "I've
been asked to give you this," he said.

Scully remained standing as she carefully opened the envelope
addressed to her.  Inside was a single sheet of paper, on FBI
letterhead, addressed to Deputy Director Alvin Kersh, and copied to
Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

"Re: Fox Mulder

"In light of the new evidence presented regarding former Special
Agent Mulder's activities, any derogatory information leading to his
termination as an Agent will be expunged.  To our certain knowledge,
there are no outstanding complaints or judgments against him, and he
is exonerated from any and all charges that may have been brought
against him.

Robert Mueller, Director
Federal Bureau of Investigation"

Scully read it again, and then once more.  It certainly looked real.
It read like the real thing, with just enough vagueness and double-
speak to sound governmental.

"Do you know what this is?"  Scully asked Agent Drummy.

He shrugged slightly.  "Deputy Director Kersh asked me to give it to
you, to give to Mr. Mulder.  He said that it was his part of the
bargain."

Scully remained silent, mulling this over.  Agent Drummy waited,
saying nothing more.  Finally, though, he cleared his throat and
moved toward the door.

"I appreciate your time, Dr. Scully."  He handed her a card.
"Should you be able to contact Mr. Mulder, call this number.  Thank
you."  He let himself out the door, shutting it gently.

A short time later, Scully emerged from her office, dressed in
outdoor wear.  She had a long way to drive home, and a lot to think
about.

-x-

Chapter Three: Cave of the Man-Bear

Rural Virginia

The small farmhouse lay silent in the gathering dusk.  The
surrounding grounds had an air of neglect, and the house itself had
seen better days, though to a more than casual observer, the porch
was swept and there was a good, sturdy door with a serious lock on it.

Inside, the house was snug and cozy.  The front door opened onto a
small living room.  There was a bookcase crammed with an eclectic
selection of books, and several more scattered on tables throughout
the room.  An aquarium stood on a low stand at the end of the room
farthest away from the fireplace, its watery glow casting the only
light in the room.

At the back of the house, in a small room with well-covered windows,
a man sat at his desk, reading articles and marking the important
ones, sometimes making notes on a legal pad.  Now and then he paused
to fish a couple of sunflower seeds out of a bowl nearby.

Lay low, the message had always been.  I'll let you know when it's
safe.

So here he was, feathering his nest much as he did once upon a time
at the FBI.

It suited Mulder, at least for the time being.  And, it pleased him
that Scully was able to leave.  It was something that they'd
discussed more than once.

It pleased him more that she refused to leave him entirely and go
back to a "normal life."  Together, they figured out a life that
worked for them.

Once they'd known Scully was safe from prosecution, they'd slowly
made their way back east.  Mulder concentrated on keeping them safe,
not so much from the FBI, but from other, more insidious threats.
Armed with the knowledge of what could destroy or at least keep the
super soldiers at bay, Mulder researched locations with naturally-
occurring magnetite.  He finally found an old farm about an hour away
from Richmond, Virginia, where Scully found employment.

He could say that he'd been fairly happy since they'd been together.
If he didn't count the loss of their son, the fact that he was a
fugitive from justice, and the low-level anxiety about the
approaching end of the world that always hummed in the
background...sure, he was happy.

He'd never tell her how much it meant to him that she had stayed
with him, even though she had the chance to leave.  He was afraid
that knowledge would be too much of a burden, should she decide one
day that she'd had enough of this kind of life.  He lived for the end
of the day, though he tried not to count the minutes until he could
expect Scully to walk through the front door.

By mutual agreement, he didn't have a cell phone of his own, and in
fact there was no land line in the house.  He relied more on print
media than Internet these days, exercising caution when he was on
line to never use any former alias or user ID that could connect him
to anyone or anything.

When Scully asked him what he was working on, he told her he was
writing his memoirs.  Anonymously, of course.  "I'll publish under
the name of Kurtzweil," he said with grim humor.  "Then I'll be sure
it won't draw too much attention."

Some days he felt like a bear in his cave, waiting for spring.  He
scratched his chin, still a little surprised to encounter the beard
that he'd grown in the past month, just to be doing something.  The
jury was still out on whether Scully liked it.

This winter had been especially difficult.  The weather had been
harsher than usual, leaving him housebound frequently.  There had
been a few times when Scully couldn't make it back from Richmond,
long lonely nights that gave him a taste of what it would be like if
he and Scully were truly separated.

He didn't like it one bit.

He heard steps on the porch and the doorknob rattle.  He turned back
to his desk, busily cutting out an article as the door to his inner
sanctum opened.

"You're becoming awfully trusting, Mulder, for a man wanted by the
FBI," Scully said behind him.

"Eyes in the back of my head, Scully," Mulder replied, winding up
for the pitch.  "Auf einer wellenlange, as the Germans say.  It's a
precognitive state, often confused with intuition, in which the brain
perceives the deep logic of transitory existence unaided by the
rational mind."

He could feel her leaning against the door jamb, waiting for the
punch line.  He could almost hear her eyes rolling as he rattled off
his spiel.  "Moments of clarity," he continued, "materializing as
conscious awareness of space and time independent from all sensible
reality.  Such moments of clarity can materialize much as you did
just now, Scully.  Though if you'd actually 'materialized,'" he
added, "you'd be rapidly de-materializing even as I speak."

He turned, and there she was in reality, just as he'd imagined her.
She gave him a half-smile, still waiting.

He gave her the half-smile back.  "But who believes that crap
anymore anyway?"  He waved his latest clipping at her, about the
Princeton ESP lab closing after 40 years.  Finding a place on his
wall-sized bulletin board/filing system, he pinned the article up.

Scully said, "Evidently they still believe at the FBI.  I had a
visitor today, Mulder."

He stiffened slightly.  "That can't be good."

Her next words surprised him.  "The FBI needs your help, Mulder."

"Well, I hope you told them to go screw themselves," he said.  He
sat down at his desk, but turned toward Scully as if to say he would
at least hear her out.

"They say," Scully said slowly, feeling the words as she spoke them,
"all is forgiven.  They'll drop all charges against you if you'll
just come in and help them with this case."

"They'll forgive *me*?"  Mulder practically shouted, unable to stay
seated.  "I'm the one they put on trial for murder, and they did
their damnedest to invalidate a decade of my -- *our* work.  They
should be asking for *my* forgiveness."

Scully had thought about this all the way home.  "I think they are,
Mulder," she said.  "Desperately."

"How could I possibly help these people?" he asked, not sure he
wanted to know the answer.

"There's a missing FBI agent, and someone who has come forward with
some promising evidence," she said.

Mulder gestured to her to continue.  *And*? he seemed to say.

"He's a psychic, or so he claims."

Now it was Mulder's turn to roll his eyes.  "It's a trap," he
decided.  "They're trying to smoke me out."

Scully sighed.  "Mulder, if the FBI wanted to find you, I have no
doubt they could have, long before this.  I think they've been happy
having you out of their hair."

"Well, I've been perfectly happy having them out of mine," Mulder
huffed.  "I was on trial *for my life,* Scully.  Do you remember
that?"

She looked stricken.  "How could I ever forget?" she asked.  "But I
do believe that they're serious about this forgiveness."  She
withdrew an envelope from her pocket.  "Take a look at this."

Mulder read the short letter over carefully, then read it over a
second time.

"There's a young agent's life at stake, Mulder," Scully said softly.
"I know I don't have to say this, but once upon a time it could have
been you -- or me."

Low blow, Scully, Mulder thought, but he said nothing.  His eyes
slid away to his desk.

Scully tried again.  "Mulder, to be honest I worry about you.  I'm
worried about the effects of this long-term isolation on you."

"Nothing to worry about, Scully," Mulder said expansively, leaning
back in his chair.  "I'm happy as a clam here."

Scully's eyes went from the overflowing trash can up to the ceiling,
where at least a dozen pencils lodged in the acoustical tile.  She
didn't have to say anything; her expression said it all.

Mulder waited her out.  Finally, she sighed and turned back to the
door.  "I'll let them know your answer," she said, shutting the door
softly.

He started to turn back toward his desk, but his eye was caught by
the picture in the center of the door -- the whole reason he got
involved in the X Files in the first place.

Samantha's picture smiled back at him, and he sighed and muttered
"Shit..." under his breath before heaving himself out of his chair
and going out to Scully.

"Okay, I'll go," he said with resignation.  "On one condition..."

Scully smiled at him.  "Of course I'll go too," she said.

-x-

Chapter Four: I'm a Stranger Here Myself

"Sounds like our ride's here," Mulder said, as the familiar sound of
helicopter blades filled the air.  "Guess they're serious about the
urgency of this case, huh?"  He followed Scully out onto the porch
and locked the front door securely behind him.  It was the first time
he'd left the house by the front door since they'd moved here.

Not just a helicopter, a black helicopter, Mulder noted as he ducked
under the blade wash, helping Scully in before getting in behind her.
He almost said something smart-ass to Scully, but she was wearing her
I-don't-like-to-fly face, and he didn't want to upset her any more
than she already was.  The mere fact that she was coming with him was
enough for now.

The ride to Washington, DC took quite a while but was over too soon.
It had been a long time since Mulder had seen the skyline of the
nation's capitol.  Once it had been so familiar he barely noticed it
when coming in for a landing.  Now, he saw it with fresh eyes, the
lights looking like jewels in the night sky.

It was very impressive, as long as you didn't look too deeply
beneath the beautiful, heart-stirring facade.  Nothing was ever as it
appeared, as they well knew.  The bright lights hid a pool of slime
that a guy could drown in.  He almost had, on more than one occasion,
and taken Scully with him.  He still harbored some misgivings about
this adventure, but when had that ever stopped him before?  At least
he and Scully had each other's backs.

The helicopter landed on the roof of the Hoover Building and one
lone agent awaited them.  It was hard to tell in silhouette -- could
it possibly be Skinner, welcoming the prodigals home?

As they got closer, Mulder could see that the only resemblance
between this man and Skinner was height and expression.  Scully
identified him to Mulder as Agent Drummy as they approached him.
Which was good, since the agent didn't bother to introduce himself.

"Thanks for the ride," Mulder said as they neared him.

"Don't thank me," Agent Drummy replied.  "I didn't send it."

Great, Mulder thought.  Some things never change.

If the stone-faced agent had asked him about the flight, Mulder
would have replied, "It was a little choppy," but this agent seemed
to have checked his humor at the door.

It was a familiar sensation to walk down these halls again.  Mulder
looked around him to see what had changed.  In essentials, not much
had.  The walls might have a few different pictures -- there had been
how many new Directors since Mulder had left?  Otherwise, it felt and
sounded and smelled like the Hoover Building of old.

Even at this late hour, there was a lot of activity.  Agents came
and went from various conference rooms along the hall.  Mulder noted
sidelong glances at himself and Scully, two civilians being escorted
by the dour agent.

"Wait here," Agent Drummy instructed as he entered a conference room
alone.

Mulder looked over at Scully, who was looking a bit bemused herself.
What the hell are we doing here? she seemed to be asking.

Don't ask me, he thought.  This was your idea, Partner.  He gave her
a half-smile, and she seemed to divine what he was thinking,
returning his smile with a small grimace.

Agent Drummy emerged from a different door.  "Come in," he said
without ceremony.

The room they entered was like any of a hundred rooms they'd been in
before.  A low buzz of activity swirled around them.  Only a few
people looked up and noted their entrance.

At the far end of the room, two women conferred as Agent Drummy
approached them and gestured to the two visitors.

One of the women excused herself to the other and strode over to
greet them, hand out in greeting.

Scully watched closely as the agent approached.  She was wearing
dark trousers and white shirt, her dark hair in a neat chignon.
Scully noted, almost as a reflex, the woman's tall, slender frame,
her dark eyes.  Scully had always done a threat assessment whenever a
stranger entered their sphere.  It was partly her FBI training, but
in some cases, it was more personal.  Fleetingly, it crossed her mind
that Agent Drummy hadn't mentioned that the ASAC on this case was a
woman.  Had the FBI come so far in such a short time that this was no
longer unusual?  Scully pursed her lips slightly and recognized the
odd emotion she was feeling as envy.

"I'm Dakota Whitney," the agent said directly to Scully, shaking her
hand.  "Thanks for making this happen."  This was unusual, too:
almost everyone shook Mulder's hand first, and then hers, if Mulder
introduced her.

Then Dakota Whitney turned her focus onto Mulder.  "Fox Mulder, I
believe," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.  "Thank
you for coming.  I know this must be awkward for you."

The understatement of this or any other century, Mulder thought.

"My team and I appreciate your trust," Agent Whitney went on.

"Trust being what it is," Mulder replied, "what if I can't help you?
Or your agent ends up dead?"

"The past is the past," Agent Whitney said.  "We know your work on
the X-Files and believe you may be the best chance Monica Bannan
has."  She handed Mulder a file, watching him intently as he perused
it.

Scully asked, "How long has she been missing?"

"Since Sunday night," Dakota Whitney said.

"I know I don't have to tell you this, Agent Whitney, but there's
slim chance, after seventy-two hours, that she's still alive."

"And we have slim reason to believe that she is, that's true,"
Whitney admitted.  "But the facts give us hope."  She picked up
another file and held it out to Scully.  "We found this about ten
miles from the crime scene."

The top picture in the file was of a severed arm.  "But this is a
man's arm," Scully said.

"A man's arm," Mulder echoed, "that is a match for evidence found at
or near your crime scene.  Blood or tissue?"

Whitney smiled slightly but refrained from looking at the rest of
the team, who were now listening intently to Mulder.  "Blood, found
just outside Monica Bannan's carport, and on a hand rake, which she
may have used as a weapon against him.  Although she carried a gun,
we found it locked in the trunk of her car, and her spare weapon was
inside the house."

"What did Forensics say?"  Mulder asked.  Scully could see the
wheels starting to turn behind his eyes.

"Male, thirty to forty, no match for any fingerprints in the
database," Whitney said.

"And you were led to this arm...?"

"Like a needle in a haystack," the ASAC said.

"By someone claiming psychic powers," Mulder stated.

Dakota Whitney nodded again.  "Joseph Patrick Crissman."

"But you think he's full of shit," Mulder said.

Agent Drummy finally chimed in.  "Now what makes you think that?"
He asked snidely.

"Mulder matched his tone.  "Maybe *I'm* psychic."

"Look," Agent Drummy said, "this *psychic*, this Father Joe --"

"*Father*?" Scully interrupted the pissing match with her startled
reply.  "He's a *priest*?"

Agent Drummy nodded.  "Catholic."

"And he contacted you?"  Scully went on.

"He cold-calls us six hours after Agent Bannan was reported missing.
Nothing had been made public yet, no one outside the FBI knew a
thing.  And he claims he's had a vision of her.  That he's got some
kind of 'psychic connection' to her."

That was the most Mulder and Scully had heard out of Agent Drummy
the whole time they'd been there.  He appeared ready to go back to
holding up the wall and shooting disapproving looks, but Mulder kept
asking him questions.

"And this Father Joe tells you that Monica Bannan is still alive?"

"That's right," Agent Drummy said.

"And he claims a psychic connection to her.  Tell me, have you
discovered any other kind of connection?"

"To Monica Bannan?"  Agent Drummy was being deliberately obtuse now.

Before Mulder could say anything else, Dakota Whitney said, "No
other connection between the two.  That's when I decided to call you
in."

As if there had been any doubt as to who did the calling.  Scully
did wonder what kind of 'connections' Dakota Whitney had to find out
about Mulder, and then to get permission to bring him back.

"I need your expert opinion," she continued.  "That we're not
wasting time here, going down this road with Father Joe."

It was certainly a road that Mulder had been down a few times, and
he gave it his best shot.  "Well, he's a religious man, plainly," he
started.  "A well-educated man.  He took right action.  He cast no
doubt on himself or his motives.  You say he has no material
connection to the crimes."  He paused.  "You *are* wasting time,
Agent Whitney, only it's mine and your agents'."

She looked at him with shock.

"This is the only road you have, Agent Whitney.  You have no reason
to doubt him, why the hesitation?"

"Well, there's a question of credibility --"

"If you have no reason to doubt the man, why doubt his visions?"
Same old, same old, Mulder thought.  They never want to believe.
What did they expect me to say?

"Look, Mulder," Agent Drummy said, "he didn't lead us to Monica
Bannan, just some guy's bloody arm!"

"This is not an exact science," Mulder retorted, really tired of the
same old shit.  "If I was you, I'd be on this Father Joe twenty-four
seven.  I'd be in bed with him, kissing his holy ass."

There was a gasp in the room, and a choked-off chuckle.  Mulder
looked around, daring anyone to openly laugh at him.

Agent Whitney said quietly, "The reason there's a question of
credibility is that Father Joe Crissman is a convicted pedophile."

Silence in the room.  Drummy looked smug.  Everyone else got busy
looking at the files in front of them.

"Oh."  Mulder said flatly.  "Well, maybe I'd stay out of bed with
him."

He would not look at Scully, but he felt her hand on his arm.

Dakota Whitney noted it, too.  "Would you come with us to see Father
Joe in person?  I'd really like to get your opinion of him."

Now Mulder did glance at Scully, and she nodded slightly.  She was
still willing to go along, at least.

"Lead on," he said.

-x-

Chapter Five - Seeing Is Believing

Richmond, Virginia, 1:00 AM

It was a long drive to Richmond.  Agents Drummy and Whitney sat in
the front of the lead SUV, followed by another with a second team of
agents.

Mulder and Scully sat together in the back of the first SUV.  Mulder
resisted the urge to check the back of Agent Drummy's neck for a
knobby spine while he mulled over the facts of the case in his head.
Scully sat quietly beside him, but the steady motion of the car was
her downfall, as it usually was, and before long she was leaning on
his shoulder, fast asleep.

Well, she'd had a long day, he reflected.  Early at the hospital,
then this little jaunt to DC and back -- no wonder she was beat.  He
carefully brushed a strand of hair away from her face, enjoying the
rare treat of being back in the car with Scully.  When she woke up,
he'd be sure to tease her about drooling on him.

The apartment complex they finally pulled up to was a non-descript
collection of buildings.  Three two-story structures formed a U
around an area of open ground.  It was as if the buildings had just
been plopped down with no landscaping or softening.

Nowhere to hide, Mulder thought.  Whether it was deliberate or
unintentional, that was the result.

"What is this place?" Scully asked, gazing around her.  No one would
choose to live in such a bleak place, surely.

"They're dorms for sex offenders," Agent Whitney said.

"Dorms?"  Scully echoed in disbelief.

Agent Whitney shrugged.  "It's voluntary.  They're self-policing.
Father Joe lives here with his room mate."

Mulder leaned over and said to Scully, "Just avoid the activities
room."

Agents Whitney and Drummy led the way up the exterior stairs of the
closest building.  Agent Drummy knocked on the door as Mulder and
Scully approached.

The door opened and the man who answered recognized them, but he was
not the man they sought.  He turned his head without greeting the
people on his doorstep.  "Joe!"

An accented voice floated out from the bowels of the apartment.
"Tell them to come in."

The four entered, standing close together in the small living room.
The smell of something frying permeated the air, battling with the
smell of stale cigarette smoke.  A TV played quietly in the corner,
the theme song to an old comedy which seemed extremely out of place.

Scully could just see into the next room, which appeared to be
Father Joe's room.  He got up slowly from a pre-dieu and shuffled
into the front room.

The man was a sight to behold.  Gray stubble adorned his cheeks and
wild gray hair floated around his face.  Cheap glasses framed intense
blue eyes and a face that might have been called cherubic in the
distant past.  He wore an old flannel robe and slippers.

Scully was revolted.  She sensed, rather than saw, the discomfort of
the others around her as Father Joe turned the sound down on the TV
and lit a cigarette.

"Sorry for the mess," he said with the air of a weary host.  "I
haven't been sleeping."

Agent Drummy said, "Father Joe, this is Fox Mulder."

Father Joe looked at Mulder, unimpressed.  "Okay," he said.

"He'd like to ask you some questions --"

"Actually," Scully broke in, "I'd like to ask you a question."

"Okay," Father Joe said again, as if it was the most ordinary thing
in the world to be visited by strangers with questions in the middle
of the night.

"I saw you praying in there," Scully continued.  "Just what were you
praying for, sir?"

"I was praying for my immortal soul," Father Joe said in a soft
Scots burr.

"And do you think God hears your prayers?"  Scully asked.

"D'you think he hears *yours*?"  Father Joe countered with a half-
smile.

"*I* didn't bugger thirty-seven altar boys," Scully said in a flat
tone.

Mulder grinned.  This was the side of Scully he missed, the agent
who brooked no subterfuge, who didn't call a spade a spade but a
damned shovel.  He loved it, and he especially loved the shocked
looks on the two FBI agents' faces.

"Ooh Scully, that's an interesting way to put it," he said, sotto
voce.

"I have another way if you'd like," she said crisply.

"I bet you do," he said admiringly.

Father Joe himself interrupted their repartee.  "I have to believe
that He does hear me," he said, with no sign that he'd heard Scully's
last comments.  "Or else why would He be sending me these visions?"

"Maybe it's not God doing the sending," she replied.

Mulder stepped in.  Time to play Good Cop, or at least, Neutral Cop.
"These visions.  How do they appear to you?"

Father Joe lit another cigarette off the butt of his last one.  "In
what you might call my mind's eye," he said.

"What did you see?"  Mulder asked.

"I see...I see the poor girl being assaulted," he said, fixing his
eyes on a distant point.  "I see...the bloody arm.  I hear dogs
barking."

Agent Drummy shifted restlessly.   They'd heard all this before.

Mulder asked, "Can you show us how you do it?"

Father Joe looked at Mulder, considering, and then turned his gaze
on Scully.  "I don't think I can," he said, "though, perhaps, if
*she* wasn't here..."

"Maybe what you see is a way to make people forget what you *really*
are," Scully said, but she turned and walked out the front door.
Mulder watched her go with regret but not surprise.

Scully felt better out in the cold air.  The atmosphere in the
apartment was suffocating, with its smells of cigarettes and fried
food.  She looked through the folder she'd carried with her from the
car, studying the picture of the severed arm, looking through the
test results.

The apartment door opened behind her and she turned, hoping it was
Mulder and he was ready to go home.  That he'd determined Father Joe
was a fraud after all, and now that he had his Get Out of Jail Free
card, they were both free to --

-- to what?  They'd never discussed it.  Maybe neither had wanted to
plan for something that might never happen.  They'd been living from
day to day for a long time.

But it wasn't Mulder, after all.  Father Joe's roommate sidled past
her, carrying a bag of garbage.  He looked at her the whole time he
walked along the balcony to the stairs.  She watched him right back,
then when he was out of sight, turned back to the folder.

She was so intent on it that she jumped when she felt Mulder's hand
on her arm.  "Jesus, Mulder."

"I can't take you anywhere," he murmured, echoing her words from a
case long ago.

"I'm sorry," Scully said.  "I've been too long away from this
business -- or not long enough."

"No, no, you were good in there.  All I had were questions, but you
challenged him -- it was like old times."

"Yeah, well, he's a creep -- and a liar.  He knows who did this, and
they're feeding him with information -- really, look where he lives!"
She gestured around the apartment block.  "And this arm that they
found -- it wasn't injured in some accident; it was severed cleanly,
almost surgically.   How is it that Father Crissman could lead them
to this and not have the faintest clue where Monica Bannan is?"

Mulder did not answer, but he was listening to her, his eyes never
leaving her face.

"Two things you're going to find in the next twenty-four hours is a
dead agent, and that this 'Father Joe' is a big, fat fraud."

"You could be right, Scully," Mulder said softly.  "You could be
right.  But, what if you're wrong?"

The apartment door opened and the two agents came out with Father
Joe, who was winding a muffler around his neck.

"What's going on?"  Scully asked Mulder.

"Field trip," Mulder said with a grin.  "We're gonna see if Father
Joe is really the psychic he claims to be."

Scully handed him the file and started down the stairs.  "Yeah,
well, it's been fun."

"Where are you going?"  Mulder hurried after her.  "No one's going
to make you sit with him," he said with a smile, not really believing
she wouldn't go along.

"I've already been taken for a ride tonight," Scully said.
"Besides, *he* doesn't want me here."

"I want you here," Mulder said quickly.

Scully shook her head.  "I'll get someone to take me back home.  Why
don't you come too?  Nothing says you have to be a part of this."

But as she said it, she could see the spark in Mulder's eyes.  The
Mulder of old was awakening.  It was good to see, but her joy was
accompanied by a curl of fear.  What had she done by getting him
involved?

"Scully..." he started to try and persuade her, but she cut him off,
walking away.

"This is not my life anymore, Mulder.  I'm done chasing monsters in
the dark.  And I think you've done what was asked of you.  No one can
make you stay."

Mulder touched her arm, and she turned toward him again.  "These
people need my help," he said.  "Desperately."

She grimaced at his choice of words, but didn't turn away.

"And I need yours," he said.  "You don't have to come along.  Just --
just stay involved."  He held the file out to her.

Reluctantly, she took it from him, and was rewarded by a full smile.

She gave him a very small smile back, but she tucked the file under
her arm.

-x-

Continued in Part Three -

Title: Reimagined: IWTB
Author: ML
Email: msnsc21@...
Rating: 14 and up
Spoilers: "The X-Files: I Want to Believe"
Synopsis:  a "fanfic-ization" of the second XF movie
Disclaimer:   Please note that I do not claim ownership of anything
to do with the movie or the novel, I am doing this solely for
entertainment/amusement purposes, and not to make any profit or gain
from it.  In fact, this is in celebration of the release of the DVD.

Acknowledgments: To the Posse, for making me stick with it!  Also, I
am so grateful to CC, FS, DD and GA, and all the other folks at Fox
and elsewhere who made the second movie possible.  Spending the last
couple of months with this story is the most fun I've had in a long
time.  I hope you get some enjoyment out of it, too.  More notes at
end: right now, on with the show!

x-x-x

Prologue

Rural Virginia, early January 2008

She almost didn't need her headlights, the moon was so bright on the
snow.

Monica Bannan was feeling good.  She'd made it to the community pool
in time for a good workout, and was looking forward to a nice evening
by the fire before hitting the sack.  The roads had been plowed since
the last heavy snowfall, and at this time of night in her
neighborhood, she had the road to herself.

She actually found herself looking forward to getting back to the
office on Monday.  A couple of days of being snowed in were more than
enough for her.  Fortunately, the power had stayed on so she'd been
able to telecommute, or she really might have gone a little stir
crazy.  As it was, she'd been glad to finally get out for a drive and
some exercise today.

She pulled into her carport and noticed that her dog, Ranger, was
barking furiously from inside.  Instantly she was on the alert.  This
was not Ranger's "welcome home" bark, this was his "intruders!" bark.

She sat in the car for a moment.  As an FBI agent, she had a gun.
Unfortunately, at the moment it was locked in her trunk.  She might
be able to quietly get it out, depending on where the intruder (if in
fact there was one) lurked.

Then she saw it in the moonlight: the barest bit of vapor, just
beyond her carport entrance.  Like the vapor of an expelled breath.

Quietly she got out of her car, and chose an impromptu weapon from
the wall of gardening tools.  The hand rake would do.  It would have
to do, until she could get into her house for her other gun.  She
gripped her keys in her other hand like an auxiliary weapon:  brass
knuckles with sharp edges.

As she reached the opening of the carport, she raised her weapons.
When the figure showed itself, she struck quickly once, then again.

An otherworldly groan escaped as the man she wounded reeled back,
clutching his face with his bloodied hand.  Her fleeting glimpse of
him relayed that he looked odd -- very gaunt, and almost hairless.
Almost inhuman.

Before she could strike again, another man rushed her.  With no time
to strike at him and no time to open her front door, she turned and
ran for her carport door.  It led to the back of her house, and from
there she'd have a head start running to a neighbor's.  She might
have made it but for the snow piled up, keeping her from opening it
fully.

The second assailant tackled her and brought her down.  Still she
managed to wrest herself from his grasp, and crawled through the
door's opening.  She ran away from her house, hoping she might make
it to her neighbor, several hundred yards away.  She screamed, but
had little hope that anyone would hear her.  Everyone was buttoned up
tight on this cold January night.  She would have to save herself.

She ran across the snowy field, only to be tackled again.  As she
struggled to break free, something cold was pressed against her neck,
and the moonlit field went black.

-x-

Chapter One:  Finding Fox Mulder

Calling Fox Mulder in on a case was the best and worst career
decision Dakota Whitney ever made.

Of course, by the time she realized the worst part, it was too late.

x-x-x

The FBI Academy at Quantico was a different place in the twenty-
first century.  Certain changes were to be expected, to be sure: new
techniques and tools became available and therefore were used in
training the new recruits to the FBI.  There were new cases to be
studied.  Instructors rotated in and out, and with them came their
own experiences and anecdotes.

On the surface, at least, someone visiting Quantico after a time
away would not notice anything appreciably different.  Certain
institutional icons still existed, such as Hogan's Alley, and the
Wall of Fame for particularly distinguished graduates.  Nonetheless,
a little revisionist history had taken place.  Certain names and
certain cases were no longer used as examples by any of the
instructors.  Plaques listing achievements of past graduates had been
removed and revised.  It was as if the institutional memory had had a
selective wipe.

Therefore, it was not until after Special Agent Dakota Whitney had
been out of the Academy for a while that she first heard a reference
to "Spooky" Mulder in connection with a case.

She'd been working on her first big assignment, acting as a lowly go-
fer for the incident team.  Eager to make a good impression, she came
in early and stayed late, studying the files in the situation room
and reviewing anything she could find in the FBI database that might
help.

One evening as she sat reviewing the day's evidence, a couple of
veteran agents came in.  They were talking about the case and did not
notice that Dakota was still in the room.

She half-listened, because she always listened.  You never knew what
you might hear.

One of the agents said, "What d'you suppose ol' Spooky would have
done?"

"He'd have gotten inside that guy's head, and had the whole thing
solved before lunch time," the other one said.

"Yeah, they don't make 'em like Spooky Mulder any more," said the
first.  "I can remember --"

Agent Two cut his eyes over to Dakota Whitney, hunched over her
laptop.  The conversation abruptly stopped.

"Don't scare the new kid," Agent Two said in a stage whisper.
"Wouldn't want word to get around we mentioned the unmentionable."
The two rose and abruptly left the room.

Ever curious, Dakota Whitney went on a hunt.  She searched out any
case with the name Mulder attached.  Eventually she stumbled on an
archived database containing scanned files.  Oddly, many of them
appeared to have been damaged in some kind of fire or explosion, and
had been pieced together and scanned into the database.

To say that the content was unusual would be an understatement.
Reading the files became an avocation.  Certainly many of the cases
themselves seemed to defy belief, but the investigative techniques
and the conclusions were usually well-thought out.

Most were signed by both Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, though it was
clear that Special Agent Mulder got the credit for the more
outlandish theories.  Still, they were often supported, at least in
part, by Agent Scully's scientific analysis.

Then, abruptly, the files ended.  She saw the names of a few other
agents in the files, but most of them were dead -- killed in the line
of duty, or "missing, presumed dead."

Agents Mulder and Scully didn't fit into any category easily.
Whatever had happened, they were out of the Bureau, and no one would
willingly talk about them.  The files themselves were a dead end, and
she didn't want to draw too much of the wrong kind of attention to
herself by asking too many questions.

Dakota Whitney kept her discovery to herself, at least for the time
being.  The knowledge might come in useful one day, and sometimes it
was helpful to have an edge.  She was confident in her skills and
abilities, but it never hurt to keep a little something in reserve.

She did well at the FBI.  She had the brains, and she worked hard.
She acted as ASAC on a couple of minor cases, and conducted herself
well.  She had a solid career ahead of her.  Though not considered a
"blue-flamer," to be in the upper half of a class filled with over-
achievers was nothing to sneeze at.  At least, that's what she told
herself.  Her time would come, and she would earn her reputation.

And then Monica Bannan was kidnapped.  SAC Fossa named her ASAC and
she went to work with her usual thoroughness.  When the call came in
from a man claiming he had visions about the case, many wanted to
dismiss him as another crackpot, but she insisted that they try him
out.

The first "field trip" with the man yielded a clue, but not the clue
they were expecting.  It was time, she felt, for extreme measures.

"I think he can help us," she told the gathered task force.  "But I
have no idea how to interpret what he's giving us."

"How do we know he's not fakin' it, or somehow connected with the
perp?" asked Special Agent Mosley Drummy.  He was her partner, and he
had little patience with her extreme ideas.

"We haven't turned up anything so far," she said, keeping her voice
even and reasonable.  "I think we owe it to Monica to try every
avenue, don't you?  Time is short."

When she suggested bringing Fox Mulder into the investigation, the
younger agents looked puzzled, and some of the older ones looked
surprised.

"Who is he, another psychic?"  One of the younger agents asked.

"He's a former agent, who used to head a division that investigated
cases like this.  His team had a very high solve rate -- and he may
be able to provide some insight into our informant."

"But didn't he get fired?" one of the older agents spoke up.

No one seemed to know for sure.  There was a brief, though lively,
discussion on the subject.  It seemed that many had at least heard
rumors of Fox Mulder over the years, but he was never talked about,
for reasons no one seemed to know.  Now they acted like kids being
let out of class for recess.

SAC Fossa stood back, looking disapproving, but she said nothing.

"Whatever happened to him, he's been out of the Bureau -- how long?
Six, eight years?  Does anyone even know where he is?" asked another
agent.

"I have an idea of someone who does," Dakota Whitney said.

SAC Fossa watched the interchange, still saying nothing.  As Dakota
prepared to leave the situation room, she merely said, "Be very sure
you know what you're doing, Agent Whitney.  An agent's life is at
stake."

"That's why I think I'm justified in using any means at my
disposal," she replied, and headed up to meet with the man she hoped
would be able to help her find Fox Mulder.

x-x-x

"A.D. Skinner doesn't have the time to meet with you today," his
assistant said.  "Let me check his calendar for later in the week."
She turned away from Dakota to her computer screen.

"It's about Fox Mulder," she said, playing a hunch.

Skinner's assistant barely paused, but Dakota thought she detected a
small change in her demeanor.  "It looks like he might have a few
minutes right now, before his next call," she said.  "Excuse me, I'll
check with him."

A moment later she came out and gestured toward Skinner's open door.

A.D. Skinner was looking out his window, his back to Dakota Whitney.
She stood just inside the door, and said, "Thank you for seeing me
without an appointment, Sir."

Without turning around, A.D. Skinner said, "What do you know about
Fox Mulder?"

She stepped in a little further, not waiting for his invitation.
"About him personally?  Nothing.  I've done some research, though,
and I know he was once considered a top profiler.  Now no one will
talk about him, and his personnel records are sealed."

No response from the man at the window.

"I've found some of his case files, though.  There were some in the
database, and I found a few more of them stored in the basement, in
an old janitor's closet, of all places.  Why aren't they all in the
database?"

"There are good reasons why Fox Mulder is not mentioned around the
Bureau," AD Skinner said.  "Reasons that are far above your pay
grade."

"Does that invalidate his work?" she asked.  "I know he left the
FBI, and a year or so later was under some kind of investigation, but
that's all."

Not a word from A.D. Skinner.  She pushed ahead.  "I also know that
he disappeared a few years ago, along with his partner, Dana Scully.
She was not accused of any wrong-doing herself, but for a while was
considered an accessory."

"Why are you bringing all this up?"  Skinner asked sharply.  Now he
turned to look at her.  She usually could read faces pretty well, but
his was as expressionless as a world-class poker player.

"I have a case -- a missing agent -- and I think that he might be
able to help.  The cases I've reviewed -- they are unusual, Sir.  He
may have insights that the average agent would not."

I'll take it under advisement, Agent."  Skinner walked to the door
and opened it.  "I'll be in touch."

Special Agent Whitney started to leave, but turned in the doorway.
"Sir, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that time is of the essence -
-"

"That will be all, Agent."  A.D. Skinner's door shut in her face.

Alone in his office once more, Skinner picked up his phone and
dialed a private number.  "It's time," he said.

x-x-x

As Whitney re-entered the Situation Room, SAC Fossa looked up from
the file she held.  "Well?"

Dakota Whitney shrugged.  "We'll see."

x-x-x

Skinner left his office and took the elevator one floor up.  He'd
once thought he might have his office on this floor, but time and
circumstances seemed to have taken him off the short list for Deputy
Director.

On the other hand, even if he had made DD, he'd probably still have
to shovel a lot of shit at the direction of someone else.  Even Alvin
Kersh had shoveled his fair share.

But at least they were both alive to tell the tale.  That is, if
anyone would believe them.

x-x-x

The night of Mulder's escape from the Marine brig, Skinner was
fairly certain that his days were numbered.  The next morning, upon
discovering that the X Files office had been cleaned out, he was
positive.

He'd been summoned into Kersh's office by the man he'd come to hate
almost as much as C.G.B. Spender, the "man" Gibson Praise had
identified as not human.  He'd entered Kersh's office with great
trepidation; sure that Kersh had done another about-face and was
ready to hang him out to dry, or worse.  Gibson, standing in the
hallway with Doggett and Reyes, had whispered in horror, "He
knows..."  Skinner hadn't heard the rest of it, but those two words
sounded like a death knell.

But instead, Kersh had saved his life.  His own too, of course, but
the really surprising thing was how he'd accomplished it.

Kersh seemed to realize that his fellow jurist was not who he seemed
to be, and he was ready.  Once the door was closed, he tossed
something at the man, who reflexively caught it.

Skinner was not prepared for what happened next.

The man stared at the object in his hand, and then started to shake.
Within moments, he appeared to be burning from the inside.  And then,
the really impossible thing happened.

He exploded.  At least, that's the best description Skinner could
give.  He simply came apart.  Within moments, there was nothing but
fine particles of ash and charred bits of -- something flesh-like,
but not -- throughout the office.

Kersh looked as shaken as Skinner felt.

"What the hell was that?"  Skinner asked.  "Some kind of new weapon?
What did you do to him?"

Kersh walked over to where the object lay on the carpet.  "It's just
a rock.  I didn't know what would happen, but Agent Doggett gave it
to me and suggested a use for it."

"Agent Doggett suggested that."  Skinner repeated.

"I was skeptical, to say the least," Kersh said.  He picked up the
rock.  "It's magnetite, or some damn thing.  Agent Doggett insisted
that it would come in handy.  In light of recent events, I was
inclined to humor him."

Skinner said, "Good thing."

Kersh grimaced.  "You gonna help me clean this up?  It's not the
sort of thing I'd leave for the custodial staff."

It wasn't a question, really.

x-x-x

Kersh was standing looking out his window, in much the same attitude
Skinner had assumed when Agent Whitney visited him.

Six years had aged Kersh more noticeably than it had Skinner.  He
was a good political gamesman, or he would never have made Deputy
Director in the first place.  But although Mulder had been a handful
while he was in the FBI, it was the events following his return and
subsequent trial that had stretched Kersh's desire to toe the party
line almost beyond its limits.

It was a tribute to his integrity as well as his political acuity
that he was still here.  He was on the point of retiring, but he had
one more thing to accomplish.

"Walter," he acknowledged AD Skinner in his laconic way.  "I hear
our lamb may be returning to the fold."

"Not exactly," Walter Skinner said.  "He's been requested on a
consult.  It creates the opportunity we've discussed."

"If you say so."  Kersh had always had mixed feelings about Fox
Mulder.  A straight-arrow himself, he had no patience with people who
went outside the FBI mainstream as Mulder had.  His job, as he saw
it, was to rein Mulder in -- and if he couldn't, get him out of the
FBI as precipitously as possible.

Mulder had hung on much longer than anyone could have expected.
Firing him, however, did not give Kersh the personal satisfaction he
thought it would.  Ever since El Rico he'd had a sense of impending
disaster, and getting Mulder out of the Bureau hadn't lessened that
sense.  Still, he ignored the nagging doubts about some of the things
Mulder had told him, and that he'd read himself in the case files.

Mulder as an FBI agent was a liability, but Mulder as a private
citizen, investigating the things that some in the FBI didn't want
him investigating, kept him out of Kersh's hair and allowed him
continued plausible deniability.  It hadn't worried him; but Mulder's
reappearance as a prisoner a year later had.  Especially after his
own disturbing interview with General Suveg about the nature of the
trial, and the ultimatum he'd been delivered.

Things had gone from bad to worse after that, and he'd found himself
an accessory to Mulder's escape.  But he could not, in good
conscience, let the man die for the trumped up charges against him.
He had now seen, and heard, too much to allow the travesty of justice
he'd been witness to.

Still, he'd managed to maintain plausible deniability even after
Mulder's escape.  The fact that no official record had been kept of
the trial helped with that, and the mysterious disappearance of some
of the other key players didn't hurt either.

He didn't even want to think about what happened in his office the
next morning.   Skinner witnessed it, but he could trust Skinner to
keep it to himself.  They now knew too much about each other to be
anything less than allies in this quiet war.

"We've had the plan ready for some time," Skinner said now.  "As a
matter of record with the FBI, he was fired for disobeying orders and
insubordination.  There's nothing else in any official record to say
otherwise.  Anything else is a matter of conjecture, and we know how
to handle that."

"I'm aware of that, Walter," Kersh said.  "Has there been
any...activity of any other kind?"  He wouldn't say that super
soldiers haunted his dreams, but they were among the things he could
not dismiss easily.

"None that I'm aware of, for a very long time," Skinner replied.
"They are either lying low, or something's happened to change things."

"You know as well as I do that bringing Mulder 'in from the cold'
may change things again," Kersh said.

"I think it's time," Skinner insisted.  "He's aware of the risks,
but I'd be surprised if he didn't jump at the chance."

"And what of his partner?"  Kersh asked.

"She was never implicated in anything," Skinner said.  "It's been
safe for her for a long time.  She just wasn't interested."

"That's not really what I meant, but I think you know that," Kersh
said.  "Well, it's gonna be your problem pretty soon.  My retirement
is official next month."

"It's like the Mafia, you know," Skinner reminded him.  "You can
never *really* retire."

"Assistant Director Skinner, are you comparing the FBI to the
Mafia?"  Kersh said in his sternest tone, though his expression gave
a different meaning to his words.

Both men smiled grimly, sharing the gallows humor that soldiers
who'd been on a long campaign might share.

-x-

continued in Part Two -

Never before has a series dared to have a season in between seasons...
Until now... "FOX & RAT" HIATUS 2008!


Hx01 "Mulder & Krycek Interview"
Written by: Cassie & Kristi
Air Date: November 10, 2008
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mulder and Krycek are interviewed during the 2008 FRVS Hiatus.

Interview URL: http://www.foxandrat.com/HIATUS/Hx01.php

Please send your comments on the interview, and any questions you'd
like to ask to any FRVS character after you read the interview.

Season 10 Premiere: February 9, 2009

Enjoy the interview!

http://www.foxandrat.com/

-Executive Producers-
Cassie & Kristi

August 28, 2000

The sun was shining slyly through the curtains in the Georgetown
apartment. Outside, the birds were chirping away while car horns
honked at the delay. Inside, the laughter of a man and a woman could
be heard.

"Mulder," Scully whined, drawing out his name. "Warn me before you do
that."

He lifted his head from her shoulder. "Do what, Scully?" he asked
innocently.

"Warn me when you're about to kiss me and you haven't shaved yet."

"Why, Scully? Something wrong?"

"Yes, that tickled," she giggled when he brushed his beard over her
bare shoulder again. "It tickled and you know it."

Mulder chuckled. He kissed his way further down her arm just to hear
her laughter. She giggled even more when he deliberately tickled a
spot on her side.

He loved her laugh. Her actual, full-blown, genuine laugh. There was
nothing sweeter than that one sound.

He stopped his kisses suddenly as a wave of familiarity came over
him. He moved up so he was face to face with her.

"Hey, Scully, do you believe in past lives?" he asked.

She looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I guess;
maybe a little on some level. Why?"

He shook his head and kissed her forehead. "Oh, nothing. I just had
the strangest feeling of d�j� vu."

*** **

The End.

August 28, 2000

The sun was shining slyly through the curtains in the Georgetown
apartment. Outside, the birds were chirping away while car horns
honked at the delay. Inside, the laughter of a man and a woman could
be heard.

"Mulder," Scully whined, drawing out his name. "Warn me before you do
that."

He lifted his head from her shoulder. "Do what, Scully?" he asked
innocently.

"Warn me when you're about to kiss me and you haven't shaved yet."

"Why, Scully? Something wrong?"

"Yes, that tickled," she giggled when he brushed his beard over her
bare shoulder again. "It tickled and you know it."

Mulder chuckled. He kissed his way further down her arm just to hear
her laughter. She giggled even more when he deliberately tickled a
spot on her side.

He loved her laugh. Her actual, full-blown, genuine laugh. There was
nothing sweeter than that one sound.

He stopped his kisses suddenly as a wave of familiarity came over
him. He moved up so he was face to face with her.

"Hey, Scully, do you believe in past lives?" he asked.

She looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I guess;
maybe a little on some level. Why?"

He shook his head and kissed her forehead. "Oh, nothing. I just had
the strangest feeling of d�j� vu."

*** **

The End.

*** **

"I admire your home, Maximus," Aurelius commented.

The two men sat at a table in the kitchen. After making sure his
guests were comfortable with their accommodations, he had been eager
to be alone with Lucilla for the night. To his dismay, Caesar had
asked to speak with him. Maximus had been unable to inform Lucilla of
the change in plans. He tried not to think about how she was
occupying her time while he was waiting for Caesar to get to the
issue.

`She must be worried about me,' he thought.

"Thank you for speaking with me tonight," Aurelius said. "And for
welcoming my family into your home."

"It is my pleasure, Caesar," Maximus assured. "After all, you've
welcomed me into your home many times."

Aurelius chuckled to himself. "You are my eyes and body on the
battlefield. I think we are even."

Maximus nodded and asked, "Why did you want to speak with me Caesar?"
He wanted to speed this along. He had a beautiful young woman waiting
for him, after all.

"I wanted to speak to you," Aurelius started, "about my successor.'

"Have you finally chosen him?"

"Yes, I have. He's brave, strong, has firm beliefs of Rome. He
doesn't much care for politics but I believe he is the best choice
for the future of Rome." Aurelius nodded as he spoke. "I choose you,
Maximus. I want you to succeed me."

The general's mind zoned to solely what Caesar had said.

"What? Me?" He pointed to himself. Aurelius nodded. "Caesar, I can't
possibly rule Rome."

"You can, Maximus. You are the only choice," Aurelius insisted. "The
Senate agrees with me. You must rule Rome."

"Caesar," but he was at a loss for words. Rule Rome? He couldn't! He
didn't have to mind for that type of thing. He was merely a soldier,
a farmer's son. Controlling a nation of people wasn't in his
agenda. "You must choose another man."

"There is no other choice," Aurelius persisted. "You can rule Rome."

"But Caesar, I don't have the mind for politics. I wouldn't know the
first thing to do."

Aurelius smiled. "That's why you are perfect. They are stuffy men,
Maximus. The Senate needs someone like you to shake things up. Rome
needs you, Maximus."

But Maximus was still in disbelief. "Caesar�" His words fell short.

Aurelius clapped the man on his shoulder and stood from his seat.

"Think about it tonight and give me an answer in the morning," he
advised. "That's an order."

Maximus didn't get a chance to protest any further.

*** **

Maximus appeared stunned when he entered his room shortly after.
Lucilla shot up from the chair she had been waiting in.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick. You said you'd only be
five minutes," she ranted off. She noticed his distant look. She
touched her palm to his cheek. "Maximus, what's wrong?"

Her touch jolted him from his thoughts. He pulled her hand to his
lips and kissed it to assure her. "I'm sorry I was so long. You're
father asked to speak with me. He� he asked something of me and I'm
not sure what to do."

She led him over to the bed. "What did he ask?"

He looked up at her with wide eyes as he collapsed onto the bed. "He
asked me to succeed him."

"You? He was talking about you?" she said loudly.

"What?" His face mirrored that of confusion.

Lucilla sat next to him. "After you left, I was� somewhat depressed.
Father noticed it but I was reluctant to tell him why. Anyway, he
started talking about the future and how he needed to choose a
successor and that he had someone in mind. He said he couldn't tell
me who it was but we would both know in due time. I never realized he
was talking about you."

Maximus was shaking his head. So many crazy things were happening in
such a small span of time.

"I don't know what to do, Lucilla," he confessed to her. He lay back
on the bed. His hands ran down his face in disgust. He looked over at
her. "What do I do?"

She smiled sadly. She ran a hand through his hair to comfort him.

"As much as I want to, I can't decide for you, Maximus," she told
him. "I won't deny that I would be more than ecstatic if you chose to
rule Rome. I won't deny that is the option I want you to choose. But
I can't force you to do something you don't want to. I can't ask you
to put yourself in a situation in which you will be unhappy."

"I don't need to answer," he interrupted. "I just need some guidance."

She lay down beside him and propped herself up on her elbow. "All
right, then. Where do you think you will be happiest, here or Rome?"

"Wherever you are," he answered without hesitation.

"And what if I return to Rome come spring and never return to
Alexandria?"

"Then I shall go to Rome as well."

"And do you want to change Rome for the better?"

He nodded.

"Then isn't that your answer?"

He looked up at her smile and smiled gratefully at her.

*** **

The months passed too quickly for Maximus. After asked Aurelius for
an additional day to think his dilemma over, he weighed the pros and
cons and accepted the offer for the throne. Words couldn't have
described how relieved Lucilla had been. She'd made her appreciation
known that night.

Maximus showed Lucilla the Egypt he knew. They shared many midnight
walks on the beach. When Maximus worked in the fields, Lucilla often
watched him from his bedroom window. He often showed off for her, her
laughing all the while. Melania and Aurelius no longer questioned
whether the relationship existed or not. The couple wouldn't answer
anyway.

Octavia grew to loathe Lucilla. The younger woman received all the
general's attention and Octavia wasn't used to that. It was rare when
Maximus was home longer than two or three weeks and during that time,
Octavia was used to all of his attentions. Or at least trying to get
his attention.

She'd never heard Maximus mention the Roman before. He never talked
about women when he was at home. During the last few years, he had
become more distant towards Octavia. And when he had arrived home
this time, he couldn't get rid of her fast enough.

Yes, Lucilla certainly was evil. And competition.

*** **

24 Januarius 175

"Maximus, I haven't seen you in a few days," Octavia told him when
she joined him in his private outdoor seating area. "How have you
been?"

"I've been well; I've been busy lately. I'm sorry I haven't had time
to speak with you," he said distractedly. He was facing her but his
attention was on the paper in front of him. Every now and then, he
would set his graphite down and run his fingers along the paper.

"Do you have time for me now?"

He focused his eyes on the paper. "I suppose I have a few minutes to
spare. What did you want to talk about?"

Octavia took that as an invitation to sit beside him.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing. We've hardly had any time to
talk since you've been home."

Maximus glanced up at her for only a second. "I'm fine. The harvest
was excellent this year." He stopped to fix a line on the paper. "I'm
sorry I've had little time to speak with you but duty waits for no
one."

"Hmm. Duty or Romans?"

Maximus halted his movements. He detected the bitter tone in her
voice. He knew she didn't like Lucilla and he knew Lucilla didn't
like Octavia. They did their best staying away from each other but
Maximus wouldn't tolerate ill speak of his love.

"I don't appreciate your tone, Octavia," he warned her.

"Forgive me, Maximus, but I don't feel she has your best interest at
heart," Octavia expressed.

"My best interest?" Maximus laughed. "What exactly would that be?"

Octavia looked down as though embarrassed. "She's using you," she
whispered.

Maximus laughed harder. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever
heard."

"But Maximus, it's true!"

"No," he said shaking his head. "If anything I'm the one using her.
Lucilla and I have been through too much over the years. We help one
another; we appreciate one another. We enjoy each other's company.
Our relationship is purely�"

"Destiny," Lucilla finished, entering the seating area. She rounded
around to Maximus, running her hands over his shoulders. "And
somewhat abnormal."

Maximus nodded. "Exactly." He didn't dare glance over at Octavia. He
never could get the smile off of his face after seeing Lucilla.

Octavia noted the way the other woman pulled her chair close to the
man. She narrowed her eyes in hatred.

Lucilla leaned over his shoulder to see what he was working on.

"Oh, Maximus, I told you not to," she protested when she saw the
drawing of herself. For weeks he had wanted to draw her and she had
always greatly protested.

"No, I believe you finally agreed last night," he recalled, looking
over at her.

"I wasn't serious when I said that, Maximus," she retorted. He gave
her a knowing look. "I didn't agree that you could do *this,*" she
clarified.

"Too late to argue; I'm almost finished." He placed a hand on her
thigh. "How was the meeting between Pharaoh and your father?"

"Maximus."

The couple turned at the sound of Octavia's terse tone. Her look
showed them how unhappy she was.

"Maximus, I've been invited to a banquet tonight at Alexander's," she
said as if it was of great importance to them. "I was� hoping you
would accompany me tonight."

His eyes narrowed. She knew he disapproved of Alexander. He was a
womanizer and derogatory to women as well. Maximus hated being around
the man.

"I'm sorry, Octavia," he apologized with false sincerity. "We're
dining with the Pharaoh tonight. He's expecting us."

Lucilla tried to hide her smile at the other woman's disappointment.
She made sure to keep her face down so Octavia wouldn't see.

"Oh, well that's all right. If you'll excuse me now, Maximus." She
needed to be as far away from them as possible.

Lucilla waited until she could no longer hear retreating footsteps
before speaking. "That woman is desperate for your attention."

She looked up at him to find him looking at her. Her breathing grew
shallow.

"Then it is too bad for her that my attentions are focused
elsewhere," he murmured to her. She nodded mutely before he kissed
her so tenderly, she almost forgot her name.

*** **

21 Martius 175

He was later than what he had told her. He hoped she wasn't upset
with him but he knew she would be. Her mood would quickly change once
she heard the news he had for her.

He opened the door as silently as he could. He saw a faint light
coming from the direction of the bed but he couldn't tell if she was
awake.

He quietly undressed so as not to disturb her. He glanced around the
room as he did so. Her possessions mingled with his, the sight of it
taking over his senses. It was beautiful. His room had become their
room, just like he hoped her room had become their room.

He slowly climbed into bed, trying hard to jostle too much.

"You're late."

`Busted.'

Lucilla rolled over to face him, her look not one of happiness. He
smiled guiltily at her.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Luci," Maximus apologized. "I had some business
to finalize. It took longer than I expected."

Lucilla sighed sadly. "It's always business."

"Luci?"

She had been in a funk all week. He supposed it was because he had
been spending time readying his ship for their sail date early the
next month. He had also spent time discussing details with Aurelius.
And he was busy readying for the next harvest. No wonder she hated
him right now.

"Nothing, Maximus," she brushed it off. "I suppose I should be used
to it by now."

He shook his head. "No, Luci. It's good business."

She decided to give him a chance to explain himself.

"I've turned over my estate to Apolonia, the headmistress of the
house while I'm away. It is now hers until I return to Alexandria,
should I choose to one day return."

Her eyes lit up.

He continued. "But the way I see it is that our home here will be
more of our winter getaway. How does that sound, Luci?"

"You're really coming to Rome?"

"Of course." He was puzzled. "You knew that."

She sat up, the sheet falling to her waist and exposing herself. "I
know but I didn't think you actually would." He started to argue but
she stopped him. "You keep your promises, Maximus, but I didn't think
you were ready to give up this lifestyle."

"What lifestyle?"

"Being a soldier, free and able to do whatever you please whenever
you please. A free man with a woman and a place to stay in one empire
and a home with no obligations in another empire. You hated talking
about the specifics so I thought you weren't ready yet."

He sat up and pulled her close to him. He kissed her lips to allay
her worries.

"First of all, I'd rather be with my woman in that distant empire
than in a large, lonely house with no obligations," he informed her
matter-of-factly. He placed kisses along her collarbone and felt her
relax. "Second of all, I hate talking about the specifics because
they're so boring and I didn't want to bore you with that."

She paused before saying, "Your woman, huh?"

He nipped a sensitive spot on her neck. "Yes, my woman. I say all of
that and that's what you focus on?" he teased. She smiled, the
reaction he was hoping for. He kissed her again, the taste of her
never enough.

"I'm committed to you and to Rome. Don't worry yourself. I'm ready to
give up every lifestyle just to be with you."

She met his eyes. "Really?"

"You sound so surprised," he chuckled.

"Sometimes I still don't quite believe everything," she confessed
quietly. "I can't imagine my life without you, though."

"I know how you feel," he agreed. "I feel as though I can't breathe
whenever we're apart. I am incomplete without you."

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "Maximus, stop," she begged.

"No, I need to get this out. I keep too much of this inside of me; I
don't want to regret that one day."

"I understand that, Maximus, but I've cried too much lately and I
fear I can cry no more."

"Will you let me tell you one day soon?"

She nodded. "One day but not right now. Now I think we should just go
to sleep."

"Sleep?" he repeated with a pointed look.

She blushed. "Well, no but�"

He silenced her quickly so she could protest no more.

*** **

4 Aprilis 175

Shouts from the men on the dock reached the house. They hoisted
chests onto the ship one at a time, a job that was taking longer than
planned. Individual bags of luggage were already on the ships. The
only issue left was Maximus's luggage. And to finish settling his
estate.

"Maximus, my boy," Aurelius greeted, coming up behind the man. "It's
finally time to return to Rome. How do you feel about that?"

"Relieved that it is finally here," Maximus admitted. "I must admit
that I'm nervous. I had planned to settle my estate and move to Rome.
I hadn't planned for you to ask me to succeed you."

Aurelius chuckled. "Yes, I imagine that was a shock, but you were
always the only choice."

"I still don't understand why."

Aurelius chuckled again. "One day you will," he promised. He followed
the younger man's gaze to the docks. The market was just next to
it. "Where's Lucilla?"

"In the bazaar with Melania. They wanted to get last minute shopping
in before leaving."

"Ah, of course," he nodded. The two men settled their gazes on the
ships being loaded simultaneously. They stood in silence. Being men,
they didn't feel the compulsion to say anything to one another.
Except for when one thought of something important to ask the other.

"Speaking of Lucilla, I've been meaning to ask you something,"
Maximus started.

"I'm aware of your relationship with her, Maximus," Aurelius
interrupted. "I have been for quite some time now."

Maximus kept silent. Aurelius continued talking.

"Everyone thinks I don't notice these things but I do. Maybe not
right away but I see it," Aurelius continued. "I approve of you,
Maximus. That's why I haven't chosen a husband for her. I might
threaten, of course, but I'm never serious. I wouldn't put her in a
loveless marriage. I want her to be happy and you, my boy, you make
her happy."

Maximus unconsciously nodded. Aurelius looked over at him and smiled.

"Something changed this time around between the two of you. You grew
closer. You two are always together."

"We became serious," Maximus added, and then mentally chastised
himself. He looked over at Aurelius with a guilty look. "About that,
Caesar�"

He held up a hand to stop him. "Say nothing. I choose no one else but
you to be with my daughter. You treat her like the queen she is. I
can ask for no less."

"Well, then, since you feel that way," Maximus started, his stomach
tossing and turning. "I'd like to ask your permission to formally
court your daughter. And perhaps marry her."

Aurelius raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps?" he parroted.

Maximus smiled. "I'd like to ask your permission to marry your
daughter," he corrected himself.

Aurelius broke out into a huge grin. His belly shook as he laughed.
Not exactly the reaction Maximus was expecting.

But his fears were calmed when Aurelius nodded.

"It's about time, my son. It's about time."

*** **

9 Aprilis 175

Lucilla giggled as she tried to push Maximus away. He couldn't be
moved, though, and snuggled further into her side.

The ship's calm rocking helped along the peaceful atmosphere in the
small room. A trace of sunlight shone through the tiny window. There
was scarce noise outside on deck.

It was a beautiful morning.

"Maximus, your beard tickles," Lucilla said amidst her giggles.

He stopped his exploration of her arm long enough to say, "Oh,
really. I couldn't tell."

"Maximus!" she squealed when he continued.

"Shh!" he silenced her, joining in her laughter. "You don't want your
father to hear, do you?"

"No, but I warned you that it tickles," she chastised with a smile.
He moved up so he was face to face with her. She wrapped her arms
around his neck to keep him close. "Are you going to shave soon?"

"Since I don't want you teasing me, yes. But not before I rub it all
over your face." He touched his beard to her cheek to see what she
would do. His reward was that lovely low laugh of hers that worked
its way through her body. And his.

"You are being silly this morning, Maximus," she said softly. "What's
come over you?"

"The warmth," he started, kissing her cheek, "of a beautiful woman
lying next to me in a soft bed."

He brought his lips to hers. He kissed her slowly, as if they had all
the time in the world. Her hands combed through his hair as she
responded eagerly. He moved his body to lie atop hers, pressing her
body further into the mattress. She didn't mind. In fact, she rather
liked it. It made her feel safe to be surrounded by him, to have all
five senses engaged in him.

No one had ever made her feel what Maximus did. She felt consumed by
him. And she liked it.

"Would you go to the ends of the earth for me?" she asked him in a
whisper. She pressed her forehead against his. "To save me from
danger?"

Maximus met Lucilla's eyes. "I would gladly go to the coldest depths
of Hell and search through snow and ice to save you from the hands of
evil, my Luci," he answered, his voice rough. "Never doubt my love or
my fidelity."

She shook her head. "I never do. I just like to hear you say words
like that sometimes."

"Never hesitate to ask. I have a million words saved up just for
you," he promised.

She brought a finger up to trace the lines of his face.

"I'll remember that."

He took hold of her hand after she traced his lips. He looked at the
ring on her finger, the ring that symbolized his eternal promise to
her. He kissed that finger thoughtfully.

"Lucilla, I have a question to ask you and I will not take no for an
answer."

Her eyes were wide as she waited for him to speak. She wasn't
disappointed with his question.

And no was far from her answer.

*** **

9x18 "Transmissions"
Written by: Kristi & Cassie
Air Date: December 17, 2007
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What if the future can help the present?

Episode URL: http://www.foxandrat.com/S9/9x18.php

=FRVS SEASON 10=
The premiere date for the 10th and final season of "Fox & Rat" has
been pushed back to FEBRUARY 9, 2009. The reason behind this decision
is so we can bring you non-stop, continuous airing of episodes without
delays, and so season 10 can rock your socks off!

And just because we're delaying our premiere until February 2009,
doesn't mean we won't give you something new. Look forward to
character interviews starting November 10, 2008!

=GLOBAL X-PHILE CENSUS 2008=
Participate in the 2008 Global X-Phile Census, deadline is November
21, 2008. Be sure to get your answers in as soon as possible!
URL: http://emma.keturah.googlepages.com/thex-philecensus

=FRVS FORUM=
Don't forget to update your links and bookmarks with the new FRVS
Forum address! If you were a previous member of the old forum you will
need to RE-REGISTER. All data (members and posts) were lost on the old
one, so come join again.

Forum URL: http://www.foxandrat.com/forum/

Enjoy the re-run!

http://www.foxandrat.com/

-Executive Producers-
Cassie & Kristi

*** **

4 Augustus 174

The months at sea had been endless and uneventful. Maximus spent much
time with his men on deck playing cards. They soon tired of it though
as Maximus was a master at cards.

So he would spend his time looking out over the sea, thinking of his
love back in Rome. She was ever present in his dreams at night; a
comforting image.

Now here he was in Alexandria, miles away from the only person who
brought serenity to him. And miles closer to the person who made him
want to seek out Medusa.

"Maximus, you've returned," said the voice of Octavia from behind him
as he sought out Pharaoh Ptolemy.

He groaned angrily but only loud enough so Palidorus next to him
could hear. "I have this woman," he muttered lowly to Palidorus.

"I shall go seek out Pharaoh and bring him to you,' Palidorus said,
trying to save his lord from this woman. He left before Maximus could
say otherwise.

"No, don't leave me with�" but Palidorus was too far away to hear his
pleas.

Octavia stood in front of him when he turned back around. He started,
but did not let her see it.

"Octavia," he said with false cheeriness. "How have you been?"

"I have been well. You look wonderful, Maximus," she noticed. He did
look different. Happier, maybe? "How long has it been since we last
saw one another?"

Maximus shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've been so busy with other
matters."

She nodded. Of course, he was a busy man. She made the move to step
closer so Maximus put his hands behind his back. He didn't want this
woman touching him. He only wanted Lucilla's hands on him.

If Octavia noticed this, she didn't' say or do anything. "I missed
you, Maximus."

"Thank you," he said. He certainly couldn't tell this woman what she
wanted to hear. "My heart was missing Alexandria so I decided to
return for a short while."

`Where is Palidorus?' He discreetly peered over her shoulder.

"You're not here to stay?" Octavia sounded disappointed. "Are you
ever going to choose a wife, Maximus? It's about that time."

"Well, uh, I'm, uh," he stuttered, "I'm not really the marrying kind.
I'm more of a, a uh free spirit."

"But Maximus," Octavia protested. But she wasn't able to finish.

"Maximus, my boy! Welcome back to Alexandria?" Pharaoh Ptolemy XII
greeted warmly. He was followed by several attendants, some closely
watching the generals every move. Though Ptolemy trusted the native
man, others knew where his allegiance truly laid. Maximus did favors
for Ptolemy but he fought wars for Marcus Aurelius.

It was no doubt Maximus was relieved to find an escape from Octavia.

"Greetings, Pharaoh. It is good to be back in my homeland." The two
men embraced quickly. While he didn't consider Ptolemy like a second
father to him, like he did Aurelius, they were still good friends.

"Is your business in Rome finished?" the old man asked.

Maximus nodded. "For now. I wanted to return home for a little while."

"Eager to return to the harvest?" he asked the general. "Or are you
eager to finish the harvest to return to a woman in Rome?"

Maximus couldn't help his faint smile. "I'll never tell, Pharaoh."

"Ahh, I can see right through you. You have a woman waiting for you
in Rome."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," he evaded. "Even so, I am back to stay for
however long."

"Then we shall make your time worthwhile."

*** **

"It feels wonderful to be home, Palidorus," Maximus said out loud to
the man. He looked around the expansive estate, a smile growing on
his face as he took in the familiar sights.

"It does feel wonderful, my lord, though a bit warm," Palidorus
mentioned. It had been years since they had spent a summer in Egypt.
Normally they were on campaign or in Rome. The weather was breezier
due to the river and reservoirs. Egypt was just downright scorching.

"We'll have to head over to the docks later," Maximus suggested. "The
breeze across the ocean will feel nice."

"Looking for ships on the horizon, my lord?" Palidorus questioned,
being bold enough to ask. He busied himself with the unpacking of
their things.

Maximus took a moment to answer. He looked out his window. Palidorus
knew he was looking for something. Or someone.

"Perhaps I am," Maximus finally said. He put his hands behind his
back and continued. "Perhaps my mind is still in Rome. Perhaps I
haven't left yet."

Palidorus nodded. "I noticed you gave her your grandmother's ring.
The two of you must finally be serious."

Maximus smiled but tried to hide it. "Yes, we uh, finally decided to
give it a try. Everything was different about this trip and� it just
felt right. Perfect."

"Octavia will be sorely disappointed," Palidorus mentioned, knowing
how his master felt about the woman. For as long as he could
remember, Octavia had had her sights set on the younger general. But
Maximus never showed interest.

Except once. Maximus had been going through a particularly rough
time. One of his best lieutenants had died of a battle wound and
Maximus was beating himself up over it. His master had had too much
to drink one night and Octavia had been aware of that but she still
wanted to take advantage. Palidorus had interrupted before anything
could happen that he knew Maximus would regret. The day after,
Maximus had received the call of duty from Aurelius. A few months
later, after the journey across the sea, Maximus had met the
beautiful Lucilla and had forgotten all his worries and never gave
Octavia another thought.

Maximus proved his point by brushing off the mention of the older
woman.

"I could care less of Octavia. I don't know why she has her sights
set on me. I've done nothing but ignore her for the last six years.
Shouldn't she realize that there's someone else in my life?"

"Perhaps she doesn't want to accept that," Palidorus
suggested. "Perhaps she needs to see the evidence first hand."

"I don't think Lucilla would ever visit me here," he mused. He smiled
at the mention of her name. Palidorus noticed.

"I don't think I've ever seen you like this, my lord."

"I know. It's sickening, isn't it?" he joked. "She makes me change
but in a good way. She makes me want to be a better man, to� be more
careful when I enter the battlefield. I make sure I have all of my
armor and that it's on tightly. I make sure I have all of my weapons.
I watch my back so I can live to see another day with her."

He grew more and more wistful as he spoke about his lover. It was
obvious the effect she had on him. He grew depressed when he was away
from her for too long, though. And grew elated when he saw her again.
She was the basis of his sanity and he was fairly positive she was
aware of it.

*** **

5 Augustus 174

`To the loyal general Maximus Decidus,
I am on my way to Alexandria for the winter season. I thought I would
take a vacation for myself before I grow too old to travel any
further. I should arrive in Alexandria in late October or early
November.'
--Caesar Marcus Aurelius

"He's really coming here?" Maximus wondered when Palidorus finished
reading the letter.

"That's what it says."

"Mmm, that's odd and certainly unlike him," he mused. He stood from
his desk and wandered around the room. "I wonder if he'll bring the
family."

"It doesn't say," said Palidorus. "But it seems likely."

"Surely he can't be coming for just a vacation," Maximus said. "There
must be a catch."

"He can't possibly need your assistance again so soon," Palidorus
reasoned. "Maybe he wants to get away from the politics of Rome."

"Maybe," he agreed. "Or maybe he has something up his sleeve."

*** **

Maximus kept an eye on the days, which may have been why they seemed
to pass by so slowly.

So he busied himself in the fields. His kin grew darker from the
hours outside. He grew stronger from all the lifting.

The days went faster with the hours he spent working but the nights
were long and lonely. Often he spent the time gazing out the window,
looking for a ship off in the distance. Other times, his sleep was
interrupted by nightmares of a sad past. Without Lucilla, he was
unable to fall back to sleep.

He spent many hours talking to Palidorus about everything from
warfare to the status of the fields to love and eternity. He spent
just as many hours avoiding Octavia. He couldn't understand why the
woman wouldn't take a hint. Maybe if he told her about Lucilla she
would leave him alone. Then again, she might just try harder.

He just didn't understand women sometimes.

*** **

12 November 174

Maximus was in the fields when Palidorus ran up to him.

"My lord, his ship has arrived."

Maximus smiled. "It's about time."

They hurried on to the house, knowing Caesar would find his way
there. He had never been to Alexandria before but Maximus had posted
some of his men at the docks so they could escort Caesar to his home
for the winter.

Caesar was admiring the land when Maximus arrived.

"Caesar, it's wonderful to see you again," Maximus said by way of
greeting. The two men clasped arms before embracing in a hug. "I was
surprised when I received your letter."

"I suspected you would be. It was a spontaneous action," Aurelius
admitted. "Melania thought it would be good for me to get away from
Rome."

"Is she here with you?"

"Yes, she's down in the marketplace looking around. I would say
she'll be back shortly but the woman takes forever to shop."

"Perhaps it is for the best," Maximus said, looking down at his
attire. He wore only loose cotton trousers. His shirt he always
deemed unnecessary for being outside. "Now I shall have time to
change into appropriate attire for my guests."

Aurelius brushed it off. It did not bother him.

"Still," said Maximus. "Palidorus can show you around while I change.
If you'll excuse me."

Aurelius excused him and fell right into conversation with Palidorus.
Maximus saw them head towards the stables before disappearing into
the house. He moved quickly past the few servants he had and dashed
up the stairs. He was swift down the long corridor to his room.

`If Melania is with him, surely Lucilla is to,' he thought. `Maybe
she stayed in Rome. Maybe she doesn't want to see me.'

He closed the door to his rooms; Octavia often snooped
around. `Probably trying to see me naked.'

"You wear less in Alexandria than in Rome," a woman's voice told
him. "It doesn't seem fair."

He turned quickly on his heel but didn't draw his knife like normal.
He knew that voice better than his own.

"You're father didn't say anything about you being here," he said,
slowly moving towards the woman.

She stood from the chair she sat on. "I told him not to tell you I
was here." She placed a hand on his chest when he drew closer. "You
look good, Maximus. It seems Egyptian weather agrees with you."

"Not as much as the comfort of your arms, though." he pulled her
close, wrapping his strong arms around her. He took in her scent. Oh,
how he had missed her. "The days have stretched long without you,
Lucilla."

The princess smiled up at him. "Then it's a good thing I'm here now."

"Oh, Luci." The emotion was evident in his voice. She knew exactly
how he felt. She accepted him when he kissed her. Her arms found
their way up his shoulders. She pulled him close to her, afraid to
let go. He was still warm from the sun. It felt good against her skin.

"This isn't just a dream?" he wondered when he pulled back for a
breath of air. "You're really here? You're not going anywhere?"

"The only way I'm leaving is with you beside me," she promised.

"Is that your ulterior motive?"

"Yes, it is. I want you to come back with me to Rome. You spend more
time there than you do here," she reasoned. "It is only right."

He kissed her to make her stop talking. She didn't protest. His arms
held her more tightly and just as he was about to lift her to put her
on his bed, he remembered who was outside.

"I will go anywhere for you, Lucilla," he promised her. "As long as I
am with you, I will go anywhere. But first you are stuck here with me
until winter passes."

Lucilla smiled. "Then you can show me your home. You can show me
exactly what it is that made you leave the comfort of Rome and my
bed." The way she said that made his body tingle.

He held up a finger to her lips. "First of all, nothing is greater
than the comfort of your bed. Second of all, as soon as I get
dressed, I will show you my home."

"Must you get dressed?" she pouted.

"Yes, I must. You'll know why soon enough," he explained vaguely. He
kissed her sweetly on the lips, wanting to memorize her one last time.

"I missed you so much, Maximus," she murmured, her words gentle.

"And I you."

*** **

"I admire you, Maximus," Aurelius told the man as the group gazed out
over the property. "All of this� freedom. It must be wonderful."

"I can be but it can also get lonely sometimes," he admitted. He
looked down at Lucilla next to him and squeezed her hand. Her arm was
looped through his under the pretense that she still hadn't gotten
her land legs back and she needed Maximus to escort her. Her mother
had joined them by this time and gave her daughter a knowing look but
Lucilla paid it no mind. Melania knew her daughter had no issues
going from land to sea and vice versa. She was like her father - born
to be on the sea.

"There are no worries, Maximus," Aurelius said. "You'll soon take a
wife, won't you?"

He was looking for clues, Maximus knew. `He's onto us,' he
thought. `But is he pleased with it or is he looking to kill me?'

"I'm a free spirit, Caesar," was all he decided to say. It wasn't far
from the truth, either. Although lately, Lucilla was changing his
mind about that.

"You'll change your mind soon enough, my boy. Some beautiful woman
will cross your path one day and you'll never be a free spirit
again," Aurelius advised, smiling at his wife.

Lucilla squeezed her lover's arm so he wouldn't become enraged by her
father's assumptions. She, too, knew her father was on to them.

"Maximus, why don't we take a walk?" she suggested. He needed to get
away from the environment as much as she did.

"That sounds like a good idea. If you'll excuse us." he didn't bother
waiting for someone to say something. He only wanted to be alone with
Lucilla now.

"Why does everyone want me to choose a wife now?" Maximus questioned
out loud when they were far enough away. "\Why is everyone so eager
for me to get married?"

Lucilla didn't have an answer for him. She let him continue to rant.

"Marriage is not for people like me. Life is unpredictable for
soldiers. No woman wants that. They want security and a husband who
is always home."

"I feel secure," she interrupted softly. "I have faith that you're
not going anywhere. I have faith that you're not going to die anytime
soon. I know it's always a possibility but I don't dwell on it."

He smiled and turned to face her. He tried to discreetly brush a hand
across her cheek but it was difficult when he knew three people were
watching them intently from across the way.

"You do think about it, Luci."

"I know but I said I try not to," she corrected. "Pay no heed to
their words, Maximus. Focus on now, not the future."

"I find it difficult when their questions repeat themselves," he
growled. She ran a soothing hand down his arm, hoping to calm him. He
looked at her, a question he dreaded to ask on the tip of his
tongue. "You don't� expect marriage, do you?"

She leaned closer to him. "The only thing I expect from you is your
companionship and your love. I can't ask you to offer me something
you feel you cannot give."

Despite the audience, he leaned forward and kissed her
forehead. "When did you become so wise?" he teased.

"Sephora," she said, smiling up at him. "She told me not to doubt
myself or you and I haven't. It's been working wonders for me."

"Hmm, I can tell." He kissed her hand and resumed walking. She
trailed closely next to him, enjoying the comfortable air that
surrounded them. It was as if they had never been apart. Their
rapport never left them.

"Maximus, there you are." The couple turned at the sound of the
overly confident voice. There stood Octavia looking rather miffed
that Maximus was with another woman that wasn't herself.

Lucilla felt Maximus stiffen at the sound of the other woman's voice.
She knew instantly that she didn't like this woman.

"What do you want, Octavia?" Maximus asked unkindly. He didn't have
the patience to deal with her today.

"When I didn't find you in your room, I figured you must be outside,"
she explained. She pretended not to notice Lucilla.

"Why would you be in a my house, Octavia?" he wondered, his grip
tightening on Lucilla's hand. "Or anywhere near my private rooms?"

Octavia smiled, hoping to get back into his good graces. This other
woman must have turned him against her.

"Well, I was looking for you, Maximus." Her voice kept faltering from
nerves. This other woman was young and - she hated to say it -
beautiful.

Maximus ran a hand through his hair. "Surely you heard I have guests
that arrived today."

Octavia looked over at Lucilla as if she just noticed her. "Oh, so
you do."

Maximus felt obligated to introduce the two, though he knew neither
woman cared for one another. Lucilla had stiffened as well.

"Lucilla, this is Octavia, cousin of Pharaoh Ptolemy XII. Octavia,
this is Lucilla, daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius." The two women
smiled weakly at one another. "Lucilla and her family are my guests
during this winter season."

"Oh, how delightful," Octavia feigned. Lucilla opted not to say
anything. She had nothing to say to a woman who was obviously trying
too hard. Instead she touched her lover's arm to get his attention.

"Maximus." That was all she had to say. He understood what she was
asking.

"Right, if you'll excuse us, Octavia." The couple began walking in
the opposite direction of the older woman.

"Maximus, will I see you later?"

He stopped and turned his body slightly to look at her. "I doubt it.
I'm going to be very busy this winter."

Lucilla smiled when she saw Octavia's jaw drop. Let that teach the
woman a lesson.

Maximus walked briskly toward the beach and Lucilla had no option but
to follow.

"Who is that, Maximus?" she asked. She wasn't feeling jealous, for
once, but she still wanted to know Octavia's place in his life.

"A pain in my ass, that's who," he truthfully answered. "I've known
her for as long as I can remember and she'd been after me for just as
long. You have nothing to worry about, Lucilla. I want nothing to do
with her."

"She seems overly confident of herself," Lucilla mused out loud. She
glanced over at Maximus. His expression was the same as normal. "Have
you ever � been� involved with her?"

She knew better than to ask, but she had to know. She didn't much
care to hear about the women of his past; it brought about painful
images. Her heart began its normal rhythm when he shook his head.

"Well, there was one time that I was upset and rather drunk about
seven years ago," he admitted to her, "but Palidorus stopped anything
from happening."

She shuddered at the news but was once again grateful for
Palidorus. "Why were you upset?"

He hung his head down in remembrance. "A great friend of mine had
just died. It was a hard loss to handle. Octavia knew this and that I
had had one too many drinks but she saw her opportunity."

Lucilla didn't say anything.

"It was just months before I met you and decided that there was no
one else for me but you."

She smiled at that. She remembered that day well. She had been
instantly enamored but done her best to make sure it wasn't
noticeable.

"My mother was right. You are a flatterer," she told him with her
smile still there. She let go of his hand and moved to sit on the
beach.

"But you still love me despite that." He sat next to her on the soft
sand.

"Yes, I love you." She looked over at him.

She was radiant in the sun. She positively glowed. `And she's a
graciously understanding woman.' It was no wonder he had fallen in
love with her.

"What, Maximus?" she asked under his scrutiny. He realized he had
been staring at her and hadn't said anything.

"Nothing; I'm just remembering why I fell in love with you," he said.
His tone was surprisingly soft. Her smile grew.

"Flatterer," she whispered as he drew closer. Her nerves tingled as
he kissed her. She didn't care if people could see them. She only
wanted to feel him. His hands framed her face, keeping her close. His
grip was firm but not painful. It was reassuring.

"I'm so happy you're here," he whispered to her. He rested his
forehead against hers.

"I'm very happy to be here. I'm happy to be anywhere you are," she
told him. "I want to be everywhere you are."

He looked into her blue eyes. "Then you will be."

*** **

Title: Beating the Darkness Back 7/7
�
Author: Anjou (Anjou@...)
�
Posting Date: October 2008
�
Rating: R for language and sexuality; M for Mature
readers�
�
Classification: Mulder/Scully, MSR, post-ep for IWTB
�
Archive: No archival until the story is completed,
please. I'll be submitting to Ephemeral and Gossamer
myself.
�
Spoilers: Through I Want To Believe
�
Disclaimer: All X-Files personnel belong to 1013 and
Fox. All other elements are mine.�
�
Author's Note:� And now � the end of the story, including a long-winded end
note.
�
Posts can be read on my fic journal,
Anjoufic (http://anjoufic.livejournal.com) as well as
Ephemeral and other XF fic sites. The whole tale will
be archived at my website, No Other (http://the-cave-
online.com/anjou/index.html), maintained by the
generous dtg, when it is completed.
�
Thanks to Konrad Frye and especially the fabulous
Lilydale for not only willingly answering questions
about the novelization of "I Want To Believe" that
clarified the timeline for this writer, but for being
brave enough to have read it in the first place.�
�
As always, my biggest thanks go to my sister and
editrix, Suzanne, for her support, and above all, her
patience.
�
Summary: Where do we go from here, now that we are
free?
�
~*~
�
July 25, 2008
�
Mulder trudged down the sidewalk on his way to the psychiatric facility that
housed the latest patient that Maguire wanted him to see. He�d been questioning
his desire to continue on this path almost from the time that he�d begun it, and
it was only getting stronger as the weeks passed. He�d literally had to force
himself to dress in a professional manner, a struggle he tried to pass off as
confusion over the sartorial concept of business casual, before he�d reverted to
his predictable standard of a summer-weight suit with a tie. The only unusual
thing about his attire was that between the running and the stress that he'd
lost so much weight that he'd been able to fit in a suit the same size as one he
would have worn a decade before. In truth, the only thing he seemed to have an
appetite for was impotently hitting the refresh button on his browser in hopes
of news from David, or sifting through the records that the PIs were starting to
send.
�
He sighed as he turned and regarded the building. He was supposed to meet
Maguire on the steps, but there was no sign of him as yet. He leaned against the
railing and looked absently at the blue summer sky. He and Scully had pretty
much spent yesterday in bed, talking, reconnecting physically and emotionally,
and crying. They�d done a lot of crying.
�
It had left him feeling sluggish and exhausted in a way that he felt all the way
down to his toes. They�d needed the catharsis, but they were both exhausted by
the events of the last few weeks. The move and all the changes that went along
with acknowledging that they were truly free to go and do what they wanted would
have been enough of a change. However, learning about William � it had made them
both feel powerless, but he felt singularly purposeless. Scully had her work to
ground her, but he had no such connection to this work. All he felt was
inadequate.
�
He couldn�t save these children that Maguire wanted him to help �- they�d
already survived unthinkable horror, sometimes at the hands of those who were
supposed to protect them from their original torturers. And he wasn�t sure
exactly how he was supposed to counsel them in believing in a happy ending, a
peaceful life beyond their remembered pain, when he didn�t trust that such a
thing was possible for some people. He�d look into the faces of these children,
their eyes and spirits so much older than they should be, and could not help but
think of William. It made him physically ill to imagine that if William had
somehow escaped the clutches of the Consortium, that he might be in one of these
places somewhere, traumatized by losing his parents, and maybe being preyed upon
by unscrupulous, thoroughly ordinary humans.
�
That was his only motivation in coming here today, that maybe by trying to help
a child in anguish inside these walls, that he�d be contributing to some kind of
karmic cycle, that maybe somewhere, someone would be kind to his child. He
looked at his watch, and then pulled out his phone.
�
No messages. Maguire was notorious for being a bit late to appointments, but
this was unusual. He began to scroll through his address book to call him, when
he heard his name. He looked down at the sidewalk and then back up the stairs to
see Maguire holding open the door at the entrance to the building �- he was
already inside. Mulder shook his head and began to climb the steps, taking them
two at a time as he cut in and out of others coming and going from the building.
�
�Did I �� he began, but Maguire cut him off.
�
�My apologies,� he said firmly, shaking Mulder�s hand. �My last meeting got
rescheduled here, and we ran long.�
�
John Maguire was a small, well put together man in his early sixties. There was
something in his look, with his ubiquitous tweed jacket and his neatly kept
silver beard, that reminded Mulder of John Byers, but the physical resemblance
was only slight. Maguire was one of those indefatigable souls whose energy level
was incredibly high. When he talked, he fairly bristled with ideas, and subtle
but constant movement. It amazed Mulder that a man with so much nervous energy
spent most of his days sitting still and listening. Perhaps it was because he
was forced to be constrained during those periods that he was so active at the
others.
�
�Now, something very interesting has happened since we last spoke,� he said. �My
original intention was for you to see the Latimore boy, as we�d discussed.
However, a new patient has been transferred in, a boy younger than those I
usually see.� He pressed a folder into Mulder�s hands but kept talking.
�
Mulder accepted the folder, but didn�t do more than glance at it.
�
�It�s a very sad case, but very representative of the kind of magical thinking
that we�ve been discussing as a common feature of many juvenile cases. This
boy,� he pointed down at the file as they walked briskly down the corridor and
turned a corner, �has only been in the system for a few weeks. He�s an only
child, adopted by an older couple. The adoptive mother had long been in
remission when her cancer recurred fairly recently.�
�
Mulder looked up at Maguire in surprise, just as Maguire stopped walking and
motioned him into a small alcove.
�
Maguire lowered his voice in deference to the people passing them in the halls,
and pointed at a room across the corridor. �He�s in there, but I�d like to fill
you in some more. Complicating the matter is the adoptive father�s death, which
has essentially orphaned the child again.�
�
Mulder�s pulse rate began to rise as he listened to Maguire. It seemed
improbable, but could it really be this simple? He felt the phone in his pocket
vibrate, but let it go to voicemail.
�
�Mulder?� Maguire asked. �Are you all right?�
�
�Tell me the rest,� Mulder answered in an urgent tone.
�
�The mother was admitted to hospice, so the boy was remanded to the system,
pending foster care placement,� Maguire continued, watching Mulder intently.
�He�s an energetic handful. The mother described him as imaginative and
creative, but the foster care reports describe him as delusional and disruptive.
We have records from two different situations, both families that have had great
success with traumatic placements.�
�
�Neither worked out?� Mulder asked.
�
Maguire shook his head. �The boy has proven resistant to any overture of
affection or sympathy. In fact, he�s defiant in his assertion that his real
father is coming to get him.�
�
Mulder sucked in a breath. �What�s known about the bio-dad?�
�
�Nothing,� Maguire said. �The mother refused to name him, and the child was born
before the enactment of welfare legislation that made that impossible. There�s
no name recorded, no known story.�
�
�Are we going in?� Mulder was having a tremendously difficult time controlling
his enthusiasm.
�
�Is there something you want to share with me?� Maguire asked.
�
�I�m simply curious about this child,� Mulder answered, bluffing. �And exploring
the roots of his delusion.�
�
�Let�s be clear, though,� Maguire said, watching Mulder carefully. �Our goal is
to try and get this child to a point where he can commit to a new situation, and
that�s not going to be accomplished in a day. Today, you�re going to try and
establish a rapport with him, recognizing that it�s more than likely that he�s
created a false image of this father that will have to be countered slowly, as
it�s more than likely tied up with either grief over his adopted father�s death,
or disappointment in that relationship.�
�
Mulder had been nodding the entire time that Maguire was speaking. �Absolutely,�
he said. He motioned to the door. �Let�s go.�
�
~*~
�
Mulder pushed open the door to the street and moved automatically to the side of
the wide staircase, out of the path of the constant flow of foot traffic. He
placed his hand on the broad railing to ground himself before he sat down. Then
he dropped his head into his hands, grinding the heels of them against his eyes
as he fought back tears. Magical thinking. He barked out a bitter laugh. He had
more in common with that eagerly hopeful boy than he did with Maguire. He�d
pushed that door open fully expecting to see William behind it, only to find a
mixed race ten-year-old expectantly waiting for his imaginary father. He�d never
forget the way the boy�s face had fallen at the sight of two middle-aged white
men in suits, not the rapper hero that he had conjured up in his mind.
�
Mulder had made it through the intake and initial discussion by force of will,
hoping that the boy�s obvious disappointment masked his own. He shook his head
in memory, and angrily unknotted his tie, stuffing it in the outside pocket of
his jacket. He unbuttoned his collar. He needed to tell Maguire that he was
ending his practicum. He wasn�t suited to this work �- he couldn�t fix anyone,
or anything. He had been better off in that room in their house in Virginia,
cutting out bits of newspapers and plotting long-distance with MUFON to stop the
end of the world.
�
He drew out his phone to leave a message for Maguire and saw a voicemail from
Scully. He sighed. Maybe he�d just go for a walk instead. He didn�t relish
telling Scully what had happened today, that was for sure. He knew that she'd
worry about how aimless he was, and he couldn't deny that she had reason to be.
He was drifting straight into despair.
�
He dropped the phone into the breast pocket of his shirt, and stood up, taking
off his jacket. It was an unusually beautiful summer day, warm without being
oppressively humid. It would be a long trek, but he could walk home from here,
and just ignore the world for a while. He'd rolled up one of his sleeves and
started down the long staircase, when he heard someone call his name. Not
feeling like confronting Maguire just yet, he continued downward after a
momentary hesitation, but the voice called his name, his full name, more
insistently. He turned around in irritation and almost fell backward down the
staircase.
�
Father Joe was standing at the doorway to the building, his spectral self
outlined fuzzily against the black doors. �Don�t give up, Mulder,� he said
earnestly.
�
Mulder shook his head in consternation �- it had been years since he'd seen a
ghost, and of all the ghosts to see � and took a step back up the staircase, but
Father Joe had already disappeared.
�
His phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Scully.
�
This time, he took the call.
�
~*~
�
Mulder made two wrong turns before he finally located the right kind of
oncological floor at the massive Johns Hopkins complex. At her request, he'd
called Scully when he got to the front of the building, even though she still
steadfastly refused to tell him why.
�
"Just come here, Mulder," she'd said stubbornly. Her voice was urgent, but
strangely relaxed at the same time. He turned the corner and found himself
standing at the edge of the solarium, which was filled with those being treated
for cancer, and those who'd come to be with them. He began to scan the crowd for
Scully's bright hair when he heard the excited voice of a child clearly above
the din of conversation and the buzz of the omnipresent TV sets.
�
"There he is!"
�
His head swiveled toward the voice, but he couldn't quite see where it was
coming from.
�
"That's him!" The boy's voice sounded more excited, exultant even. "That's him,
right over there!"
�
Mulder registered the blur of the dark-haired boy in jeans running at him only
after he'd already dropped to his knees and held out his arms to receive him.
"William!"
�
He wrapped his arms around his son, and the weight of him in real life, the
impression of him over his heart, was exactly what he remembered from his dream
world. William's precious skull was cradled in the palm of his hand for the
first time in years, and Mulder pressed a kiss of thanks to the top of William's
head as he held him. It took a monumental effort, but he made himself loosen his
arms so as not to overwhelm the child when William began to move away.
�
William didn't entirely break away from Mulder, but leaned back far enough so
that he could look at him. "Wow," he said, in a wondering tone. "You really are
a real guy."
�
Mulder laughed in delight, dislodging some of the tears from his eyes. "And
you're a real boy."
�
"Just like Pinocchio?" William shot back immediately. "Actually, I think that
story's kind of creepy."
�
Mulder smiled at William, letting him stand on his own. "You'll have to tell me
all about it." He still had a hand on William's arm, not wanting to lose contact
with him, afraid that his vision of him now in what appeared to be the real
world would fade as surely as the ethereal world of his dreams.�
�
"OK," William said, "but first you have to come meet my mother." He grabbed
Mulder by the hand and pulled until Mulder was upright, excitedly dragging him
in his wake as he wove through the people whose curiosity about them had been
momentary at best.
�
As they worked their way across the room, he could see Scully sitting on the
edge of a couch, next to a woman in a wheelchair. She was holding the woman's
hand as she smiled softly at Mulder, her joy tempered by her obvious concern for
the ill woman next to her.
�
"Mama," William said, bringing Mulder to his mother's side. "This is my other
Dad, the one from my dreams."
�
The woman in the wheelchair smiled warmly at William, patting his face. "I'm
sorry I doubted you, sweetheart," she said. She looked up at Mulder, and he
could see that she had that same horrible look of fragility that Scully had had
so many years ago. She was as brittle as glass, and so pale that she looked
ghostly even while still breathing. Her eyes had the fever brightness that he
associated with the very ill, as if the knowledge of imminent death made some
interior spirit burn at a heightened pitch. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr.
Mulder," she said softly.
�
"It's just Mulder," he answered automatically, and dropped into a crouch next to
her wheelchair, picking up her other hand gently. He didn't shake it, just held
it.
�
She smiled, but it was fleeting. "So your wife has told me. I can't say that I
blame you." She squeezed his hand lightly.
�
He could see how she was struggling with this situation, on top of everything
else that had happened to her in the past few months.
�
"Did your parents really name you Fox?" William asked.
�
"Yep," he nodded, turning to look at him. William was tall for his age,
obviously intelligent and very poised. Mulder imagined that he had spent a
tremendous amount of his young life talking to adults. He glanced at Scully, to
find her eyes fixed on their son. Her expression was slightly dazed, although
her professional veneer was mostly in place.
�
"Why?" William asked, flummoxed.
�
Mulder shrugged while his mother chided him for being rude. "Beats me," he said.
"It's a pretty dumb name."
�
William agreed, and Mulder dropped Mrs. Van De Kamp's hand to pull a chair
closer to her other side. His knees couldn't take being in that position for too
long anymore. "Mrs. Van De Kamp," he said. "I'm so sorry about your husband."
�
Her eyes filled with tears, but she nodded. "He was a wonderful man," she said.
She reached out to William, who was looking worried and solemn, and ruffled his
dark hair, pushing his too long forelock out of his eyes. "He was a good papa."
�
William nodded. "I miss him," he said to Mulder.
�
William's hands were restlessly playing with the string ends laced through the
neck of the red hooded sweatshirt he was wearing, probably in deference to the
cool, conditioned air of the hospital.
�
"Of course you do," Mulder answered easily, hearing both the challenge and need
for reassurance in William's statement. "I'm sorry that I never got a chance to
meet him."
�
"He didn't believe you were real," William said matter-of-factly. Mulder heard
his mother make a small noise in dismay. "He said that you were only in my
imagination."
�
"I probably would have said the same thing," Mulder said.
�
William cocked his head and looked at him searchingly, a gesture so reminiscent
of Scully that Mulder had to wonder about the true reach of genetics. William's
eyes were not the pure blue of Scully's, but an unusual mixture of his own hazel
at its most green, leavened with blue. "Really?" William asked skeptically. "I
don't think that's true."
�
Mulder chuckled as William's mother chided him.
�
He and Scully shared a wry glance over their son's head.
�
"He's probably right," Mulder said, as William protested his innocence. "I do
have a habit of believing a lot of unusual things."
�
This time, it was Scully that huffed out a strangled chuckle.
�
William looked a bit astonished at the sound.
�
"I don't understand, though," Mulder asked. "How did we end up here? Scully?"
�
He looked over at his partner, but she shook her head, pointing at William.
�
"I found you," he announced proudly.
�
Mulder shook his head, mystified. "How did you know we were looking for you?"
�
William shrugged, covering his mother's legs with a blanket and then tucking it
around her carefully. Mulder could see how the conversation was distressing her,
but she didn't try to stop William from speaking. "Mama needed to go to a
hospital in a big city, and we had to pick. First, I thought we should go to
Boston," he said, looking at his mother as she nodded.
�
Then, he turned toward Mulder, who had noted that William had not actually
answered his question. "But I went on the internet and I looked at pictures, and
it wasn't the right city next to the water. Like the city in the dream?"
�
Mulder nodded, somewhat surprised by William's explicit acknowledgment of their
dream world. "Did you build that city?"
�
William shook his head. "No, it was just there when I got there, so I made
myself stop and look at it, even though I was upset." He paused, and Mulder was
sure now that there were things he was omitting, in deference to his mother. "I
wanted to see you because my Papa was dead, but I couldn't find you."
�
"You found Scully," Mulder said.
�
"It's weird that you call her that," William observed. He looked over at Scully,
who smiled at him.
�
"William!" his mother reproached.
�
"She was asleep," William said, shifting back into his story. "But I recognized
her."
�
"You did?" Mulder said, astonished
�
William nodded. "It was like � suddenly I remembered her from when I was a baby.
I knew she was my other mom."
�
Mulder glanced from Scully, who had clearly heard the story before, to William's
mother.
�
"We've always told Will that he was adopted," she answered. "He always insisted
that his other mother had red hair, and since he had reddish hair when we first
got him, we never doubted it. But it wasn't until he was three that he told us
about his other dad." She shrugged. "We thought he was just imagining you."
�
Mulder nodded. "Then what happened?" He asked William.
�
"I looked on the computer and found the right city by the water, and told Mama
that we needed to come to Baltimore."
�
Mulder shook his head in consternation. Why hadn't he recognized the skyline?
"How long have you been here, Mrs. Van De Kamp?"
�
"Helen, please," she said quietly. "We got here at the end of May."
�
Mulder scrubbed at his face as the coincidences piled up. "This is really �" he
had no words to describe it, and stopped trying. "So, you just bumped into each
other?" he asked incredulously.
�
"No," Scully said firmly. "I was paged here by William."
�
Mulder turned and looked at their son in shock.
�
"I was over there on the computer," William said. "And I was waiting for a page
to load, and there's a newsletter." He ran over and picked it up, showing the
front page where a picture of new hire Dr. Dana Scully was featured, with an
article about her promising pediatric oncology research.
�
"Oh my God," Mulder said, looking from Scully's sad and weary face in the photo
to her now. She still looked stunned, but there was no hiding the joy that
radiated from her every pore as she looked back at him, while William leaned
companionably against his leg.
�
"I think so," said Helen softly. She cleared her throat. "I got a package
yesterday, forwarded to us by one of William's aunts, from a David Truesdale. It
outlined our legal situation."
�
"Oh, no," Mulder began. "That was <i>not</i> my intention at all �"

"Regardless," Helen said, and he stopped, cognizant that this conversation was
incredibly difficult for her. "The fact is that God, or someone, has interceded
when I was beginning to truly worry about what to do next." William looked very
upset at her words and moved back over to his mother. She patted his cheek.
"There is a reason that all of this has happened now."
�
"Helen," Scully said, "I don't think that we're at that point yet."
�
"I can't wait until we are," she answered softly. "I have been so very worried
about what will happen. Tom was a wonderful man, but his family � they're not
suitable for a boy like William. Now, I don't have to worry anymore." She
paused, stroking William's hair while the boy looked at her, lips trembling.
�
Mulder had no doubt whatsoever that William knew exactly what his mother wasn't
saying, and that she knew it as well.
�
"So, when I'm through with my pre-treatment screening today, we'll go back to
the hotel and pack up William's things," she said slowly, but with an air of
finality, then looked first at Mulder, and then at Scully. "Monday, I'll check
in so that they can begin the stem cell transplant. I only ask that you bring
him frequently to visit me both when it's allowed, and �" Helen hesitated, and
William pressed up against her side, seeking a hug. She dropped Scully's hand
and wrapped her arms around him. She continued quietly, "And then after the
treatment is over." Helen looked at Scully for a long time, and Mulder knew by
the expression on Scully's face that Helen did not expect to survive.
�
"No," Mulder said firmly into the silence.
�
Helen looked shocked, but Scully's eyes swung to his and she looked at him
searchingly before she nodded.
�
"I mean, yes, I'll go back to the hotel, and I will pack up <i>both</i> of your
things," Mulder said, in the same assured tone. "And then I will come back and
take you <i>both</i> home. Monday, William and I will bring you to the hospital
for your treatment, and when you're through with it," Mulder continued, "you'll
come home with us."
�
Scully was positively beaming at him.
�
"Oh, Mr. Mulder," Helen said, "No, I couldn't impose�"
�
"It's just Mulder," he said, "and there is no imposition here. You are family.
This is what family does." He smiled at Will, who was bouncing next to his
mother's wheelchair.
�
"See, Mama?" he said. "I told you."
�
"Mulder," Helen said. She was on the verge of tears, but trying to hold it back.
"I don't think you realize what you're signing yourself up for. I'm sure that
your wife �"
�
"Unfortunately, I have a very clear idea of what I'm in for, as does Scully." He
looked over at Scully and back at Helen. "As far as I'm concerned that's all the
more reason for you to be with us."
�
Scully nodded as she wiped away a tear. "I totally agree with Mulder. You should
be with us." She moved closer to Helen and put her hand over hers, her
expression imploring.
�
Helen looked helplessly back and forth between them, tears pooling in her eyes.
"You have to know how hard this is going to be �" she whispered to Scully.
�
"I do," Scully answered. "I do. But it's the right thing to do."
�
"Please, Mama," William said. He dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around
his mother's legs and laying his head in her lap. "Please say yes."
�
Helen looked from her son to Scully and then to Mulder, searching their faces.
She must have seen the same brand of determined implacability, because she
suddenly leaned against the back of the wheelchair and sighed. "This is
absolutely crazy," she said. The tears she'd been holding back began to spill
over, but she was smiling. "Thank you."
�
Scully leaned forward and took Helen's hand. "No," she said. "Thank you." She
was smiling, but tears were coursing down her face. "We owe you so much."
�
Helen smiled back at her tremulously, her other hand on William's head. She
shook her head. "You owe me nothing," she said softly, then added, "Someday, I'd
like to hear the whole story."
�
"You will," Scully said firmly, wiping away her tears as a nurse called Helen's
name from the doorway. She stood and waved her hand, and the nurse began to
cross the room.
�
"OK, then," Helen said. She pulled a key card in a paper case with the hotel
name on it from a pocket in her purse. "William, can you help Mulder pack up our
things?"
�
"Yes!" he said enthusiastically, jumping up. He hugged her again.
�
"Neatly, my friend," Helen said, laughing. She looked up at Mulder. "I guess
I'll see you later."
�
He nodded. "William and I will be back to pick you up �" he looked at the nurse.
�
"I would say four hours from now," the nurse answered, glancing at her watch.
"Maybe three if we're very lucky." It was clear that she wanted to get started,
although her expression was kind.
�
"I'm ready," Helen said softly. She released the locks on the wheelchair, and
the nurse moved to push her toward the door. William followed, holding her hand
until they got to the door of the solarium.
�
Mulder found himself standing, watching his small figure anxiously, not entirely
sure that he was ready, would ever be ready, for William to go beyond arm's
reach. He felt Scully's arm circle his waist as they both watched their son.
William kissed his mother at the doorway and then stood there watching after
Helen had disappeared from their view.
�
Mulder wrapped his arms around Scully, bending so he could speak into her ear.
"Is this really happening?" he whispered.
�
He felt her nod as she tilted her head to whisper back. "I'm not really sure."
�
At the doorway, William waved, and then turned and walked toward them. He smiled
at them a little shyly until Scully opened her arms to him. William was tall
enough that his head came up to just above Scully's waist. As Mulder watched,
her expression became beatific as she held William to her breast.
�
Scully opened her eyes and looked up at him as Mulder put his arms around them
both. Her eyes were asking him a question, wanting to know if it was wrong to
feel so happy when there had been so much pain, and there was still so much more
to come.
�
He shrugged helplessly. He had no answer for her, because he knew that the
darkness would always find them, no matter what. But there had to be a reason
that they were here now, together, as improbable as it was. He bent and kissed
her tenderly.
�
They both looked down at William, who was watching them curiously.
�
"I missed you so much," Scully said.
�
"I know," William said solemnly. He broke out of their hold and stepped back a
little. "I could feel it sometimes."
�
She nodded, her eyes filling up with tears.
�
"How come I could come visit you and not Mom?" William asked Mulder. Mulder saw
Scully start at William's easy use of the word 'Mom'.
�
Mulder shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "I really don't know,
William," he said. "I don't understand how all this ..." he gestured helplessly,
"works."
�
"Oh," William said, clearly disappointed. He looked reflective for a moment
before he said, "Jeremiah says that sometimes the answers are not obvious, so we
have to pay attention."
�
"Jeremiah?" Scully asked sharply.
�
At the same time, Mulder asked "Who's Jeremiah?" in a neutral tone.
�
William looked up at him, and there was a familiar arch to his eyebrow. "Mama
says that Jeremiah is my guardian angel, but he's more like a teacher."
�
"What does he teach you?" Mulder asked quietly.
�
William shrugged. "Things he said that I need to know."
�
Mulder held onto Scully's hand before she could cover her mouth with it. He
could feel her escalating tension. "He teaches you in your dreams?"
�
William nodded. "He told me that he'd met you a couple of times," William
continued. "He's a real guy, too."
�
"You've met Jeremiah?" Mulder asked. "Jeremiah Smith?"
�
William nodded.
�
"He came to Papa's funeral," he said. "Mama didn't see him, but we talked for a
while."
�
Mulder nodded. "Did Jeremiah have a message for your Mom or me?"
�
Scully looked at him, startled by his sudden question. Her eyes were� fearful.
�
William looked at him, surprised. "Yeah, he did," he said. "I almost forgot
until just now. He said �" William closed his eyes and concentrated. "He said,
the darkness can be vanquished if you are steadfast." He opened his eyes. "Don't
give up."
�
Scully was very still next to him, her eyes fixed on their son's face. "Do you
know what that means?" she asked William very softly. Unconsciously, her hand
went to the cross at her neck, and she traced it softly.
�
William shook his head and his too long hair fell into his eyes. "No," he said
easily, pushing it aside. "But Jeremiah said that I don't always need to
understand what things mean right away. That if I pay attention, and watch
carefully, that I'll be led the right way. And he was right!" He pointed at
them. "I paid attention, and I found you!"
�
William's smile was bright and wide, and for the first time Mulder could see
that his front teeth were crooked, and that one of his eyeteeth was growing in
at a slant, just like his own had done before he'd had braces.
�
"Yes, you did," Mulder said firmly. "You did a great job." He knew that Scully
had a million more questions, as did he, but now was not the time for them.
�
They had time for all of that later. They had time.
�
"Scully," he said conversationally, leaning toward her and pointedly changing
the subject. "Did you have braces?"
�
"For years," she answered. "You?"
�
"Oh yeah," he said.
�
William looked puzzled at this topic, but then grabbed Mulder's hand and pulled.
"Are we going to the hotel now?"
�
"Impatient?"
�
"I don't like the hotel," William said. "It smells funny and there are so many
sad people. Everybody there is sick or scared." He shook his head, a small
shudder running through his frame.
�
Scully put her hand on William�s head, alarmed at his distress, and looked at
Mulder.
�
"Then let's go," Mulder said. He gestured with his other hand toward the door,
then watched in amazement as William hesitated, before he launched himself at
Scully, hugging her and saying, "I'll see you later."
�
"Yes, you will," she said to him tenderly.
�
"Will you sing to me?" he asked shyly.
�
Scully laughed out loud, a full-throated laugh that Mulder hadn't heard for
ages, maybe forever. It sounded free. It sounded full of light, and it pierced
him through with joy. "If you really want me to," she said.
�
William nodded, his cheeks a little pink. "I do."
�
Scully ruffled his hair and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Then I will," she
promised.
�
William turned and took Mulder's hand again.
�
"OK," he said, then he smiled and began to lead Mulder out of the solarium.
�
They stopped at the door and waved at Scully, who looked like she was going to
dissolve into tears at any second, but was smiling when she waved back at them.
�
"You know," William said to Mulder in a confidential tone, as they walked down
corridors and staircases that Mulder hadn't noticed before, but was paying
attention to now. "I've never really been to the beach."
�
"I'll take you," Mulder said immediately.
�
Mulder felt as if the whole world had shifted, and lay open like a ripe
pomegranate at his feet. Anything was possible.
�
This morning he had been drifting, without purpose, but now � he saw how the
pieces of the puzzle fit together, and this jumble of a path he'd been on for
the past few years made sense. All of it, from Scully's decisions to his own,
had led them here. He had a flash of memory of Scully speaking to him years ago
saying 'What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And
there were signs along the way to pay attention to?'
�
He smiled, and felt the weight of William's smaller hand in his, the trust
inherent in that placement. All their choices, good and bad, had led them to
this. Mulder knew what he needed to do.
�
He was going to call John Maguire tomorrow morning and thank him sincerely for
the opportunity to work with him, and for the training that he had a feeling was
going to come in handy for the next few years. Then he was going to respectfully
decline to continue.
�
Today, however, he was going to call David Truesdale and tell him to call off
the dogs, and to figure out a solution to their legal conundrum that would work
for all of them. Most importantly, Truesdale needed to arrange for Mulder to get
a concealed carry license, ASAP.
�
But before he did that, Mulder was going send Walter Skinner a case of scotch,
an abject apology and an invitation to dinner. They needed to discuss what was
to come. If he was lucky, Skinner would consent to re-train him on hand-to-hand
combat techniques without putting him in the hospital.
�
Then, after William was asleep, he was going to call Maggie Scully and tell her
that he'd booked an open ticket for her to get on a plane and come east to meet
her grandson.
�
And when Mulder finally got Scully alone in their bed tonight, he was going to
have a serious conversation with her about when, exactly, she was going to make
their union legal. For entirely prudent reasons, of course.
�
William tugged on his hand, refocusing him on the present. He asked, "Will you
teach me how to swim?"
�
"I'll teach you whatever you want to learn," Mulder said easily.
�
When they reached the front door of the hospital, Mulder stepped in front of
William and placed a hand on his chest, stopping his forward progress. He moved
his son behind him. For the first time in years, Mulder longed for the
reassuring weight of his gun at his side. He pushed the door open and his eyes
swept the outside landscape in sectors, carefully noting the people and the
cars. He had to pay attention, to be ever vigilant from this moment forward. All
the weeks of worrying about William's safety made perfect sense to him -- it had
all been preparation for this, his new purpose.
�
Once he had ascertained that the coast was clear, at least for now, Mulder
reached back and took William by the hand. "Stay close," he said to William.
�
William smiled up at him, and nodded. "OK, Dad," he said.
�
Mulder fought back tears as he struggled to stay focused. He leaned down and
kissed his son on the forehead, then turned to open the door to whatever came
next.
�
Together, Mulder and William stepped outside into the abundant sunshine.
�
The End
�
�
Author's End Note:
�
A couple of things really surprised me as I watched <i>I Want To Believe</i>.
The first was the explicit sense of intimacy between Mulder and Scully and all
of the evidence of their shared life which we were shown. With all of the fandom
speculation about them having been separated for a long period of time, and
perhaps estranged, it was wonderful to see them so clearly together, partners
still. Their conversations, especially the last one about the role of the
darkness in their lives, was one that I reflected on a great deal as the idea of
this story was forming in my imagination.
�
The second, larger surprise to me was the overt acknowledgment of William, and
the loss of him, in the conversation that they had in their bed. I had not
expected William to be mentioned at all, or even really to be part of the
subtext. But with Scully requalified as a pediatrician (which would have been a
subtextual acknowledgment, in and of itself) and the discussion of William in
the text of the movie, I began to wonder what it all could mean.
�
Of course, I've always believed that William has a seminal role in the X-Files
mythology, a belief that was solidified by conversations with the brilliant and
much-missed Ambress. Sometime in Season 8, she, Suzanne and I had a long,
involved discussion about the mytharc that I've never forgotten. Ambress, with
the unerring eye of the scholar that she is, argued that the mytharc of the
X-Files owed an enormous debt to the modern school of horror begun by Mary
Shelley whose novel <u>Frankenstein</u>, with its focus on reproduction and the
attempted usurpation of its mysteries by the protagonist, can be read as a
feminist fable about how some men fear the power of women's bodies.
�
The X-Files mytharc, with its consortium of men literally stealing the essential
elements of reproduction from women, and trying to control and improve
reproductive outcomes for their own aims, was a modern twist on the same kind of
fable, with a justification for those efforts that fit the tenor of post-modern
times. From Ambress' perspective, the fitting end to the story was the creation
of William, the natural child of a woman who was supposed to have been rendered
powerless, and the man who had spent his life trying to stop the consortium's
unnatural aims.
�
Ambress also rightly predicted that such a child, born of conditions that were
supposed to preclude his birth, would be super-natural (in the literal sense),
and that his creation would herald the downfall of the consortium's long-term
aims.
�
For those reasons, I've always believed that William is key to the events of
2012. In fact, I believe that if there ever is an X-Files movie about those
events, William must be a major factor in the successful repulsion of
colonization.
�
So, if he's going to come back to his parents eventually, why not now? Mulder's
got time on his hands, and who better to protect William than his father?
�
Besides, years ago, I asked Suzanne how she envisioned Mulder as a father, and
she promptly answered, "Sitting next to the crib with a gun in his hand." Put a
stiletto in his pocket, and I could not agree more.
�
I hope that you enjoyed my flight of fancy. I can honestly say that I had a
marvelous time writing it, even when it drove me crazy and kept me up at night.
Thanks to all of you who have written to me as I've been posting this tale. It
means a great deal to me.
�
As always, I thank my incredibly indulgent and patient sister Suzanne for her
thoughtful insights, and eye for grammar.���




[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Title: Beating the Darkness Back 6/7
�
Author: Anjou (Anjou@...)
�
Posting Date: October 2008
�
Rating: R for language and sexuality; M for Mature
readers�
�
Classification: Mulder/Scully, MSR, post-ep for IWTB
�
Archive: No archival until the story is completed,
please. I'll be submitting to Ephemeral and Gossamer
myself.
�
Spoilers: Through I Want To Believe
�
Disclaimer: All X-Files personnel belong to 1013 and
Fox. All other elements are mine.�
�
Author's Note:� Beating the Darkness Back will be
posted in seven parts. Parts 1 & 2, and 3 & 4 will be
posted together, as they are just long sections that
needed to be cut in half for ease of posting. This
story is finished, although still undergoing final
editing for Parts 5-7. I expect it will be all posted
in a week's time. Posts can be read on my fic journal,
Anjoufic (http://anjoufic.livejournal.com) as well as
Ephemeral and other XF fic sites. The whole tale will
be archived at my website, No Other (http://the-cave-
online.com/anjou/index.html), maintained by the
generous dtg, when it is completed.
�
Thanks to Konrad Frye and especially the fabulous
Lilydale for not only willingly answering questions
about the novelization of "I Want To Believe" that
clarified the timeline for this writer, but for being
brave enough to have read it in the first place.�
�
As always, my biggest thanks go to my sister and
editrix, Suzanne, for her support, and above all, her
patience.
�
Summary: Where do we go from here, now that we are
free?
�
~*~
�
July 20, 2008
�
The echo of his feet on the pavement was in the same rhythm as his heartbeat.
The same tempo as the name repeating ceaselessly in his head like a mantra, a
month after Skinner had come to speak to them.
�
William. William. William.
�
He hadn�t run this much in years, and knew it was foolish for a man sliding
toward fifty to run in this heat, but he couldn�t bring himself to care. If he
didn�t run, he�d never sleep. If he ran enough, he could maybe sleep without
nightmares.
�
It would be easier, of course, if he could talk to Scully about all this, but
conversations between them were few and far between these days. She�d retreated
to work with a vengeance, preferring to spend her time saving other people�s
children while he impotently tried to find theirs.
�
Mulder was living the nightmare of his own childhood from a whole new
perspective. Surprisingly, it gave him little sympathy and insight into the
world of his parents as he couldn�t help but ascribe blame to them for placing
them all on this destructive path. His parents� aims might have started out as
noble, if not self-serving, but their actions had resulted only in death and
dissolution as far as he could tell. Maybe he was feeling sorry for himself, and
for Scully, but it seemed to him that his life was one long chain of agony, with
the periods of true joy hidden inside the links to keep him hanging on, waiting
for the next one. He knew that he should be grateful for the years of relative
peace that he and Scully had enjoyed, but like so many things that are
pleasurable, it had come with an enormous price tag.
�
And even that joy, that interwoven-ness that he and Scully shared which teetered
on the edge of being pathological, had failed to protect them from being torn
apart by this latest news. They�d moved into their new house, this new aspect of
their lives, in virtual silence. They were ostensibly free to go wherever they
wished, to do whatever they wanted. But freedom, Mulder had long ago learned,
was an illusion, just like safety. You could be taken anytime, if not by an
alien craft, then by the randomness of a malevolent passerby, or failing brakes,
or even a comet falling from the sky. Sure, the odds were against it -- but
somebody had to be the winner, the celestial schmuck who got struck by lightning
twice.
�
Mulder rounded the corner that brought him to their street and slowed to a walk,
then circled the block twice more before he turned down their driveway and
stretched out in the backyard. It was lush and green even in the summer heat,
but not because he or Scully had paid any sort of attention to it. The previous
owners had created an automated system for watering the garden that worked well,
so they�d left it alone. The sprinklers were on now, countering the late
afternoon heat, and he ducked his head under one, then shook himself like a dog
before he shucked his shoes and socks and crossed the wide deck that they never
used.
�
When they�d first seen the house, Mulder�d had all sorts of visions of them
enjoying the deck here the way they�d enjoyed the outside living space in the
Bahamas. But that had been before the darkness had come roaring back and
swallowed them whole. As it was, they�d never once used the grill that was built
into one side of the deck, much less the refrigerator. They barely managed to
feed themselves. He fumbled with the string inside of his shorts where he�d tied
his keys and unlocked the back door, entering the kitchen. He�d seen Scully�s
car in the driveway, but didn�t bother yelling for her as he crossed the room.
He had to go upstairs to take a shower anyway. He�d see her then.
�
Oddly, she wasn�t upstairs, at least not in their bedroom or its neighboring
bathroom. He wandered downstairs, intending to check on his e-mail and see if
there was any news from David. He wasn�t expecting any; there�d been nothing
when he�d checked two hours ago, but he couldn�t stop himself from looking
again. After that, he�d try and focus on reading the case histories of two new
patients that Maguire wanted him to become involved with. He sighed softly as he
trod across the floor to the room he�d claimed for his office. It had probably
been a den in the original house configuration, but he�d figured that it would
be a good idea to have a space adjacent to the deck, back when he�d had visions
of the two of them on a warm summer evening, sharing a beer and talking at the
end of the day while he grilled them dinner.
�
�Scully?� he stopped short at the sight of her, sitting at his desk with the
case file from Skinner spread out around her as she intently read what was on
his screen. �What�re you doing?�
�
�You haven�t been telling me everything, Mulder,� she answered in a flat, angry
voice.
�
�What�re you talking about?� He was immediately pissed off. �You know that David
has private detectives looking everywhere for them. They had a credible lead to
Boston, but it appears that either Ms. Van De Kamp changed her mind about
treatment there, or someone changed it for her.� When she continued to stare at
him with a stony expression, he asked, �What?�
�
�Adoption strategy?� she asked accusatorily.
�
He closed his eyes. She was reading his notes, which tended to be a bit more
freeform.
�
�Scully �� he began.
�
�The woman is dying of cancer,� she said curtly. �Her husband is already dead.
You�d take away her child, too?�
�
�Wow,� Mulder said sarcastically. �You certainly got a lot out of a two word
note from a conversation I had with David. Like, for example, that I�m a totally
heartless bastard.�
�
Scully was silent, watching him. Her face was so thin; her mouth was drawn down
in a way that showed all of the fine lines that worry had etched upon her face.
�Then what is this?� Her tone was still too professionally interrogatory for his
liking.
�
�As you said,� Mulder emphasized. �The woman is dying. In fact, she may already
be dead.�� Scully flinched at his words, but did not look away from him.
�
�Since she didn�t show up in Boston, David�s detectives are looking for
obituaries and legal notices across the country and searching any available
Social Service delivery databases for William�s name. It�s a long shot, but if
he�s in the system somewhere, we�ll need a strategy to get custody of him.� He
paused. �David thinks that the best strategy is to assert my paternity rights,
which, as you know, were never severed.�� Scully�s eyes dropped and she flushed.
She started to say something, but Mulder cut her off. �David�s sending an
affidavit for you to sign, attesting to the fact that William is my biological
son. That, coupled with the DNA testing that you did before he was adopted,
should prove the biology. Of course, the court may require that it be
re-affirmed.�
�
�Mulder �� she began.
�
He cut her off angrily, �What else would you like to know?�
�
�What if she�s already given custody of William to one of her siblings, or her
husband�s?� she asked softly.
�
�She had no siblings,� Mulder answered. �And although Van De Kamp was from a
large family, he was by far the youngest. Most of his surviving siblings are
much older. None of them are interested in parenting a seven-year-old boy. They
weren�t close.� He paused. �Anyway, I wouldn�t hesitate to challenge a claim of
theirs,� he said. �It�s clear to me that William�s safety is the most important
thing.�
�
Scully�s head jerked up. �Meaning what?� she said. �That I�m not interested in
William�s safety? That I wasn�t thinking of William�s safety when I did this?�
�
When Mulder didn�t answer her, she sucked in a breath and turned angrily back to
the screen. �What does this mean? Question: magnetite half-life, Spender, May
2004?�
�
�That�s not an investigative avenue,� Mulder prevaricated. �Well, the part about
Spender is. David�s trying to locate my erstwhile baby brother.�
�
�Why?� Scully asked curtly.
�
�Why?� Mulder said. �For one thing, he might still be connected to the
Consortium and have an idea of where they�d take William. For another, I�d like
to know what exactly he put into our son.�
�
�He said that it was a solubilized magnetite.�
�
�And you believed him?�
�
�The only thing that was detected on any blood test was elevated iron levels,�
Scully said.
�
�On a conventional blood test,� Mulder countered.
�
�I ran a sample myself!� Scully argued.
�
�At the FBI lab,� Mulder answered. �Where the samples and the test results could
have been tampered with by innumerable people.�
�
�What would you have had me do?� Scully asked wearily. �The Gunmen were dead.�
�
Mulder turned away in frustration. What he would have had her do, if he could
turn back time, was reach out to him. When he thought about how they had ended
up fleeing only weeks later, and the uncertainty of William�s life now, the
irony was overwhelming. Maybe he was deluding himself to think that they could
have kept William safe, but anything was better than this present agony.
Besides, looking back at the history of his family with the Consortium, it
seemed to him that the real delusion was to be found in the belief that
William�s whereabouts could be kept hidden from a global conspiracy.
�
Scully�s words cut across his morbid thoughts. �You still haven�t told me why
you were interested in the half-life of magnetite.�
�
�Well, if you�re right, and if Spender did inject magnetite into him, wouldn�t
the effectiveness degrade over time?�
�
He could feel her listening to his answer, but he didn�t turn around to face
her.
�
�If I remember correctly, that would be around five years.� Scully said
steadily, �So, what�s the significance of May 2004?�
�
�Neural plasticity,� Mulder said briefly, turning around.
�
�Meaning?�
�
Mulder shrugged. �Meaning neural plasticity,� Mulder said. �The first big phase
of it, developmentally speaking, ends around age 3. Not that there aren�t other
opportunities, but I was wondering if that shedding of all the unused neural
pathways would have any effect on what was done to him.�
�
Scully studied him silently. �You�re lying to me,� she said quietly.
�
�I am not lying!� Mulder said defensively.
�
�Well, then you�re omitting something,� she said speculatively. She turned back
to the computer screen. �What�s the significance of May 2004?� she repeated.
�
�His third birthday,� Mulder said gruffly. He was hedging.
�
�You�d hardly need a note to remind you of that,� Scully said shortly. She
tapped the computer screen and tried another verbal tack. �What happened in May
2004?�
�
Mulder sighed, and gave in. �When Daddy Spender did his brain surgery on me, I
had a lot of strange dreams,� he began.
�
Scully�s brows were drawn down as she watched him, her arms crossed tight over
her body. �You�ve told me this before,� she said tersely.
�
He shook his head. �I dreamt about a boy on a beach, building space ships.�
�
She cocked her head at him. �William?�
�
He bobbed his head in a maybe-yes, maybe-no gesture. �He wasn�t even an idea to
me then, Scully. And this was a five-year-old boy, maybe six.� He paused. �I
began dreaming about that boy again in May 2004.�
�
She stared at him. �How often?�
�
�Not often,� he said.
�
Scully�s expression was skeptical and a little bitter. �You expect me to believe
that? That you�ve been dreaming of our son all these years, but not often?� Her
initial shock was giving way to anger.
�
�It�s true!� he insisted. �I would want it to happen, and it wouldn�t. It would
� it wasn�t on any kind of a schedule. At first I thought that it was
stress-related, to his birthday and �� he paused. �I was pretty depressed at
certain points, so ��
�
Scully�s look of anger did not soften at this admission. �When did you start to
believe that it was William who was initiating the contact?�
�
He shook his head. �I don�t think it�s that simple, Scully. When I had the first
dream, he didn�t even exist. When they started again, he was age appropriate. I
assumed that it was my subconscious that was generating the image of him, that
it was the expression of my own desires.�
�
�What changed your mind?� she asked angrily.
�
�I didn�t say my mind was changed! It�s still possible that they�re simply my
dreams,� Mulder said heatedly.
�
�Except that it�s this boy, isn�t it, Mulder?� Scully challenged him, tapping
the picture of William in the file. �It�s this exact boy in your dreams, isn�t
it?� There were tears in her eyes, and her voice was shaking.
�
He nodded, opening his mouth to explain, but she held up her hand.
�
�You�ve been seeing him, and talking to him, for years,� she whispered, standing
up suddenly. His desk chair was propelled backwards into the wall. �And you
never even said a word.� Her expression defied him to deny it, but he couldn�t.
�
�Not one word,� she echoed, tears streaming down her face. She pushed past him
and walked into the living room.
�
�Scully,� he said, as she picked up her purse. �Can�t we talk about this?�
�
The look that she threw him over her shoulder was murderous. Then she turned and
walked out the door.
�
~*~
�
July 23, 2008
�
It was the middle of the night when he woke from a sleep he�d only achieved by
running himself ragged and then drinking tequila while he was still dehydrated.
The house had been deathly quiet for the last couple of days, with only him
rattling around in the too-large space until appointments with Maguire rousted
him from it. As far as he could tell, Scully hadn�t been home for more than the
time it probably took to change her clothes, and then only while he was gone.
�
But now, in the mid-night stillness, he could clearly hear the sound of her
weeping. He followed it to the empty room that they�d both known without saying
was meant to be William�s. Even with no hope of seeing him when they�d bought
this house, they�d ordered furniture for his room. Now that Mulder was no longer
a fugitive, Scully had hopes of enticing her mother back to the East Coast for a
visit, so they�d gone furniture shopping. They�d only intended to buy furniture
for their own room and for a guest bedroom, but they�d both stopped at the foot
of a twin bed, clearly meant for a child.
�
They�d stared at it for a minute before Scully said, �We should get this in case
my brothers visit,� in a rush.
�
The likelihood of that occurring was almost nonexistent, and both of her
brothers had more than one child. And yet, he�d let the statement go
unchallenged, the way he�d done so many times through the years. They both knew
the furniture was for the imaginary William that they�d always acknowledged, if
sometimes only tacitly.
�
In their last house, William had had his own unoccupied, unfurnished room. This
new house, with its ample space for guests they�d probably never have, had
different requirements. In truth, he understood Scully�s desire. It seemed wrong
to furnish a room for a possible guest and not one for their son. So, he�d just
nodded in agreement and told the saleswoman to add the bedroom set to their
order and include a mattress.�
�
The furniture had been delivered earlier in the day. Mulder found her seated on
the floor next to the bed as if she�d collapsed there, her head down as she
sobbed on the empty plastic-covered mattress.
�
�Scully,� he said in sorrow. He wanted to go to her, but was still unsure of his
welcome, so he crossed the room and crouched down next to her, not touching her.
�
She turned her tear-stained face to his, and moved her hand toward him, still
caressing the empty mattress where their child should be sleeping. �Do you blame
me for giving him away?� she asked him.
�
Mulder rocked back on his heels at the blunt question, sitting down on the floor
next to her with his back against the bed. He could feel the tears rising in his
throat as he tried to formulate an answer. He picked up the hand that she�d
pushed toward him and kissed the back of it, holding it over his heart. He took
in a breath. �A little,� he admitted.
�
She sobbed, but nodded.
�
�Do you blame me for leaving you all alone with him?� he asked her.
�
�A little,� she confessed in a halting voice. �I don�t want to blame you,
Mulder.�
�
�But you do, a little,� he answered. He was surprised at how easily the words
came out, when the very idea felt like a knife in his gut. �We can�t keep
running away from what we feel, Scully,� he said, turning toward her.
�
�Why didn�t you tell me?� Her voice was an anguished whisper, and now, finally,
he began to cry, in great, heaving sobs.
�
�Tell you what?� he choked out. �That I dream about our son sometimes, and that
we play in the sand?� He shook his head helplessly. �That sometimes I�m horribly
lonely for a child that I only knew for two days? How could I do that to you?
For the longest time, I thought I was just dreaming, that it was simply a
manifestation of my desire for some connection with him.�
�
She moved to his side and put her arms around him as they cried together.
�
�I�m jealous that you�ve seen him all this time,� Scully said finally. �That you
could talk to him and touch him, when I couldn�t.�
�
He shook his head at her words. �We never really speak,� he said. �In my first
dream, I wasn�t interacting with him at all � I was watching. I thought maybe he
was me as a child, or one of the other children from �� he didn�t finish his
statement. �And then, after we had William and lost him, I didn�t think it was
him at first, because his hair is so dark now. In my daytime imagination,
William was a redhead like you.�

She nodded, smiling through her tears.
�
�I � it wasn�t until I�d seen him a couple of times and I really looked at him
that I saw you in him, in his features, the shape of his face. I called him
William, and he smiled at me,� he chuckled wetly. �He doesn�t speak to me,
really. We just � we build these enormous sandcastles � but they�re not all
castles,� he paused. �I sound insane, don�t I?�
�
She laughed through her tears, then grew serious as they wound down. "Mulder,
why can't you ask him where he is in your dreams?"
�
"I haven't seen him in weeks and weeks," he choked out. He could see how his
words alarmed her, but he was helpless to stop the torrent of fear that flowed
out of him. "Not since we were at the beach, Scully," he sobbed. "Not once since
then, and it makes me so afraid. The last dream made me afraid.� He whispered.
�You were in that one."
�
She shook her head, mystified and frightened. "I don't remember any dream like
that."
�
Mulder smiled through his tears. "I wouldn't have wanted you to be in that one,"
he whispered. "He was so sad. He was crying, Scully."
�
She covered her mouth with her hand. "His father?"
�
Mulder nodded. "I think so. I don't know if he came looking for me, and found
you �" he shook his head in consternation. "They're still my dreams, no matter
how you slice it. But this one � you've never been in them, Scully, but there
you both were on the hammock, and he was crying, and you were soothing him, and
then � he was just gone."
�
"Gone?" She shook her head in confusion and alarm.
�
"He turned into a pile of sand," he said quietly, and Scully's indrawn breath
was harsh and high-pitched.
�
He'd known that it would remind her of Emily's coffin, but he was surprised by
her sharp response. "What?"�
�
"The sand � do you think he's dead, Mulder?"
�
He shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was raw and hoarse. "I can't let
myself think like that, Scully," he said, "or I will go crazy." He paused. "Do
you blame me for not going out there and trying to find him?" She was shaking
her head while he was speaking. "For letting David make all the contacts?"
�
"No," she said firmly. "They took you away from me once. I can't lose both of
you, Mulder. I can't."
�
"Then, please stop running away when we have problems," Mulder said quietly.
"It's killing me, Scully."
�
She looked at him searchingly.
�
"I mean it," he said. "I can take it if you blame me. I can even take it if you
hate me a little bit. What I can�t take is when you withdraw from me like this.�
�
She burst into tears again and buried her face in his chest.
�
"Just don't leave me," he said haltingly. "Please, Scully."
�
Her hands reached up and threaded around his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she
said over and over as they kissed for the first time in weeks, faces wet and
swollen, barely able to breathe through their tears. She pressed her forehead
against his. "I'm sorry."
�
Mulder nodded and wiped the tears from her face. "I�m sorry, too," he said
wearily, leaning back and levering himself up from the floor. He held out his
hand to her and quietly said, "Come to bed."
�
Scully looked down toward William's empty bed, running her hand across the
rumpled plastic in a caress. Then she turned and placed her hand in his, and let
him help her rise.
�
~*~




[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

CHAPTER TEN

The next evening they walked off into the woods together.  Once out of
site of the camp, Mulder stopped and turned to Walter.  "I thought
everyone was dead; everyone that I knew and loved."  His voice
quivered with emotion.

"I know.  I felt the same way."

"You saved my life!" he grabbed Walter in a hug.  "I was so scared.  I
knew who they were and I knew what they could do."

"I know.  I know."  Walter held him.  "But it was Alex who is
responsible for saving all our lives; not me."

"I don't believe that.  He's probably in it with them but I don't even
care any more.  I'm free and you're still alive and maybe Scully is
too."  He held on tightly to Walter.  "Thank you!  Thank you for
coming for me!"  He pulled Walter's head close and kissed him.  "You
saved my life!"  He kissed him again then pulled back and asked, "If
we find Scully's name on one of those lists, will you go with me to
find her?"

"Of course I will," Walter said.

Mulder kissed him again and as Walter stepped back to try and
disentangle, he stepped on a pine cone and stumbled.  Mulder tried to
hold on but the two of them fell laughing onto the pine needle covered
ground below, Walter landing on top.

"So you fell for me?"  Mulder teased and kissed him again.

Neither of them saw Alex approach, turn around and back away.

They got to their feet laughing.

"Sorry about that.  I got a little carried away there.  I'm just so
happy to be free and to find you alive.  It gives me hope that Scully
is out there somewhere too."

"If she is, we'll find her.  Come on.  Let's get some food into you.
You look like you lost twenty pounds."

They emerged from the woods in time to see and hear a motorcycle roar
across the bridge and make its way to the tunnel and leave.

"Who was that?" Walter asked Parks who was sitting in a lawn chair
sipping a cup of tea.  "Doesn't he know what day this is?  Tomorrow
morning the patrol is due."

"Dear boy, that was Alex."  Parks said as he eyed Mulder up and down
rather distastefully.

"Alex?  Where is he going?  I thought no one ever went out the day
before or after a patrol!"

"He didn't say.  He just came out of the woods, went to his quarters
and came out wearing his coat and helmet and left.  He didn't speak to
anyone."

"He was in the woods?"  Walter asked as a cold sinking feeling came
over him.

"Yes, he was."  Parks stood up, tossed the dregs of his tea on the
ground as he looked from Walter to Mulder and back again.  "One might
suspect that he saw something there that rather upset him."  He said
then turned and walked away.

"Shit!"  Walter said and stood staring across the river at the tunnel
entrance.

"Good riddance, I say."  Mulder said then added, "You said something
about food?"

"You don't understand, Mulder.  If Alex saw � if he saw the two of us
kissing � "

"So what if he did.  He's gone.  So much the better.  I still don't
understand why this group of nice people let him in here.  They
probably didn't know who or what he was."

  "You don't understand, Mulder.  Alex built this place; these people
are all still alive because of him.  I'm alive because of him and so
are you."

Mulder stood silent, not believing a word.

"And there's something else you may as well know too.  Alex and I are
� together.  We have been for some time now."

Mulder stared at him, shaking his head.  "Somebody please kill me
now."  He said in disgust.

"Mulder, I'm telling you, he is not the Alex Krycek we both knew and
hated.  He's completely different.  He's kind and caring and he
considers these people as the family he never had."

"Talk about your dysfunctional family!"  Mulder muttered.  "Come on.
Let's get something to eat.  I'm sure he'll be back shortly."

"I'm not.  Not if he saw us."  Walter followed Mulder on into the
cafeteria but kept his eye on the tunnel as long as he could.


xxx


Alex knew what day it was and about the danger was but he didn't care.
  He roared his motorcycle over the countryside, right into town and
stopped at the general store.  He went in and pulled a bottle of
whiskey down from a shelf, uncapped it and took a long drink.  He
stuck it in his pocket and got several more bottles down, as many as
he could carry and headed back to his bike.  With a roar, he was out
of town and heading north.

He found a deserted house, went in and took his motorcycle with him.
He didn't leave for several days, not until he had drank every drop of
whiskey plus half a dozen bottles of wine he had found in the house.
When he left he wandered around for months as he continued on north
and didn't change directions until he got into Canada.  He made his
way East across the country. Half the time he didn't know where he
was.  He stayed in one place only until his liquor ran out and he'd
take off again.  He was somewhere just west of Montreal when he blew a
tire.  The bike flipped and he rolled a hundred feet before he managed
to stop himself.  He was bruised, battered and bleeding but he had
broken no bones.  He made his way back to his motorcycle and cursed
when he found the last of his whiskey was broken and leaking out into
the snow.

He hauled his bike over to some bushes and stashed it then looked
carefully around to mark the spot in his memory so he could find it
again.  He took off walking.  There were aliens all over Montreal but
he had to get in and find someplace where he could get a new tire.  He
waited until after dark and snuck into town.  It took him two hours
before he was able to locate a tire store.  He went in and with his
small flash light he was going through all the small tires.  He had
just spotted the size he needed, pulled it down from the stack and
turned around and there were two aliens standing there pointing their
weapons at him.

He didn't really even care any more.  He thought seriously about just
making a sudden move and it would be all over with.  But there was
something inside of him that wouldn't let him.  The drive out to the
internment camp took about twenty minutes and his muscles were really
starting to ache from his accident as well as the cold.  They marched
him to a barracks after relieving him of his gun, and shoved him
inside the door and locked it behind him.

The foul stench of unclean humans filled his nostrils as he made his
way through the semi darkness, looking for a place to lie down.  He
heard a slight struggle at the far end of the room and a voice
growling, "Move over, girlie.  It's my turn for the bed."  He heard a
loud "uuuuph" and saw a body being shoved over the side of the last
bed on one side.  He caught a glimpse of red hair as the woman hit the
floor and he knew in an instant who it was.

He hurried to kneel beside her.  "Scully?  Are you all right?"  He
helped her to sit up.

"Who � who are you?  How do you know me?"  She asked the bearded
stranger before her.

"Scully, it's me.  Alex Krycek.  Are you hurt?"

"Krycek?"  She stared at the specter before her; long hair, several
months' growth of beard and knew that she was indeed speaking to their
old nemesis, Alex Krycek.  "They got you too?"

"Yeah, just about an hour ago."  He said as he sat down beside her.

"Just my luck."  Scully mumbled as she pulled her blanket closer
around her shoulders.

"Huh?"

"The first person I meet in four years that I know and it had to be you."

"Oh.  I see what you mean.  I have some good news for you though if
you're interested?"

"The only news I want to hear is that this whole nightmare is over with."

"It's about Mulder and Skinner.  They're both alive."

She turned to face him in the dim light that shown in through the
window from the security light outside.  "That's not funny, Krycek.  I
know what they did with all the government employees."

"It's true, Scully.  We found Skinner a couple of years ago and got
him out of the camp he was in.  Then, about a year ago now, we found
Mulder.  They are both alive and well."

She trembled, and tears filled her eyes.  "You're making that up."

"No.  I wouldn't do that.  Are you hungry?"  He dug in his pocket and
brought out an energy bar and handed it to her.

Her eyes grew wide and she tore into it and ate it as quickly as she
could chew.  He handed her his water bottle and she drank it down
eagerly.

"Easy, now.  Easy or it will come right back up."  He took the bottle
back from her and re-capped it.  Everything changed for him now.  He
had found Scully.  He had to get her out of there and back to Colorado
and safety.  "Listen to me, Scully.  I have a long story to tell you
and I've got to make it quick.  It will be dawn in a couple of hours
and we have to be out of here by then."

"Out of here?  You know a way out?  Without getting us both burned?"
She said in a loud whisper.

"Shhhhh.  Over here."  He moved back against the wall as far away from
anyone else as he could get.  She scooted over next to him.

"Yes, I can get us out of here."

"But where would we go?  They're everywhere."

"I have a place.  A safe place.  It will take a long time to get there
but I have a motorcycle.  I blew a tire.  That's why I had to come
into town to get a new one.  That's how I got caught."

"Where is this safe place you're talking about and you said 'we' found
Skinner and 'we' found Mulder.  Who is this 'we' you're talking about?"

"Ok.  From the beginning then.  I was on a plane when this all happened."

He explained the rest of the story as quickly as he could with Scully
staring silently and listening to every word.

"That's the most incredible story I've ever heard." she said.  "So
what are you doing up here in Canada if you have this great safe place
in Colorado?"

"As I said, the Special Ops teams go out constantly trying to find new
camps and get lists of names.  We've been looking for your name and
now I know why it never showed up.  I don't think any of our teams has
made it into Canada yet."

"And you think you can get us both out of here and all the way down to
Colorado?"

"Yes.  We should go right now.  Let me check and make sure the guard
isn't watching."

"Wait, wait a minute.  Tell me first.  How do you plan on getting us
out of here?  I want to hear this plan before I agree to it."

"We don't have much time Scully but here it is in a nutshell.  We have
learned that when someone is taken prisoner, they are searched for
weapons and I.D.  That is all.  In the lining of this coat, I have the
wire and clips that we need to get through their electric fence.  I
also have wire cutter that they took from me, looked at and handed
back.  They had no idea what it was but figured it wasn't a weapon."
He pulled the lining loose from his coat and pulled out the wire with
the clips on either end and showed her the wire cutter.

"You really think we can get out of here and all the way down to
Colorado?"

"I know we can.  I have maps and I know safe places along the way
where we can stop and get supplies, food and gas.  We need to go now."

"How do you propose to get out that door?"

"With these."  He held up his lock-picks.

"Ok.  I'm willing to give this plan of yours a try." She stood up and
rubbed her backside where she had fallen when shoved off the bunk.

"Are you Ok?  Are you sure?"  Krycek asked her.

"I'm fine.  So if you've really got some place where there's plenty of
food and water and Skinner and Mulder are there, lead me to it."

They crept up to the front of the room, through the sleeping, snoring
bunch and Alex worked his picks into the lock.  It clicked open and
Alex peered out.  They could see the guard walking his route at the
far side of the yard.  He walked all the way to the end of the
enclosure, then turned and walked all the way back to the opposite end.

"Ok.  Once he passes us, his back will be to us.  We slip out and get
around the corner of the building before he turns back.  We skirt
around the edge of the building until he passes again and then we high
tail it for the back and the fence."

"Ok."  Scully pulled the blanket closer around her.

"It's going to be a long walk but we can make it.  Here he comes.  Are
you ready?"

"I'm ready."  She whispered.

They slipped out into the night and made it easily to the corner of
the building and out of sight before the guard turned and headed back.

"Ok.  See that building back there?  That's out next stop when he
passes up again."  Alex said.

As soon as the guard passed them again, they took off.  It was an easy
run.  It was not a barracks building so it wasn't guarded.  They
skirted around the edges of the building until they had it between
them and the any possible sighting from the guard patrolling the
barracks they had just come out of.  Three more deserted buildings
back and they could see the fence.  They stopped and caught their breaths.

"Ok.  I don't see any guard stations that could possibly see us.
We're going straight for the middle of the fence there.  When we get
there, you flatten yourself down as low as possible while I work on
the fence.  Got it?"

"I got it.  After we get through the fence, how far is it to your
motorcycle?"

"It's quiet a way, about six or eight miles I think.  But first we
have to get back into town and get that tire."

"I almost forgot about that."  Scully sighed.

"If you want, I can take you out of town first and go back for the
tire by myself but it's getting pretty close to daylight."

"No.  I'll go with you.  If you have somebody watching your back, you
won't get caught this time."

"Thanks.  I was hoping you would see it that way.  Ok.  Let's go."
They took off running across the large field in front of them and
stopped in front of the fence where Scully threw herself to the ground
as she was told.  Alex did the same and looked around but saw no one.
  He carefully worked his by-pass rig out of his coat and connected it
to the fence and got to work with his wire cutter.  In no time they
were through the fence and running for the trees.  They stopped long
enough to catch their breath then made their way into town.

Building to building, street to street they crept along.  They saw few
aliens.  They apparently didn't care for the dark and didn't spend all
that much time out in it unless they were in their trucks.

The sky was beginning to lighten in the east before they got to the
tire store.  He knew exactly what he needed; in fact the tire was
lying on the floor, right where he dropped it when he was taken.  He
grabbed it and they took off at a trot heading west.  They had to stop
several times for Scully to catch her breath.  She had been in
captivity for four years and was not in very good shape.  Alex kept
giving her trail mix and energy bars and sips of water.  Once safely
out of town, he found a spot and made her lie down, promising to get
back to her as soon as he could with the motorcycle and more food and
water.  She didn't want to be left behind but she could go no further.

"Scully, you have to trust me here.  My motorcycle is about another
four or five miles from here.  You cannot make it.  I can't carry both
you and the tire.  I'll go, get this tire on, and come right back for
you.  I promise you!  I didn't get you out of that place just to
desert you out here in the middle of no where."

She shook her head 'Ok' but she felt anything but Ok.  She was
terrified but too weak to argue.  She wrapped up in her blanket as she
clung to the bottle of water he handed her.

"I'll be back as soon as I can.  It may be an hour or so.  It depends
on how easily this tire goes on.  You'll be all right.  I'll be back
and get you and we'll be on our way."

She grabbed his arm as he was about to leave.  "Krycek, Mulder and
Skinner � they're really alive?  They're safe in this place you're
taking me to?"

"Yes.  Mulder was skinny as a rail last time I saw him but he's been
there about a year now so I'm sure he's gotten some weight back.
Skinner's a little thinner than he was but he's in good shape."

She let go of him then and he left.  She sank back down between the
rocks and bushes and said a prayer of thanks and begging for it all to
be true.  She was cold and shivered but at least she was out in the
fresh air and didn't have to share her sleeping spot with anyone.  She
was beyond exhausted and curled up and dozed off.

"Scully, Scully, wake up."  Alex shook her awake.

She came awake frightened and being pulled at.  "What � Krycek?  Did
you get the tire on?"

"I did.  Here."  He handed her an open can of vegetables and a plastic
spoon.  He ate his with his bare fingers and drank the juice out of
the can.

"Oh my God!  Thank you!  I love green beans!"  She devoured the entire
can and drank the juice as Alex had.

"Ok.  Can we leave now or do you need to go behind the rocks there and
do your business?"  He asked her.

"Yeah, I'd better.  It will only take a minute."  She came back around
from the rocks and joined Alex as he was leaning against the
motorcycle strapping on his helmet.

"Here," he said tossing her a helmet as well.  "You may have to hold
some of this food on your lap or you can sit behind me, whichever you
want."

"Let's leave the food where it is.  We don't want to take the chance
of loosing any of it.  I can ride behind you."

"Ok.  We can change off and on.  In the next town I'll see about
getting some large bags to hold the food in and we can figure a way to
tie it on the back.  Then you can ride in the side car.  It got a
little bent there when I flipped but it's good and secure.  Let's go."

It was full morning when they set out but they stayed in the country
side and passed very few roads.  It was three hours before they
stopped for the first time in a forest among beautiful pine trees.
Alex brought out some more canned goods and water which they devoured.
  She stared at Alex while she ate.

"What?" he asked her as he finished eating and dug a shallow hole and
dumped the cans in.

"You're the last person in the world that I expected would come to my
rescue."

"Mulder would have been here for you if he had known where you were.
We've been scanning every list of names that came in looking for you."
  He reached for her hand and pulled her up.

"I know that.  It's just that �"

"I know.  You hate me as much as Mulder does and you have every right.
  I caused the two of you a lot of grief.  But this is here and now,
Scully.  The Consortium is gone, Spender is dead and I'm a free man.
I can live my life the way I want to and right now that's surviving
and helping as many others to survive as possible."

"It's just not something that I'd ever figure you as doing."

"I know.  But that's because you never knew the real me.  No one ever
has."  He donned his helmet again and she did the same.

"What's our next stop?" she asked.

"We're just outside of Pembroke right now.  I'd like to put as many
miles behind us today as we can.  The next little town is called
Marathon and it's about four hundred miles northwest but it was nice
flat terrain most of the way and we should be able to make pretty good
time.  If we can make it there before dark, I can slip into town and
get some more supplies; and maybe a small tent.  We've been making
about fifty miles an hour.  So we're looking at about a hard eight
hours ahead of us.  We can stop whenever you need to but if you want
to sleep in a shelter of some kind tonight, we need to get there.  I'm
guessing we have about seven hours of daylight left.  There are two
national parks this side of Marathon.  We can stop there if we need
to.  I have a sleeping bag that you can use but that's the only
shelter until we can get a tent.  If you get too tired, we can always
dump the food and you can ride in the side car.  We can always pick up
some more food along the way."

"No, don't do that.  I'll be able to hold on.  If I get too tired I'll
tell you."

"Ok.  You do look a little stronger.  It's amazing what a few cans of
food can do."

"And the fresh water.  I haven't tasted that since he last time it
rained."  She climbed on the motorcycle behind Alex.

"Hang on." He said and they were off again.

They did not make it into Marathon but when they stopped at the camp
grounds in the Lake Superior Provincial Park they found a couple of
small tents and a campsite that had been abandoned.  They tried not to
think about what happened to the original owners of the camping
equipment and just moved into the tents.  They tried to sleep but it
was too cold.

Scully crawled out of her tent and paced around the campsite.

"What is it, Scully?  Are you hungry?"

"No.  No, I'm just cold."

"Come on in here with me."  He called to her and reached out a hand.

"I can't."  She said, "I smell bad."

"So do I.  Come on.  It's better than freezing to death.  I'll behave.
  I promise."

"It's not that." she said as she came over to his tent.  "I just �
I've never smelled this bad before."

"And you've never been this cold before either, I'll bet."

"I haven't"

"Come on.  Let me warm you up.  Tomorrow I promise we'll try and find
an empty house somewhere and you can take a bath.  We both can.
Separately, I mean."  He reached a hand out to her.  "You don't smell
any worse than I do.  Tomorrow we'll find a place and we'll take a
bath; try and find some clean clothes.  How does that sound?"

"Heavenly!  I desperately need a bath!"  She said as she knelt down in
front of his tent.

"Go get your sleeping bag and bring it in here.  We'll zip the two of
them together and crawl inside.  That should keep us warm enough."

"You think it would be all right?"

"Absolutely."

She hurried back to her tent and dragged her sleeping bag over to his.
  He opened his sleeping bag out flat and zipped her bag on top and
they crawled inside.

"Oh thank you.  This is warmer."

"Come here."  He put his arms around her and she cradled her head on
his shoulder.  "Tomorrow we'll find a place and clean up.  I promise."

"Thank you.  I know I'm being silly but I just don't want Mulder to
see me like this; you know, smelling and all."

"It may have to be a cold bath because electricity is out everywhere
but we can still wash up and hopefully find some clean clothes to put on."

"Thank you!  Thank you so much.  I think I can sleep now."  She dozed
off first then he did.  They didn't awake until it was daylight.

They found a farm house just outside of Marathon the next morning and
went inside bringing the motorcycle in with them.  Scully went
directly into the bathroom and tried the faucets.  The water sputtered
and came out rusty but after a few minutes it ran clean.  There was
nothing but cold water from both faucets.

Alex was in the kitchen and she smelled coffee as she was going
through the closet and setting out clothes to change into.  She
hurried into the kitchen.

"Coffee?  Oh man, I could use a gallon of that!"

"It should be about ready.  I'm heating some water for your bath.
We're lucky this is a gas stove."

"Oh, that will be wonderful.  What did you find?"  She asked as he
pulled food down from the cupboards.

"I found some oat meal, canned pasta, some fruit and more vegetables.
  Here," he handed her one of the pots of boiling water.  He carried
the other two in and dumped them in the tub.

He went back into the kitchen and refilled the pots with water, three
for his bath and one for the oatmeal.  By the time it was ready,
Scully came padding back into the kitchen with her hair wrapped up in
a towel.

"Feel better?" he asked as she took a seat at the table.

"Better than I have in four years!  Mmmmm that smells good." She said
as she sat and devoured her breakfast.

He poured her another cup of coffee and headed to the bathroom and
started the tub for himself.  He carried the hot water in and added it
to the cold water coming from the faucet.  He undressed and got in.
It was difficult getting his clothes off as some of it stuck to cuts
and abrasions that he had gotten from the accident.  But once he
settled down into the few inches of warm water, it was all worth it.

He came out a short time later to find Scully in the living room
brushing her hair.

"Hey, you shaved!"  She said.  "You look more like the Alex Krycek
that I know now."

"Is that good or bad?" He asked jokingly.

"I have to say good.  All I ever had to judge you on before was the
things you did."

"Or thought I did," he corrected her.

"The things I thought you did.  That was before.  Now I can only judge
you on what you are doing today and yesterday.  You got me out of that
camp I've been stuck in for four years.  You fed me, kept me from
freezing to death and today you made it possible for me to take a
bath.  I'd say that's all good."

"I'm glad then.  We'd better get on the road.  As much as I hate to
leave this house, it's not safe.  We best stay on the move.  Grab some
of those canned goods and let's see if we can re-arrange things here."
  He pulled their meager food supply out of the side car and started
stuffing it into plastic bags.  "I want to make at least three hundred
miles today and I want you in the side car where you'll be more
comfortable.  That will put us into Minnesota.  We'll find someplace
to camp there for the night."

"There's no reason why a lot of that food can't stay in the side car.
  I won't take up that much room.  Just leave all those cans there on
the floor. I can put my feet on top of them."

"Get in and let's see how cramped you'll be."

She climbed in and he started putting back a lot of the cans.  "You
sure you'll be all right with these cans in here?"

"Sure.  It's food and I'll carry it on my lap if I have to."

"Ok.  I'll tie the sleeping bags and tent on the back where you've
been sitting.  Or if you're cold, we could open one up and you could
sit inside it."

"No, that won't be necessary.  I've got some warm clothes on now.  I
found some long johns and these jeans and even a pair of boots.  I've
got three pairs of socks on, a flannel shirt under this sweater and I
found, a knit cap and some gloves."

"Good!  I'm glad." He said as she hopped out of the side car and put a
coat, hat and gloves on.

Alex donned his coat as well as his knit cap, gloves and helmet.  They
walked the motorcycle out doors, Scully climbed in and got comfortable
and off they went; it was just passed noon.

Three hours later they crossed into the U.S. at International Falls.
They then drove on another three hours due south which put them into
the Chippewa National Forest.  They set up camp there for the night.

"It's not nearly as cold tonight as it was last night.  We should have
tried to bring both tents."  Alex said as they sat on a downed log and
ate.

"I'm just as happy to share the one, if you don't mind."  Scully
grinned.  "I slept really well last night.  It's the first time I've
been warm and not afraid in ages."  She sipped her bottled water.

"We shouldn't run into any aliens as long as we stick to the
countryside.  None have been seen off the roads."  He assured her.

"There are more things in the woods to be afraid of than just the
aliens."  She said.

"I suppose that's true but nothing that a .45 can't handle."  He
produced the gun from his pocket.

"You got that at the farm house?"  She asked; glad to know that they
had at least some protection.

"Uh huh.  Looks pretty clean too.  It was kept in a box so it didn't
get dirty.  It should come in handy."

"Let's hope you don't have to use it."  Scully said.

"That's always best but if trouble comes, in the way of scavengers or
such, then we'll at least have a chance."

They slept that night side by side in the little two-man tent that did
little more than keep the breeze off of them.  They got an early start
the next morning and vowed to make two hundred miles by lunch time and
they did.  They stopped just north of Sioux City, Iowa and had lunch.

They were into Nebraska and just nearing Freemont when they heard the
engine.  Alex pulled up under a tree and turned his motorcycle off.
They listened.

"That's not a truck.  It sounds more like a plane."

"A plane?"  Scully said.  "I thought all airports were destroyed?"

"Most of them were."  He craned his neck to see as the plane flew low
over the area.  "Look!  It's dropping something."

The watched as what looked like confetti was raining down from the
bottom of the plane.

"What is it?"  Scully asked.

They waited until the plane was out of sight then rode over to where
they could see the pieces of paper littering the ground.  They each
reached down and grabbed one and read.

"IT'S ALL OVER!" The head line proclaimed.  "The aliens are gone!
We're free again!

"Communications are still out all over but we are working on getting
them back up again as well as the electricity.  Please be patient as
we work through this catastrophe.   We are asking the help of each and
every one of our citizens to do whatever they can to feed themselves
and to share with your neighbors.  It will take time to get everything
back in order but we are working on it and it will be restored as soon
as possible.
We suggest each of you with any land available to them, plant a
vegetable garden to help the food crises.  Even if you've never
planted a thing before, try!  It may be all you will have to eat for a
while.  We have no idea how long it will take to get things back to
normal.  Just rest assured that we are working on it.
Any and all military personnel are asked to report to the state
capitol for further instructions.
Any and all current or past agents of the F.B.I and the C.I.A. please
report to D.C. immediately.  The need is desperate.
Remember to work together, help your neighbors, and be patient.  We'll
get through this thing together.

With restored hope for a brighter future,

Your President ______________________________"


"It's over?"  Scully said in amazement.  "They're really gone?"

"I don't know.  I can't see how this could be a trick unless they are
trying to lure stragglers out of hiding; but to what purpose would
that be?  They aren't killing the humans any more, just keeping them
penned up.  Why would they want more to have to look after?"  Krycek
re-read the note.

"What are we going to do?  Do you want to head to D.C.?"  Scully asked.

"No.  Not yet.  I've got to get to the valley.  After I get you to
Mulder, then I'll think about whether I want to go to D.C. or not."

They took off and didn't stop for another hundred and fifty miles,
just outside of North Platte, Nebraska.

"You wait here and I'll go into town and see if I can find out
anything."  Krycek said as he pulled to a stop and rolled the
motorcycle up into an old barn.  "That way if it's a trick, only one
of us will get caught.  And I'll be able to get out easier if it's
just me they grab."

"I want to go in with you!"  Scully insisted.

"No.  You've got to get back to the valley.  Town doesn't look to be
but about five miles.  It shouldn't take too long.  Stay inside and
out of sight.  I'll be back for you in an hour or so."

"Here.  You take this."  He handed her the .45 and a box of shells.
"It's bigger than you're used to.  Just hold it with both hands if you
have to use it and prepare yourself for a heck of a kick."

"I've fired a .45 before.  I can handle it.  Don't you think you
should take it; just in case?"

"No.  If they take me, I'd just be loosing another gun.  Stragglers I
can evade.  You're the one who needs it.  Why don't you get up in the
loft."  He reached into the side car and pulled out a bottle of water.
  "Here.  Find yourself a comfortable place and keep down.  If
stragglers come by and try and take the motorcycle, let them have it.
  I can always pick up another one.  Just keep down and keep quiet."

"Ok.  But hurry right back.  I don't like you going into town alone."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."  He said and walked the motorcycle
over into a stall and closed the door, hoping if anyone did come by
and investigate the barn they would miss it.

He was back in a little over an hour with the news that the entire
town was celebrating.  Apparently the aliens had departed two days
before and people were streaming back into town from internment camps
in the area.

They hopped on the motorcycle and headed for the valley.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

They rode into the valley to the cheers of the others.  As soon as
they stopped, Mulder hurled himself at Scully, dragging her out of the
sidecar and kissing her violently.  Skinner walked up to Alex, kissed
him hard then pulled back a fist and punched him in the face, knocking
him down.  With that, he turned away and walked back to his barracks.

The group gathered around laughed and applauded while they hauled Alex
to his feet and shoved him towards the barracks after Skinner.

Walter stood with his back to the door, one hand on the bunk bed.
Alex came in and turned the lock on the door behind him so they
wouldn't be disturbed.

"I'm sorry."  Alex said.  Walter remained silent.  "I saw you in the
woods with Mulder.  The two of you were kissing.  Then you were on the
ground on top of him kissing him again."

Walter remained silent.

"I couldn't stay here; I couldn't � share you."

"You're a fool! You know that?  A God damned stupid fool!"  Walter
whirled on him.

They stared at each other, neither willing to back down or comment
further.

"What would you have done?"  Alex asked angrily.

"What would I have done?"  Walter thought for a moment.

"Yeah.  What would you have done if you had come into the woods and
seen me kissing Mulder; lying on the ground on top of him, kissing him?"

Walter stared at him for a moment then started out.  "I would have
come up to you and offered a hand to help you up as you had
*obviously* stumbled and as Mulder tried to help, he went down too
taking you with him.  I would have dusted you off and invited the two
of you inside for dinner."

"You lying son of a bitch," Alex chuckled.

In an instant Walter had him in his arms and kissed him passionately.
  "I'm a lying son of a bitch and you're still a fucking idiot!  Did
you really think that something was going on between me and Mulder?"

"I didn't until I saw you kissing him."

"You didn't see me kissing him.  You saw him kissing me � big difference."

"Not from my angle."

"Then you should have stayed around long enough to ask questions!
Jesus, Alex.  You've been gone nearly a year!  I was sure they had
taken you!"  Walter held him close, crushing the life half out of him.

"They did but I got away.  And the camp they put me in just happened
to be the one where Scully was being held."

"Why didn't her name show up on any of the lists?"

"I don't think any of our teams got up into Canada."

"Canada?  You went to Canada?"

"Hell, I was so drunk; I didn't know where I was half the time.  I
just kept on going and drinking; trying to wipe what I'd seen out of
my memory."

"Like I said, you're an idiot."  Walter kissed him tenderly this time.

"I thought I'd lost you.  I couldn't stand it.  I couldn't stay around
here and see the two of you together."

"The only thing that matters now is that you're safe and back here
where you belong."

Alex melted against him; into the only warmth he had ever known and
sighed with contentment.

"Oh my God!  I haven't told you the news!"  Alex pulled back from the
embrace.

"The news is that you're home and you found Scully? I know that."
Walter pulled him back again but Alex resisted.

"It's all over!  They're gone.  The aliens are all gone and all the
camps are liberated.  Everyone is out in the streets celebrating!"

Walter stared at him open mouthed.  "Are you sure?  It could be some
kind of trick?"

"No, it isn't.  Here."  Alex pulled the leaflet out of his pocket and
gave it to him.  "It's all over, Walter.  That's from the President.
He wants everyone connected with the Bureau to come to D.C.  You'll be
made Director for sure!"

Walter scanned the document and as he read he heard the celebrating
out side as the cheers broke out.  They were all safe now.  Safe from
the aliens, but what was left of their country?  A shiver of fear went
through him as he thought about that.  Would things ever again get
back to where they were?

They were swept up in a maelstrom of celebration.  Everyone was
screaming and shouting and hugging everyone.  The SO men who were in
camp at the time took off on their motorcycles to investigate.  People
were dancing and singing "Happy Days are Here Again".  A shower
finally sent them all inside for lunch.  They were all so excited they
could barely eat.  Afterwards there was packing to do then came time
for good-byes.

They loaded up their belongings and climbed into the trucks.  Everyone
was hugging and promising to write one another or keep in touch in
whatever way they could.  Even Harry was weeping and he said his good
byes and hugging everybody.

"Alex, I'll never forget what you did for me; for us all.  You made me
realize that I am capable of a lot more than I ever dreamed possible."
  He grabbed Alex and hugged him.  "You ever get to NYC, you look me
up!  I'm Yellow Cab number 6048."

"Yeah, thanks, Harry."  Alex answered as he disentangled himself.

"I mean it now.  I'm in the phone book.  Call me or come by.  I'll buy
you a beer."

"I'll do that.  Take care of yourself now."

"I will.  I know how to now, thanks to you."  Harry said and climbed
into the back of the truck.

"Are you ready to go, Walter?"  Mulder asked as he and Scully walked
up, their arms wrapped around each other.

"In a minute."  Walter said and turned to Alex.  "So what are your plans?"

"I don't have any.  For the first time in four years, all I have to do
is look out for myself."

"Why not come back to D.C. with us?  I'm sure I could put in a word
for you; maybe get you back on at the Bureau."

"No thanks.  I'm not the neck tie and briefcase type."  Alex answered
as he sat on his motorcycle.

"You could be if you wanted to."  Walter said, dreading what he knew
was coming.

"You go on to D.C.  Do your thing, Walter.  They need you now more
than ever.  What they don't need is an ex-Consortium assassin."

"No one needs to know about that."

"Enough do to make working at the Bureau out of the question for me."

"So you're saying 'Good bye' then?"  Walter hated that his voice and
his words sounded so needy.

"Come on, Walter.  The last truck is leaving."  Mulder called to him
as he helped Scully on board and jumped on himself.

Alex pulled his helmet on, keyed the ignition on his motorcycle and
roared off.  Walter watched him go as he climbed on board the truck.
He watched as the motorcycle cleared the bridge, crossed the fields
and disappeared into the tunnel.  He glanced back for one last look at
the settlement just before they entered the tunnel.  A great sadness
welled up inside of him.  This had been his home for two years.  He
had found safety there, freedom, companionship and much, much more.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to join in with all the
others who were celebrating going home.  He didn't have much luck. He
couldn't help but wonder what they were going to find when they got
there.

In minutes they had made it into town and were unloading and climbing
aboard one of the four Greyhound busses that the Special Ops men had
secured for them.  Mulder and Scully had cuddled up next to each
other; holding hands and whispering softly to one another.  Walter
took a seat farther back and sat alone next to a window.  He leaned
his head against the cool glass and thought about Alex.

It seemed strange driving up on the highway again.  They made pretty
good time except when they came to a town and had to make their way
around all the cars still left in the middle of the street.  Most of
them just sitting there as if stopped for a red light, several were
burned out.  They tried to not look at those for they all knew what
that meant.

Along the way they dropped people off and sometimes picked people up
walking along the highway.  Skinner watched numbly, dreading what he
was going to find when he got to D.C.  He got off the bus in a small
town about seventy five miles west of D.C. which put him within a few
miles walk of his cabin.  He kept the good-byes short and left with
his few belongings in a back pack.  He slung it over his shoulder and
started walking.

There were people all around now and cars driving back and forth.  He
wondered if his car would still be there where he left it four years
earlier.  The bus was staying in town for lunch so if his car was
gone, or too damaged to drive, he could make it back into town in time
to go on to D.C. with them.

He found the car right where he left it � keys still in the ignition.
  His cabin was untouched and locked up tight.  He was grateful now
that in his haste to get out of there that he had left the keys in the
car.  He unlocked the cabin door and went in.

It was musty and full of dust but other than that, nothing had
changed.  He grabbed up a few clothes and dumped those, along with the
contents of his pack, into a sports bag he dragged out of the closet.
  In the kitchen, he bagged up some of the groceries he had on the
shelves.  He started to take it all then decided to leave some behind
� just in case someone hungry came through.  He left the door
unlocked, took one last look around and left.

The drive into D.C. felt strange.  He had driven nothing in the last
four years but those trucks or a motorcycle and that was all off-road.
  The car seemed unusually large and comfortable.  The closer he got
into town, the more traffic there was.  He could see burned out cars
along the side of the highway where they had been pushed off the road.
  The clean up had begun.

He took the Crystal City turn off and made his way to his apartment.
He was pleased to see the electricity on but there was no one at the
front desk, no one milling around the lobby.  He tried the elevator
and the door opened immediately.  Outside his door he hesitated.  He
had often come home at odd hours and found the building this silent
but never before in the middle of the day.  He wondered how many of
his neighbors had made it.  He put the key in the lock, turned it and
walked in.

He stood in the middle of the room and glanced around.  It was exactly
as he had left it except for the heavy layer of dust that coated
everything.  He went straight to his liquor cabinet, uncapped a bottle
and after wiping it off, took a long drink.

He coughed and gagged at the burn.  It was the first touch of alcohol
he had had in four years and it jolted him.  He recapped the bottle,
took his coat off and got to work.  The first thing he did was to open
the sliding glass doors to the balcony.  The place desperately needed
to be aired out.

He took the stairs two at a time and made it up to his room.  He
pulled everything off his bed, got the towels out of his bathroom �
all of them � even the ones in the cabinet and carried everything
downstairs to the laundry room.  The washer spit and sputtered when he
first turned it on but he stuffed it full and headed for the kitchen.

He hadn't had all that much food in his refrigerator but when he
opened the door it still emitted a foul odor.  He got out a plastic
trash bag and dumped everything.  The water in the sink ran rusty for
a few seconds then it was clear again and he started scrubbing
everything up.

After the kitchen he did both bathrooms, upstairs and down.  He
stopped only long enough to fix himself something to eat.  He had all
sorts of things in his pantry but opted instead to open a can of green
beans followed by a can of peaches that he had brought out of the
settlement.  He sat at his kitchen table and looked around and
wondered why he had never felt so alone before in this place which now
felt huge to him.  He made a mental note to dump this place as soon as
he could.  He couldn't remember for the life of him, why he had felt
the need for a place this big.  And two bedrooms; why on earth had he
gotten a place with two bedrooms?  Just one more room to clean and he
had never had an over night guest in all the time he had lived there.
  What a colossal waste of space and money.  He shook his head at
himself then wondered how many others going home had the same feelings.

He was jolted out of his reflections when the phone rang.  He hadn't
heard a phone ring in so long it addled him for a moment.  He sat down
at his desk and answered it.

"Skinner."  He said.

"Good, you made it.  Are you coming in this afternoon?  You won't
believe the mess we've got on our hands here."  Mulder said.

"Yeah.  I need to clean up first.  I should be there within an hour.
How bad is it?"

"Let's just say, you can have your pick of offices now."

Skinner sighed and rubbed the back of his neck; the old tension
rearing its head again.  "I'll be there shortly."


The streets of D.C. had about as much traffic as they normally did on
a Sunday morning �  next to none.  He pulled into the parking lot to
find no guard at the gate and a sign that said to use the front
entrance and check in at the desk.  Before he got to the desk, two men
came up to him and asked, "Are you an AD?  Do you know what's going on
here?  What we're supposed to be doing?"

"Have you checked in at the desk?"  Skinner asked them.

"Yeah, but our names aren't on any lists.  We had just finished
training at Quantico and hadn't been assigned anywhere yet."

"Ok.  Well come on up with me.  I'll see what I can find out."
Skinner was surprised to see Nelson, the old guard from the parking
lot sitting behind the front desk.

"Nelson!  Good to see you."  Skinner reached out a hand to the smiling
man.

"You too, Mr. Skinner.  Glad to see that you made it.  You can go
right on up."

Up on the fourth floor most of the offices were deserted.  Mulder met
him in the hallway.

"Here," Mulder said and handed him a cell phone.  "Phones are working
pretty good again.  Where'd you pick these two up?"

"Lobby.  They said they just finished up at Quantico but hadn't been
assigned anywhere.  Do we have computer access so we can check them out?"

"Yeah, we do."  Mulder said as he followed Skinner into his office.

"Oh hi, Walter � I mean sir."  Scully popped out from his en-suite
bathroom drying her hands on a paper towel.  "I was just cleaning up
the place for you."

"Thanks, Dana.  I appreciate that.  Who's in charge; does anyone know?"

"Unfortunately, Kersh seems to be the only one higher than you to show
up."

"No one's heard from the Director?"  Skinner asked.

"No.  She could still be around somewhere but no one has heard from her."

"So exactly what do we have left?"

"Kersh, four A.D.s, and about twenty five agents."  Mulder said.

"Oh my God!"  Skinner sighed and sat down behind his desk.  "Well, can
you get someone to check these two out?  We're going to need them."

"I'll do it."  Mulder said and took the two young men out of the
office with him.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"  Scully asked.

"I don't suppose there are any secretaries around?"

"Five so far have showed up."

"And I suppose the other A.D.s and Kersh already have them doing
double duty."

"I'm afraid so.  I've been trying to help out all I can as there
doesn't seem to be any classes going yet.  How can I help?"

"Thanks, Dana.  I appreciate that."  Skinner leaned back in his chair
and grimaced.  Where to start!  "I guess I need to see Kersh.  Can you
set up an appointment with him for me?"

"Certainly."  She said and left his office.

Before he had a chance to clear his mind she came back in with the
message that Kersh wanted to see him immediately.

He was shocked by the warm greeting Kersh had given him, standing up
and reaching out his hand.  He was genuinely happy to see Skinner.
The two of them got right to work.


Six months later �

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mulder asked as Skinner pulled his
office key off his key ring and handed it to him.

"Positive.  Everything is running relatively smoothly now."

"You're going to go look for Krycek?"

"Uh huh.  He's out there somewhere.  Maybe he'll hear that I've left
the Bureau and he'll find me.  I don't know.  I just know it's what I
have to do."

"He could be anywhere.  It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Needles have been found in haystacks before.  Maybe I'll get lucky."
  Skinner said as he entered the elevator and pressed the down button.

"You really think he's a changed man?"  Mulder asked as he rode down
with him.

"I know he is."

"What are your plans for after you find him?"  Mulder asked as they
made their way out of the building.

"I don't have any.  We'll just play it by ear; whatever he wants."

"You're really that crazy about him?"

"I am."  Skinner stopped beside his car, unlocked the door and opened
it.  He looked back at Mulder and said.  "Everyone has changed since
this catastrophe, Mulder.  Why can't you believe that Alex could
change too?"

"I don't know.  Maybe there was just too much there between us.  I
can't quite let myself believe that he could, even though Scully
believes he has too."

"You didn't get to spend much time with him before he left.  But you
talked with the others in the settlement.  Didn't they change your
mind at all?"

"I never could believe they were talking about the same person that I
knew."

"That was the real Alex Krycek, Mulder.  The one we never met before.
  Or maybe you did when he first came to work at the Hoover and the two
of you worked together."

"That was another life time.  He totally changed when he left the Bureau."

"And now he's changed back.  We all change over the years, Mulder.
Why can't you believe that he could change too?"

"I don't know."

"Well I trust him and I'm going to find him."

"Just be careful and keep in touch!"  Mulder said as Skinner climbed
into his car and closed the door.

"I will."  Skinner answered through the window as it slid down.  "You
and Scully take care of one another."

Mulder gave a little wave as Skinner backed his car out of his spot
and drove off.

He made a quick stop at his condo, changed clothes, loaded up his SUV
and headed west.
He didn't know what made him think to go there first but the
settlement was the only place he could think of so he made a bee line
for it.  He arrived at dusk on the second day.

It took him a while but he finally found the entrance and pulled the
bushes aside, worked the lock on the door and pulled his car into the
tunnel.  He got out and closed and locked it behind him.  The tunnel
was dark, none of the lanterns were lit.  He had enough light with his
car lights to see where he was going and in a few minutes he was at
the inner door.  He worked the lock on it and drove on through into
the valley, locking the door behind him.

He stood for a moment in the semi-darkness and gazed across the river.
  He saw nothing, no movement or sign of life anywhere.  He sighed.
Maybe this was a mistake.  The place seemed empty.  He gazed at the
empty stables, the empty mechanics shed, the over grown fields and a
great feeling of sadness overcame him.  He drove slowly through the
fields and across the bridge.  He stopped his car and got out when he
came to the main clearing.  All was deathly quiet.

His heart swelled up and he couldn't stop the tears.  He picked up a
lawn chair that had blown over and sat it up with the others.  He
slumped into the chair, head in hands and whispered aloud, "Alex,
where are you!"

After a time, he stood up and walked to his old building.  He tried
the knob and it was unlocked.  He went in flicked the light switch and
the lights came on.
The place was just as he left it.  He went over to his bunk and lay
down.  He turned over and wept.  "Why did I let you go?"  He sobbed.
"I never should have let go of you once you got back.  I should have
told you how much I missed you; how much I needed you."

Eventually he slept.  When he awoke, the sun was shining in the window
and he felt the staleness of the place.  He got up and opened the
windows and aired the place out.  The breeze was cool and he knew
winter was not too far behind.

He wandered around the place for a bit then headed for the cafeteria.
  There was still a lot of food in the kitchen and in the storage shed.
  The freezers were still half full.  He dug around in the kitchen and
put a pot of coffee on.  What to do next, he wondered.  He was in
pretty good shape if he wanted to winter there but was that what he
wanted to do � winter there all alone?

He fixed himself some oatmeal and ate it down hungrily.  Afterwards he
stood staring out into the fields for a while then went out to the
shed and got some burlap bags and set about to work in the fields.  No
sense in letting all the food just rot there.  He picked all that
hadn't already rotted and carried it over his shoulder and into the
kitchen.  Then he got out a shovel and started digging potatoes and
other root vegetables.  By the time he was finished he was soaked with
sweat and starving again.

He pulled an elk steak out of the freezer and put it in the microwave
to thaw then headed for his building.  He took a quick shower and
changed his clothes then headed back to the kitchen to prepare his
dinner.  It was as delicious as he remembered.  The food was perfect.
  Everything was perfect except for the fact that he was alone � again.

After dinner the rain came and it got quite cold.  He started a fire
in the stove that was nearest his bunk but it was still cold; too
cold.  The next morning, he set about moving into one of the cabins
that had been built for the families.  They were small, two bedroom
cabins � about the same size as his cabin in Virginia, maybe a little
bigger.

He got a fire going in the fireplace and in no time the place was
warmed up.  He sat in the rocker in front of the fire and wondered
what he should do next.  He was so sure that Alex would be there but
he was wrong and he didn't have a clue to where to look for him.

The next few weeks he puttered around the place doing little odd jobs.
  He got out the cook books in the main kitchen and figured out how to
freeze the vegetables and set about doing that.  When he had finished
the freezers were full.

He noticed the apple trees that they had planted were full and spent a
few days picking all he could reach.  He spent the next several days
making apple juice and applesauce.  He followed the directions
carefully and was thankful that he had helped their cook Bobby do this
the year before.  He carefully labeled and dated everything.

He was sitting in front of the fire one evening and watching the snow
coming down.  He made a mental note to dig out the snow shoes as
before long it would be difficult getting around out side.  He was
listening to some music on a CD player when he first heard it.  He
thought the CD was going bad but then he heard it again -- a loud
drunken voice singing something out of tune.

He got up and switched the music off.  He was about to go to bed when
he heard it again.
It was louder this time.  He could only make out a few words but one
seemed to be 'Super' something or other.  He grabbed his coat and
yanked the door open.  He heard it loud and clear this time, "Super-
calla- fuck-if-I-care-a dotious" and some other assorted mumblings.

He ran towards the main clearing and saw it then.  Someone was sitting
on a motorcycle, arms outstretched and singing at the top of his
lungs.  He ran as fast as he could.  It was Alex!  He knew it.  It
just had to be Alex!  He prayed as he hurried through the falling snow.
"ALEX!  ALEX!" he screamed as he ran towards him.

The singing stopped and Alex got off his motorcycle.  He stared as if
seeing a ghost as Skinner came running to him out of the snowy night.

"I can't remember the fucking words to that stupid song." He mumbled.

Skinner seized him then and they both fell into the snow.  Skinner
showered him with kisses and in between he tried to get a few words
in.  "I love you, Alex.  I never should have let you go.  Never, ever
let you go again.  God, I missed you!"

When he could catch his breath, Alex pulled away and sat up.  "What
are you doing here when you should be in D.C. with Mulder?"

"Why on earth would I want to be in D.C. with Mulder when I can be
right here with you?"

"Is he here?"  Alex looked quickly around.

"No.  We're alone; just the two of us."  He pulled Alex's face in for
another kiss.

"Shit.  I'm drunk.  This is probably another dream."

Skinner took a hold of Alex's ear and twisted it.

"Owww."

"You're not dreaming.  You probably are drunk though.  You smell like
it.  You need a nice hot bath.  How does that sound?  I've got some
elk stew warming up in the kitchen and a fire in the fireplace.  Come
on."  He stood up and pulled Alex to his feet.

"Ohhhhh, my head hurts."  Alex complained as they walked.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"I don't know.  I wasn't keeping track.  Hey, are you really here?"

"I'm here all right.  Can't you hear my teeth chatter?  It's freezing
out here."

"Then let's get inside."  Alex said and turned towards the barracks
building.

"No, down here.  I'm in the Dunlap's cabin."

"Who else is here?"

"No one.  Just us.  You think you can stand that?  Being alone here
with me?"
Walter smiled at him as he opened the door and they went inside to the
warmth of the cabin.

Alex stared at him as they warmed their hands at the fire place.
"What are you doing here, Walter?"

"I came looking for you.  I've been here almost two months now.  I
didn't know where else to look."

"You needed me for something?"

"Uh huh.  I need you to make me feel whole again.  The only time in my
life when I've ever felt complete and where I belonged was that year I
spent here with you."

"Oh man, if I'm dreaming � this is some dream!"  Alex mumbled.

"It's not a dream, Alex, its reality; our reality.  If you want it,
that is."

Alex couldn't speak he was shaking so hard.

"You're freezing," Walter said.  "I'll get a hot bath started for you.
  You'll feel better after you get cleaned up a bit.  My razor is in
there, help yourself.  I'll put some coffee on."

Alex kept his place in front of the fire until Walter came back out of
the bathroom and headed for the kitchen.  He then made his way to the
back and into the bathroom which was now filling up with steam.  He
couldn't remember when anything looked as inviting as that tub filling
with hot water.  He stripped his clothes off quickly and shaved while
the tub was filling.

He soaped up then just sat and soaked in the sudsy water until it
turned cool.  He was about to get out when there was a knock on the
door and Walter came in.

"Here.  Get some of this in you."  He handed Alex a cup of steaming
coffee.

"You came here looking for me?  How did you know I'd even come back here?"

"I didn't.  I just hoped you would."

Alex sipped his coffee, "So what are your plans?"

"Just one.  And that is to never let you out of my sight again."
Walter grinned as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the
closed door.

Alex's head thudded back against the wall as he stared at Walter.
"What about D.C.?  How long before you have to go back?"

"I'm not going back.  I recommended Mulder to take my place and Kersh
agreed."

"What are they doing for agents then?"

"There was a whole class of graduates just before this thing happened
-- three hundred and sixteen.  Two hundred and eighty three made it
out alive."

"They're all new though."

"Uh huh.  New agents for a new country.  It's a whole new world out
there now, Alex.  We've been given a chance here to do it all over.
Let's hope we get it right this time."  Walter took a deep breath.
"There's something I want to tell you, something that I should have
told you long ago.  I love you, Alex, more than I've ever loved any
one or any thing and more than that � I need you.  These last months
without you have been brutal.  But I did my part.  I helped get
everything organized and going again at the Bureau.  I'm a free man
now, free to go where I want and do what I want and what I want is to
be with you.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Alex.  I
don't care where we go or what we do � I just want us to be together."

Alex sat his coffee cup on the side of the tub and stood.  Walter
handed him a towel.

"I want that too, Walter.  I want to get it right this time."  Alex
said as he dried himself.

"You will, Alex, and so will I."



EPILOGUE

When the end came, it was almost as great a shock as the invasion.
Suddenly one morning, they were just all gone.  The gates to all the
internment camps were left standing wide open and their absence
generated almost as much fear as their appearance.

First everyone just stared at the open gate until finally one brave
person stepped through and walked towards the building.  Someone
screamed for him to come back or he'd be burned but he went on.
Feeding time had come and gone and everyone was milling around in the
yard.  The barracks had always been locked at night but left unlocked
during the day to give them access to the fenced in areas.

It was soon discovered that the aliens were gone; all of them.  The
people screamed and yelled and celebrated and started carefully out of
the enclosure.  Someone got in one of the trucks and drove into town
and came back a short time later to tell everyone that town was
deserted.   Not an alien was to be found anywhere.  This scene was
played out at every internment camp all over the world.  The aliens
were gone and the people were once again free.

The world slowly came alive again.  Notices were printed up and
dropped by airplanes telling people that the danger had passed.

Once they had been able to restore communications, only then could
they realize the exact magnitude of their crisis � and  it was
massive.  The population of the United States alone had been taken
down twenty-five percent.  Many had been burned in the first few days,
some died in the internment camps and some from the struggle for
survival from the four years of Alien rule.

And now it was time to pick up the pieces and move on.  Few Governors
survived, several ex-governors were brought out of retirement and
pressed into service which they readily accepted and set about
bringing some sort of order to each state and assessing the extent of
the damage.  Where Governors were not available, the President
appointed someone to take over the duties.

It was the same with the military.  Officers were found scattered
across the country who had been either on leave or just in civilian
clothes and caught on to what was happening and managed to stay alive.
  They were immediately sent out to each state capitol to organize some
sort of order among the population and assist the Governors in what
ever they needed.

THREE MONTHS LATER

Three months later all the bodies had been buried, head counts had
been made and the extent of the tragedy was finally known.  It was
announced in all the media and the entire country was in a state of
shock for a time but they soon rallied and got back to the business of
a working thriving country.  There was no un-employment now.  There
were jobs to be had by anyone who was willing to work and that was
about ninety five percent of the population.

Some were unable to work and would have to be taken care of the rest
of their lives but that was normal in any society.  The farmers were
back in their fields, the ranchers were back to herding their cattle,
bakers and cooks were back in their kitchens, and industries were
starting up all over again

The reason for the alien 'visit' became obvious soon enough.  All over
the world, warehouses, large empty buildings were found to hold huge
numbers of empty shells.  Apparently, the aliens needed a nesting
place where hundreds of thousands of eggs had sat until maturity.  A
few had not hatched and were in laboratories all over the world being
studied.  Something had made them come to earth for this nesting
period and the scientists were determined to find out what it was so
they could be sure it never happened again.

It was as though the country had just taken a four year nap and was
only now slowly awakening.  Everyone stretched, rolled up their
sleeves and got back to the business of living.


THE END

Title:  AFTERMATH
Author:  Donna McIntosh
Email: dmcintoshtx@...
Fandom:  X-Files
Pairing: K/S & M/Sc
Genre:  Slash
Rating:  NC-17  FRAO
Status:  Complete
Disclaimer:  These characters belong to Chris Carter � not to me!

Warning:  No graphic sex so if you're looking for that you've come to
the wrong place.
Summary:  It's all over. The aliens won and everyone left alive is
struggling for survival.
Beta:  Many, many thanks to URSULA for all her help in catching my
typos, misspelled words, holes in the story line, punctuation errors,
etc; and most of all for the rapid-fire speed with which she did it all!

AFTERMATH  (Chapter 1 of 11 chapters)

When the invasion came it caught them all off guard.  There had been
rumors, hints over the years but no one in a position of power had
believed them.  It couldn't happen, they all said.  We had the most
advanced warning systems in the world.  No one could sneak up of the US!

They were wrong.  They were all wrong.  In a matter of ten days it was
all over.  The aliens simply came down en masse, over taking every
seat of power on earth.  The struggle was fast and furious, the
carnage heavy.  Every President, Premier, Prime Minister, every royal
family, all Governors, all Generals, all Admirals, every police man in
every country were identified and immediately eliminated in the first
few days.

Within a week 'internment camps' began to spring up all over.   Every
military base was first cleared of anyone in uniform, and then used as
a camp, the fences around them electrified.  People had been rounded
up by the truckloads and brought in.  Any back talk, any disobedience
at all was punished by on the spot execution with what eventually came
to be called the 'fire wand'.  The situation was dire for human kind.

xxxx

The lowering of the landing gear woke Krycek as it always did.  This
was not his stop but he needed to be awake and aware to check out
whoever boarded the plane.  He didn't expect any trouble out of Denver
but you never could tell.  Two flight attendants were scurrying about
whispering to one another.  Something was up.  They were frightened
about something.  He could see it in their eyes and their 'controlled
panic' movements.
The girls disappeared behind the curtained off area and came out again
a few minutes later.  One of them made an announcement that there was
some trouble at the Denver airport and they were going to have to land
at an alternative air port.  She quickly disengaged the microphone and
slipped out of sight again while the passengers barked their complaints.

The next nearest airport that could handle a plane that size was
Boulder, less than thirty minutes away.  As the plane banked for the
change in direction he saw it -- the flames and smoke.  It looked like
the entire city of Denver was afire.

He wiggled his fake F.B.I.  I.D. card from the heel of his shoe, stuck
it in his pocket and made his way up to the cockpit.  He showed the
card to the flight attendants and insisted on speaking with the pilot.
  Every one was on edge and one of the flight attendants had obviously
been crying.

The cockpit was chaos.  Calls were coming in that were garbled,
screaming warnings about an invasion.  The pilot was sweating and
shaking so hard Alex thought he might pass out at any moment; the co
pilot staring straight ahead in a state of shock.  There was no
speaking with them; nothing to be done.  They turned to him asking him
what they should do.  He told them to head for Boulder and they would
see what happened then and that the important thing right now was to
get the plane on the ground.

He went back to his seat and some time later one of the attendants
signaled him to come up front again.  As soon as the cockpit door
closed behind him the pilot yelled in a shrill voice, "Boulder is
ablaze too!  What are we supposed to do now?"

"Just find a smooth flat place and land this thing."

"I can't do that!  Do you have any idea how heavy this plane is?  We
need a runway!"

"From what we've seen and from what that radio is saying, there isn't
a runway around that isn't in flames.  If you want to live and if you
want to save the lives of all your passengers I suggest you find a
nice field somewhere."

"I can't land this thing in a field!"  The pilot shrieked.

"Then I suggest you start praying."  Krycek made his way slowly back
to his seat.  He sat and wondered if this was it for him.  He didn't
feel any panic; just anger.  He had so many things left that he wanted
to do.  He just couldn't believe his time was up already.  The fact
that there was an invasion, if indeed that's what it was, didn't
surprise him all that much.  It had been threatening for decades.
People had become complacent, didn't believe it would ever happen, not
in their life time.  They got lazy.

One of the passengers shouted, "Look, Boulder is on fire!  Just like
Denver!  There's no place to land!  We're going to run out of fuel and
crash!"  Panic set in and everyone was jumping around, going from
window to window.  There was sobbing, shouting, cursing.

A flight attendant came out and made an announcement.  She was clearly
distraught, her make-up stained with tears.  "May I have your
attention please?"  A few passengers started shouting questions at her
but Krycek stood up and shouted them down.

"Let's hear what she has to say!"

"There seems to be some major � circumstances going on below and we
have been advised to land the plane at the first possible opportunity.
  There seems to be no airports available so we will be attempting a
field landing."

"What the hell's a field landing?"  Someone yelled.

"Exactly what it sounds like."  Krycek said.  "Landing in a field."

"You can't land a plane this size in a field.  We'll all be killed."
Someone yelled.

"We don't exactly have a choice here, Sir.  There are no air port
runways available."

"What about a highway somewhere?"  Someone asked.

"All of the highways seem to be jammed with traffic fleeing the cities."

"Can't we just fly to another air port?"

"Our fuel supply is limited and from the calls we've been receiving,
they all seem to be in flames."

"Where's the pilot?  Get him out here."  Someone yelled.

"I'm right here."  The uniformed man stepped out into the aisle to
speak.  "We are all terribly upset and alarmed, the same as you all
are.  We don't know what's happening down there.  We're getting
nothing on the radio but garbled messages about an invasion of some sort."

Someone shrieked and wailed in terror, others began to argue and shout.

"Please, please control yourselves.  Remember that I am in this air
plane too and I want to live as much as the rest of you do.  We have
about two hours of fuel left.  It has been suggested that we find a
field somewhere and attempt a landing.  Right now, that's looking like
our best choice.  If you have any better suggestions, I'd like to hear
them."

The crowd was silent except for the sobbing and mumbled curses.

"Very well then.  I'm asking that you all prepare yourselves for  �  a
difficult landing.  Please put anything away that could become a
projectile and injure yourself or others.  I promise you, I will give
this my best shot."  With that he turned and went back into the cockpit.

The flight attendant wiped tears from her eyes and began her well
learned and practiced procedure of calming down the passengers and
preparing them for a crash landing.

Krycek tightened his seat belt, gritted his teeth and prepared himself
for the end. Two hours.  They had to find someplace to land this plane
or it would be all over for him and everyone else on board. The pilot
kept the plane at a dangerously low altitude so they could scan the
horizon.  About ninety minutes later the flight attendants came
through again checking on every one.  They had found a field and were
ready to attempt a landing.  Everyone held their breath and someone
started praying; others joined in.

Krycek watched as the plane banked slowly to the left then started its
descent.  He could see fewer and fewer buildings now and knew they
were on the outskirts of town.  He hoped there would be some large
field out there somewhere long enough to land this plane.

They were over open ground now and he could see it passing beneath
them.  Here and there a road jammed with cars.  He felt the pilot
power back and knew they were slowing down.  It would all be over with
soon.  This was a hell of a way to go, he thought.  He closed his eyes
for a moment then felt the first bump as the tires hit the ground.
Out the window he could see what looked like corn plants slapping at
the side of the plane.  They were going too fast!  The ground beneath
them was rough and they bounced in their seats, he heard screams and
sobs; the screeching of brakes and the smell of burning rubber filled
the air.  The jostling of the plane caused the oxygen masks to deploy
and they dangled like jeering specters in front of every one.

With one final jerk the plane stopped.  There was dead silence at
first then everyone began with the questions again.  The pilot came
out of the cockpit followed by the rest of the crew and Krycek
unbuckled and joined them.

"What now?"  The pilot asked Krycek quietly.

"Now we get our asses off this plane and get ourselves over to those
woods." Krycek said after taking a quick look out windows on either
side of the plane.

"All right now, ladies and gentlemen.  I suggest we all deplane and
decide where to go from here."  The pilot tried to calm the angry
passengers.

"I'm not going out in that corn field!"  Someone yelled.  "They'll
send someone for us.  Why don't we just wait in here?"

Krycek held his hands out to quiet every one down.  "Did you people
not hear him when he said there was some sort of invasion going on?
You are not safe here!  If they hit all the air ports, don't you think
they will be coming after all the planes as well?  I, for one, am
leaving this spot as soon as the flight attendants get those chutes
deployed.  I'm not staying around here to be taken prisoner.  And if
those in charge of the invasion are who I think they are, they won't
leave many of you alive, especially those of you in uniform.  I
strongly advise you to remove them immediately.

Six Army men stood up and pulled off their shirts and tossed their
caps out of sight.  One of them yelled.  "Where are you going?  We're
going with you!"

"That's the first smart thing I've heard so far.  Come on.  Anyone
else who wants to is welcome to come along.  The rest of you, well,
good luck."

The door was open and the escape chute was out and down went several
passengers.  "Come on, come on."  Krycek urged.  Four young men
wearing football jackets went down, two women, two more men, another
woman."

"What about you, Captain?"  Krycek asked the pilot.

"I can't go unless they all go.  My duty is to stay with the
passengers."  The rest of the crew nodded their heads in agreement.

"It's your choice.  But if you stay, I strongly suggest that you get
out of those uniforms.  Take a seat back there somewhere and act like
passengers.  If there is anything that identifies you as pilot and
crew, burn it.  And don't waste any time, do it now."  With that,
Krycek slid down the chute and into the corn field.

The woods were about a hundred yards away and they had barely made it
when they heard the trucks pulling up.  The aliens climbed on top of
the trucks and entered the plane.

"Damn!"  Krycek cursed.

A soldier standing beside him asked, "Who do you think they are?  What
nationality?  Look at those faces; I've never seen anything like that
before and I've been all over the world."

Before he could answer, two men and one woman were pulled out of the
plane, shoved down the chute and two aliens on the ground pointed at
them and fired.  They immediately burst into flames.  Screams could be
heard from the plane and the soldiers bristled.  "We've got to do
something!"

"There's nothing you can do."  Krycek said.  "Anyone who apposes them
is immediately killed."

"You've seen them before?"

"I have.  You can believe this or not but they are aliens."  Everyone
in the trees gasped and watched as one by one the passengers were
shoved down the chute and loaded up in the trucks.

"Where do you think they are taking them?"  One of the soldiers asked.

"No telling.  I just hope they keep their mouths shut and do what they
are told and they might get out of this alive."

One of the women with them in the woods began to weep.  A flight
attendant went to her and tried to comfort her.  "You really think
they're aliens?  Like from Mars or something?" She asked while
massaging the weeping woman's shoulders.

"Not from Mars.  A lot farther away than that but yes, they are
aliens."  Krycek answered and wiped the sweat off his upper lip with
the back of his hand.

"Well what are we going to do?"

Just then they heard a loud whooosh and the plane went up in flames.
The trucks started up and headed off in the direction they came from.
  They watched them go and saw several people jump from the back of the
truck and disappear in the tall corn.  The trucks kept on going and
soon the jumpers joined the others in the woods.

"What the hell are we going to do?"  Everyone crowded around Krycek
for answers.

"Damn!  I lost my cell phone," someone said.

"Don't anyone use their phones.  Transmissions can be easily traced.
You'll bring them right down on us."  Krycek warned as he paced and
tried to figure out what to do.

"We need to find a safe place," Krycek mumbled as he paced.

"Where?  Where can we go that they can't find us?" Someone asked.

They stood around muttering, in shock for a while then a voice from
the back said, "I know a place."

"Near here?"  Krycek asked?

"About � seventy miles or so north west of here.  It's in the Williams
Fork Mountains.  A valley.  Very hard to find."

"How did you find it then?  If you found it, they'll find it." Someone
said.

"My brother is a pilot; flies a small two engine job.  We flew over it
once and saw it.  Saw there was nothing there, no buildings, no signs
of life.  So we set out one day and hiked up to it.  It's a really
beautiful little valley, completely circled with mountains, no roads
anywhere near it.  We had to hike in about fifteen miles, if I
remember correctly, from this tiny little town."

"And you say it's miles from any major town?" Krycek asked.

"It's at least fifty or sixty miles from any town of any size. And
about fifteen miles from that little town, heck, it might not even be
considered a town.  It's more like a stop in the road."
"So there would be no roads out to it or anything � no telephone
lines, no traffic of any kind?"

"That's right."

"We might just get lucky enough and they won't be looking too hard."
Krycek said; satisfied that this was their best bet.

"I just want to go home.  Do you really think these � aliens are all
over, everywhere?"

"Do you want to risk finding out?"  Krycek asked.

"Maybe a few of us could go into town, scout around and see what we
find."  One of the soldiers said.

"All right.  Sounds like a good idea," Krycek agreed then added,
"Which direction will you head?"

They all looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

"We are ninety minutes due west of Boulder, out in the middle of no
where.  I suggest we head north west.  When we come to a town, a few
of us will go in and investigate; see what's happening."

"I think we should head south to Denver."  Someone said.

"Denver's in flames.  It's already been hit.  Looks like they are
taking on the bigger cities first.  The smaller towns will come next.
  If we leave now, we just might make it to safety before they get out
this far."  Krycek said.

"So we're heading north west, where?  Out to that hidden valley he was
talking about?"  One of the men asked.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"  Krycek asked.

"Yes!  I say we send someone into town, contact the authorities and
have them send someone out to pick us up."

"Where is town?  Which direction?"  Krycek asked him.

"Hell, I don't know.  Doesn't anyone know?"  The man asked the crowd.
  No one answered.

"OK.  I'm tired of this debate.  So far, the only suggestion I've
heard that I like is the hidden valley.  If it truly is hidden, they
might just miss it. I think it's our best bet.  Do you think you can
find it again?"  He asked the man who had suggested it.

"Sure.  But like I said, it's at least seventy miles or so."

"Then we'd better get started," Krycek said.

"What will we do when we get there?  He said there was nothing there."
Someone in the crowd asked.

"There are no buildings, no roads, nothing.  But there is a river
running through it, with some delicious trout; there are woods with
game." The man who found the valley said.

"And what will we catch those fish with or kill that game with?  I
don't see you carrying any fishing poles or carrying a rifle."

"We can pick those up as we go along."  Krycek offered.  "I'm heading
north west and I'm leaving now.  The rest of you can do whatever the
hell you want."  Krycek turned and started out.  First just the guy
who suggested the valley walked with him.  Eventually they all joined
in the trek and headed out.

"He said it was seventy miles.  Are we going to have to walk seventy
miles?  I'll never make it that far."  Someone complained.

"Maybe we could find a vehicle of some kind � a bus or a truck?"
Someone asked.

"Let's just wait and see what we find when we get to the first town."
  Krycek said as he led the way through the trees.

They made it five miles before they had to stop and rest.  Everyone
groaned and threw themselves on the ground.  One of the soldiers came
up to Krycek.  "We'll never make it at this rate.  Why don't my
buddies and I go on ahead?  We're used to trekking through the country
side; these people are not."

"I've got a better idea.  How about just you and me going.  I can see
some buildings over that way.  There must be some kind of town.  Let
your buddies stay with the group and watch over them so that they
don't do anything stupid."

"Ok.  Looks to be at least another five miles ahead.  We should be
able to make it there and back in an hour or so."

"Uh huh.  If we don't run into any trouble.  If we do, then your
buddies can take the group on west."  Krycek said.

The soldier went back to his buddies and told him the plan.  There
were some raised voices but in the end, it was just Krycek and Staff
Sgt. Peterson who made the run.  Before they left, Krycek made
everyone give him their cell phones.  He didn't trust them not to try
and make a call.

They made the run through the brush and weeds in good time and walked
carefully the last quarter of a mile.  The little town was full of
aliens all right and they were loading up the people into trucks and
hauling them away.

The two of them stayed hidden and watched as every building was gone
through and people were dragged out into the street.  Anyone who
protested was set ablaze immediately.  After half a dozen burnings,
the townspeople went silently.

Sgt. Peterson trembled where he knelt in the weeds as they watched.
Krycek watched with gritted teeth and silently cursed all the powers
that be who refused to listen to the warnings they were given.  Just
when things seemed the worst, the aliens loaded up and moved out; all
of them.

"Do you think they all left?"  Peterson whispered.

"I don't see any guards.  If they did leave, this will be the perfect
place to spend the night.  It'll be dark soon and we've get to get
that group into shelter somewhere."

"Agreed."

  "Let's check the town out first and make sure they are all gone.
Stay behind me and keep down."  Krycek said.

The town had one main street about a mile long and a couple of shorter
side streets.  They checked out every building.  They found several
seared bodies but no one alive and no aliens.

"I think it's pretty safe.  Let's get on back and bring them up.  We
can spend the night there in the general store.  There should be food
and water."  Krycek said and they headed back to the group.

It took an hour and a half but they finally got all twenty five people
into town and into the General store.  They groaned and complained all
the way but grew silent as they filed past the charred remains lying
in the middle of the road.

Krycek, Peterson and his buddies, got food out and passed it around to
everyone.  Several said they weren't hungry but Krycek insisted they
eat, saying no telling how long it would be before they had food again.

They posted guards at either end of town while the others rested and
tried to sleep.  Krycek paced the floor and his eyes kept coming to
rest on the rack at the front of the store holding six bicycles.  If
only there were more!  When Peterson came in off guard duty, Krycek
shared his idea with him.

"It sounds good but there are twenty five of us and only six bicycles."

"There must be some more around, maybe in the back still in boxes or
in some of these homes.  Why don't we take a walk and see what we can
find."

By morning they had a total of fourteen bikes.  They assembled some
new ones and refurbished the older bikes they found and put off-road
tires on all of them.

"We've got to come up with some way to carry some supplies," Krycek
said as the last bike was ready.

"One of them belonged to a paper boy.  We can carry some food in that
one.  A couple others have small baskets in front."  Peterson offered.

"Yeah, that's good.  But we need more.  See if you can find front
baskets for all the bikes. Every little bit of storage space helps."
He tossed an empty tire box into the trash.  His eyes caught and held.
  "What we need is something this size."  He lifted up the plastic
trash can.

"Why not those?" one of the soldiers said.  "There's a whole stack of
them over there.  If we could find some way to mount them on the back �"

"Good idea."  Krycek agreed.  "Ok.  Get working on it.  Bring those
over here.  See if we can find a way to mount one on either side of
the back fender."

Two more hours of work and they had two plastic trashcans mounted
securely to the back of each bike.

"What are you going to do with those?"  One of the men asked as
everyone started to wake up.

"We've got fourteen bikes.  Fourteen of you will ride; the rest of us
will run along side."  Krycek answered.

"I haven't been on a bike in thirty years!" one man scoffed.

"Ok you can run then."  Krycek said.

"Now wait a minute.  I've got as much right to ride as anyone else
does."  The man backed off.

"It's already been decided." Krycek said and stuffed another bite of
sandwich in his mouth.

"What do you mean?  What's been decided?  Don't we get a vote?"

"Sure you do.  Here's what we decided.  Fourteen ride bikes and carry
supplies.  Eleven of us run along side.  That eleven is: me, the six
soldiers and the four football players."  Anyone have any objections?"

"Not me.  I love to run."  One of the football players said and his
friends nodded in agreement.

"OK.  That's settled then.  You riders, go ahead and pick your bikes.
Ride them around the store a little and get used to them.  We'll start
loading them shortly."

A couple of the women stood and stared at the bikes.  Krycek realized
they were in dresses and heels riding would be very difficult for them.

"Listen, why don't those of you not dressed for a bike ride, find some
jeans and boots and change."

That put a whole new perspective on things for the women and they
scavenged through the shelves and racks for suitable clothing.  A
couple of men in business suits or slacks did too as well as the
soldiers who were in their standard GI tan pants and T-shirts after
tossing their uniform shirts.

"Excuse me, but what is your name?"  The guy who knew about the valley
asked Krycek.

"Krycek.  Alex Krycek."

"I'm Samuelson; a photographer.  That's why I was so interested in
that valley.  It really is beautiful but it was really cold.  Do you
think it would be all right if we took some of these warm clothes?
Some jackets, coats and sweaters?  We're going to need them up there."

"I think that's a great idea."  Krycek began going through other items
in the store and found a shelf full of large back packs.

"Ok, everyone.  I want each of you to take one of these packs and go
through the store and find a change of clothes each.  Make it warm.
And when we leave here, I want everyone wearing one of these coats."
He held up a heavy duty cammo coat.  "There are a lot of pockets and
you're going to need them.  These two on the sides, I want you to put
a water bottle in each.  We'll carry lunch and snacks in the other
pockets.  Are any of you on any medications?"

They all shook their heads no as they each caught the back pack
Peterson tossed them.

"That's good.  Ladies, if you need any personal products, there are
some over there.  Get whatever you can carry in your back pack.
Everyone needs a change of clothes, preferably jeans.  Men, if you
plan on shaving, I suggest you put together a shaving kit.  Don't
forget toothbrushes and toothpaste.  Whatever will make your life more
comfortable while we're traveling and whatever you can carry."

"What about food?"  Someone asked.  "I'd rather carry food than clothes."

"We're carrying food in the baskets attached to the back of the bikes.
  I'm hoping as we go along to find more bikes for the rest of us so we
don't have to run all the way."

Krycek grabbed some extra clothes up for himself along with a shaving
kit and tooth brush and paste.  Once each had filled their packs they
began deciding on what food to take.

"What about a little camp stove?  It might come in handy."  Samuelson
said.  "I can carry it in my basket."

"Ok, good.  Has anyone seen a first aid kit?  We should take one of
those."  Krycek asked.

"How about some extra tires and a bike repair kit in case of flats?"
One of women suggested.

"Good.  Grab some.  You can carry it in your front basket."

"Flash lights?"  Someone asked.

"Yes! Everyone get a flashlight and don't forget to grab as many extra
batteries as you can fit in your pockets."  Krycek called to them as
he continued looking through shelves.

He found a shelf with a box of small manual can openers and told
everyone to get one and not to lose it as they would probably be
eating a lot of canned goods.  He also insisted everyone carry a
compass in case anyone got separated from the group they would know
how to find the rest of them.

A first aid kit was found and it was loaded into someone's basket then
Krycek joined the soldiers who were looking over some hunting rifles.

"What do you think?" Peterson asked Krycek.

"Take them.  Don't forget ammunition."  He stopped at the knife
display and brought out some hunting knives.  "These might come in
handy too."  He pocketed one and nodded for the Army guys to do the
same.  He then picked out a rifle and stuffed some shells in his
pockets.  Samuelson came over and took the last rifle and some shells.
  The foot ball players each took a knife but no one else wanted
anything to do with weapons of any kind.

Everyone grabbed sandwiches and snacks and filled their pockets.  By
mid morning they were off.

Krycek, two soldiers and two football players led the way, one soldier
was on either side of the group and watching out for the rear were two
soldiers and two foot ball players.

It took them nearly two hours to make it to the next town, twelve more
miles covered.  The group settled down groaning and complaining in a
clump of trees and waited while Krycek and Peterson crept the rest of
the way into town.  It was about four times larger than the last town
but it was just as empty.  They did find four more bikes though and
stayed there long enough to attach plastic trashcans to the backs of
each bike and load them with food and water.  They returned to the
group and Peterson escorted two others back to town and they brought
the other two bikes out.

The group begged to stop for a few hours rest but Krycek insisted that
they push on.  They had only covered thirty miles so far and had at
least another forty to go.  Two more hours ride and they had to stop.
  They were all exhausted.  They rested on some rocks and ate lunch.  A
couple of them dozed off.

Krycek sat munching on his trail mix, astonished at his luck at
surviving the plane landing.  Every instinct told him to run but there
was just something about this group he had found himself saddled with.
  He couldn't leave them to be slaughtered.  The six soldiers were
capable enough but obviously inexperienced in any dire situations.
The four football players were still in their teens but even though
they were obviously scared to death, they kept their heads and did
what they were told without complaining.  The seven women were all
more than willing to let the men make the decisions.  A few were weepy
but they all kept up and helped one another along.  It was a motley
crew all right and at any other time he would have bolted and left
them in the dust.  But this time, everything was different.  If he
left then, they would scatter and end up captured or dead.

"How far do you think we've come?" Samuelson sat down beside Krycek
and asked.

"Somewhere in the neighborhood of between thirty five or forty miles."
  Krycek said as he nibbled on an energy bar.

"You really think we can drag this entire group another thirty or
forty miles?"  Samuelson asked Krycek.

"I didn't think they'd make it this far.  And besides, it's not like
they have much of a choice.  Where would they go? I doubt any of them
would want to be left behind.  We're moving slowly but steadily.
We've got another couple of hours in us before we have to find a place
for the night.  Maybe we'll get lucky and find an abandoned house or
something."

"Some of them look like they're really hurting.  I don't know if
you'll get another couple hours out of them."

"They'll ride or they'll spend the night out here alone."  Krycek said.

"Given that choice, I think they'll ride."  Samuelson agreed.

His suggestion of another few hours ride was met with protests but
when faced with the prospect of spending the night out there in the
middle of nowhere, they agreed to go on.
Another two hours and they could go no further.  They collapsed on the
ground in pain and exhaustion.  It was only mid afternoon but they
were clearly incapable of moving another inch.  Every mile had taken
them to higher altitudes and the temperature was dropping.

"I'm going to scout around and see if I can find some shelter," Krycek
said.

"I'll do the same, over this way," Peterson said and the two of them
took off in opposite directions.

Thirty minutes later they were both back.  They had found a place.
Just as Krycek had hoped -- an abandoned farm house.  Nothing else
around for miles that they could see from the hill it was perched on.
  It would be safe for the night.

The group got back up wearily and mounted up again and headed for the
farm house just the other side of the hill they had stopped on, less
than a mile away.  They pulled their bikes up the back steps and into
a small parlor, just managing to get them all in.

They filled the house, falling on any chair, couch, or cushion they
could find.  The women were given the bedrooms and the men lay down
any where they could, using their packs as pillows.  Krycek roused
them all and encouraged everyone to eat something before they fell
asleep as once it was dark there would be no lights allowed.  The
place must remain appearing to be deserted.

Krycek ate the second sandwich that he had stashed in his coat pocket,
found an un-occupied corner and lay down for sleep.  Two football
players and two soldiers stood first guard and switched off two hours
later.  Krycek took third watch after sleeping four hours.

By dawn Krycek and Peterson talked it over and decided the only way
they were going to get the group moving again was if they had some hot
coffee and a good meal.  They found a box of oatmeal and Krycek
started the water boiling on the old gas stove.

Slowly, one by one they began to awaken and roused up with the smell
of coffee brewing.  Soon everyone was scraping their plates clean and
asking for more.  He cooked up the rest of the box and every bit of it
was eaten; along with two loaves of bread they found in the pantry and
a jar of home made strawberry jam.

A cold wind was blowing and it dropped the temperature into the low
forties.  The group groaned and complained and whined but once they
realized that they had traveled over  forty miles and their journey
was more than half over with, they perked up a little.

Off they started and they made pretty good time for the first two
hours.  They were traveling roughly five miles an hour but had to make
more and more stops as aching muscles refused to work and leg cramps
slowed them down.  Krycek kept them going with a promise that if they
could keep up their speed they would be safely in the valley by night
fall.

Along the way they had managed to pick up enough bikes so that they
were now all riding now and carrying supplies of food and water.  They
hit a tiny town in late afternoon and Samuelson, all excited,
exclaimed, "This is it!  This is the little town I was telling you
about.  We hiked in from here.  About fifteen more miles and we're there."

The group was all excited about reaching safety but still a little
apprehensive about what they would find when they got there.

"So do we just bypass the town and head out for the valley or do you
want to go in and have a look around the town first?"  Sgt. Peterson
asked Krycek.

"I think we need to check out the town first.  A couple of us go in
ahead, have a look around, and if it's clear we all go in.  We're
going to need more than food and water in the valley.  Maybe we can
find some tents, camping equipment and such."

So it was agreed.  Krycek, Peterson and McConnel went in first and had
a look around.  The place was deserted but the aliens had been there.
  There were charred remains of bodies here and there.

Once all were in town, they found the small grocery store/general
store/post office/gas station and brought their bikes around back and
into the back store room to keep them out of sight.

"Remember, no lights.  Don't turn anything on, don't try and use the
phone if you find one.  Any electronic transmission of any kind can
easily be traced and bring them right to us."

"Do you think anyone is looking for us?"  One of the women asked.

"I doubt it.  I think anyone left alive out there is worried about
just one thing right now and that's survival.  And as for the aliens,
I think they have their hands full right now rounding up everyone they
can easily find.  They will probably start sending out patrols later.
  We'll have to be sure and keep an eye out for them."  Krycek said.

"They'll be easy enough to spot with those ugly faces.  And they all
looked alike, did you notice that?"  Someone said.

"Yeah, each one uglier than the other."  Someone answered.

"Ok.  Here's what we have to decide now.  Do we want to try and make
it into the valley by tonight with about another three hours ride?  It
should stay light that long.  Or do we want to stay here the night and
risk them coming back and being captured?"  Krycek asked the group.

"Which do you think is the best option?"  Sgt. McConnel asked.

"If it was just me, I'd go on for the valley.  But after we get to the
valley, we still need to set up a camp of some sort."

"Let's wait till morning, I'm exhausted."  Someone said and others
muttered in agreement.  Some wanted to go ahead to the valley.

Peterson came up with a suggestion.  "Why don't some of us go on ahead
and check the valley out.  It's only fifteen miles.  We should be able
to make it there and back before dark."

"All right.  I like that idea.  No sense in dragging everyone up there
if it isn't suitable.  For all we know it could be flooded or something."

"Yeah, I was thinking about that."  Samuelson said.  "This place was
my idea and I'm going to feel really guilty if we've come all this way
for nothing."

"OK, Peterson.  Take a couple of men with you.  Samuelson, can you
make the trip?  It would be really helpful if you could show them the
pass."  Krycek asked.

"Sure.  I can make it.  And with just a few of us, we can travel a lot
faster."  Samuelson agreed.

So four of them took off towards the mountain while the rest of the
group found places to lie down and moaned and massaged their sore muscles.

Krycek made the rounds and spoke to each of them to make sure they
were all right then went on a surveying trip around the store to see
what he could find.  Plenty of food still in the coolers so he reached
in and pulled out sandwiches and tossed everyone one.  He found a
pistol in the drawer under the cash register and tucked it in the back
waist band of his jeans and pocketed the box of bullets that were with
it.  His own Sig Sauer had been in his luggage and went up in flames
with the air plane.  He missed it but this pistol would do until he
could come up with something better.

He decided to take a walk and see what else he could find in town.  He
took the four football players with him after swearing them to follow
his orders to the letter.  They all agreed and set out.  There wasn't
much in the small town but there was a Western Auto and a small five
and dime.

The Western Auto proved to be a God send.  Inside they found several
tents; two large, two room tents and several smaller ones.  The boys
lamented that they would be too heavy to carry on the bikes but Krycek
suggested that if they took them out of the boxes, some could carry
the canvas while others carried the poles and it would lighten the
load considerably.  They liked that idea and two of the boys hefted
the large tent boxes on their shoulders while the others each carried
three or four of the smaller ones.  They made it back to the group,
deposited their load and started out again.  This time, two of the
women joined them.  Back to the Western Auto they went and loaded up
on camping gear including: another camp stove with extra propane
canisters, two large coffee pots, half a dozen camp sets of dishes,
cups, tableware, a couple axes and shovels, a sledge hammer, and
lanterns.  They had to make several trips back and forth and others of
the group joined them.  They also found sleeping bags, bug spray,
insect repellant and fishing gear.

"There's no way in hell we can carry all this stuff on the bikes."
Someone complained.  It was Harry the Taxi driver again.  "What does
he think we are anyway, pack mules?"

"Oh shut up and stop complaining, Harry.  You're alive aren't you?
Would you rather be a charred hulk somewhere?"  One of the woman said.

"Just relax, everyone.  There's nothing that says we have to take this
all in one trip.  And everything here will be needed for our survival.
  What would you have us leave behind?  The food?  The sleeping bags?
Have you ever slept on the bare ground before?  The temperature is
hovering around forty.  Once darkness falls, so will the temperature.
  What about the tents?  Should we leave those?  What about if it rains
or snows?  That could happen at any time of the year at this
altitude."  Krycek said.  "We need everything we've gathered and much
much more if we're to survive.  Once we get the main group settled in
the valley, we'll keep coming back until we get what we need."

They heard a noise then and one of the football players that was on
guard came running in.  "The bikers are back from the valley.  They'll
be here shortly." He announced then went back out to his watch.

They all stood anxiously and waited for Peterson and his group.  They
came in out of breath and smiling from ear to ear.  Samuelson made the
announcement.

"It's as perfect as I remembered!"

Everyone started chattering excitedly.

"What do you think?"  Krycek asked Peterson.

"I agree with Samuelson.  It's perfect."

"Very well then.  I think everyone should get some sleep and we'll
head out at dawn."

"Is it OK if we take some things that we need?"  One of the women asked.

"Sure, take whatever you want, whatever you can carry.  Just remember
that we have a lot of extra stuff we need to take too."

The group milled around the store a bit, filling their pockets and
packs with whatever they thought they might need.  Long after every
one else was asleep, Krycek, Peterson and the other soldiers sat up
talking.

"You really think we can pull this off?"  One of the soldiers asked
Krycek.

"You mean keep them all alive?  Yeah, we can do that -- at least for a
while.  We'll have to see just how secure the valley is after we get
there.  It's going to take several trips back and forth into town to
get supplies.  And every trip we take exposes us to the chance of
getting caught.  We're going to have to keep our guard up every minute."

"I think the trips into town should just be us seven and maybe the
ball players."  Peterson suggested.  "We can bring back whatever is
needed and we're a lot younger and faster than the others."

"Us seven for sure, the boys and maybe a couple of women -- two of
them, what were their names, Maddie and �"

"Marcia," one of them said.

"Yes, Marcia and Maddie both seem to be in pretty good shape and have
done very little complaining along the way. The more we take with us,
the more we can bring back."  Krycek said.

"I don't know.  Those boys are so young and inexperienced.  They could
get into trouble."

"They could if left alone.  When we get into town we can split up and
each one of us can take one of them with us and keep an eye on them.
They seem pretty good at following orders."

"True.  Ok.  It's my turn for guard duty," Miller said and stood up.

"We all need to get some sleep.  Tomorrow will be a big day."  Krycek
said and went off and found a place to lie down and went immediately
to sleep.

The next morning was a blur of last minute activity.  Everyone was
getting loaded up.  Krycek found a bale of twine and was tying
everyone's sleeping bag on the bottom of their back packs.  Harry was
the one to complain again.  "I can't carry one more ounce."  He said.

"OK.  That's fine with me.  If you want to sleep on the ground, that's
your decision."  Krycek said and went on to fastening a sleeping bag
to the next person.

"Now I didn't say that," Harry said.  "I'm just not as strong as the
rest of you.  I'm forty eight years old and sit on my ass all day
driving a cab.  I just can't carry all this stuff and ride a loaded
bike too."

"It's your decision, Harry.  We're each on our own out here and we
have to take care of ourselves."  Krycek said as he secured another
sleeping bag to one of the women's back pack.

"Couldn't one of the others carry it for me?"  Harry whined.

"Which one, Harry; one of the women, or one of the guys carrying the
tents, tools and extra supplies along with all their own things?"
Peterson said as he duct taped the extra camp stove to his basket.

The heaviest loads went to the strongest.  That was the six soldiers
and the four football players.  They had the tents.  The largest ones
taken out of their boxes and the canvas draped across the baskets
which had been reinforced to carry the extra weight.
Others had the tent poles duct taped across their handlebars.  Several
had taken lanterns out of the boxes and hung the wire handles over
their handlebars carrying one on each side to keep their load level.
Alex had the tools taped securely across his handlebars as well as two
of the small tents across the back fender, atop the plastic waste
baskets filled with food.

"Ok, Ok.  I get the point."  Harry turned around and allowed Krycek to
tie a sleeping bag to his back pack.

"It's not that heavy, Harry and when you're sitting on the bike, most
of the weight will rest on the load behind you."  Krycek reassured him.

It was mid morning before they got on the trail.  Three had gone out
ahead to make sure the trail was still clear.  They were miles away
from any roads so they were relatively safe.

The first two hours of the trip was fairly easy but the closer they
got to the mountain, the rockier and steeper the trail became.  The
last few hundred yards they got down and walked their bikes the rest
of the way.

When they all about ready to pass out from the effort, Samuelson
pronounced that they were there.  "Here?" someone asked.  "I don't see
any valley."

"It's just beyond these rocks.  It's an easy climb, just like walking
up stairs."  He hopped off his bike and started up a pile of large
boulders.

"You expect us to climb a mountain?"  One of the women gasped.

"No."  Krycek assured them.  "Let me go take a look."  He hopped off
his bike and followed Samuelson up the mountain, surprised himself how
easy the climb was.  About a hundred feet up and he was at the top
looking down into the valley.  It was everything Samuelson said it
was.  They made a quick climb down the other side, to make sure it was
just as easy.  It was.  They hurried back over the pile of rocks and
Krycek spoke to the group.

"Well we're here and it's everything they said it was.  It's the
perfect spot.  These boulders are wide and an easy climb.  Come on,
take a look."

CHAPTER NINE

Walter was sitting in the kitchen peeling potatoes when he heard Alex
bellow his name.

"WALTER!  WALTER!"  He came running through the cafeteria and into the
kitchen with a bunch of papers in his hand.  He held them up high and
yelled, "MULDER!"

Walter dropped the potato he was peeling, the peeler, tipped his chair
over and ran to him.

"You found him?  Where is he?"

"Massachusetts." He handed Walter the new list the Special Ops runner
had just brought in.  "Didn't his folks have a home up there?"

"They did."  Walter agreed as he scanned for the name.  Alex pointed
the name out and Walter read, "Mouse Mulder, age 47, occupation,
talent scout for a whore house."

"It's him.  It's got to be him."  Alex was breathless with excitement.

"Mouse Mulder?"  Walter questioned.

"Fox � mouse � they're both animals.  He was probably feeling like a
mouse in a trap and tossed his I.D. just like you did. The age is
correct.  And look at that occupation."

"That's something every high school boy has said at one time or other.
  It doesn't mean anything."  Walter was doubtful.

"Well he wasn't in high school when he said it to me.  We talked once
back when we were working together, about what we would be if we
weren't agents.  That's what he said he wanted to be.  A talent scout
for a whorehouse.  And he said it again at different times at least
three or four times."

"It's a long shot."

"Look, the name is Mulder, the age is right, the area is right.  Have
you ever heard a kid being named 'mouse' and that occupation thing?
It's him.  I know it is."

"I've never even known another Mulder besides him and his family."
Walter rubbed the back of his neck and felt the old tension coming
back.  "When do we leave?"

"First thing in the morning.  It's too late to start out now."  He
turned to leave then added, "Pack warm.  It's snowing again."

The next morning before dawn they sat in the kitchen sipping coffee
and debating the pros and cons of motorcycles or a truck.  Both had
their advantages and disadvantages.  It was finally decided on
motorcycles.  Back east the camps were much closer together which
meant more traffic around.  The more traffic around the easier it
would be for them to get caught.  The motorcycles afforded them easier
access to difficult places and a speedier get away if spotted.

Their long-johns, leather pants and jackets and helmets protected them
from the icy blast of cold but the trek cross country was still
miserable.  The first night they spent in an old Texaco gas station
and found the stash of food that was left there for them.  They
huddled side by side on the cold floor and got little sleep that
night.  The second night they stayed in a farm house somewhere in
Pennsylvania.  It was snowing so hard nothing could be seen so they
decided to risk a fire, doubting the smoke could be seen.  They
brought their motorcycles inside with them as they had always done
with their bikes.

The third morning at dawn they were lying on the rooftop of the old
motor pool building of the internment camp and scanning the grounds
for any signs of life in the fenced in area.  They could hear sounds
and smell something cooking.  "That smells like the usual slop they
serve."  Walter said.  I don't know where they get it or what's in it
but it's vile."  Soon the barracks doors opened and the prisoners
marched over to the mess hall, their breaths puffing clouds of vapor.

"Can you see him?"  Walter asked.

"No.  I'm going to have to go down there."

"No, it's too dangerous.  We're not even sure it's him yet."  Walter
stopped him with a hand on Alex's arm.

"I'm sure.  And you will be too when I bring him out."

"What if you're seen?"

"Then you'll have to bring us both out."  He edged back over to the
back side of the building.  "The snow is in our favor now.  They have
to walk right passed this building to get back to the barracks.  When
they do, I'll just step out and join them.  I doubt they're doing head
counts."

"And then?"  Walter asked, nervous as a cat and wishing he could come
up with some other idea.

"I go inside with them and start looking. Once I have him I'll signal
you from the front window there.   That one guard tower looks right
into the barracks so I might need a diversion of some kind to get him
out of there.  Once I get him over to this side we can make it to the
back fence the same way we got in here � building by building.  Let's
just hope the snow keeps up.  At least until we get him out of there.
  Can you come up with a diversion of some kind?"

"Yeah.  I'll think of something."  Walter assured him.

Walter watched from above as Alex shinnied down the drainpipe and
waited against the back of the building until mealtime was over with.
  They had heard enough times from others who were in camps that
prisoners were given exactly fifteen minutes to eat/drink the mixture
they were being fed.  Alex's teeth were beginning to chatter when the
doors of the mess hall opened and they began to file out and march
back to the barracks.  He stepped out at the end of the line and
ambled along like the rest of the group.

The door was closed and locked behind them and the guard walked off to
the front of the facility and inside another building.

Inside the men were each going to their bunks; a few were bitching
about the slop they were just fed.  Most of them just pulled their
blanket closer around them and tried to sleep.

Alex walked slowly among them, searching each face.  Suddenly there he
was, standing right in front of him.  Mulder, wrapped with the blanket
up over his head, shrugged passed him and headed for the barrel in the
front of the room set in one corner for bathroom purposes and threw up
in it.  He coughed and gagged and Alex watched.  None of the others
took any notice.

He made his way up behind Mulder and whispered to him, "Mulder, it's
me, Krycek.  Skinner's outside.  We've come to get you out of here."

Mulder looked up slowly, wiping the corner of his mouth on his
blanket.  Recognition lit his eyes and he cast a quick glance around
the room to see if anyone noticed the stranger among them.  None seem
to have.

"There's no way out of this place."

"Yes there is.  I have a map and we have a couple of motorcycles
hidden."  Alex assured him.

"Where would we go?  All the roads are watched.

"We have a place, a safe place with plenty of food and water and heat."

"There's no place left like that on earth."  Mulder said and turned
back to the reeking barrel and heaved again.

"Skinner is waiting for us.  He's outside in the snow.  We brought
warm clothes for you.  Long johns, leather pants and jacket.  We've
got food and water.  Come on.  Let's get out of this stinking place."

"Skinner's out there?  Why didn't he come in then?  I would have
believed him."

"Skinner broke his leg last year.  He had to have surgery on it.  He
gets around fine now but he's still not as strong as he was."

"Is Scully out there too?"

"No.  We haven't found her yet but we're still looking.  We have
people out all over the country bringing back lists from these camps.
  If they have her, we'll find her."

"Why should I believe you?"  He reached up with both hands and dug at
Alex's forehead to see if the face was a false one.

"I'm not one of them, Mulder.  I promise you that.  You know how I
knew that 'Mouse Mulder' was you? � When I read your occupation �
'talent scout for a whorehouse'.  Remember we sat in your apartment
eating pizza and talked about what we'd like to do if we weren't agents."

Mulder stared at him for a long time then said, "The door is locked,
the windows are nailed tight.  How do you propose to get out of here?"

"With this?"  Alex held up his trusty pick he had taken out of his
wallet and had at the ready when he saw it was a simple door lock that
held them.

"What about the guard tower?"

"I'm supposed to signal Skinner when I have you and he is going to
create a diversion of some kind.  When that happens we walk out of here."

Mulder stared at him.  "Go ahead.  Signal.  Let's just see if you can
pull this little miracle off."

Alex went to the window and first had to wipe the frost from the pane
then waved at Skinner.

Skinner across the way saw the signal and made his way over to the
electrical box on the side of the main building.  He had to pry the
door open with his knife but once it was open, he threw the main
switch and the entire complex went dark.  He hurried back to his place
behind the motor pool building and waited less than a minute before
Mulder and Alex appeared around the corner.

Skinner embraced the half-frozen Mulder and Alex busied himself
pulling a leather jacket out of his pack.  Skinner opened his and came
out with some leather pants.  They got Mulder dressed and they started
their way to the back of the complex.  They got two buildings back
when the lights came back on.

"Shit!" Mulder moaned.  "They'll burn us."

"No.  They won't come back this far.  We watched this place for hours
and not a soul came back here.  Alex assured him.

"They can't see our foot prints, it's snowing too hard."  Skinner added.

"Maybe we could run for it?  How far are your motorcycles?"  Mulder asked.

"Not all that far but we have to get through that fence first and
across a couple of fields to get to them."

Mulder doubled over and threw up again.

"How long you been throwing up?"  Skinner asked.

"Forever."  Mulder answered weakly.

"Come on.  Let's go before he gets any sicker."  Alex said and he and
Walter both took one of Mulder's arms and ran him the rest of the way
to the fence.

They waited while Alex twisted the wires to his connections, shutting
off the power to the small area where the fence had been cut.  Walter
slipped through first then he pulled while Alex pushed Mulder through.
  Alex crawled through then secured the opening again, removed his
clips allowing the power to surge through.

They hauled Mulder to his feet and they ran.  Mulder made it through
the first field then collapsed.  Walter picked him up, slung him over
his shoulder and they took off again.

"Are you going to be able to hold on?"  Walter asked as he climbed on
his motorcycle.

Alex helped Mulder climb on behind Walter then pulled out his duct
tape.  He wound it round and round Mulder and Skinner while Mulder
weakly protested, "I can hold on.  Let's just get going."

Alex took the time to tape Mulder's legs to the bike too to keep them
safe.  What he hadn't told Mulder was that their first stop was at
least an hour's ride in the freezing snow.

They started their motors and off they went into the fields beyond,
far away from the camp and any highways.  Mulder was able to hold on
for a while but soon one hand slipped free and then the other.
Skinner checked to make sure the tape was secure and kept on going.

By the time they reached the deserted farm house, Mulder was
unconscious.  They rolled their bikes into the house.  Alex sliced
through the tape holding Mulder and Skinner carried him over to the
couch.  They covered him with blankets and while Walter started a fire
in the fire place, Alex heated some soup using a small camp stove that
had been hidden there for them to use.

"What do you think is wrong with him?"  Skinner asked as they tried to
feed Mulder some of the warm soup.

"I don't know.  It could just be a reaction to whatever they put in
that stuff they're being fed.  Did it make you sick when you had it?"

"No.  It was vile but I never threw it up.  A few others did though
from time to time."

"It could be anything.  We've got to get him warm and get some of this
in him."

Walter helped and between the two of them they managed to get a few
swallows down Mulder.  They both massaged his arms and legs and tried
to get some warmth back into him.  Another few swallows and he seemed
to revive a bit.

"What's that?"  Mulder mumbled.

"It's soup, Mulder, drink!"  Walter ordered.

Mulder seemed to hear and he drank.  Before long the fire was blazing
and the room was warming up a bit but still he shivered.  Walter went
into a back room and pulled a mattress off a bed and dragged it over
in front of the fire.  They got Mulder down on it and both of them lay
down beside him on either side, their feet towards the fire.  They
covered with blankets and got up from time to time to add more fire
wood but mostly they slept; each with an arm around Mulder holding him
close; warming him.

Walter woke up first.  The fire had gone out and the room was cold
again.  He piled on more wood then set about making some coffee.
Mulder and Alex both stirred at the first scent of the delicious aroma.

"Did you get any sleep?"  Alex asked as he accepted the steaming cup
from Walter.

"Yeah some, once I got warmed up.  Mulder, how are you doing?" He
asked as he handed him a cup.

"Coffee?  I didn't know there was any left in the world!"  He sipped
carefully.  "I'm fine.  Where are we?"  He was leaning against the
hearth, still very weak.

"Still in Massachusetts but out in the countryside, away from any
cities or patrols."

"What are we waiting for?  Let's get back on the road."  Mulder suggested.

"We're not going any where in this weather.  We won't be able to see
anything to follow our map."  Walter said.

Alex and Mulder went to the window and saw the storm was still raging
outside.  Mulder sighed and went back to the fire.

"Is that oat meal?"  Alex asked as Walter stood stirring several
packets of oats into some boiling water.

"Uh huh.  As long as we have to stay put for a while, we may as well
eat something besides those energy bars and trail mix."

"Sounds good to me.  How about it Mulder.  Think you could handle some
oatmeal?"

"You really have food?"  Mulder turned away from the fire.

"We do."  Walter answered.  "It'll be ready in a few minutes."

"So you just happened to know where this place was and that it would
have coffee and oat meal?" Mulder glared at Alex.  "What makes you
think this place is safer than any other.  They'll find us.  They find
everybody."

"This is not the safe place I was telling you about.  This is just a
stop along the way."

"Along the way to where?"  Mulder asked.

"To Colorado."  Alex answered.

"What's in Colorado?"

"Home."  Walter answered as he handed him a warm bowl of oatmeal.

Mulder smelled it first, suspiciously, and then took a tiny bite.
Satisfied that it was the real thing, he finished the bowl off in less
than a minute.


They stayed in the house all that day, the three of them on the
mattress in front of the fire as the temperatures dipped dangerously
low during the night.  By morning, the storm had passed.  They ate
another good breakfast of oatmeal and coffee and got ready to leave.

"We should take the rest of that food with us.  No telling when we'll
be able to find more."  Mulder said.

"No.  We have food in our packs and there will be other stops along
the way."  Alex said.

"It might be gone.  Someone might have found it.  We need to take
what's left."

"No."  Walter backed Alex up.  "We leave it for the next team that
comes through here.  We have enough to make it to our next stop."

Mulder looked at them both like they were crazy.  "And what if it's
all gone when we get to the next stop?  Have you thought of that?"

"Mulder, this is all planned out.  There is food placed for us in
secret locations all along the way.  Just like this was."  Walter
tucked the little camp stove back in its box and returned it to its
hiding place in the wall behind some books on a shelf.

"It could all be a trick to lure us out into the open?"

"Why would they do that?  I doubt they even know you're gone.  They
seldom do any head counts from what we're told.  If they wanted to
kill you, they would have.  And they have no way of knowing we are
even here."  Walter said.

"All this � just doesn't feel right to me.  I don't trust him," he
said nodding to Alex, "and I'm shocked that you do." He said to Skinner.

Alex just shook his head and put his helmet on, strapping it snug.

"A lot of things have changed, Mulder."  Walter said.

"Yeah, and a lot of things have stayed the same.  Have you ever
thought that he might be in it with them?  You know you can't trust him."

"He gave me the same story about this safe place with plenty of food
and water and I doubted it too.  But he took me there.  He got me out
of a camp just like the one you were in.  My leg was broken and I had
pneumonia.  He saved my life.  It's a beautiful place, Mulder, and you
will be safe there."

"I don't want to go to Colorado.  I want to go home.  Can you take me
back there -- to my Dad's place on the Vinyard?"

"No.  It's not safe."  Alex said.

"He's right, Mulder.  It's not safe.  Come on.  We got a couple of
days hard riding ahead of us."  Walter said.

"And if I don't want to go to this place of yours?"

"Then you're free to go where ever you choose and next time we see
your name on a list of prisoners, we'll just pass you by and take
someone who wants to live free."  Alex said and started up his motor
cycle.

"You trust him?"  Mulder asked.

"I do."  Walter said and handed Mulder a helmet and strapped one on
himself.

Mulder put the helmet on reluctantly and climbed on behind Walter.

"Are you sure you can hold on?  If you get to feeling the least bit
weak or faint, let me know and I'll stop."

"I'm fine.  Let's just get to this place of yours."


They followed the map back, cross country, never going near a road of
any kind.  There were some rough spots but not too many.  The father
south they got the warmer it became and by their evening stop they
were no longer in temperatures below zero.  They spent that evening in
the basement of a house that had been burned out.  They kicked aside
some of the burned embers and found the door leading down.

Alex had his flash light on and scanned the tiny room.  It was a storm
cellar and looked as though no one had been in there in years but when
they tried the spot that was marked on their map, the shelf unit swung
forward exposing another room behind.  They went inside and pulled the
shelf closed behind them.

Walter lit the battery operated lamp and the tiny room proved to be a
treasure to them.  There were sleeping bags, cases and cases of food,
water, and gasoline in five gallon cans and a small battery operated
micro-wave oven.

"Whew!  They out did themselves with this place!" Alex whistled.
"I'll have to remember to thank them next time I see them."

"If you have friends around here that did this, they are probably in a
camp somewhere by now."

Walter and Alex exchanged exasperated glances.

"What would you like for dinner?  Pick something.  There's plastic
bowls, spoons, and everything."  Walter said.

"Any pizza?"  Mulder asked scanning the labels on the boxes.

"Don't see any.  How about some pasta?"  Alex held up a can of Chef
Boy-R-Dee spaghetti.

"That'll do."  Mulder answered and caught the can as it was tossed.

Walter produced a can opener and opened the can for him and dumped the
pasta into a bowl and put it in the microwave.  They ate their food in
silence then opened out their sleeping bags and crawled inside.
Walter and Alex both bringing their bags up next to Mulder's much to
his protest.

"Is this really necessary?"  He complained.

"You need the body warmth, Mulder."  Walter insisted before turning
the lamp off.

Mulder moved over as close to Walter as he could get but Alex just
moved over next to him.  Mulder whispered to Walter, "I'm OK with
being next to you but I don't trust him."

"Relax, Mulder.  Do what you're told for the next few days and we'll
get you to our safe place.  It's really wonderful and it's safe."

"And there's food and water there?  A lot of it?"

"More than enough.  Get some sleep now."


The next night they spent in the back of an old feed store in a tiny
little no-name town in Missouri.  Their fourth day took them into
Colorado and the last leg of the trip.

"So we're into Colorado now.  Where's this Shangri-la you've been
talking about?"  Mulder asked as they stopped for lunch.

"We've still got a ways to go yet but we should get there just before
dark."  Alex said.

"It's there, Mulder.  I've been living there the last year."  Walter
assured him.

"I'll believe it when I see it."  Mulder said.

"If you don't like it, you can always leave."  Alex offered.  "I'll
see to it that you have a motorcycle, food and water.  You can go any
where you want to then."

"Good.  Because I'm going to go find Scully."

"Mulder it's been almost three years now.  Have you seen or heard
anything at all from her?"

"How could I?  All communications are down.  She's out there somewhere
and I'm going to find her."

"We've been watching all the lists and her name hasn't shown up yet."
  Alex said.  "If and when it does, we'll go get her."

"So what's this place like?  How big is it?  You said there are others
there; how many?  Who runs the place and who makes the rules?"  Mulder
asked.

"I don't know exactly how big it is, Mulder.  Several thousand acres,
I'd guess.  We are a little over two hundred people now and so far, we
haven't had to make any rules. Everyone is just so happy to be free
and safe from the aliens that they all pitch in and do whatever needs
to be done."

"Who runs it?"

"We all do.  We discuss what needs to be done and we find a way to do
it.  It's pretty basic really."

"And it's been there three years and you think the aliens don't know
about it?  You're kidding yourselves if you think you're safe.
There's no place safe -- no place!"

"It wasn't there three years ago when they came.  We've built it
ourselves.  It's in a hidden valley surrounded by mountains.  We blew
up the only entrance to the valley and made a secret entrance through
an old mine shaft."

"And you don't think they could follow the trail there?"

"They haven't in three years."  Alex finished the conversation by
donning his helmet and sitting on his motorcycle, ready to leave.

"They could find it if they looked," Mulder insisted.

"Do you have a better suggestion, Mulder?  Some place else where we
could all go and be safe?  If you have, I'd like to hear about it."

Mulder said nothing and climbed on the motorcycle behind Walter.


The sun had gone down and it was getting colder the higher they got up
into the hills.  Soon they had slowed and were walking their motorcycles.

"Why are we stopping?  It's almost dark.  We should keep on going."
Mulder said.

"We're here."  Walter replied.

"Here?  In this pile of rocks?"

"Uh huh."  Walter smiled as Alex got off his bike and pulled the brush
back that was hiding the doorway to the mine.  Walter drove on inside
and waited while Alex concealed the opening and joined them. Minutes
later they emerged into the valley.

They stopped for a moment to gaze out over the valley at dusk.  It was
a beautiful sight.  The tall craggy mountains surrounded the valley
like sentinels guarding their flock, the lower hills covered with
majestic pine trees, the village lit up like a scattering of jewels
along the far side of a picturesque river and great flat fields
directly in front of them.

"I did a puzzle like this once."  Mulder said.

Alex secured the inner doorway and they followed the path down the
small rise, along side the snow covered fields, across the log bridge
and they were met by a crowd of people all calling out their welcome
to Mulder and welcome back to Alex and Walter.  Mulder was dumbstruck.

"Just in time for dinner!" someone yelled and at that exact moment
Walter's stomach growled.

"So what will it be first, Mulder, dinner,  a hot shower, a bed with
clean sheets, blankets, and a pillow?"  Mulder didn't answer.  They
climbed down from their bikes and stretched.  Someone took the bikes
for them and the three of them entered the cafeteria.

A steaming hot tray of food was placed in front of each of them and
they ate voraciously and sipped at hot coffee.

"How's your food, Mulder?"  Alex asked.

"Human," he answered.

After dinner, Dr. Kim checked him over and declared that he was well
enough except that he was drastically underweight.  Walter took him
over to the barracks and got him a bunk while Alex went over to the
supply hut and picked up some clothes for him.  He was then shown the
showers that had been newly installed at the back of each barracks
building and left him to clean up.

Walter and Alex stood around talking with others about their trip and
waited for Mulder to finish.  When he didn't come out, they checked on
him and found him sound asleep in his assigned bunk.  They decided to
call it a night then and each went to his barracks.

CHAPTER TWO

One by one they started up, with Samuelson leading the way.  "You can
leave your bikes here and we'll carry them over."  Peterson told them.

"Well, thank God for that!"  Harry said as he reluctantly began the
climb with the others.

"Quit your bitching, Harry.  They got us here, didn't they?"  One of
the women said.

"Yeah, I'll have to give them that."  He allowed as they topped out
and eyed the valley.

They hurried down the other side, with Samuelson leading the way and
the football players helping some of the women along.  They stood and
gazed out over the great expanse of fields, stream and woods in front
of them and not a soul had a single complaint.  The place was perfect.

Soon the bikes were hauled over the top and the group started out
again across the field and to the rivers edge.   "What do you think?"
Peterson asked Krycek.  "Should we set up camp here?"

"No.  We need to be across the river with our backs to the woods.
That way we will always be facing this pass in case we have any
visitors we can always make a stand in the woods."

"Good idea.  Ok.  Let's see if we can find a place to cross this
river.  It looks like it narrows down quite a bit over there to the
east."  Peterson said pointing off to the right.

They all pedaled towards the east and found a shallow spot where they
could cross over some stepping stones.  Some of the stones were pretty
far apart so they found boulders and carried them out and dumped them
in to make extra steps.  After a dozen or so there was a pretty good
pathway across and over they went.  Again the younger stronger of the
group made a second trip carrying bicycles across.

Once on the other side they started pedaling until they came to a
large open area between trees and stream.

"This is it."  Krycek said.  "We set up camp here."

Everyone was giddy with relief.  They had made it!  They all unloaded
their packs and threw themselves on the ground while, while Alex, the
soldiers, the football players, and Samuelson set about putting the
tents up.  It was decided that the seven women would share the two
large tents and the smaller tents would sleep two men each.  They
didn't have enough to go around for the men so Krycek and the soldiers
did without for the time being and just piled their stuff on the ground.

Once everyone was more or less settled, they broke out the camp stoves
and heated up some canned goods for lunch.  Most of the group went to
their tents afterwards and went to sleep.

Krycek, four of the soldiers, three football players and two women
prepared to ride back into town.  More wanted to go but Krycek
insisted that Samuelson and two of the soldiers stay behind to watch
over the group and one of the football players in case there was any
trouble they could send him into town for help.

They made much better time and made the trip in less than an hour.
They entered the town the same as they had the day before, carefully
and a few at a time to check it out and make sure there were no aliens
around.  The place was still empty.

Once back in town, in front of the general store, Krycek told the
women to go ahead and load up on food and anything else they might
need.  Some of the men stayed as well to load up.  Krycek and the
others headed out to see what they could come up with.  Krycek took
one of the foot ball players with him and they went to check out some
of the few homes scattered back behind the businesses.

The very first house they lucked out!  They found another large tent
in a garage.  They draped it across the back of one of their bikes and
kept looking.  Inside the house they found three more hand guns which
Krycek took along with the ammunition.  While he was stashing those
the ball player came out with an arm load of blankets.

"Can we take these?  If it gets really cold those sleeping bags might
not be enough and these are wool.  They should be good and warm."

"Good idea.  Tape them on top of your basket."  He tossed the roll of
duct tape.

A little more digging around and he found a chain saw in a back yard
shed.  He gave it a pull and it started right up.  He shut it off
immediately and carried it inside and secured it in his front basket.
  He found two gas cans and stuck one in each of his storage
compartments.  One was full, the other was half full.

The next house they found a few more blankets which were added to the
first load.  They also found more gasoline which they added to the
first can making two full five gallon cans.  They found a few more
shovels, another axe, and some miscellaneous tools that were added to
their load.  When their bikes were totally full, they headed back to
meet the group at the store.  Everyone else was there loaded up and
ready for the ride back.

"Oh wow, another big tent.  Who's going to get that one; Harry?"  One
of the women asked.

"This one is going to be our supply tent.  We need a place to keep our
food dry and this is it for now."  Krycek said.

"That's a good idea.  We found some more small tents so we have enough
for everyone now."  Someone said.

"Great.  Are we ready to head back then?"  Krycek said then asked one
of the men, "Did you get those purification tablets for the water?"

"Sure thing and I got six five-gallon water jugs that we can use too."

"Great.  Ok.  Let's go."


The trip back took two hours.  It was difficult enough with out the
load -- loaded it was a hard ride. They were tired now and loaded down
heavily but they made it.  By the time they got back everyone was up
and milling around wondering what to do next.  Most of them came over
to greet the others and help carry some of the load back to camp.  The
travelers were happy to hand over their heavy back packs and to see
that everything was all right with everyone.

After unloading they set up the supply tent and moved all the food inside.

"We really need some shelves." Someone said.

"And just how do you think we'd get them here?"  Someone else asked
sarcastically.

"Easy."  Krycek said.  "We'll take them apart and haul them in.  That
will be our first priority when we go in tomorrow."

"We're going back again?"  One of the ball players asked with a smile
on his face.

"Uh huh.  We don't know how long that town will remain empty so we
need to get in and out as many times as we can as fast as we can.  I'd
like to get an early start tomorrow and plan on two trips. One in the
morning, then we rest and have lunch and then another in the
afternoon.  Maybe by then some more will be rested up enough to go in
with us, at least for one of the trips."

"Not me.  I don't want to ever get on another bicycle as long as I
live."  Harry announced as he sat on the ground and rubbed his sore
leg muscles.

"That's Ok, Harry.  You can stay behind.  We need somebody to dig a
latrine anyway."
Krycek said.

"A what?  You want me to dig?"  Harry was flabbergasted.

"We all have to do our share, Harry.  You don't want to carry
supplies; you can dig a latrine.  I suggest you go back into the woods
about fifty yards.  Oh and we'll need two of them, one for the women
and one for the men.  We're lucky; it looks like the prevailing winds
come from the south and will blow all the odors back into the woods."

"Shit," Harry mumbled and got up and went back to his tent.

The others grinned and watched him go then sat down and began to plan
for their next excursion into town.

"Are we really going to bring back shelves?  That's going to take a
long time taking them apart."  One of the soldiers said.  "Is it safe
to spend that much time in town?"

"Maybe we can find some of those light weight plastic units that snap
together."  Someone said.

"Hey, I saw some of those in one of the garages we were in."  The ball
player that had accompanied Krycek offered.

"Good.  I'm sure there will be more around too.  Also, we need to get
something to sit on.  We'll keep an eye out for lawn chairs.  They are
light weight, fold up, and should be easy to carry."

"How about a table?  I saw a camp table at the store but it was too
big to carry."

"What about some card tables?"  One of the women asked. "They should
be easy enough to tie on the back of the bikes and they are pretty
light weight."

"I didn't see any, did any body else?"  Krycek asked.

"Not me," the woman said, "but that's the sort of thing people keep
tucked away in the back of a closet or in an attic, someplace like that."

"True.  And we weren't looking for card tables either so we might have
walked right passed one and never thought about it."  Peterson said.

"All right then.  Tomorrow it's food, shelving, lawn chairs and card
tables."  Krycek said.

"And more tents if we can find them.  Those little tents aren't really
big enough for two grown men."  McConnel said.

"I agree," Krycek said with a chuckle.  "At all times, keep your eyes
out for more tents."

"We just took what we saw in the store.  They might have more in the
storeroom out back."  One of the women said.

"That's true," Krycek admitted.  "Anybody go into the storeroom?"

Everyone shook their heads no.

"I guess we all thought someone else had."  Krycek said.

"I saw it was padlocked so I just went on by it," one of the ball
players said.

"Well, a padlock is not the problem.  I'll open it up as soon as we
get there."  Krycek said.

"I saw a set of keys behind the counter," one of the women said.

"Ok.  You get the keys and see what you can find in the store room.
And don't forget to keep loading up on the canned goods.  The bottled
water isn't that important now that we have purification tablets.
That stream looks crystal clear to me.  Let's try and bring back some
more five-gallon containers for water too."

The planning all finished they all found a place to sleep and rested
for the night.  Early morning Krycek was up and fixing two pots of
coffee.  The aroma brought the other riders out of their nests and
ready for the day.  A quick breakfast of canned vegetables and fruit
and they were off.  Eighteen of them made the morning trip.

They did indeed find extra tents in the store room and brought enough
out so that each of the men now had his own small tent.  They found
plenty of the plastic shelve units, took them apart and secured them
to their bikes.  They filled their side baskets with canned goods, and
lawn chairs secured across the top.  Tents were taken out of the
packages and secured to front baskets and more blankets were found and
added to the load.

Krycek brought in two more five gallon cans of gasoline, and someone
else carried extra kerosene for the lanterns. Back packs were filled
as well with extra clothes, toiletries, and more first aid supplies.

They were about to leave when one of the ball players came out of the
store carrying a twenty pound bag of potatoes over his shoulder.
"Hey, look what I found." He called to them.

"Is there any more?"  Krycek asked.

"Sure is; potatoes, onions, carrots, apples, nuts, tons of good stuff!"

They headed in to the kitchen area of the store and behind a door that
looked like a closet door, they found a small store room and a stash
of produce.  Everyone began hauling the food out to their bikes.

"I wish there was some way we could hook a wagon up to these bikes."
One of the ball players said.

"We'd turn over for sure," Krycek said.  We might try and rig
something up later on but right now we need to just grab what we can
get and get out of here.  We've been here well over an hour this time
and we need to get going.  Just take what we can carry and we'll get
the rest this afternoon."

So on top of their already loaded bikes, they tied the fresh produce
and headed out.

This load was particularly welcomed; chairs to sit on, four card
tables to set their food on, extra tents so now everyone had their
privacy.  Things were definitely looking up.

The shelves were put together quickly and Clark, the bank president,
took charge of organizing the stacking and storing of the food.  The
four who had brought back card tables across their back baskets found
them to be very convenient to secure other items on top and decided to
look for more on their afternoon run.

Fourteen made the afternoon run.  A few more card tables were found
and secured to the bikes and stacked with supplies.  This time they
brought back more tools, some large cooking pans and three
disassembled barbecues.

The produce shed proved to be a treasure with large bags of oranges,
apples, celery, lettuce, pinto beans, squash, corn on the cob and
assorted herbs.

"What about the stuff in the coolers?"  Someone asked.

"It's been days now without electricity.  It's probably all spoiled."
  Krycek said.

"What about the frozen stuff?  If no body's opened the door, it's
probably still all right."  One of the women offered.

"Yeah, that's right." Another woman agreed.  "We lost out electricity
for several days once.  Everything in the refrigerator spoiled but
most of the frozen stuff was still Ok."

"Ok.  Take a look and see.  Maybe some of the stuff in the middle
might still be frozen."  Krycek said.

The three women went to investigate while the others continued
securing items to the bikes.  A few minutes later they came out
carring an ice chest between two of them and several plastic bags.

Krycek opened the ice chest and saw three huge roasts and several
packages of hot dogs and sausages.  They were frozen solid.  The bags
contained sausages, bacon and several different kinds of cheese.
Krycek felt them and they were still frozen solid.

"There are hams too and eggs; dozens and dozens of them.  I wish there
was some way we could bring them back?"

"I got it!"  One of the men said, "Creels!"

"Creels?"  Krycek asked.

"Sure.  I saw a bunch of them in the back of the store.  Each one
should hold a couple dozen eggs.  They won't weigh much.  We could
each hang one around our necks and bring back a couple dozen eggs a
piece."

Krycek stared at him and wondered at the simplicity of the idea.  It
should work.  They all went inside and draped a creel around their
necks.  Each creel did indeed hold two dozen eggs.  The egg and cheese
compartment being in the center of all the others and held its
temperature longer than the rest; its contents were all still very
cold to the touch.

"We could stake these creels in the river and it would keep this stuff
cold enough not to spoil."  The young man said.

"We'd have our own cooler!"  Someone said.

"All right. Load up with as much of this stuff as we can carry.
There's room in the creels for some cheese and sausage.  Just feel
things first and make sure they are good and cold.  I'm going to see
if we can carry a couple more of these Styrofoam ice chests.  We don't
want to carry it all that way just to have it spoil on the trip."

Three more ice chests were secured to the back of the bikes and filled
to the brim.  With the biggest load ever, they headed back.

They were exhausted but proud and happy when they arrived back at camp
nearly three hours later.  The one cook they had among them and two of
the women worked up a great dinner for them all using the roasts, cut
up in bite sized chunks, lots of vegetables and made huge pots of
stew.  Everyone decided it was the very best they had ever tasted.

Two of the women who had remained in camp, Debra and Charlene, office
workers, came up to Krycek after dinner and broke the news.  One of
the group was missing.

"Missing?  Who?"  Krycek started scanning the group.

"The Englishman.  I haven't seen him all day and I don't remember
seeing him much after we got here." they answered.

"Has anyone seen the Englishman?"  Krycek asked the group.

Everyone shook their heads no.  "When was the last time he was seen?"

"He shared my tent the first night but I haven't seen him since then."
  Samuelson said.

"Shit.  Well there's nothing we can do about it tonight.  Tomorrow
we'll scour the woods and the rest of the area."  Krycek said.  "Did
he take his things?" he asked as an after thought.

"Yep. Sleeping bag and all."  Samuelson answered.  "I should have said
something earlier but I just thought he'd found someplace better to
sleep and I've been gone on supply runs most of the time and didn't
notice he wasn't around."

"We'll look around for him in the morning but if he left, there is
nothing that we can do about it.  No one has to stay here if they
don't want to."  Krycek said.

"Where would he go?"  Someone asked.

"No telling.  Well, he knows where we are so if he wants to come back,
he can."

"What if those aliens find him?"  Harry asked.

"Then he's either a prisoner or a stain on the road somewhere."  One
of the soldiers said.

"Enough.  Let's get some sleep."  Krycek said but he lay awake in his
tent and wondered what happened to the Englishman.  He didn't seem the
kind to bolt.

The next morning there were only twelve who wanted to make the trip
into town.  That was OK.  They were all tired and they were pretty
well stocked up on food.  Staking the creels at the rivers edge kept
the meat, cheese and eggs cold with the frigid water running over them
and their supply tent was filling up nicely.

"So what is our main objective this time, Peterson asked as they were
hauling their bikes over the rocky entrance to the valley.

"Port-a-potties."  Krycek said.

"You're kidding?"  One of the soldiers asked.

"Nope.  The women have been great about everything and I haven't heard
a single complaint from any of them.  This is the least we can do for
them.  I saw some back in that store room.  Two or three ought to be
enough."

"You think we can haul them on the bikes?"  Someone asked.

"Sure.  Carrying those card tables flat on the back of the bikes gave
me the idea.  We can get pieces of wood about that same size, secure
them to the bikes and set stuff on them."

"They're going to be pretty heavy."

"I was looking at them and found that they come apart.  There are two
holding tanks, one for fresh water to flush with and one that holds
the waste.  I figured if we took those tanks off, they would be a lot
lighter.  Spread the weight around."

"Oh, man that would be great!" one of the ball players said.  "I mean,
I don't mind taking a piss in the woods but sitting on a couple of
rocks over a hole in the ground to do my business really sucks."

They all agreed and made their way into town.  Their plan worked out
well and they were able to get the three potties secured easily enough
over some plywood they found.  They also brought back two large wash
tubs, a couple pairs of saw horses and enough pieces of scrap wood to
connect the pieces of plywood together to put over the saw horses for
a large table.  They also brought back rope, hoses, clothespins,
detergent, bath soap and toilet paper.

The women squealed with delight at the sight of the port-a-potties and
threw their arms around the men and gave them each a hug.  Krycek
explained that they would need to be emptied every day and the
freshwater tank refilled and that everyone would have to take turns
doing the emptying.  There was a slight ravine at the back of the
woods, about twenty feet deep that would be the best place for empting
the waste.  They all readily agreed and with great pleasure the three
potties were set up in the woods.

The two brothers Rick and Randy connected the hoses together and
mounted one end out in the middle of the stream.  A spigot was
attached to a wooden stand they nailed together and with the other end
of the hose connected to it and they had running water at the
campsite.  They put one of the large wash tubs underneath it to keep
the camp site dry.  This water was for cooking or washing only.  The
drinking water was kept in the five-gallon water cans with
purification tablets added.

They decided to rest for the afternoon as a lot of them wanted to talk
and make some kind of plans.  The pieces of plywood were nailed
together and placed over the saw horses and they had a table big
enough for everyone to sit around.  Krycek called a meeting and as
everyone gathered around he took out a small tablet and pencil and
started writing.
"I need to know everyone's name, age and occupation."  He said and
started making his list.

He put his name at the top.

1.  Alex Krycek, 42, agent.
2.  Sam Samuelson, 40, photographer
3.  Carl Peterson, 26, soldier
4.  Jimmy McConnel, 23, soldier
5.  Evan Jefferson, 22, soldier
6.  Kevin Miller, 23, soldier
7.  Tony Andrews, 22, soldier
8.  Raymond Martinez, 22, soldier
9.   Max Grant, 17, student � football player
10. Matthew Grant, 18, student � football player
11. David Woods, 17, student � football player
12. Ronald Woods, 18, student � football player
13. Teresa Harris, 26, flight attendant
14. Harry Martini, 48, taxi driver
15. Charlene Dawson, 33, office worker
16. Deborah Charles, 36, office worker
17. Maddie Bernard, 24, nurse
18. Marcia Mitchell, 23, nurse
19. Michael Clark, 53, bank president
20. Holly Schuler, 29, grade school teacher
21. Amber Barrington, 32, grade school teacher
22. Rick Sullivan, 26, farmer
23. Randy Sullivan, 28, farmer
24. Bobby Benson, 37, cook
25. The Englishman

"Does anyone know the Englishman's name or anything about him?"
Krycek asked the group?  Everyone shook their head 'no'.

"Hey look, he's back!"  Someone called out.

The smiling man made his way through the field, across the stepping
stone bridge, carrying his bike and rode on into camp.

"You decided to come back?"  Krycek greeted him.

He greeted the group with the tip of his hat and a cheery smile.  "I
say -- is that coffee I smell?  Might I have a cup?  I ran out of
groceries yesterday and I'm famished."

"Sure thing, have a seat."  Krycek said and poured a cup full of the
steaming brew and handed it to him.

"I see we've come up in the world.  We have tables and chairs and
barbecues and does that gadget really produce running water?"  He
pointed to the newly installed spigot and sipped his coffee.

"Oh, beastly stuff.  I don't know how you Americans drink this when
you could have a nice cuppa tea instead.  It's so much more civilized."

"What can I get for you?" the cook asked.  "You want some eggs and
bacon or sausage or some oatmeal maybe?"

"Ha!  I wish!  Just toss me a can of those vegetables we brought in if
you have any to spare."

Krycek grinned.  "We really do have the breakfast stuff if you want it."

"Seriously?" The Englishman choked a bit on the coffee.  "You have
eggs, sausage and bacon?"

"We do," Bobby the cook and Krycek both answered in unison.

"Look, I was just making a list of our group here.  I need your name,
age and occupation."  Krycek asked.

"Oh yes, of course.  The name is Preston Ambrose Parks. I'm 44 years
young and I'm a geologist."

The rest of the group started asking questions.

"Where did you go?"

"Did you see any aliens?"

"We missed you."

"We're so glad you're back."

"How far did you get?"

"We were ready to rent out your tent."

And on and on until each person had welcomed him with a comment.

Parks continued with his coffee, grimacing after every sip and
answering quip for quip.

"I went to see the Queen."

"I called but nobody was home."

"I know, I should have written."

"I knew you'd miss me."

"All around the world and back."

"Just give the bloody thing to Samuelson, nobody can sleep next to
that buzz saw."

By the time the quips were finished, a large plate of scrambled eggs
and sausage were placed in front of him.  His hand stopped half way up
to his mouth with the coffee cup.  "I say � if this is a dream, it's a
real corker!"

"It's no dream, Parks.  Dig in.  We were just about to have a meeting
here.  Krycek said.

"Oh bully!  My timing is impeccable as usual."  He then dug in and the
plate was emptied in two minutes flat.  "Now that was a bit of all
right!" he said, leaning back in his lawn chair with a satisfied grin
and a smoothing down his moustache.  "And to show my appreciation, I
have some jolly good news to share."

"Have you seen others?  Did you talk with them?"  Krycek asked and
everyone went silent to hear the news.

"No, no, dear boy � nothing like that.  You see, I'm well aware that I
haven't contributed much to this expedition but what I have to tell
you will make up for that and be well worth all the money deal old
daddy paid for my education."  He said with a smug grin.

"What did you find out?"  Krycek asked.

"I found a mine!"

"Oh shit!" someone murmured.

"A mine?"  Krycek asked in disbelief.

"Let me guess � we're all going to share in the mine and be
millionaires?"  Someone asked sarcastically.  The group began mumbling
among themselves in disappointment.

"But wait now!  Hear me out.  You don't seem to grasp the significance
of this find.  My Oxford education has finally paid off!"

"That's just great.  Next time you see dear old pater, you can tell
him that."  Someone quipped.

Krycek sat staring at Parks waiting for him to explain.

"All right then, enough of dragging this out.  Let me break it down
for you.  We are in a beautiful life-sustaining valley, surrounded by
majestic mountains with only one visible entrance.  Do you all agree
with that statement?"

Everyone muttered 'yes'.

"Those devils out there will be able to find us easily if they as much
as give it half a try.  Do you agree with that?"

"What are you getting at?"  Krycek asked a little exasperated at the
Englishman taking so long to make his point.

"Simple, old boy.  We find us a little bang-bang and blow up the pass."

They all stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

"What does this have to do with the mine you found?  Is there an
outlet into the valley?"  Krycek asked becoming more interested.

"Not yet, but there will be in due time."  He smiled smugly.

"How?" Two or three people asked the question at the same time.

  "Now that's where my education comes in.  I'm a geologist.  Rocks,
boulders, mountains, mines are my specialty.  The first few days while
the rest of you were busy setting up camp, I was wandering around
checking out the rock formations and looking at ore samples.  It's
obvious this is a prime area for mining activities.  It took me two
days to find the mine and another to explore the inside with this
wonderful little compass you insisted each of us carry.

"Did you find a shaft that comes close?"  Krycek asked hopefully � his
interest totally peaked now.

"Well, not to say it will be a walk in the park but it can be done."

"What with?"  One of the soldiers asked.  "Nitro?"

"That would do the trick all right but Nitro is too difficult to find
and too unstable for amateurs to handle.  I say we use dynamite."

"And where do you propose we get that dynamite?"  Someone asked.

"Oh, I don't know but there always seems to be a bit of it lying about
when you need it."

"Have you ever used dynamite?"  One of the soldiers asked.

  "I have."  Krycek said.  "I can do it."

"Bully for you!  I was afraid we were going to have to go find a demo
man for the job."

"And as a geologist, you can tell me exactly where to place the charges?"

"Naturally.  Of course after it goes boom there will be a lot of
back-breaking shovel work but we're a large group here and if we all
take turns we can make a job of it."

"How far?"  Krycek asked.

"Less than a quarter of a mile."

"That's over thirteen hundred feet!  It would take this crew the rest
of our lives to shovel that much dirt."  Someone said.

"It would indeed but not if we had one of those earth-mover machines,
I think you call them."

"You've seen one?  There's one in the mine?"  Krycek asked.

"There is indeed.  I'm sure one of your fine strapping lads can get it
running."

"It doesn't work?"  Krycek's hopes wilted.

"I didn't say that.  I tried it and the motor didn't catch but it's
probably been sitting there unused for a good long time."

"An antique."  Someone scoffed.  "Useless."

"Maybe not," Sgt. Peterson spoke up.  "My dad had an old tractor,
probably forty or fifty years old.  We always managed to keep it
running with a little tinkering."

"That's the spirit, lad!  If you're ready, I can take you to it right
now."

"Now, wait just a minute.  Let's get everyone's opinion here and see
if we're all in agreement.  Do we really want to blow up the pass?"
Krycek said.

"Splendid.  That will extend my rest period a bit."  Parks helped
himself to another cup of coffee and sat back down.

At first they were all appalled at the idea of closing up the pass but
once they were reminded of the carnage they had seen back at the plane
and all along the way their opinions began to turn.  It was a lively
discussion and everyone offered an opinion.

Once Parks explained that they would indeed take special care to make
the mine safe, it was an easy go from there.  In the end, a show of
hands was asked for and it was unanimous.  They would blow up the pass.

Title: Beating the Darkness Back 5/7
 
Author: Anjou (Anjou@...)
 
Posting Date: October 2008
 
Rating: R for language and sexuality; M for Mature
readers 
 
Classification: Mulder/Scully, MSR, post-ep for IWTB
 
Archive: No archival until the story is completed,
please. I'll be submitting to Ephemeral and Gossamer
myself.
 
Spoilers: Through I Want To Believe
 
Disclaimer: All X-Files personnel belong to 1013 and
Fox. All other elements are mine. 
 
Author's Note:  Beating the Darkness Back will be
posted in seven parts. Parts 1 & 2, and 3 & 4 will be
posted together, as they are just long sections that
needed to be cut in half for ease of posting. This
story is finished, although still undergoing final
editing for Parts 5-7. I expect it will be all posted
in a week's time. Posts can be read on my fic journal,
Anjoufic (http://anjoufic.livejournal.com) as well as
Ephemeral and other XF fic sites. The whole tale will
be archived at my website, No Other (http://the-cave-
online.com/anjou/index.html), maintained by the
generous dtg, when it is completed.
 
Thanks to Konrad Frye and especially the fabulous
Lilydale for not only willingly answering questions
about the novelization of "I Want To Believe" that
clarified the timeline for this writer, but for being
brave enough to have read it in the first place. 
 
As always, my biggest thanks go to my sister and
editrix, Suzanne, for her support, and above all, her
patience.
 
Summary: Where do we go from here, now that we are
free?
 
~*~
 
May 7, 2008
 
Mulder sighed in satisfaction as the mile markers ticked off on I-95. He was
within twenty miles of Richmond, and if the traffic gods were with him, he'd be
home soon. The drive back from Baltimore had been more boring than grueling,
particularly because he sorely missed Scully and felt the ache of her empty seat
keenly. All the years they'd spent in the car had ingrained the habit, so when
there was no one to make wry observations to, or play car games with, he got
bored rapidly.
 
Still, the trip had been worthwhile, even if he still wasn't sure at all that he
was on the right path for this next part of his life. He'd contacted John
Maguire at Johns Hopkins at the end of January on David Truesdale's advice.
Maguire was a well-known professor of psychology whose specialty was working
with victims of trauma. David knew of him because of the work Maguire had
quietly done with the abductee community and their families. He'd thought
Maguire would be a good resource, and a sympathetic ear for Mulder as he
explored the possibility of finishing his degree.
 
Maguire had, in fact, known exactly who Mulder was when he'd called, and
although he was disappointed that Mulder was neither approaching him for
therapeutic assistance nor desired to work with the abductee community, he had
agreed to essentially become Mulder's academic adviser.
 
The thing was, the closer Mulder got to completing his degree, the less sure he
became that he wanted to do so. It wasn't that the coursework he'd been required
to take to requalify for his credentials had been ordinary, or even
unchallenging. It simply didn't interest him the way it once had. He'd seen a
tremendous spectrum of human psychology in his years in the FBI, most of it
abnormal. And he wasn't the least little bit interested in revisiting that part
of humanity. In fact, the coursework on abnormal psychology had actually
inspired a revulsive response in him, not to mention triggering a few
nightmares. What he was more interested in exploring was trying to help those
who had been affected by trauma, particularly children and adolescents, but he'd
been specific in saying that he was interested in working with children whose
abuse and neglect had been more mundane.
 
Maguire claimed to understand and support Mulder's academic explorations, but
Mulder couldn't help but notice that Maguire inevitably steered their
conversations back to his traumatic memories of Samantha, Scully and of course,
his own abduction. Maguire seemed to be testing the state of Mulder's resolve to
remain silent about them.
 
Although Mulder could certainly empathize with a person who has doggedly pursued
the answers to a mystery, the twists and turns of his own life had also taught
him empathy for those who he had formerly relentlessly chased for answers.
Maguire had no real concept of what he was asking Mulder to share, had only seen
the tip of the iceberg in his clients. Mulder knew that Maguire could sense the
lie in Mulder's firm assertion that he did not remember what had happened to him
in the months before he was returned dead, or that he had no notion of time
passing during his interment, even though he most certainly had strong memories
of them both.
 
What Maguire could not understand, and would see as pathological, was that
Mulder's belief that there were eyes and ears everywhere had been well earned.
Five months out of the house, Mulder still believed that his freedom had been
tenuously earned. He would do nothing to jeopardize the rights he had regained
-- nothing to jeopardize the promise he'd made to Scully. He'd chosen her, all
those years ago, and whenever possible, Fox Mulder did not break his promises.
 
He smiled as he steered onto the familiar country roads, his headlights cutting
through the spring evening, which somehow didn't seem as dark as the winter's
night. He cracked the windows and let the rich smell of the sun-ripened earth
fill the car. He glanced at the clock, hoping that he'd be home before Scully,
that he'd have time to get dinner started before she arrived. He hated the fact
that it had been three nights since he'd last seen her. The first night she'd
been scheduled for her regular overnight shift and the second she'd spent at the
bedside of a gravely ill child. Ever since her successful treatment of Christian
– so far, he heard her voice gravely qualifying in his head – she'd been
sought out by other parents seeking similar miracles. Thank God he'd been able
to take her away for their vacation, otherwise he didn't know if she could have
withstood the onslaught of work.
 
Their third night apart had been necessitated by his need to write finals for
the classes he'd taken. It hadn't been particularly difficult as much as it had
been time-consuming and tedious. He had been surprised to find that he wasn't
the oldest graduate student in the group. Among his classmates had been a woman
in her sixties who'd given up the idea of practicing thirty years before when
her third child had been born with special needs. Mulder and she had bonded over
coffee. Unlike Mulder, Millie had no doubts about what she was doing. Her
efforts to bolster his resolve had only underlined his doubts. Still –- he
wasn't willing to give up as yet. He just had no idea what the hell he was going
to do about the practical aspects of his clinical training year, since Maguire
had made it plain that he wanted to oversee Mulder's year personally. In
Baltimore.
 
He pulled up to their gate, surprised to see that Scully's car was already in
front of the house. He wondered if this meant that she'd basically worked
straight through while he'd been gone, an idea that seemed more than likely to
be true. He shook his head in consternation. She really had to start taking
better care of herself. He pulled in behind her car and grabbed his overnight
bag and laptop from the back seat before he crossed the porch, eager to see her.
 
He'd expected to find her upstairs, so was surprised to see her sitting on the
couch, still wearing her raincoat, staring at the papers in her hand. She looked
–- not exactly upset, but stunned. She didn’t seem to have noticed that he
was home. "Scully?" 
 
"There you are," she breathed out. She looked up at him, tearing her eyes away
from the words on the page.
 
"Are you all right? Is that from your mother?"
 
She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. "No, Mulder, no," she
said. "My mother's OK. No," she said, then stopped and looked down at the papers
again, as if making sure that they were actually there. "Do you remember when I
wrote up Christian's treatment course and outcomes for the <u>Journal of
Pediatric Neurology</u>?"
 
"Scully," he said, delighted. "Did your monograph get accepted?"
 
"Oh, it's too soon for that, Mulder," she said, dismissively, "but I did send a
copy of it to Dr. Sperry. It was her treatment for Sandhoff's disease I based my
treatment plan on."
 
"OK," he said.
 
"She, um, forwarded the monograph to several of her colleagues," she said. Her
tone seemed bewildered, almost disbelieving.
 
"And?!" Mulder said. Sometimes, she drove him completely crazy.
 
"Mulder," she said. "I've been solicited to apply for two posts, with the
inference that if I apply, I will be offered them."
 
"Two?" he said in delight. He went over to the couch and picked her up, hugging
her, while she held the papers out of the way. "Scully! You stud! Tell me!"
 
She shook her head, as if to clear it. "You know you said this would happen.
That first night we went to the diner, you said this would happen."
 
"I did, didn't I?" he said proudly, then added. "98.9, Scully." He sat them both
down on the couch. "Now, tell me."
 
"The first offer is from New York," she said, "from the Weill Cornell Medical
Center at New York-Presbyterian."
 
Mulder tried to control his wince. As much as he loved the Yankees, he really
wasn't wild about New York City. "I hear they’re getting a new Yankee
Stadium!" he said cheerfully.
 
"I saw the face, Mulder," she said. "That's for a lectureship, two years
minimum. Housing stipend."
 
"Not bad," Mulder said, slowly. They didn't actually need the housing stipend,
but the fact that they'd offered it meant that they were serious. "The other
one?"
 
She drew in a breath. "The other cannot possibly be right," she said firmly.
 
"Scully," he said. "Stop stalling and spill it."
 
"It's for an assistant professorship, Mulder."
 
He whistled. "Skipping right over the riff raff is the eminently, or perhaps
over- qualified, Dr. Dr. Scully."
 
She shook her head at him. "The letter also states that if I continue evolving
new, successful treatment modalities, that I'll be assured acceptance onto the
tenure track within three years."
 
Mulder was absolutely delighted at this news. "And I bet you'll have lots of new
toys that were built in this century to help you evolve those new modalities."
He kissed her. "Where's the second offer from?"
 
"It's too good to be true, Mulder," she said.
 
"C'mon, my little skeptic," he said, wrapping his arms around her and jiggling
her. "Cough up the name."
 
"Johns Hopkins," she said softly.
 
"I knew it," Mulder crowed. "They just want you back, that's all. They realize
that they never should have let you go in the first place." He kissed her neck.
"I know just how they feel."
 
She swatted him away with her letters, her cheeks flushed pink. "But … we'd
have to move," she said quietly.
 
"Scully," Mulder began, "do you remember how I always say 'If coincidences are
just coincidences, why do they feel so contrived?'"
 
She raised an eyebrow at him.
 
"Let me tell you a fascinating story," he began, undoing the belt of her coat.
"But before I do, let me observe that if you continue rolling your eyes like
that, they may get stuck that way one day …"
 
~*~
 
After his shower, he observed her from the mirror in the bathroom while he
spread shaving cream across his face. She was in bed, propped up on a stack of
pillows, with her reading glasses perched on her nose. Her book was opened,
waiting to be read, but she was staring off into the middle distance. He lost
sight of her when he opened the mirrored front of the cabinet to get a new blade
for his razor. Years of sleeping together had trained him that his best chance
at getting lucky was to shave –-  a woman who supposedly lived alone
shouldn't be showing up with a wanted fugitive's stubble burn on her easily
marked skin. Of course, in the wintertime, the rules were different, but only
because Scully was willing to wear turtlenecks. He could hear the creaking of
their bed as she moved across it, so he wasn't surprised to find her standing in
the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the jamb in her camisole and
matching panties.
 
He began to shave carefully as he waited for her to speak, unperturbed by her
serious face.
 
"I really don't want to leave our house," she said suddenly.
 
"It'll cost a shitload to move it," Mulder quipped, running his razor under a
stream of water.
 
"Mulder," she said, exasperated. "I'm serious. We've been happy here, haven't
we? And this place …" she rubbed the woodwork of the door fondly, almost
caressing it. "This is our home," her anger had dissipated into wistfulness. "I
don't want to sell our home."
 
He finished shaving his lip and then his chin as she watched him, patiently
waiting. "Scully," he said. "Why would we sell our house?"
 
She looked askance at him.
 
"We can come down here on the weekends," he said. "It's not that far."
 
She looked stunned by his pronouncement, but he bent over and washed his face
off before she could speak again.
 
"We're not hiding anymore," he said, after he shut the water off. "We don't have
to pretend that we don't have money." He shrugged. "We don't need to sell our
house."
 
“Are you sure we can afford that?”
 
“You want me to show you the bank accounts again?” He answered, turning
around. He wiped his hands on the towel around his hips
 
Scully's shoulders eased down from their rigid posture. “I trust you,” she
said quietly.
 
He smiled and took two steps forward, bringing him flush against her. “Good
answer,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand stroking up under
her camisole, one drifting underneath the elastic band of her underwear.
 
He felt her hands tug the damp towel loose as he walked her backwards toward
their bed. He grumbled as she pushed him away from her so that she could wipe
the water from his chest and his face, but sighed in pleasure as she stood on
her tiptoes to kiss the extra-sensitive bare skin under his chin.
 
She pressed a line of kisses along his jawline moving toward his ear until she
was practically standing en pointe. This time, it was she that broke away
grumbling. “Too <i>tall</i>,” she muttered, dropping back down on her heels
as her hands roamed over his shoulders and chest.
 
He grunted as she punctuated her remark with a kiss to his chest. How was it
possible that after all this time, he still reveled in the feel of her hands on
his skin, even now when they were such familiar friends? He hunched over her
like the gentleman his mother had raised him to be and kissed her, feeling the
sweet urgency rise at her nearness. His hands roamed under the camisole pulling
it up and over her head, before he bent to draw her underwear off, stopping to
place a kiss below her belly button as he passed by. "You know what I think the
real problem is?" he said. He nipped at her thigh as she sighed.
 
“I imagine that you’re going to tell me, whether or not I want to hear
it,” she said drily, ruffling his hair.
 
"Virginia,” he announced, smoothing his hands over her thighs and buttocks as
he rose back up, “is for lovers. You just like living here, because it
validates your illicit lifestyle."
 
She smirked at him. “You think so, huh?”
 
“Absolutely,” Mulder said, “your secret rebellious nature wins out time
and again over your more pragmatic side. Why else would you have spent all that
time living with a wanted fugitive?"
 
“For the yoga?” she asked innocently.
 
Mulder shrugged modestly, as she tugged at him, pulling him down on their bed
where their size differential could be more easily accounted for. He followed
her down to the bed, kissing her while they got supine.
 
"It all seems too good to be true," she whispered when they came up for air.
 
"I think it's about goddamned time," he said in a low voice, tracing her lips
with his fingers. "You said that our luck was changed that day on the boat,
remember?"
 
She nodded, watching him, waiting for his next move.
 
“Do you believe it now?” he whispered, watching her.
 
Her expression was slightly mischievous as she considered her answer. "I want to
believe, Mulder," she said. She tugged on his shoulders, pulling him closer, her
hair streaming across the pillows as she smiled. "Come here."
 
~*~ 
 
June 16, 2008
 
Mulder swore long and loud as the bottom dropped out of the box that he’d just
packed full of psychology texts, books that he wasn’t even sure he wanted to
take with him to Baltimore.
 
“Are you all right?” Scully bellowed from upstairs. It sounded like she was
still in the closet, so she clearly wasn’t that worried.
 
“Where’s the tape gun?” he yelled back fractiously. It was fucking hot. At
least their new house in Baltimore had central air. He would enjoy that.
 
“I don’t have it,” Scully hollered in a firm, no-nonsense tone. “But
when you find it, can you bring it up here?”
 
“Why don’t we have two?” he muttered resentfully, looking around his
mostly dismantled office. He tripped over a book just as he spotted the tape gun
on top of the one empty bookcase in the room. “Why do we have so much crap?”
he bellowed to Scully rhetorically.
 
“Speak for yourself,” she belted out.
 
He snorted, taping the bottom of the box back together. As if she hadn’t been
up there packing clothes for the entire day – her shoes alone had filled one
of the larger UPS boxes that they had. And that was another thing. Their new
house, in Baltimore’s Waverly neighborhood, had closets. In fact, it had two
in the master bedroom alone, which meant that he would be able for the first
time in years, to hang more than a few token items in the closet of the room he
slept in. And even if he were forced to use the closets in any of the other
three bedrooms, at least they’d be upstairs. The unused bedroom on their
second floor, the one they tended to ignore, had a tiny closet with a recidivist
tendency toward mice, no matter what he did to try and keep the nasty vermin
out.
 
He had discovered this fact painfully one day, when he put on a coat to go out
and shovel the first snow of the season and found a family of mice living in the
pocket he expected only his gloves to be residing in. Luckily, he’d been alone
in the house that day, so no one other than the aforementioned vermin had
witnessed the entirely understandable noises that had emanated from his throat,
not to mention the interesting dance he’d done when taking off the coat. After
that, he’d crammed his clothes in the tiny closet down in his office. He’d
also never stuck his hand in a coat pocket without squeezing it from the outside
again. 
 
He sighed as he surveyed the wreckage of his office. He’d need to move the
boxes of books so that he’d actually be able to pack the contents of his
closet. He grumbled as he hauled a box out to their cramped living room. As he
searched for a square foot that he could put it down upon, he heard the sound of
a phone ringing upstairs. From the ringtone, he assumed that it was Scully’s,
but if it was his, he wasn't going to answer it. Maguire had already called him
twice, trying to get him to come up early to see an interesting child patient.
From the limited history that Maguire had given him over the phone, Mulder knew
that Maguire suspected that the child had been an abductee, but he was fairly
convinced that the child was deluded. He pushed a stack of kitchenware boxes
over to the left a little too hard, and had to rush to steady it with one arm
while his right arm vigorously protested holding up the too heavy box of books.
 
After everything was more or less stable, he plunked the box down into the space
he’d made, chest heaving. He could just make out the sound of Scully’s
quizzical murmuring upstairs over the sound of his own labored breathing.
She’d discharged all of her patients at her former employer to her nemesis on
the previous day, so he had no idea to whom she could be speaking. As Mulder had
predicted, Scully's nemesis was remaining at Our Lady of Sorrows for what he was
sure would be an illustrious post-fellowship career. He smirked as he grabbed
the tape gun and his bottle of water and began to climb the stairs. It was time
for a break.
 
Scully had hung up by the time he got to the top, and was sitting on the bed
staring at her phone with a frown on her face. She looked hot, and he meant that
in its truest sense. She was wearing a pink tank top that had been clean when
she put it on, but was now covered with dust and dirt from her time rooting
around on the bottom of the closet. There was a smear of dirt on her face, and a
huge smudge of it on her bare white leg and the pair of Mulder’s boxers that
she’d commandeered to wear as shorts. She’d drawn her hair up on top of her
head to keep it out of the way, but it had broken out of its confines and
spilled out of the ponytail like a fountain of damp red gold.
 
“What’s up?” he said, flopping on the bed next to her.
 
“That,” she said, in a flat tone, “was Skinner.”
 
“What’d he want?”
 
“He said he’d be here in fifteen minutes.”
 
“For what?” Mulder asked, confused. “Is he coming to help us pack?


Scully stared at him with her patented ‘Mulder-you’re-crazy’ expression,
seasoned with the irritation that came with being hot, cranky and dirty. “Why
would Skinner help us pack?” she asked slowly.
 
Mulder shrugged. “I was hoping,” he said. “So, what does he want?”
 
“He refused to say,” Scully said crisply.
 
Mulder nodded. “You think he wants us to investigate something weird.”
 
“What else would he want, Mulder?” She got up off the bed abruptly and
stomped into the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.” The door slammed behind
her, and the message was as clear as if she’d said, ‘Mulder, stay out.’
 
“I’m not going to do it, Scully,” he said loudly. He listened for a few
seconds, hearing her actions in the small room become less pointed.
 
“You don’t even know what he wants yet,” she said back in a loud voice.
Her tone was not as sharp as it had been.
 
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m not doing it.”
 
The door opened a crack, and he heard her sigh before she spoke. “Don’t make
promises you can’t keep, Mulder.”
 
“Maguire has already called twice to try to talk me into getting up to
Baltimore early,” Mulder said. “How am I supposed to help Skinner with
anything?”
 
The shower was running, and he heard her step into it. “Let’s just listen to
what he has to say, OK?”
 
He shook his head in exasperation at her contrary nature. “I’m not doing
it,” he muttered crankily. “No fucking way.”
 
~*~
 
“You’re just telling us this now? When you’ve know for weeks that he was
missing?” Mulder could hear the edge of hysteria beneath the rage in the
quivering of his voice, but he was too far gone to stop it.
 
As Skinner’s explanation had haltingly been relayed to them, Scully had sunk
down onto the couch. She was curled around herself, rocking slightly.
 
Mulder had seen his mother assume that exact same posture years ago,  had
watched helplessly as her eyes turned inward and she closed herself off from the
world. Her suicide years later had simply been a coda to that day, that action.
He had never wanted that life to be his.
 
“I didn’t have confirmation, Mulder,” Skinner said. His voice had a
pleading edge to it.
 
“You suspected this when you took us to the airport in March!” Mulder
yelled. Skinner shook his head, but Mulder’s voice rose over whatever
clarification he might have made. “You knew something that day,” he accused.
“Don’t lie to me!”
 
“All I knew was that his mother’s cancer had returned,” Skinner said, and
this time it was his voice that rose over Mulder’s. “One of the ways that I
kept tabs on him was that he was enrolled,” Skinner sketched quotes in the
air, “in an asthma study. A detailed questionnaire about his and his
family’s health and circumstances was sent twice a year.”
 
Scully looked up at Skinner in surprise.
 
He shrugged, and continued in a quieter voice. “That way, if there were any
changes in his health status, I’d get some information on it directly.”
 
Mulder was not appeased. “So, she answered the questionnaire in March and you
decided not to tell us about her cancer!”
 
“Not exactly,” Skinner said. “The questionnaire was due in January.”
Mulder threw up his hands in frustration. “They’ve been late before,
Mulder!” Skinner said loudly. “And it takes time for the questionnaire to
get to me through all the dummy PO boxes. When it got to the point that I got
worried, I had the call placed to remind them.”
 
“The call?” Mulder said, suspiciously, thinking of Skinner's first visit to
their house. “Who called and how? And when, exactly, was this in January?”
 
“The call didn’t take place until the middle of March,” Skinner said
firmly. “And I had Monica Reyes make it.”
 
“Oh my God,” Mulder began, but Skinner interrupted him.
 
“She called a number from a clean satellite phone that I purchased just for
the purpose, and destroyed immediately after,” Skinner said. “I dialed the
number. When we made the call, I was officially on vacation. She was on a case
in Kansas.”
 
Mulder stared at Skinner.
 
“She has never asked who she was calling or why. We have not discussed it.”
Skinner was unequivocal. “She had a script, and she followed it. Her
experience as an interrogator allowed her to tease more information out of the
subject.”
 
“William’s adoptive mother, you mean?” Mulder said bitterly.
 
“Yes,” Skinner said tersely. “She told Monica that they’d be unable to
participate in the home visit this year because of her cancer treatment
schedule.”
 
“Home visit?” Mulder asked.
 
“Yes,” Skinner said. “Once a year, someone goes to the house and vacuums
samples, etc., to make it look legitimate. This also gives us the opportunity to
look at William ourselves.”
 
Scully’s mouth hung open as she looked at Skinner. “Who?”
 
Skinner hesitated. “I usually send an operative that worked with the Gunmen,
and has largely taken over their operation. She’s designated others.”
 
Now it was Mulder’s mouth that was hanging open. “Yves?” he asked
disbelievingly. “You’ve sent an assassin to check on our child?”
 
“She owed me,” Skinner said tersely.
 
“I can’t fucking,” Mulder began. “This is a nightmare.” He paused to
take control of himself and focus. “So, she was being treated at a local
cancer center,” Mulder said. “And you decided not to tell us.”
 
“You were on your way out of the country for your first vacation in years,”
Skinner said curtly. “We were monitoring the situation. I knew that I’d be
getting an update in May. I decided to wait.”
 
“I cannot believe that you didn’t tell us what was going on! This is our
son!” Mulder shouted.
 
“Mulder,” Skinner said. “I firmly believed that I’d be coming to you
today to tell you that they’d hit a bump in the road, but that everything was
going to be all right. It wasn’t until Gary went to camp on the farm and found
it deserted that we found out about William’s father’s fatal heart
attack-“
 
“In March,” Mulder asked.
 
“It happened while you were gone, yes,” Skinner confirmed. “But I did not
know <I>that</I> before you went away.”
 
“And why didn’t you tell us when you found out?!” Mulder yelled. “And
who is Gary?”
 
“I’ve only known for two weeks,” Skinner said defensively. “Gary and I
served together in Vietnam. He’d camp on their farm when he went out there for
motorcycle rallies.”
 
“I don’t even fucking believe what I’m hearing,” Mulder said. “That
was a security plan? A guy who goes camping on their land?”
 
“Twice a year, Mulder,” Skinner said. “Every Memorial Day weekend since
William was one year old and then again in the fall. And not only did Gary and I
serve together in Vietnam, but he continued on, in Special Ops.” Skinner
paused significantly. “Over the years, he’d run into a few of your boogie
men, Mulder. He never asked why I wanted him to go to Wyoming, but he was a good
set of eyes and ears for unfriendlies.”
 
“Fine,” Mulder ground out. “Tell me what he found.”
 
“He found the house quiet,” Skinner said. “The fields were only partially
planted, and what had been cultivated was dead. He went to the nearest town and
because he’d been coming there for years, the restaurant owner was willing to
tell him that Van De Kamp had died.”
 
Scully roused herself to ask a question. “What happened?”
 
Skinner sighed. “They’d gone to Cheyenne so that she could be treated for
her cancer. He’d drive her in, and then come back and work in the fields, then
drive back and get her four days later. Then he’d do it again two days
later.”
 
She nodded.
 
“The hand he had working for him said that he was exhausted, that he’d stay
up all night taking care of his wife, and then work in the fields. He’d
brought her and the boy home late on a Friday and went out to the barn to close
it up for the night.” Skinner paused, and his voice dropped to a whisper.
“When Van De Kamp didn’t come into the house in the usual amount of time
…” he hesitated. “The hand said that William went out to the barn …”
 
Scully made an anguished noise.
 
Mulder glared at Skinner, whose eyes had dropped to his shoes.
 
“By the time the ambulance got out there,” Skinner began, then shook his
head. “After the funeral, William and his adoptive mother returned to Cheyenne
to continue her treatment.” He looked up at Mulder. “By the time we got this
information, she’d already been discharged. We were told that she’d been
advised to go to a larger, more state-of-the-art cancer center.”
 
“How did you get this information?” Mulder asked suspiciously.
 
“Agent Doggett took some vacation,” Skinner said quietly.
 
Mulder swore out loud. “Perfect!” he said. “You do you realize that
everything you’ve done eould have led them right to our son, if they don’t
have him already?”
 
Scully moaned a little at his words.
 
“This is my fault,” Mulder said bitterly. “I should have fucking known
better. I should have fucking known that the only reason that I was allowed to
regain my legal status was because they no longer had any use for me, and
whatever’s left of what they did to me. They knew that they could get
William.”
 
“I don’t think that’s true, Mulder,” Skinner said heatedly. “I called
you – no one else suggested it!”
 
“Oh, really,” Mulder said. “How do you fucking know that your nanites
didn’t suggest the idea to you in your sleep one night? My God!” He turned
around and kicked one of the boxes hard, caving in the side. “They could’ve
had him for months now, for all you know. And even if they didn’t know that he
was missing, they certainly do now. I cannot believe that you used FBI
sources!”
 
“Agent Doggett would not betray you,” Skinner said through gritted teeth.
 
“Not willingly, no,” Mulder said. “But that’s not even the point, sir,
and you fucking know it. This is my son, not yours. It wasn’t your decision to
make. And this is not just about the last two weeks -- you should have told us
what was going on with him months ago!”
 
“I’m sorry,” Skinner said.
 
Mulder knew that Skinner was sincere, but right now he couldn’t bring himself
to give a fuck. Skinner’s apology was not answered with any form of
forgiveness.
 
“We need to see exactly what you’ve done,” Scully’s voice was a whisper,
but hearing it again after such a long silence made Skinner jump.
 
Skinner pointed to the file on the coffee table. “It’s all right there,”
he answered. “Agent Doggett wanted to come with me,” he said. “He wants
you to know that he’s available anytime you want to talk to him, day or
night.”
 
“That’s fine,” Scully said. Her voice was absent any kind of affect. She
picked up the file on the coffee table as if it were a bomb needing to be
diffused. When she flipped it open, pictures of William were visible. He heard
her indrawn breath and couldn’t resist going over to look at their son.
 
Mulder should have been more surprised, but mostly what he felt was a sinking in
his gut. It was all real, and it always had been. Smiling up at him, in what was
clearly a school picture, was the boy from his dreams. He was sure that when he
read the file, he'd find that William's father had died shortly before the dream
he'd had on vacation.
 
“That’s from last year,” Skinner said gruffly.
 
When the tears that Scully had been silently crying began to fall on the photo,
Skinner turned to leave their house.
 
“Walter,” Mulder said, his tone still harsh with anger. “I want everything
that was given to you for safekeeping.”
 
Scully sobbed a little on the couch.
 
Skinner’s shoulders tensed, and then dropped. He turned away from the door.
“It’s in a safety deposit box, encased in lead,” he said quietly. “The
Gunmen set it up before they died.”
 
“That’s fine,” Mulder gritted out. “But I’ll be taking custody of it
from now on. I should have taken custody of it, and of everything else that was
mine, long ago.”
 
Skinner’s jaw was set in anger, and he turned to Scully. “Have you had
symptoms?” Skinner was addressing Scully, but she didn’t look up at him. Her
finger was tracing William’s features, as she shook her head.
 
“No,” she said softly. Her voice had a distant quality to it.
“Everything’s been fine since it was removed.”
 
Mulder closed his eyes at the horror that the idea of her words conjured up in
him. He would never forget the almost paralyzing sense of fear he’d felt when
she’d calmly told him that she’d removed the chip at the end of her second
trimester when it had malfunctioned.
 
Shortly after he'd been buried in North Carolina, timing too coincidental for
him to ignore, the site of the chip had become infected, and proved resistant to
antibiotics. The ante had been upped when Scully had had three incidents of lost
time that had terrified both her and the Gunmen. She’d removed the chip,
intending it to be temporary until the infection cleared up. But when she’d
reinserted the chip, she'd suffered repeated petit mal seizures until it had
been removed for good 24 hours later.
 
In his heart of hearts, Mulder had never believed that the chip had
malfunctioned. Instead, he believed that when their child had become viable,
Scully had become expendable. They’d been clearing the decks, trying to make
it easy for William to be taken.
 
Luckily, it had all had gone wrong for them. Mulder’d been resurrected without
being turned. And for whatever reason –- exposure to the African ship or
Jeremiah Smith, even her pregnancy with William itself -- Scully’s cancer had
not returned. They existed, as she’d rightly observed, in spite of everything
that had been done to kill them.
 
When Scully said nothing further to refute Mulder’s words, Skinner turned back
to him and nodded curtly. It was Scully who’d made Skinner promise that if she
died, that he'd ensure William's safety. At the time, with Mulder dead, she’d
had no one else on whom to depend. When push had come to shove in that
desperate, hopeless year that they'd been apart, she'd activated what she'd
hoped was a failsafe for William's safety. With Mulder's precarious legal
status, there'd been no point in changing those arrangements.
 
Obviously, Mulder thought bitterly, that had been a mistake. “Truesdale will
contact you,” he said aloud. With William missing, and possibly in their
clutches, he had to assume that he and Scully were now both expendable. Other
contingencies for William's safety would have to be activated. “Who besides
Doggett knows?”
 
“He listed all of his contacts in the file,” Skinner said grimly. “Mulder
–“
 
“We’ll be in touch,” Mulder said shortly. He opened the door to the porch.
 
Skinner looked back at Scully, but she did not raise her eyes from the photo of
their son.
 
“I’m sorry,” he said one more time, directing his words at Scully. 
 
She nodded, and Skinner turned to go.
 
Mulder closed the door behind Skinner and crossed the room to his office to call
David and activate every resource that he had available to find William.
Scully’s soft voice stopped him as he crossed the threshold.
 
“It’s not Skinner’s fault, Mulder,” she said quietly. Her voice was
practically a whisper. “It’s mine.”
 
He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand across his face at her words. He had no
answer for her, could not give her the absolution that she wanted, even though
he believed that he himself was really to blame. Instead, he said, “I’ve got
to call David,” and left the room.
 
~*~

CHAPTER FOUR

They had all the cement poured into the foundation molding and were
laying out the first section of two by fours to be put together for
the framing.  Krycek was showing them how to do it when someone let
out a shout.  "Hey!  The soldiers that went to New Mexico are back and
there's a lot more of them!"

Martinez, Andrews, and Miller, soldiers from their group came into
camp with ten bedraggled Special Ops men they had found in the hills
above Santa Fe.

They all sat down and ate a hearty meal while Andrews described the
events of the last several days.  It took them three days to make it
down to New Mexico and another three to connect with the ops men.
They had been on a survival training mission north of the base when it
all happened.  They had headed back towards the base when they heard
the explosions and saw the fires in town.  When they saw what was
going on with the aliens lining up group after group of soldiers and
setting them on fire, they backed tracked into the hills and waited.
There were ten of them between the ages of twenty three and twenty seven.

The trip back to the valley took five days.  They had a hard time
finding bikes for everyone and had to take turns running and riding
for the first two days.  They were all pleased and relieved to find a
place of safety and were shocked to hear what was actually going on.
No one could get their minds around the fact that there actually were
aliens and they had been caught in a sneak attack and scores of people
were being killed.

"The quickest way to take down any big nation is to wipe out its
communication system."  Krycek said.  "The government has been told
this for years that communications was the vital key and that a more
advanced system should be worked out but they'd rather spend the money
on studying the sex lives of African sea turtles than developing a
more secure communications system."

"So nothing is working?  Nothing at all?" One of the Special Ops men
asked.

"I don't know.  We haven't tried anything and we're not going to.  I
destroyed all our cell phones and forbidden anyone to touch a phone
while we're in town.  It would be the easiest thing in the world for a
transmission to be traced and bring them right to our door step."

"So how do you communicate among yourselves?" An SO man asked.

"We yell a lot or we send a runner."  Krycek answered.

"And you haven't been in contact with anyone else; this group is all
people who were on that plane?"

"That's right.  You're the first we've seen."

"Well, what are your plans?  Are you just going to sit here and wait
it out?"

"That's what I vote for!"  Harry piped up.

"We thought maybe you could help us find our families?"  One of the
ball players said.

The SO men looked quizzically at Krycek.

"We need to do something but we don't know what."  Krycek answered.
"We know they are hauling people off in trucks.  We've seen that but
we don't know where they're taking them or if they are even still
alive.  What we need is information.  Where these people are being
taken, if there is any possibility of getting any of them out, if
there is some main list somewhere where with the names of the people
being held and if there is anything at all that can kill these beings."

"That would certainly be good to know.  All right men," the head SO
man said, looking around at his men finishing up their meals.  "What
do you say we give these nice folks a hand and see if we can come up
with the information they need?"  They all nodded in agreement,
anxious to finally be doing something positive even though this was
nothing that they had been training for.

"What are you thinking?"  Krycek asked.

"I'm thinking we'll head out tomorrow morning.  We've picked up some
road maps along the way and we'll break up into five two-man teams and
fan out over the country side and see what information we can come up
with.  It's going to take quite a while with just bikes for
transportation but we'll get as much of the information as we can for
you.  Oh, and if we find any stragglers along the way, do you want us
to send them back here or leave them on their own?"

"Send them here," A chorus of voices said.

Krycek nodded in agreement.  "Yes, send them here, but we've got to
have some way of knowing that you sent them before we'll let them in.
  If these aliens are smart enough to carry off this invasion, they
will be smart enough to figure out how to disguise themselves as
humans if they decide they want to track us down.

"You mean a pass word or something?"  The head SO asked.

"Yes, but it has to be something they would never think of."  Krycek said.

"How about 'open sesame'?" Harry offered.

"Too obvious."  Several said.

"I know."  One of the ball players said. "A word that means nothing to
anyone.  How about 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'?"

"That's not a word!"  Krycek grinned.

"Oh yes it is!  It's from Mary Poppins."  One of the women said.  No
one would ever think of that, it's perfect."

"My God, supercalifrala�.  I can't even say it.  If I get caught
outside, I won't be let back in."  Krycek laughed.

"It's easy.  It's part of a song."  A few of them began singing the
song.  "Once you learn the song, you get the rhyming words down and
you won't forget it.  In fact its one of those songs that once you
hear it you can't get it out of your head for days!"

"Ok, this is your show -- whatever word you want to go with.  Just
make sure you confirm your final decision with me before you leave."

"Don't worry, Krycek.  I'll teach you the song."  Harry piped up.  We
wouldn't want to keep you out of the valley.  At least not until you
get that building of yours up."

The next morning the SO men were fitted out with the best bikes, spare
tires, a bike repair kit, and food and water for several days.  They
already had binoculars, knives and some survival gear.  As they were
leaving the leader asked Krycek, "Is there any limitations on who we
bring or send back if we find anyone?  I mean, age, physical
condition, etc.?"

"No.  We'll be here for anyone who needs us. Just make sure you teach
them that stupid little song you decided on. We're in the process of
building some barracks and we'll build as many as we need.  We are in
need of a few special types though so if you do get to bring someone
out, we're in desperate need of a doctor.  We have two nurses but we
could really use a doctor.  And a plumber, and electrician, anyone
with construction experience, farmers, cooks.  Anyone who knows
anything at all about solar power or how to build and set up a
windmill or a water powered generator.  Anyone you think might help us
establish a working settlement here."

"It looks pretty damn good to me already and you've only been here a
few weeks."

"We have made a lot of progress but we need to make a lot more before
winter comes."

"OK.  We're off.  I don't know what we can come up with but we'll give
it our best shot."

"Listen, if you get caught, tell your men not to struggle.  Put your
hands down at your sides and keep your eyes down.  Don't argue or give
them any reason to do anything other than take you prisoner.  One
angry word or belligerent move and they burn you.  There is no talking
with them, no reasoning with them.  You give them any trouble at all
and you're ashes.  You can always work on an escape plan later."

"I hear ya.  Thanks.  I'll tell my men."

"Good luck to you then."  Krycek said and held out his hand.  The SO
man took it for a minute then turned and left.

Krycek and his team geared up for the thirty mile bike ride in for
construction supplies.  Five of the women went with them riding with
their bikes in the back of the wagon.
This time they loaded the wagon with plywood and cartons of screws,
bolts, nails etc

The women asked for and were granted permission to search for more
clothing.  They also thought of the men and brought back large packs
of T-Shirts, underwear, and socks as well as sweat suits in all sizes
for the men as well as more clothes for themselves and the other two
women who stayed behind. All this they loaded in their back packs then
set about loading groceries in their bikes.

They found a small family style restaurant in town and in the back
found large containers of coffee, flour, sugar, salt and some spices
and herbs that Bobby had asked them to look for.  They got baking
powder and soda, dried yeast packets, and plastic jars of peanut
butter and jelly.  More produce was also found but their bikes were
full so they went back and found the wagon loaded and waiting for them
and told them about the produce.  Krycek agreed they should get it
while they could and took the wagon over to the restaurant and loaded
several huge bags on top of their load then they headed back.

The women were becoming more accustomed to carrying the load of the
back packs and the weight of the bicycles so the trip back, though
long, went very well.  All five women agreed they would be willing to
do it again the next day -- getting to ride over in the wagon made all
the difference in the world for them.  The men had the strength and
stamina for such a long ride but it was very hard on the women.

The weather was perfect for the ride, the low sixties, and when they
returned they were all of good spirits and after dinner were ready to
tackle the framing.  Krycek had set it up so that it was all done in
sections.  The fifty foot sides were done in five ten-foot sections.
The front and back were done in three sections, a three-foot section
for the door, and two eleven foot sections for either side of the door.

These sections had been all laid out on the ground beside where each
was going to go
and the two by fours bolted together.  Holes had been drilled in the
bottom two by four that corresponded with the bolts sticking up out of
the concrete foundation.

It was time now to stand up this house of cards.  Everyone was at
hand.  Several had two by fours and were instructed to stand by and
when a section was stood up into place, they were to wedge the two by
fours against them to help hold them in position until they were
bolted to another section.  They started on the front left hand side
with two teams � one on the side section and one on the front section.
  A ten foot four by four had been bolted in an upright position at
each corner.

Three soldiers and two ball players were on each team.  When the word
was given they took the section at the top and walking under it as
they lifted it, slowly raised it into an upright position.  Now came
the lifting.  They did it one corner at a time, half of them lifting
the other half of them steadying it.  Others jammed two by fours
underneath and helped lever the section up onto the foundation; the
imbedded bolts sliding nicely into the holes drilled for them.  The
other end was done the same way and the braces were hammered into
place.  The same was done with both sections.

Ladders were brought in and men scurried up them and bolted the top of
the sections to the main four by four while others put washers and
nuts on the bolts that protruded from the cement, through the bottom
two by four of the sections.  In no time they had one corner standing.
  A round of excited applause went up but Harry scoffed.

"First wind comes along it's all going to come down.  What you're
building there is a death trap."

"Harry, why don't you go play cards somewhere."  Someone said.

"Ok.  Krycek told the group.  You see how easy that was?  Now let's do
the other front corner then we can work our way to the back."

One of the women sidled up to Krycek and said in a low voice.  "It
does look really unsteady, Alex.  Do you think it will be safe?"

"Sure it will, Holly.  Once we get all the sections connected.  Each
one will give the others more strength.  You'll see."

"Well I trust your judgment." she said and went back and got another
two by four from the stack to be ready for the next bracing.  The rest
of the sections went up easily.  The only ones that they had
difficulty with were the final two pieces, the doorways.  They had
been made a little too big and had to be taken apart and trimmed down
a few inches each in order to get them into place.  This was finished
up by lamp light well after dark and half of the teams had already
quit and gone to bed.

By the time Krycek crawled into his tent, he was too tired to even
open his sleeping bag and slept on top of it.  The entire framing all
around the sides had been completed and he was very proud of what they
had accomplished.  He also worried about what the next day would
bring.  The next day they would be making no supply runs.  It was time
to start with the roof sections.  They had been lucky to find them
already assembled in the lumber yard.  It would just be a matter of
lifting them up into place, one by one and securing them finally with
the large two by twelve header boards.  Krycek shuddered a bit at the
thought of the job ahead of them but they had gotten this far.  He
would see to it that the job got done � with that his last thought, he
passed out.

They all ate a hearty breakfast the next morning and were more than a
little subdued thinking about the job ahead of them.  Putting up a
roof!  Could amateurs really do that?  They were about to find out.

Krycek explained to them that while it appeared daunting it was really
quite easy.  The roof sections weren't all that heavy, just huge and
awkward to handle requiring at least four men.  Two could lift and
carry one easily as they already knew; carrying the twenty five foot
sections over the pass.  It was the climbing the ladders with them and
securing them that made this part difficult.

Ropes were tied to the top for people on either side helped keep the
piece upright.  Once they made it to the top of the ladders they would
set the large piece of A-shaped framing down on the bolts that were
waiting on the top two by four header boards that had been secured all
around the top and then it would be bolted down.

Someone with a level will tell the rope holders when the section was
perfectly vertical and the ropes would be secured to the side frame.
Two by fours were placed on either side to brace it temporarily.  The
second section went up and was secured and sixteen inch spacers were
nailed between them on either side at the base and half way up the A
frame. This firmed the first section up considerably.

Section after section went up until all were in place and they stopped
for lunch.  All of them amazed at what they had accomplished.

After lunch it was time for the header board � that was a fifty two
foot long set of two by twelves that were bolted together in sections
so it would be easier to handle as they were extremely heavy.  There
was a long deep slot in the top of each roof section for the insertion
of the header board and it took most of the afternoon getting these
raised up, inserted into place, and bolted down.  By four o'clock they
were finished and stood staring at the framed building in awe.

"We did it!  I can't believe it," one of the women said.

"It's really not all that complex," Alex said.  "Just a lot of hard
work and with as many as we have on the job, it makes it all go a lot
faster."

"It reminds me of a set of dinosaur bones I saw in a museum once."
Harry said.

"I'm surprised they let you in a museum, Harry."  Someone said.

"I'm surprised they let him out."  Someone countered and they all laughed.

"Ok.  Next step is all these little gadgets."  Krycek said and dropped
several boxes of galvanized metal pieces in their midst.

"What's this?"  Someone asked picking up a couple of the bent pieces.

"Storm ties."  Krycek answered.  He carried one over and showed them
how the bent piece fit over two pieces that had been joined.  He took
the power screw driver and a hand full of screws and secured it to the
structure � four screws on either side.  "We need these on every
joint, inside and out."

"Now you're talking!  This is something that I can do!"  One of the
women grabbed up a screwdriver and a handful of ties and started.
Others followed and the structure was covered with the metal ties,
inside and out.  They stopped only for a quick dinner then got back to
it.  They finished at dusk.

"Can we take these braces and ropes down now?"  Someone asked.

"Not yet.  Let's get the plywood up tomorrow first.  That will secure
the building for good.  No sense in taking any chances."  Krycek answered.

"Well there's secure and then again there's secure."  Harry scoffed
and shook his head.

"You'll see when the first storm hits, Harry.  You really think your
tent will protect you from, say ten feet of snow?"

Harry's face went pale.  "You really think we'll get that much snow in
here?"

"I know it's hard to think about snow when it's June but yes, we could
easily get that much snow or more."  Krycek said.

"Your little tent would be covered completely, Harry."  Someone said.

"At least we wouldn't have to listen to his bitching any more."
Someone else said.

"Hey, I helped too.  I carried stuff over here, I carried water; I did
lots of stuff.  I got as much right as the rest of you to a place
inside that building."  Harry said and stomped off to his tent.

The others laughed and someone said, "Hey, did you notice?  He's now
calling it a 'building' instead of a death trap."

"Yeah, I noticed.  I guess he thought we were just going to stand
pieces of plywood up against each other and call it a building."
Krycek said.

"This is going to be wonderful!"  Holly said, walking the expanse of
the building.  So much room in here.  We should build another one so
you men can have one too."  She joked.

"Now just a minute here!" the men demanded.

"Maybe she thought this place was just for the women."  Krycek said.

"The women and Harry.  He's got a right to a place in there too."
Someone said and they all laughed.

The worst was over with now and the rest of it would be a piece of
cake.  The next morning he instructed them on how to start putting up
the plywood and he took off with a team for more supplies.

In town he loaded up with tar paper, shingles, and boxes and boxes of
caulking while the others raided the grocery stores for more food.
His load was just about complete when the two farmers came galloping
up on horseback.

"Hey, you found some more horses."  Krycek greeted them.

"We found another wagon too.  It's out front with two more horses.
There's a chicken coop over the other side of town in the back of one
of those houses.  We thought we'd take some chicken wire and wood and
make up something to carry them in.  We can collect them on our next run."

"That sounds great.  Fresh eggs again.  The gang will love that.
Bring the wagon in here and we'll grab some more supplies."

"Actually, it's already pretty much loaded."  Randy the older brother
said.  "We filled it with some seed for winter oats for the horses and
a bunch of seed potatoes and tomato plants."

"Good idea."  Krycek allowed.  "We need to think about the animals as
well.  Have you got room for the chicken wire and wood?  I think we
can put some more on here if we need to.  We can get the rest of this
stuff that we need tomorrow.  If you have any extra room at all, you
can throw some groceries in."

"Yeah, we've still got room.  We also found a couple more cans of
gasoline we loaded up too."

"Great.  We need all we can get for the generator."


The next day they stayed in camp and worked on two different projects.
  Finishing up the plywood, and mixing up cement for the floor.  They
sectioned off the floor area with one by fours on edge and filled them
up one at a time.  By evening, they had the floor poured, and the
entire structure covered with plywood.

It was really beginning to look like a building now and they ate their
dinner and talked excitedly about furniture.  Krycek assured them they
would have no room for anything other than bunk beds right now and
possibly some shelves between them.  Everyone was more than happy with
that.

"Where do you plan on getting that many bunks?" Someone asked.

"We're going to build them."  Krycek said as he sipped his coffee.

"Build them?"  Someone questioned.

"If we can build a building, bunk beds should be easy."  Someone else
said.

"There's nothing to them really.  The lumber yard has a ton of four by
fours in eight foot sections.  All we need to do is cut grooves in
four of them and insert pieces of plywood.  Nail in a few braces to
keep the plywood in place and walla � you have bunk beds."  Krycek said.

"And what about mattresses?  Are we going to have to make those too?"
  Someone asked.

"Naw.  There should be plenty of them around.  Just like everything
else, we'll make a run into town and get what we can find.  We'll try
the closest town first and see what we can come up with in the homes
around there.  Then we'll hit the larger town for the rest if we have
to.  We may end up having to some of us sleep on air mattresses.  I
saw some of those at the general store.  We may also have to bring in
some larger mattresses and cut them down.  We'll just have to wait and
see what we can come up with.  But don't worry.  Sooner or later
everyone will have a mattress."

"What about a way to heat the place.  Has anybody thought about that?"
  Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry.  It's in the plans."

"Well, I'd like to hear about it.  You going to put a fire pit in the
middle of the building or something?"  Harry again.

"I was thinking more along the lines of wood burning stoves.  You
know, those old pot-bellied things they used to have in the movies?"

"Where in the hell do you plan on coming up with one of those; you
gonna order it from Sears?"  Harry again.

"There are some in the store room over at the lumber yard.  There's
also a couple of real nice wood-burning cooking stoves there.  All
still in their crates."

"Cooking stoves!" Bobby and two of the women gushed.  "Real cooking
stoves?"

"Uh huh.  The picture on the side of the crates looked real nice.
They're big; eight burners each and they each have two ovens."  Krycek
knew his surprise would have that response.

"Why don't we bring them over here now?  Oh what I could do with a
real stove!"  Bobby pleaded.

"They're cast iron, Bobby.  First rain and they'll rust up.  I think
it's best if we just leave them where they are until we get the
building up.  It will also be a heck of a lot easier bringing them
through the tunnel than trying to carry them over the pass."  Krycek
said.  "Here, take a look at this."  He took out a diagram he had made
in his note book. Everyone gathered around to take a look.  "There are
twenty five of us so we'll need thirteen bunk beds to start out with.
  We line them all along one wall.  Ladies, we'll curtain your area off
once we get to it.  Here at the front end, we can set up a temporary
kitchen and set our tables up along this other side.  We can curtain
off places in the front and back and bring the port-a-potties in."  A
shout of 'Hooray' went up by all.  "I figured we'd place four pot
bellies right down the middle of the room."  He pointed to tiny
circles he had drawn on his diagram.

"Who's going to have to go out in the snow and gather up all the fire
wood?  Me, I suppose!"  Harry again.

"Harry, if we're lucky, we have about three months before first snow
most likely.  I suggest you get started and bring in all you can find
now before it gets too cold."  Krycek said.

"There's a lot of it out there but most of it is too heavy for me to
carry."  Harry said.

"Ok, you locate what you can, and someone will come out with the chain
saw and cut it into smaller pieces."

"That'll work."  Harry agreed.  "Thanks."

"We can build some racks to hold the wood," the farmers offered.

"That will be great, Randy.

On and on the planning went.  On and on the trips into town went.
They occasionally saw trucks and laid low in the bushes until they
passed.  It didn't take long to work out the schedule.  The aliens
were patrolling the two towns, once a week.

They were in town one time when their guard came tearing in with the
news that a truck was coming.  They pulled their wagon into the lumber
yard out of sight of the road and they all hid their bikes and stayed
out of sight, trembling in fear as the truck rolled through.  Two men
per truck, a driver and a spotter who just looked around as they drove
through.  They didn't even stop; they just drove up and down the
streets and then went on their way.  Once this schedule was
determined, they never went into either town on those days of the
week, the day before or the day after.

Aluminum siding was brought in and installed then came insulation for
the walls and ceiling which was stapled up between the two by fours
after everything was sealed with caulk, then paneling was installed
over everything.  The metal framework was installed for the ceiling
and the white panels were put in place.  The two doors were a stubborn
challenge but they managed to get them installed along with the small
rectangular windows that were placed high along each side wall.  Two
larger windows were installed in either side of the doors.  A leveling
resin mixture was poured over the floor and filled in all the cracks
between sections as well as smoothed the rough surface of the
concrete.  They had to wait three days for it to set.

There was just one more thing to do before he would consider the
building finished and that was to hang the US flag from the
over-hanging beam in front and with a bucket of paint in one hand and
a brush in the other, Alex painted a big number one above the doorway.
  Everyone yelled and cheered and they recited the National Anthem.  It
was a very solemn moment and it affected them all deeply.

The night they finished, they celebrated with Coke Cola, cooled in the
stream.  They raised their cans high in salute and sang songs and
stayed up late.  Everyone was congratulating each other and for a time
they had Krycek up on their shoulders carrying him around.  They
bombarded him with requests for new projects to tackle.  The cooks
wanted the stoves brought in first, the women wanted the mattresses
brought in first and he disappointed them all by insisting that they
bring the plywood and four by fours in first and get started on the
bunk beds.  He reminded them that at any time people could start
showing up there singing that stupid song and they would need places
to sleep more and more people.

The next morning the two wagons and nineteen bike riders set out for
the thirty mile trip, the women and their bikes riding in the back of
the wagons, bikes in one wagon and the women in the other.

Both wagons were filled to capacity with plywood and four by fours.
The bikes were loaded with groceries and their back packs loaded with
more clothing.

Krycek explained in detail how to put the beds together and they went
together simply enough and in one day they had their bunks all made
and several extras in hopes of new comers needing them.

The next day's trip they went to the closest town and started on their
mattress hunt.  Almost every house had twin beds in at least one bed
room; some had them in two or even three.  They had come back with
thirty mattresses. When they got back, they found that those who
stayed behind had already started moving their things onto bunks.
Lanterns had been hung all along the center of the room. The back of
the room had been set up for the women.  Two bunks on each side of the
room facing each other and the port-a-potties had been brought in.
Charlene and Deborah who had remained in camp, were busy trying to
secure shower curtains between their area and the men's.

Krycek was very pleased with the results but told the women he had
brought back canvas tarps they could use to curtain off their area,
reminding them that shower curtains could easily been seen through.  A
rope was strung across the ceiling and laced through the grommet holes
at the edge of each tarp giving them plenty of privacy when they were
pulled closed.  They could come up with a way to fasten it shut
themselves.

They were enjoying moving into their building when Parks and his team
came in, covered with dirt and announced that they had broken through
the tunnel!  It was all now just a matter of carrying the remaining
dirt out of the way and shoring up the last section and it would be
ready for use.  It was decided that no trip into town would be made
the next day; instead they would concentrate on the tunnel.

As fast as the dirt was cleared away, the ceiling and sides of the
tunnel were shored up with a double layer of heavy duty beams and
thick plywood.  Cement would be added later on for even more
stability.  The dirt and debris had made a nice sloping ramp from the
mine entrance to the floor of the valley and they were busy tamping it
down when someone said.  "Did you hear that?  It sounds like singing."

They all quieted and listened.  "�if you say it loud enough, you'll
always sound precocious,  SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPICALIDOCIOUS."

"Someone's here!"  They all ran from the mine and saw heads popping up
over the pass, two men, two women and four children, ranging from ages
nine to twelve.

  They all waved and yelled welcome and hugged them as they made their
way down.  Some of the group scurried over the pass and brought back
their bicycles. They explained that the two families had been away
camping when everything happened.  They had met one of the Special Ops
team and given the password and instructions on how to get there.

Everyone went back to camp and cleaned up.  The new comers were amazed
by the building and had been told there was nothing but tents here.
They had brought tents and what supplies they could carry and Krycek
noticed that each of them had plastic waste baskets secured over their
back fenders.  They told him the Special Ops team recommended the
bikes and showed them how it was done.  All of their bikes had
sleeping bags secured to the back of the seats.  They had made a good
job of it.

Bobby had made a hearty meal of spam stew and every one ate with great
pleasure.

"We haven't had a hot meal in days.  We have a little stove but we
were too afraid to use it.  We didn't want any cooking odors to carry
in the wind to any of those monsters." One of the women said.


"Oh, I almost forgot.  We were told to give you this."  One of the men
said and handed Krycek several pages torn out of a small notebook.
The first page was a letter from the Special Ops man explaining that
they had found these two families in the woods east of Salt Lake City.
  He said they were ex-Marines but maybe we could forgive them for
that.  He said SL City was in ruins but he found an Army base near
there that the aliens had taken over and hundreds of people were being
held there.  They had managed to sneak in and copy a list of names
with ages and occupations.  There were none with the occupations
listed that they had asked for.  They said the fence was wired for
electricity but it was easy to get in and out of with a simple by pass
system.  He said further that he was heading on to California as their
families were both there, one in San Francisco and one in LA.  If they
found their families, they would head back to the valley with them, if
not they would continue on and they would gather names from any other
internment camps they found.

The next several pages were covered front and back with names and
occupations.

"Good, good!  This is exactly what we need!"  Krycek said and read the
letter to the others.  They all chuckled at the ex-Marine joke and
even the soldiers assured them that there was nothing to worry about
as long as they didn't get into any football games.  He scanned the
list of names closely and there were none that could be of immediate
use to them.  They were mostly, business men, housewives, students and
teachers.

After dinner and a lively getting-to-know-one-another discussion, they
made their way to the bunk house as a light drizzle started.  The new
comers were given bunks.  The women and two little girls' were set up
in the women's area as two more bunk beds were moved in behind the
curtain for them. The men and boys stayed up front with the other men.

"Look, Mommie, beds.  Real beds to sleep on!"  The little girls were
excited, the women overcome with relief were wiping away tears.

The rain out side started in earnest then and one of the little girls
said, "Mommie, I gotta go!"

"Oh, honey, it's pouring!  Can't you wait a few minutes and see if it
stops?"

"Over here," Marcia said and showed them the port-a-potty behind the
shower curtain.

"Oh, a little toilet!  Look Mommie, a little toilet!"  The little girl
exclaimed.  "Can I use it, please?"

"Certainly sweetie.  Help yourself."


The two mommies hugged the women then and couldn't hold the tears in
any longer.  They talked for hours about how frightened they all were
and what an ordeal it had been riding their bikes so far.

CHAPTER SIX

Walter Skinner trudged along the trail among the thirty or forty
others.  They had been walking for days now.  He hoped they would
arrive at their destination soon and that there would be some thing
there for them to eat when they got there.  The man next to him
stumbled and Walter caught his arm, steadying him.  They couldn't
delay the line or they would taste the guard's whip.  The line kept
moving.

The movement was slow but steady � accompanied by guards on horseback
who were armed with two things, a whip and the short cylindrical tube
that shot bursts of flame.  Both were used along the way.  He had seen
no road signs but guessed them to be somewhere in the mid west; he had
no idea where they were headed or what would happen once they got
there.  Their captors were totally uncommunicative and spoke to them
only to bark orders at them.  He hoped their destination was just over
this set of steep hills they were traversing.  They couldn't go on
much longer.  This hill was the steepest they had climbed, the pathway
narrow and treacherous.  His mind concentrated on silly things like
was this really a hill or was it a mountain?  And how high did a hill
have to get before it was declared a mountain.  It had seemed like a
hill going up but now that they were about to climb down, he thought
of it more as a mountain.  This side had a sheer drop off to great
boulders below.  A slip here would be fatal.

Around one bend and then another and they were able to see the bottom
and two trucks waiting for them below.  The guards urged them on with
a crack of their whips.  The light rain that had been falling decided
to open up on them now making the trail down hill even more difficult.

There was a scuffle up ahead and the unmistakable wail as someone
stumbled and went over the side to their death.  The line marched on.
  The man in front of him slipped, Walter grabbed for him but caught
only a handful of shirt.  The sudden jerking movement sent them both
over the side, the man's shirt tearing away as he fell out of sight.
Walter managed to grab onto a small sapling and hang on about ten feet
down the side.  He tried to regain a foot hold and his right leg
screamed in protest; it was broken.

The line above stopped and several stood peering over the side at him.
  In moments a human chain was formed by the four strong men risking
the lash, they brought him back up.  The two guards watched in
fascination.  Apparently they had never seen a rescue before.  With a
man on each side of him, Walter was brought to his feet.  He hopped
between them and the line once again continued on through the rain.
The trail widened and it was much easier going down slope.  Away from
the great drop off the men breathed a lot easier and the sight of the
trucks waiting for them below urged them onward.

They were all ready to drop by the time they climbed into the back of
the trucks.  The trip into town took hours, with exhaustion and pain
warring for dominance, Walter sank into a fitful sleep.  It wasn't
until the trucks hit the pavement and the ride smoothed out that he
awoke, startled to find they were in a large city.  The streets were
deserted, shops closed, abandoned; some burned.  The eeriest thing was
the total lack of population.  He couldn't help but wonder what
happened to the citizens of this town.  He tried to catch a name or
something that he might recognize but there was nothing but street
after street of abandoned buildings, cars parked askew in every
direction, some with the doors still opened and several that had been
burned out.  The silence got to him too.  Not a sound could be heard
besides the drone of the trucks.  They drove passed block after block
of sky scrapers, here and there an open window with some papers
fluttering out into the street.  Some windows were broken; some still
stood proudly displaying their wares for sale.

The rain slowed down to a fine mist and he caught a wisp of an odor.
He sniffed trying to identify it and decided it smelled like a river.
  They were leaving the abandoned down town area and were now into the
warehouse district.  The waterfront?  Could this be Chicago?  St.
Louis?  Had they traveled that far?  The trucks pulled around back of
a warehouse and the huge metal door was pulled back.  They were
escorted inside where a crowd of a hundred or more people were milling
around.  They were carefully watched with guards stationed around the
perimeter of the room.  The group was murmuring quietly among
themselves and looking over the new arrivals.  They were all searching
for someone they knew; a friendly face to share their terror with.

After a few minutes the order was given for them to line up, single
file.  An alien at the front of the line asked for ID.  He was shown
it and pointed to a door and the first man went through it.  Walter
listened carefully to what was being said.  The alien would take the
ID, read the person's name, ask his occupation, and then point to a
door.  One man's ID was read as Assistant District Attorney.  He was
sent through the door on the left.  A salesman, a plumber, a baker,
and a teacher were all sent through the door on the right.  Then came
a private investigator.  He was sent through the same door as the ADA.
  The next three were postmen.  The alien did not understand the term
'postman' but he understood when they said they were government
employees.  They went through the door on the left.  A carpenter, a
singer, a librarian, a cook, and a nurse all went to the door on the
right.  Two sailors went to the left.

Walter got a sinking feeling as he stood there being held up by the
man next to him.  He eased his wallet out of his back pocket and
dropped it down the side of his leg.  He waited until he was sure no
one was looking and bent down to rub his injured leg then slid the
wallet as far back into the stacks of crates as he could without
drawing any attention to himself.

When the alien stopped in front of him and said "I D", he shook his
head and said he had lost his wallet in the fall.  There was some
murmuring between the alien and the guards who had brought him in and
then the alien asked.  "Name?  Occupation?"

"Walter Skinner, carpenter," he answered.  He was pointed towards the
right hand door.  He started hopping.  The next man was a taxi driver
and was also pointed to the right hand door and he gave Skinner a
hand.  Soon the door was closed behind them and he saw they were being
loaded up into trucks.  As the trucks filled up they pulled away but
before they were out of sight, he got a whiff and sight he hadn't seen
since Nam.  Bodies burned, still smoldering and being shoved into a
large pit behind the warehouse.  He knew then where the men went who
got sent through the door on the left.

Fifteen minutes later they were unloaded into another warehouse.  This
was obviously a temporary holding place where they were sent before
being shipped out to a camp.  The room was filled with large shelves
stacked four or five high and half of them had men lying in them that
were in as bad or worse condition than they were.  The first request
was for food but there was none to be had.  A fifty five gallon drum
of oily looking water stood near by, this was the drinking water for
them all.

Walter sat first gazing around at all the men, hoping to see one
familiar face but they were all strangers to him.  He lay back down on
the wooden shelf with a groan, lifting his injured leg carefully.  He
stretched out and his tortured muscles spasmed in pain.  He spent a
few moments listening to the mutters and groans around him then
settled into a pain filled sleep.  He awoke a short time later to
hearing someone coughing near by.

He lay there thinking about his situation.  It was spring again so
that made it two years since it all began and a full year since he had
been taken prisoner.  He was lucky to still be alive, lucky that he
had been taking a short vacation in his cabin when it all happened.
He had heard some panicky messages about aliens and an invasion on the
radio just before everything was cut off.  Within minutes he found out
there was no electricity, no radio, cell phone or computer service; no
communication devices at all that worked.  He had started into town
but found the road clogged with cars and people running, screaming
down the highway.  He backed his SUV back up his long driveway, got
out, and took to the woods.  He still couldn't believe he'd been
careless enough to get caught.  He had been sticking to the smaller
towns and raiding abandoned farm houses or stores for food.  He had
occasionally come across other stragglers but they were all headed to
the big cities and he wanted no part of them.  That seemed to be where
the largest concentration of aliens resided.  The smaller towns were
patrolled but only by a few aliens at a time and so far he had managed
to skirt around them.

He had been sitting on the floor of a small grocery store that he had
been to several times before and saw no one at all in town.  He was
eating a can of peaches when they walked in on him.  He knew better
than to struggle or argue with them, he had seen more than a few men
try that and they were immediately set ablaze.  So he followed them
out to their truck and became a prisoner.

They had apparently decided to set up some kind of command center
there and the little town was now filled with aliens.  He tried
desperately to hear what they were planning but all he could ever make
out was a bit of mumbling among them.

He had waited patiently for a chance to escape but no opportunity
presented itself.  He would have to be very careful before making any
moves.


Now here it was a year later.  The Army base where he was being held
had filled to over flowing capacity so they had taken this group out
and sent them to a larger base.  The only problem was there was no
truck to transport them so they were walked.  Six guards on horseback
had accompanied them.  Skinner had thought he might try an escape but
the guards were too close and too eager to use their little flame
throwers.  So he had marched quietly like the others.

He tried for sleep again and managed to find a half way comfortable
position for his leg.  This was not good.  He would be laid up for
weeks before he could travel on that leg.  He hoped he would survive
that long.  He tore the sleeve off his flannel shirt and wrapped it
tightly around his injured leg and hoped that it would help.  The bone
didn't seem to be out of place but he had heard as well as felt it
snap and had no doubt that it was broken.

He had just managed to doze off when he felt a tug on his arm and
heard his name whispered.

"Skinner, Skinner wake up.  We've got to get you out of here."

"Huh?"  He turned towards the voice and in the darkness could just
make out the features of Alex Krycek.  "Krycek?  They got you too?"

"No.  I'm free.  And I'm going to get you out of here.  Come on."
Krycek tugged Skinner into a sitting position.

"I can't.  My leg is broken."  Skinner took a quick scan of the room
and everyone else was still asleep.

"Shit!  OK, we'll deal with it.  Come on.  Use me for a crutch."
Krycek pulled him to his feet.

"Krycek, there's no way I can make it on this leg.  And there is no
place to go anyway."

"Yes you can, and yes there is.  I've got a place.  It's safe, there's
plenty of fresh water and food."

"In your dreams, Krycek.  There's no place like that left on earth."
Skinner clung to the wooden shelf for support, reluctant to lean on
Krycek.

"Yes there is and I'm taking you there.  Now come on."  He refused to
take no for an answer and got an arm around Skinner's back and hauled
him towards the back.

"You'll get us both killed.  I'm not anxious to meet the business end
of one of their little flame throwers."  Skinner stalled.

"Most of them are asleep right now and the few on guard are busy
eating.  We can make it if you just come on."  Krycek insisted.

At the back window they hesitated and Skinner could see there was no
guard in sight.  "Are you sure about this?"

"I am.  They are all around front eating.  Come on."  Krycek eased the
window open, sat on the sill and slipped outside.  "Sit," he ordered
and Skinner managed to sit down on the sill and slip both legs
outside.  Krycek got an arm around him again and hurried them off
towards another group of buildings across the way.

"This is crazy, Krycek.  We'll never make it.  You can't haul me all
the way out of here."

"I've been thinking about that and I think the sewer is the best route."

"The sewer?"  Skinner wrinkled up his face in disgust.

"Uh huh.  There's an access three buildings over that way but that's
pretty close to where they are all sleeping.  There's another down at
the end of this block and over one.  It's a lot farther but it's not
patrolled as heavily.  I think that's our best chance."

"And once we get into the sewer, where do we go then?  The air and
water is bad enough up here, I can't see living for any length of time
in a sewer."

"The sewer is our new super highway.  They don't seem to know about it
or care about it.  No one has ever seen any of them investigating the
sewer system."

"There are others?  Free, I mean?"

"Sure there are � a lot. But most of them want to stay in the cities,
try and hook up with friends or family.  Big mistake.  Sooner or later
they all get caught."

"So this place of yours isn't in the city?"

"No.  It's a long way from here but I have transportation once we're
out of the city.  Come on now, walk."

They made their way passed building after building, sneaking across
alleyways and onto the next building until they came to the end of the
block.

"We're about half a block away now and it's all outside from here on.
  We'll stay close to the buildings and should be able to make it
without getting caught."

"OK.  Lead the way."

Krycek helped Skinner to sit and he worked the manhole cover carefully
off and sat on the edge of the hole.  "I'm going to go first to make
sure it's OK.  I'll be right back up to get you."  Then he disappeared
down the ladder into the darkness.  Skinner shivered as he waited.
The pavement was cold beneath him and his leg was throbbing.  He
should have stayed where he was!  This was crazy!  They would never
make it.  Krycek was crazy if he thought he could pull something like
this off.  And even if they did get out, where could they go?  He
didn't believe for a minute that Krycek had some mythical place with
plenty of food and water.  There was no way out of this mess that
Mankind had gotten into.  His mind filled with frightening thoughts
but there was still the spark of a Marine left in him and he hated to
give up with out a fight.

Krycek popped back up and said, "It's clear.  Come on now.  On your
knees and back down into the hole.  I'll be right behind you and guide
your foot onto the rungs.  It's only ten steps down."

Skinner did as he was told and with little difficulty managed to get
his foot onto the first rung.  From there it was a matter of hopping
down one rung at a time while holding on to the rung above with both
hands for support.  Krycek stayed right below him in case he faltered.
  In no time they were at the bottom and the sewer smells assailed him.
He coughed and gagged, then sagged against the damp wall and slid down
to a sitting position.

"I know it stinks but try not to think about it.  I'm going back up to
get something out of that last warehouse we passed.  It shouldn't take
but five or ten minutes tops.  Just wait right here for me, OK?"

"Where would I go?"  Skinner asked sarcastically.

"You got a point.  Oh, here."  He handed Skinner something he could
barely make out what it was in the dim light from Krycek's flashlight.

"What is it?"  Skinner asked before taking it.

"Beef jerky.  I thought you might be hungry."

Skinner grabbed at it with both hands ripped the package opened and
took a huge bite.

"Slowly, Skinner.  Slowly.  There's plenty of food where we're going
so just try and relax.  We have a doctor too and he'll be able to fix
your leg up.  You'll be back on your feet in no time."

"You have a doctor?"

"Uh huh.  We have a whole settlement.  It'll take a couple of days
travel but I'll get you there.  Now just hold that thought until I get
back."

"Why can't we just go?  Why do you have to go back?"

"I saw something that we can use.  If I can get it through that man
hole, it'll make the trip a whole lot easier."

"Is it worth the risk of going back up there?"

"Yeah.  I think it is."  He started back up the ladder then added.
"I'll be right back."

Skinner was left alone again with his thoughts.  Could it really be
possible?  Could they make it out of there?  Was there really a
'settlement' somewhere where they would be free; someplace with food
and water?  It seemed like too much to hope for.  As he finished
chewing the last bite he heard a noise above him.

"It's me."  Krycek called down to him.  "You'd better try and move a
few feet away in case I drop this thing."

Skinner tried to see what he had but couldn't make anything out in the
darkness.  He scooted a few feet away as he heard the metallic banging
against the ladder as something was being forced through the hole and
down the ladder slowly.  It wasn't until Krycek was near the bottom
before Skinner recognized it.  It was a small cart that some machinery
had been sitting on.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"This is your chariot.  We've got several miles of sewer to weave our
way through.  It's slippery and dangerous as it is.  The last thing we
need is for you to fall again and injure yourself further."

Skinner was speechless.  Krycek scurried back up the ladder and hauled
the cover back into place and came back down.

"Ready?"

"Uh huh."  Skinner stood and with Krycek's help managed to climb up on
the cart.

"OK.  We could stay out of the muck by going on the side but that's
slanted and will be a lot more difficult to navigate.  I say we go
right down the middle where it's flat and we'll make better time."

"You're the driver."  Skinner said as they started off.

Krycek pushed and kept up as much speed as he could with the carts
casters rolling easily through the liquid muck.  "If your leg gets to
bothering you and you need to stop, just let me know.  We're
relatively safe down here, as unpleasant as it is, so we can rest
whenever you need to."

"I don't want to stop.  Let's just get out of here as fast as we can."
  Skinner coughed and gagged again.

Krycek picked up the speed and they covered the area quickly.  They
made two stops for Krycek to catch his breath and let Skinner get down
and rest his leg from the bouncing pace then they got back on the run
again.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?  These tunnels all look the
same to me."

"Just keep that light on the side wall where the ladders are.  Holler
when you see a red rag tied to one.  We should be getting pretty close
now."

Another half mile and he saw it.  "Red rag next ladder down," Skinner
announced with relief.

"Thank God!"  Krycek said as he pulled up to it and stopped.  He
breathed heavily for a few moments trying to catch his breath and then
headed up the ladder.

Skinner sat patiently and waited.  Soon he heard the scraping noise of
the manhole cover being slid back and he caught a whiff of fresh air.
  He'd never smelled anything so sweet.  Krycek hurried back down the
ladder.

"Ready?"

"Absolutely!"  Skinner reached eagerly for Krycek's arm and hopped
down off the cart and over to the ladder.  "What's going to be waiting
for us when we get up there?"  He asked before starting up.

"The old city dump.  Beyond that, about half a mile through the woods
and after that ten miles out to our next stop."

"Another ten miles?"

"Climb," Krycek ordered.  "We can discuss geography after we get on
our way."

Rung by rung Skinner hopped up the ladder, pausing at the top for a
brief look around.  It was indeed the center of an old dump.  There
were piles and piles of debris in all directions but no sign of any
guards.  He pulled himself up and sat on the edge.

"Wait here.  I'm going back for the cart."

"Do you think we need it?  We've got to be close to the waterfront.
Maybe we could find a boat?"  Skinner pulled his legs up and moved
over a bit.

"A boat would be nice but it would be easy to spot and they guard the
waterways pretty heavily."  Krycek hurried back down the ladder.

Skinner sat breathing in deeply the night air, relieved to get the
stench of the sewer out of his lungs.  In no time he heard the
clanging of metal against the man hole and Krycek popped out dragging
the cart behind him.  Skinner heaved a disgusted sigh as he climbed
back on top, dreading the thought of a ten mile trip cross country on
the top of that thing.
Krycek sensing his feelings said only, "It's better than walking.
It's about a quarter of a mile to get to the woods and it will be
light soon."  They moved on silently.

The cart rode smoothly enough, its wheels apparently well lubricated
by the muck from below.  They made good time until they got to the
woods.  There the going was a lot rougher.

"I'm sorry," Krycek apologized after hitting one rut after another.

"It's OK."  Skinner said, embarrassed that he had groaned so loudly.

"We need to stop for a while.  I need to rest and we need to get that
leg of yours stabilized."

Skinner didn't object, grateful to be down off that cart for a while.
  "How much farther?" He asked as they both slumped against a near by tree.

"We're almost clear of the woods then it's ten miles due west."
Krycek's chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath.

"What kind of territory?  Flat?"  Skinner asked hopefully.

"More or less.  It is open ground though and it's broad day light now."

"You think there will be patrols out this far?"

"I don't know.  Once I catch my breath, I'll take an hour or so to
scout around and see.  The good thing about being this far out, you
can hear if anything is coming.  They always patrol in those trucks
and you can hear them a long way off."

"That's good."  Skinner made a mental note to keep his ears at the
ready for any sign of engine noise.

"Here."  Krycek reached into his pocket and came out with a small can
of applesauce."

"Applesauce!  I haven't had this in ages.  My mother used to make her
own.  It was great."  Skinner said as he used the small manual can
opener that Krycek tossed him.  "You really have a stash of food
somewhere?"

"Uh huh.  At the ten mile out mark.  I also have an old motorcycle
with a side car.  So once we make this next ten miles, we're on wheels
from then on."

"A motorcycle?  Won't they hear the engine?"

"Not if we stay in the countryside.  They patrol the roads but not the
open country.  I have a map and it has a direct route to where we're
going and it's all through open countryside.  As long as we stick to
the map, we should be all right."

"And exactly where is it we're going?"

"Colorado."

"Colorado?  Why the hell there?  What's in Colorado?"

"Safety � a settlement in a small hidden valley.  It's completely out
of the way of any of the big cities."

"You mean the aliens haven't found it � yet."

"There's no way they can find it.  It's totally hidden.  I'll go into
more details later.  I need to take off now and check for patrols.  I
should be back in about an hour or so.  Why don't you see if you can
sleep a bit.  Oh, here."  Out of another pocket he produced a bottle
of water.

Skinner grabbed it and drank.  Never before had fresh water tasted so
good.  He rested his head against the tree.

"You can finish that bottle if you like.  I have one more bottle left.
  That should get us the next ten miles."

"Yeah, OK.  I won't drink it all though.  It's best to save what we
can.  Make it last."

"Good idea."  Krycek agreed as he stood, brushed the leaves and twigs
from his jeans and started off on a jog.

Skinner stared after him and wondered if he'd ever be able to jog
again.  His leg throbbed so it wouldn't surprise him if the doctor
said he'd lose it.  All the pain it had caused him, he'd almost be
glad to be rid of it.  Before Krycek was out of sight, Skinner had
dozed off.

He was awakened an hour and a half later by Krycek shaking him.
"Skinner, come on.  Wake up.  We've got to get going."

"Huh?  I thought you were going to scout around?"  Skinner came awake
confused.

"I did.  The coast is clear all around.  We need to get moving."

"I guess I dozed off."

"Good.  You needed it. Let me take a look at that leg first."

Krycek felt the area carefully and said.  "I can't feel anything, it's
too swollen.  Let's see if this will help."  He placed two branches
about a foot and a half long each on either side of the leg then
secured them with strips of cloth torn from the shirt sleeve.  "That's
about all I can do for now." He said and helped Skinner to his feet
and over to the metal cart and they were on their way again.

Once out on the flat ground the way was much easier.  Krycek in his
scouting had found an old animal trial and he followed that.  It was
smooth and heading in the right direction so he stayed on that as long
as he could before veering off after a long spell.  They stopped under
some shade trees and rested.

"We've come nearly ten miles haven't we?"  Skinner asked as he took a
sip of water.  Krycek drank thirstily too and answered.

"See those red boulders over there?  That's the half way point.  We're
half way there."

"Another five miles then?"

"Uh huh.  I need to rest first though."  Krycek said and lay flat out
on his back.  His eyes closed and in minutes he was snoring softly.

Skinner tried to rest too but thought he should stay awake and listen
for intruders.  The guards might not be out this way but there could
be other stragglers around and no telling if they would be friendly or
not.

Thirty minutes later Krycek came to with a start and looked quickly at
his watch.  "Good.  I didn't sleep too long.  Are you ready?"

"Yeah.  We might as well get this show on the road."  Skinner said and
secured the cap on his bottle of water and tucked it into his jacket
pocket.  Krycek took one last drink from his bottle and they headed out.

They made good time up until the last mile which was old farm land and
filled with ruts.  There was no smooth way through it so Krycek
decided to skirt the field.  It took about an hour longer but the way
was much easier on both of them.  They stopped at the end of a deep
drainage ditch that had been long dry.

"We're here."  Krycek announced with relief.

"Here?  Between a field and a ditch?  This is your rest stop?

"Yep."  Krycek hopped down in the ditch that was about ten feet deep
and started pulling at the weeds.

"What are you doing?"

Just then a large bundle of tumble weeds came away and Skinner could
see a culvert.

"This is it.  Come on."  Krycek climbed out of the ditch and helped
Skinner down off the cart.  "What did you expect?  A Best Western
Motel?"  He helped Skinner ease down the embankment.

"I didn't know what to expect."  Skinner said as he hopped into the
end of the culvert.  He could see boxes and packs of things stacked up
at the far end.  Krycek brought the cart down into the culvert with
them and pushed it towards the back, then pulled the weeds back into
place, effectively 'closing the door' behind him as he came in, sat
down and lit a small candle.

"It's not much but it's safe."

"I thought you said you had a motorcycle.  I don't see one any where."

"It's at the other end of the culvert.  We can access it through the
other side.  These two pieces of culvert were found here by some of
our men. It seemed an ideal place to hide and rest up.  We have spots
like this all over the country side.  Not all culverts but safe
places, invisible from the outside where we have been stashing food,
water, gasoline, weapons � whatever we might need."

"You have food?  Could we see some of that now?"  Skinner asked,
wetting his dry lips with his tongue.

"Sure."  Krycek dug around and brought out some cans and tossed two to
Skinner, a can of green beans and a can of Spam.  Then pulled out two
more for himself.  He flipped Skinner the can opener and got another
one out for himself.  They ate heartily and Krycek brought out two
fresh bottles of water to finish off their meal.

"Oh, God, that was good.  I always hated this crap," Skinner said
holding up the Spam can and looking at the label.  "I don't think I've
ever tasted anything this good before."

"The words of a starving man."  Krycek said with a soft smile.

"You really have a big food stash somewhere?"

"It's not just a food stash, Skinner.  It's a complete settlement."

"You said that before but what exactly is it?  A bunch of culverts
like this?"

"No, not at all.  It's a beautiful valley.  You'll love it, I promise.
  I know you liked staying in your cabin in the woods; I followed you
there a couple of times.  It's going to be more like that."

"You have actual cabins?"

"Yes, a few that we built for some of the families.  More are being
built every day."

"In this valley?  Who's doing the building?"

"There are over two hundred of us now.  We started out with twenty
five.  We send runners out to the different camps for lists of names
and occupations.  We've gone in and brought out a few people at a time
for the last two years.  We have two doctors, four nurses, a couple of
bakers, several cooks.  We've got construction workers, mechanics,
cowboys, farm hands, miners, a couple of wind mill men, two solar
power men, and about twenty army special ops men among other
miscellaneous military."

"A place that big will be found sooner or later."  Skinner warned.

"Not this place."  Krycek picked up a twig and drew a large oval in
the dirt.  "This valley is several thousand acres.  It's surrounded by
mountains all the way around.  There was a small pass, about sixty
feet wide but we blasted it closed."

"Then how do you get in and out?  Climb the mountain?  You're not
thinking of taking me over one of those mountains are you?  I'd never
make it."

"One of the original twenty five was a geologist.  He said there were
probably mines in the mountains surrounding the valley.  He hunted
until he found one that went about three quarters of the way through
the mountain then we blasted a passage the rest of the way through.
Our miners keep an eye on the mine and it's their job to see to it
that it's safe.  The entrance to the mine is well hidden in the brush
and very difficult to find."

"I see why you needed the miners.  Who were the original twenty five
and how did you all come together?"

"We were on an airplane when the shit hit the fan.  We were about to
land in Denver when we saw the air port was blazing.  The pilot came
back and told us there was an emergency situation and mentioned an
invasion of some sort going on.  He said he was going to fly on to an
alternate landing site.  I used my old Bureau ID to get into the cock
pit and I heard some of the transmissions and I knew what was
happening.  I tried to explain it to the pilot and crew but I don't
think they actually believed me until we got to our alternate airport
and saw it was ablaze too.  He flew on a while and decided he would
land the plane in a corn field."  Krycek cleared his throat and took
another sip of water.  "After we landed, I explained to the passengers
what was happening and they were in a panic and refused to believe.  I
told them I was leaving the plane immediately and suggested they do
the same.  Twenty elected to leave with me and we barely made it into
the woods when the trucks arrived.  We watched as the aliens brought
all the remaining passengers down and loaded them into trucks.  Two
men and a woman got belligerent and were instantly executed in front
of the other terrified passengers.  From then on, they all climbed
obediently into the trucks.  As the trucks were pulling out, four more
jumped out of the back and joined us in the woods."

Skinner shook his head in disgust.  "You can't argue with them.  I've
seen it over and over again.  The least back talk and you go up in
flames."

"Exactly.  We stayed in the woods for a while trying to decide what to
do.  One of the men remembered hiking into the valley a few years
before.  He called it the hidden valley as no one else seems to ever
have been in there.  He described it to us and said it was about
seventy miles away so we started walking.  After about ten miles we
came to a deserted little town.  We spent the first night in a general
store there and loaded up.  The rest of the trip was made on bicycles.
  We had found some in the store and scoured the town until we came up
with enough for us all. We attached small trash containers on either
side of our bikes and filled them with food and water.  We got all who
needed them into jeans and boots and headed out the next morning. The
going was much easier with the bikes and we made it in two and a half
days."

"There was a small town about fifteen miles from the valley where we
stopped.  There were no patrols at all that we could find but the
aliens had been there.  The town was deserted and a few buildings had
been burned, a few cars.  We loaded up on more food, water, fishing
gear, guns and ammunition, camping gear and headed out.  Once we got
there, we found it the ideal place."

"We had six soldiers in our original group and one of them knew where
some Special Ops training was being done in New Mexico.  We sent three
of our soldiers down and they found ten that had survived and were
laying low in the hills.  He brought them back and they were exactly
what we needed."

"The first thing everyone wanted to do was find their families so we
sent our SO men out to see if they could find out where every one was
being taken and to get us a list of names.  Once those started coming
in, we went out and brought out all the friends and relatives we could
find as well as anyone else who might be able to help us.  The work is
still on going.  They are also making maps and bringing back various
other information."

"In the valley, we have put in crops of vegetables, planted some fruit
trees and there's a crystal clear river running right through the
middle that's full of fish and there's game in the woods. We've got
some buildings up now, barracks type structures."

"It does sound great."

"It is.  It's been a lot of hard work and believe it or not, everyone
has pitched in and done their fair share of it.  So far, we haven't
had any trouble within the group.  I'm sure that will happen some day
but right now, everyone is just so glad to be safe and free from the
aliens that they are glad to do whatever it takes to get along."

"Survival is a pretty good carrot to dangle in front of people.  How
long do you think it will take us to get there?"

"A day and a half, maybe two.  It depends on how long you can travel
with that leg."

"I can travel.  You said the motorcycle had a side car?"

"Yeah.  I'm not sure how comfortable it will be."

"I'm not concerned with comfort right now.  I just want to get
someplace safe and have a doctor take a look at this leg.  I've got to
get back on my feet as soon as possible."

"We've got a surgeon and a regular family doctor.  What ever they need
to treat your leg, I'll see that they get.  We make regular forages
out for food, medical supplies and tools, whatever we need."

"That sounds very dangerous."

"It is.  But we know when the different areas are patrolled and we
stay in on those days."

"And you just go out and get whatever you need?"

"Pretty much.  We have brought back an entire medical reference
library for the doctors as well as different tools and equipment."

"And how do you communicate with one another?"

"We do all communications by runner.  We don't use any radios,
walkie-talkies; nothing that could be traced.

"That's smart.  Any transmission could be traced.  And all these
supplies and equipment enters into the valley through the mine?"

"That's right."

"And how stable is that mine?"

"Solid granite mostly.  The last part that we blasted through, which
was about a quarter of a mile, we shored up with extreme care."

They were silent in thought for a while then Skinner asked.  "So how
did you find me?   I wasn't in that camp long enough to get my name on
any list.  And why did you come after me?  I don't have any special
skills."

"Your name was on a list but when I got to the camp you had been
shipped out.  I got into the main office and found out where they had
sent you. And yes you do have skills we need.  You are a born leader.
  People take one look at you and know they can trust you.  We need men
like you.  We are working on laying out a small city and none of us
knows much about that.  We've found an architect but he doesn't know
anything about planning.   Building, he knows, but not planning."

  "What do I know about city planning?"

"As much as the rest of us do, maybe even a little more.  But the main
thing we need is a leader.  Once you're there and they get to know
you, I'm betting you'll become our Mayor."

"Mayor!  I always hated politics."  Skinner scoffed.

"Well don't shine up your top hat too soon.  We have to get you there
first."  Krycek stood up and capped his water bottle.  "You ready to
take a little ride?"

"One more question.  How did you know it was me?  I listed my
occupation as carpenter."

"When I saw your name on one of the lists, Walter Skinner, carpenter,
I knew you had figured out that all government employees were being
executed.  I had seen you building book shelves at your cabin and just
figured it was you."

Skinner got to his feet.  "OK.  Let's ride."

They rode until dark and stopped at another place that had been set up
for a rest stop.  This one was hidden in among a pile of rocks.  There
was a little jog in the pile, just big enough to squeeze the
motorcycle in between so it could work its way back in where there was
an over cropping of rocks.  Krycek parked and helped Skinner out of
the side car.  They were completely out of sight, back in among the
rocks.  Krycek pulled out some cans and opened them and listened as
Skinner coughed and coughed.

"That cough is getting worse," he said as he handed Skinner some
canned vegetables.

"I know.  Does this doctor of yours have any penicillin?  I think I'm
going to need it."

"You running a temperature?"

"Uh huh.  Since about noon.  Chest hurts.  I can feel it filling up."

"We should be there late tomorrow afternoon."

"Good."  Skinner sat the half eaten can down.  "What I really need is
some sleep."  He curled up on his side and dozed off.

Krycek worried half the night but finally managed to sleep.  He was
awakened a short time later by Skinner's racking cough.  It was
bitterly cold and Skinner was shivering.  Krycek eased over next to
him and wrapped his arms around him.  Skinner mumbled something but
Krycek shushed him.  They both dozed off again.

By morning, Skinner was worse.  Krycek tried to get some chicken soup
broth down him but Skinner would have none of it.  A sip or two and
then the coughing would start again.  He was burning up with fever.
Krycek poured the uneaten broth into one of the empty water bottles,
capped it and put it in is pocket.  He would try and get more down
Skinner later on.  It was a struggle but he finally managed to get
Skinner into the side car, get it turned around and started out just
as the first rays of dawn were casting pink shadows on the horizon.

By noon they had stopped three times.  Each time he managed to get
just a swallow or two into Skinner but he didn't take him out of the
side car.  He was in and out of consciousness and there was no way
Krycek could get him back into the side car if he was unconscious.
Krycek ate a quick bite then took his jacket off and wrapped it around
Skinner in an attempt to make him more comfortable. Skinner protested
with a weak, "No, you need that," but was too feeble to resist.  He
checked to make sure Skinner's leg wasn't getting twisted by all the
movement and then they were off.

Krycek set out again at full speed.  He was in more familiar territory
now and comfortable taking the terrain full throttle.

Skinner awoke to darkness, the feeling of movement.  "Krycek!" he
called out in a hoarse whisper.

"Right here, Skinner."  Krycek stopped and bent over, placing his hand
in the middle of Skinner's chest.   "We're in the mine.  We're almost
there.  The entrance to the valley is just a short distance now."

"We're there?  Good.  Can you get the doctor for me?"

"Sure thing.  I've already raised a signal that I'm coming through.
I'll take you straight to the doctor."  There was no answer and a
closer look showed that Skinner had slipped into unconsciousness again.  .

"We need the doctor."  Krycek called to one of the men waiting for
them at the entrance into the valley.

Those were the last words Skinner remembered hearing.  He was not
aware of being lifted onto a stretcher and carried to the waiting
truck, nor of the ride through the corn fields or crossing the stream.
  He didn't see the tiny cafeteria/hospital or the anxious faces as
they reached for him and placed him tenderly in bed.

"What happened to him?"  The doctor asked.

"He fell, broke his leg.  He has a terrible cough too and he's been
running a high temperature the last day and a half."

"Probably pneumonia." the doctor said as he listened to the chest
sounds.  They had a hard time getting his jeans off the swollen leg
and ended up cutting them off.  "Oh, oh, oh." The doctor grimaced.

"What?  You can fix it, can't you?  You've got the stuff, right?"
Krycek asked.

"I can try.  That's all I can promise."

The next few days were touch and go and Alex spent a good deal of his
time sitting beside Skinner's bed talking to him.  He remembered
waking now and again, hearing Krycek's voice and dozing off again.  On
the third day he awoke.

"Krycek?"  His voice creaked weakly.

"Hey, you're awake.  Welcome back to the land of the living.  How are
you feeling?"  He came away from the window and back over to the chair
beside Skinner's bed.

"Weak as a piss ant."  He answered as Krycek held a cup of water and a
straw up for him to sip.  "Thanks," that tiny effort exhausted him.

"Your fever broke last night and Doctor Kim says you're going to be
just fine.  Right now we need to get plenty of fluids into you and
then some nourishing food and you'll be back to your old self in no
time."

"We were in a tunnel," He tried to remember.

"Yes � the mine shaft; the entrance to the valley."

"It's all true then?  Everything you said?  There really is a group
here of free men and you have a doctor?"

"All true.  But it's free men and women.  Right now, the women are few
but we are bringing in more and more. Whenever we see someone any of
us know on a list, we try and bring them in."

"That's how you found me; on a list."

"That's right.  You think you could eat a little something?  Maybe
some broth or some Jello?"

"You actually have Jello?  I haven't seen any of that in two years.
Not since the fall."

"I know.  One of our teams found a warehouse full of the stuff, just a
couple days from here.  Doc Kim keeps close tabs on it though.  You
can only get it through him."

Skinner grunted.  "I used to hate that mushy stuff but whenever I was
hospitalized, they were always shoving it down me."

"Yeah, I know.  I think it's got some great healing powers or
something.  I've had more than my share shoved down my throat too."

Skinner tried to move a little bit and groaned as pain shot through
his leg.  He reached down in a panic, "My leg!"

"It's all right.  It's still there.  Dr. Kim did a little slicing and
dicing and got you all fixed up.  He had to reset it; it wasn't in
place the way it was supposed to be."

Skinner strained to see and Krycek pressed the button to raise the
head of his bed.  "See.  It's still there."

All Skinner could see were the tips of his toes sticking out of some
bandages.  He wiggled them and grimaced at the pain.

"I'm in a hospital?"

"It's our version of a hospital.  On one side it's a cafeteria, on
this side, it's a hospital and the kitchen is in between.

"All in one building?"

"Uh huh.  It all runs off a couple of generators we managed to haul in
here."

"Through the tunnel?"

"Uh huh."

"So you have electricity?  Where do you get the gasoline to run the
generators?"

"We have three sources of power here.  We managed to snag a couple of
solar power experts from a camp in Arizona and with their
instructions, we put up solar panels.  We also have a wind mill man.
We've got several of them up around on the mountain side, generating
power.  And to answer your question about the gasoline, there is
plenty of it still around if you have a pump to get it out of the ground."

"And you do?"

"We do.  We got a couple of guys who were truck drivers for Chevron.
They know all about handling the stuff."

"Don't tell me you have a tanker in here?"

"Not in the valley, no.  We do have one parked in the bushes just
outside.  We keep it well hidden and the drivers keep it filled for us."

"Sounds like quite a set up."

"Well, well.  How's my patient this morning?"  Dr, Kim, a diminutive
Vietnamese who looked barely out of his teens walked into the room
smiling.

Skinner stiffened up, old memories clouding in around him; he said
nothing.  Krycek sensed the problem and commented for him.

"He says he's weak as a piss ant and he needs some food."  Krycek grinned.

"Ah, you're hungry?  Good sign, good sign."  And to Krycek he said, "I
must examine my patient now if you will excuse please."  He nodded
towards the door.

"I'll check back with you later, Walter."  He gave a two finger wave
and left the room.

CHAPTER EIGHT


Walter stood looking out the front window of his barracks as darkness
fell.  Dinner was over with and it was getting too cold to hang around
outside.  Some of the men were playing cards; a few were at the chess
board, others in the back talking.  Some had already taken to their
bunks.  He saw Krycek walking towards the river and cross over the
bridge.  He could barely make out his outline but he was sitting on
some boulders on the opposite side of the river � just sitting there.
  He had seen him do this many times before and always wondered why.
Tonight he decided he'd go and ask him.

He put on his coat and knit cap that the women had knitted for
everybody and went out.  The night was crisp and clear, somewhere in
the thirties, he'd guess.  He could see his breath in front of him and
Alex's as well as he neared him.

"What are you doing out here?"  Alex asked.  "Is everything all right?"

"Uh huh." Walter said as he took a seat on a boulder slightly below
the one Alex was sitting on.   "I've seen you come out here alone
before.  Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to come out and
ask this time."

"Oh.  I like to come out here and think.  I like to sit here and look
back across the river at all we've accomplished in two and a half
years.  It's amazing, considering there was absolutely nothing when we
got here."

"You've done a lot."  Walter agreed, looking back at the lights of
their little community.  "More than anyone would have believed possible."

"I never imagined we could accomplish so much.  I never imagined we'd
have electricity or indoor plumbing.  When we first got here it was
two flat rocks placed over a hole out in the woods.  And believe it or
not, no one complained."

"They didn't?  Not even Harry?"  Walter asked with a chuckle.

"Oh Harry did all right.  We made him do the digging."

"How did you get him to do that?  I'm shocked."

"We gave him a choice.  He could bicycle into town with the rest of us
for supplies or he could dig the latrines."

Walter laughed.  "I'll bet he complained long and loud."

"He probably did but most of the rest of us were gone and didn't have
to listen to it."

"You know, he's not half bad to talk to.  He has lots of interesting
stories to tell, being a Taxi driver in NYC."  Walter said.

"He's not a bad guy.  In fact, I like him a lot.  He's just never had
to do anything in his life before except drive a cab.  He's friendly,
he's interesting and he gets along well with the others.  And he's
gotten much better these last few years.  He helps unload every time
we go in for supplies and he still brings in firewood.  You know,
that's amazing.  In the beginning, he was afraid of the woods.  Now he
takes pride in the fact that he's been all through them gathering wood
in that old supermarket shopping cart we brought in for him to use."

"He plays a good game of cards too," Walter added.  "And he's a good
sport if he looses.  He doesn't seem to really care just as long as he
gets to play."

They were silent for a while then Alex spoke.  "I've been thinking,
maybe we need to make another run into town."

"I thought you said we had plenty of everything.  The store room is
full as well as the freezers."

"I haven't got it all worked out yet, but this is what I've been
thinking."  Alex turned and faced Walter as he spoke.  "The first
Christmas we were here, we were all happy to just be inside a building
and out of the cold.  We had no children here at all and just kind of
let it pass.  Oh we sang a few Christmas Carols but that was about it.
  Last Christmas, we only had a few little girls and the women made
them some rag dolls and stuff.  This Christmas we have nineteen
children here.  I want to do something special for them."

"What do you have in mind, toys?"  Walter asked and tucked his hands
in his jacket pockets against the cold.

"Well, that was my first thought.  I thought I'd just take one truck
in and pile it full of toys.  The more I got to thinking about it, the
more the plan snowballed.  If we took two trucks, we could load up on
some sports equipment for the older kids.  Maybe some foot ball and
baseball gear.  You know there are plenty of nice flat open areas over
here on this side of the river.  We could even put in a basketball court."

"That would be great!  Even the men would love that, most of them anyway."

"And the women too, probably; at least some of them."  Alex was
getting excited about his idea as he told it.  "And if we took the
third truck with us, we could bring back some exercise equipment.
After sitting around all winter, it's always hard to get started again
in the spring."

"That all sounds great but where would you put all the stuff so no one
would see it?"

"I figured the mine.  We could unload the stuff there and leave it
until Christmas Eve."

"That's a good idea.  Were you planning on doing this without anyone
knowing about it?  I could drive one of the trucks but how would you
get them out of the valley without anyone else hearing?"

"With all that loading and unloading, we're going to need some bodies.
  I figured three trucks, three two-man teams.  That's six of us.  With
the trucks now being garaged in the mechanic's hut on this side of the
river, they're out of sight so no one will notice they're gone."

"They'll hear them though when they start up and pull out."  Walter
warned.

"Not if we do it during meal time.  There is always so much commotion
going on in the cafeteria at meal time, not many will be paying any
attention.  I'm thinking we'll pick our team from the soldiers.  They
have stayed in the best physical shape with all their calisthenics
every morning and they all know how to work the doors to the tunnel.
We could sneak the trucks out during the evening meal and the next
morning a few of us could slip out at a time.  I figured we'd get back
in the same way.  Do you think that would work?"

"Sounds good."  Walter agreed.  "It just might work.  What about
taking along a woman or two with us?  Could we manage that without
arousing too much suspicion?  It would be great to have them along and
they could come up with ideas for gifts for the women.  Stuff we'd
never think of."

"There would be room in the trucks for them.  I don't know why we
couldn't slip a few out.  I'm thinking we'd only be gone for the
morning.  We'd leave right after breakfast, an hour there, take maybe
two hours there to load up and an hour back.  We'd be back in plenty
of time for lunch.  We could leave the trucks in the mine and unload
them after dark."

"Then get them back to the garage during the next dinner.  I like it.
  I think it will work."  Walter said.

"I'll speak with Peterson tomorrow and let him pick the teams.  I
think the women should be Marcia and Maddie.  I'll get with them
tomorrow too."  Alex said as he hopped down from the boulder and
brushed his jeans off.

Walter stood up and did the same.  "You really care about all these
people, don't you?"

"I do!  They've become � I don't know, the family that I never had I
guess.  I don't know how we got so lucky but everyone here seems to
like everyone else and is more than willing to do their fair share of
the work.  I actually expected more fights, squabbles among them but
if there have been any, I haven't heard about it."

"They're a good group.  And every time someone new comes in, they seem
to blend right in with no trouble at all."  Walter said then added,
"You've really done a good thing here, Alex.  I'm proud that you asked
me to be a part of it."

"I couldn't stand the thought of you being locked up like some common
criminal, Walter.  I just couldn't stand it.  Within an hour of
finding your name on that list, I was on my motorcycle and out of here."

"I want you to know I appreciate it; I appreciate you and all that
you've done for me as well as all these people."

Alex stared at him for a few moments then said, "You don't hate me any
more then?"

"I didn't hate you, Alex; I hated all the things that you were doing."
Walter said then caught himself.  "That's a lie.  Yes, I hated you.  I
hated you more than I hated anyone I ever knew.  And what I hated most
was that you left the Bureau to join up with the likes of Cancer man."

"I was young and na�ve and stupid, Walter.  He fed me a line about
saving the world and I fell for it hook, line and sinker.  By the time
I realized what the hell was going on, I was in too deep to get out.
I hated everybody then.  I hated Spender for getting me into this
mess, I hated the Bureau for letting that son of a bitch roam freely
around the Hoover.  Shit, Walter, I thought he had some position
there, I saw him there so often.   I hated you most of all because you
never even noticed me, if you did, you looked right through me."

"There's enough blame to go around, Alex.  I guess we all let each
other down.  We all had our reasons.  I did notice you though and that
was a problem in itself and the reason I tried to stay as far away
from you as possible."

"What do you mean?"

"You were exactly what I wanted and what I knew I couldn't have.  I
was still married when you came on board.  You were forbidden fruit to
me."

Alex stared at him unable to speak for a moment.  "I didn't know, God,
I wish I had known!"

"It wouldn't have changed anything.  The Bureau rules were there was
to be no intimate relationships between supervisors and those below them."

"Fuck the rules!"  Alex said.

"I agree.  We can say that now while we're here and there are no rules
to follow.  But at the time �"

That was all he got out.  Alex was in his arms then and warm lips were
pressing against his.  He pulled Alex in closer and kissed back, his
hands holding onto either side of Alex's head, finger tips caressing
cold ears though neither of them felt the cold at that moment.

Just then the night was pierced by a loud scream coming from the
women's barracks.  They broke apart and ran across the bridge and over
to where the crowd had assembled and were coming back out the door
laughing.

"What is it?  What happened?"  Alex asked.

"It's Keesha.  She lost a tooth."  They all left, shaking their heads
as they headed back to their barracks.  Walter and Alex went on inside
and found Keesha being held and rocked gently by her momma while the
other women gathered around and tried to convince the weeping child
that another tooth would soon replace the one she lost.

"Jesus!  Jesus!"  Keesha ran to Alex and flung herself into his arms.
  "My teeth are coming out; I won't be able to eat any more!"

"Oh, honey."  He picked her up and wiped her tears with his finger
tips.  "I remember feeling the same way when I started loosing my teeth."

"You lost all your teeth too?"  She asked in amazement.

"Sweetheart, they don't all come out at once.  Just one or two at a
time and they grow back in bigger and better and stronger than ever.
I promise you, you will be able to eat everything that you do now."

"That's what momma said.  Are you sure?"  She sniffled.

"Positive.  It's all a part of growing up.  It happens to everyone."
Alex assured her and handed her back over to her mother.  "And my name
is Alex; not Jesus!"

The little girl giggled and snuggled back into her mothers comforting
arms.


The two of them walked back towards the men's barracks and stopped in
front of Walter's.  "I'm glad you came out tonight and talked with me.
  I've been hoping that you would."  Alex said.

"I wish I'd known that, I'd have come out sooner."  Walter said as he
stood there with both hands jammed down inside his jacket pockets.

"You know it now.  Will you come out with me again tomorrow?" When he
didn't get an immediate answer he added, "We need to discuss our plans
for our Christmas run."

"I'll come out."  Walter said.

"Good, I'll see you tomorrow then and we'll talk more."  Alex said and
reached out and squeezed Walter's arm and walked on to his barracks.

Walter went inside and got ready for sleep.  He lay in his bunk a good
long while thinking about things.  He liked the idea of the Christmas
surprise and felt like they could pull it off easily enough.  There
was enough activity going on all the time that he thought no one would
notice if a half dozen people or so, left for a few hours.  Lastly he
thought about the kiss.  His tongue ran around his lips and he thought
he could still taste Alex.  He went to sleep a happy man.

The next morning was a buzz of activity.  They all heard the gun shots
but knew they came from within the woods.  They hoped the farmers had
managed to snag one of the elk they had seen signs of.  Thanksgiving
was two days away and now they would have some fresh meat for the
meal.  Several people were pacing around at the edge of the woods,
hoping for good news.  Soon the men came out of the woods and they did
a little victory dance in celebration.  Half a dozen men went back in
with them to carve the meat while the women hurried to the kitchen in
search of cook books and recipes.  The planning for Thanksgiving
dinner had begun in earnest.

After dinner that night, Walter stood by the window and waited until
he saw Alex pass by and head for the bridge.  He waited until Alex was
on the other side of the river before he put his jacket on and headed
out.  A light snow had started to fall but the moon was still bright
and visibility was good as he joined Alex across the river.

"I talked with Peterson and Marcia and they are both excited about the
idea. I also spoke with the three mechanics.  They're all for it."
Alex said.

"Good.  I figured they would be."  Walter said as he sat down beside Alex.

"I think we need to put the plan in action tomorrow.  Move the trucks
into the mine tomorrow at dinner time, and leave the next morning.
Are you Ok with that?"

"Sounds good to me.  Did you get a lot of snow here last winter?"

"We did; about five or six feet deep over at the camp site.  On this
side, it was a lot deeper.

"It's good we're going now then before it starts piling up."  Walter said.

"It is."

"It'll be a chore carrying everything over there without using the
trucks."

"I figured we'd hitch the horses up to the old wagons and have them
haul stuff over.  That should be quiet enough.  We'll have to wait
until everyone else is asleep then we can haul it all over and get it
set up in the cafeteria."  Alex said.

"I think this is going to work out great.  I can't see any flaw in the
plan."  Walter said.

"I hope so." Alex said.  "I want to make this a Christmas they'll
always remember."

"I'm sure they will.  I know I will."  Walter reached for him then and
Alex came into his arms.  They stayed like that for only a few moments
before heading back to the warmth of their barracks.

The next evening went like clockwork.  Alex and Walter had dinner with
the others as usual so no one would suspect anything.  The mechanics
took the trucks and parked them in the mine then hurried on in to
dinner.  People were accustomed to seeing them come in late as they
were usually working on the trucks and didn't want to quit until they
were finished.

The next morning, one or two at a time, they walked across the bridge.
  They slipped into the mine and when they were all there, they left
for town.  It was bitterly cold and a light snow was falling but with
all the activity in camp preparing for the Thanksgiving dinner, or
just staying in out of the cold, no one was missed.

The drive went well as the ground was frozen in most places and easier
to drive on than when it was moist and soft.  They made it into town
and went right to Sears.  They parked around back at the loading dock
and began their loading.  One team went for the exercise equipment as
it was the heaviest and some was put in each of the trucks.  Then they
hit the sports section.  Portable basketball backboards were loaded in
and boxes and boxes of bats, balls, gloves, nets and rackets for
tennis and badminton, every sports items they could find.  Then they
loaded the trucks the rest of the way with toys.

The women were thrilled to death at the shopping spree and had spent
the day before making lists of everything they wanted to get.   Huge
bags of items were carried out and stuffed into the trucks.

"Uh oh.  Here's something we need."  Walter said as they were carrying
a load out through the warehouse.

"What?"  Alex said and came over to where Walter was standing and
looking at a huge box taller than he was.

"A pool table.  What do you think?  Will the trailer carry it or is it
too heavy?"

"Well it comes in five boxes.  The slate is in four separate boxes and
the rest of the table in the other.  Let's get Peterson in here and
see what he thinks."

"See what Peterson thinks about what?"  Peterson said walking up to them.

"A pool table.  Heavier than hell but we still have some room in the
trailers.  You think they would hold it?"

"You haven't seen the trailers after the women came out with their
load and they went back in.  They're not finished yet."

"Isn't most of their stuff in bags?"  Alex asked.

"Uh huh," Peterson answered.

"Well, let's see if we can just cram them in with the other stuff."
Alex suggested.

It took them an extra hour of unloading and reloading but they managed
to get it all in and headed out.  Everyone excited about their little
secret.

Alex and Walter had their own private secret as well.  They met every
night, either in the woods or across the river; sometimes in the
garage, sometimes in the stables.  They varied their meeting
locations.  They never stayed very long, it was too cold but what time
they were alone together, they made good use of.  They wasted not a
minute.

Their first time together was in the stables in the hay.  Half frozen
hands caressed heated bodies while their lips scattered kisses where
ever a bit of skin was available.  They rolled in the hay until their
passion waned and then they lay in each other's arms for a time.

They never talked about the old times, it was as though they had just
met and fallen for each other.  Walter was shocked that at the age of
fifty five, he could be so totally carried away by this new-born
relationship and Alex had never really had time for relationships
before so loving someone and being loved in return was all new to him.
  Together their happiness soared.

They thought their relationship was a private thing that no one knew
about but every one in camp either knew about it or suspected it.
There was no teasing though, no nasty comments.  They respected Alex
and his choice of mates too much.  Everyone simply just let them be.

Thanksgiving dinner was a huge success with roasted Elk and vegetables
from their own fields.  There was fresh baked bread and several
different kinds of pie.

One of the women led them in a Thanksgiving prayer of thanks and each
person in turn said a few words of thanks.  Most were of thanks for
their survival, thanks for getting them out of the camps, thanks for
finding friends and family.  The kids were saying thanks for the pies
and cookies they saw waiting on the desert table.  The families were
giving thanks for being together when so many were less fortunate.
Alex gave thanks for finding new friends as well as old.  Walter gave
thanks for his survival and the expertise of the good doctor Kim who
had managed to save his leg and restore his health.  Bernie gave
thanks for his new set of teeth the dentist had made for him and the
new strings for his banjo. Lauren gave thanks for finding friends and
a home for herself and her girls where she never expected to.  Even
Harry had some nice words to say.  Everyone was moved by the mini
speeches but was just as glad when they were all over with so they
could dive into the food.  They all had so much to be thankful for �
they were alive, they were among friends, and they weren't in a camp
somewhere starving and freezing half to death.  It was a day none of
them would ever forget.

And Christmas was every bit as wonderful and unforgettable.  Those who
were in on the surprise had scurried back and forth into the mine and
managed to gift wrap and tag all the gifts and on Christmas Eve, they
loaded everything up in the wagons and snuck it all over into the
cafeteria.  The room was stacked with gaily wrapped presents
everywhere, around and under the huge Christmas tree they had set up
and decorated in one corner.

They had promised everyone a Christmas morning surprise and warned
that the cafeteria wouldn't be opened until they all showed up at
once.  By 7am they were all huddled at the front door waiting for Alex
to unlock it and let everyone in.  First all the colored lights came
on, then they heard the music.  Christmas carols filled the air as the
doors were opened and every one flooded in.

The children screamed and screamed and jumped around, the women were
all crying and even a few of the men were wiping tears away as
inconspicuously as they could.  Santa (Skinner) greeted everyone with
a great big "Ho, ho, ho and a Merry Christmas to you all!"  He sat in
a chair that had been specially decorated for him and began handing
out gifts to the children, who were beside themselves with excitement.

The day was everything and more than Alex had dreamed it would be � a
cherished memory that he would carry with him always.  Walter made
sure of that later when they slipped out to the stables for some
private time while everyone was celebrating.  They had their own
little celebration.

Walter had snuck blankets and candles out and even a small battery
powered heater.  He strung some left over Christmas decorations around
one of the empty stalls and spread some hay out.  The blanket tossed
across it made a perfect bed.  He made Alex wait until he slipped
inside the stall, turned the heater on and lit the candles then called
him in.

Alex was stunned.  Never had anyone ever done anything like this for
him before.  So as the horses nickered in stalls across the way, with
the smell of hay in their nostrils, and the sounds of celebration from
across the river, they spent their first Christmas night together
wrapped in one another's arms.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Despite his apprehension, Skinner ended up liking the doctor.  He
didn't expect to, but the guy was funny, always cracking a joke and
there was no doubt about the fact that he knew his business.  He joked
off Skinner's initial brusqueness by telling him a story about a
butterfly and a bear.  Skinner sneered but he got the point.  Just
because the bear was a thousand times larger than the butterfly, there
was no need to eat it to prove anything.  There was nothing to prove;
the entire universe could see that the bear was bigger and stronger
than the butterfly.  In the end the bear accepts the butterfly's help
and he was shown a safe path through the woods, away from the hunters.
  He would accept Dr. Kim's help but he wouldn't like him.  By the end
of the week they were fast friends, Skinner was up on his feet with
the walking cast that had been placed on his injured leg, and he was
peeking out the windows watching the goings on in the village.  His
cough was nearly gone; he was eating several small meals a day and
could feel his strength returning.

He had been given crutches, which he detested but it did enable him to
get around.  Once on his feet again, he felt better � a bit of control
in the midst of this uncontrollable situation.  He still had questions
but had no idea where to get the answers.  He liked Dr. Kim, even
though he hadn't wanted to, but he had few answers to the many
questions that plagued Skinner.

Alex visited with him every day and they would sit and talk for hours.
  Skinner asked if there was anyone else in camp that they knew and was
told no.  They talked about Mulder and Scully and wondered and hoped
that they were hidden out somewhere.  They wondered if there were
other settlements like theirs where free people were struggling to
survive.  They discussed their situation and wondered if it was
world-wide or just the U.S. and what the eventual outcome would be.
Alex always gave his standard answer to that.  They couldn't worry
about the future right now.  All they could do was survive and help as
many others as possible to survive as well.  Skinner reluctantly agreed.

One afternoon as they talked Skinner asked, "So why me, Krycek?  Why
did you go all that way just to get me out?  I thought you hated me."

Krycek sat on the stool beside Skinner's bed and shrugged.  "It was
something to do."

Skinner glared at him, not accepting the glib answer.  "You told me
you've been going to the different camps and taking out people who
were needed.  I have nothing to offer to the planning and setting up
of a new community.

"I also said we were taking out family and friends."

"I'm neither of those to you or anyone else here."

"Maybe I just wanted someone here that I knew, someone that I knew I
could rely on."

Skinner stared at him until Krycek was uncomfortable enough to leave.
  None of it made any sense.  He wondered if his mind was still muddled
from his illness.  There was something behind Krycek's traveling half
way across the country to rescue him.  He just couldn't figure out
what it was.  He was too weak to give it much thought and relaxed and
dozed off again.

He paced the floor of the small two bed dispensary and used his bad
leg as much as he could with the crutches.  It was awkward and
uncomfortable but at least he could make it to the bathroom by himself
and no longer had to suffer the indignity of using the bed pan.  He
spent a lot of time looking out the window and watching the small
community go about its business.

After ten days of mostly bed rest, Skinner talked Dr. Kim into
releasing him.  He was given quarters in the one of the men's
barracks.  He enjoyed walking around, greeting the people who were all
friendly and welcomed him warmly.  He was about to check out the
cafeteria when he heard a yell and everyone headed towards the front
of the camp site at the rivers edge and watched three motorcycles
crossing the bridge and heading their way.  It wasn't until they were
closer that you could see each was carrying a passenger.

Two young men in high school letter jackets burst from the group and
ran to them calling out, "Dad!  Dad!"  It was a touching reunion, with
hugs and tears and handshakes.  The three new comers were welcomed
then escorted to the dispensary for Dr. Kim to check out.  One of them
had an arm around each son and wept openly.

Skinner watched until they disappeared into the dispensary and
continued his wandering.
There were six buildings in their little community and he could see
two more were in the process of being erected.  All were the same
style; large rectangular one story buildings, a door on the front and
the back, and small rectangular windows along the top on both sides.
They resembled the old military barracks that Skinner remembered.  He
found out that there were three men's dormitories, one for the women,
one was the combination cafeteria/kitchen/hospital and one was for
storage.  The dormitories had twelve bunk beds along each long wall
with a shelf unit in between for each person's meager possessions.
Each building could accommodate forty eight people.

Everyone seemed to be busy doing things.  Those working on the
buildings were being assisted by smiling chatting others who were
handing them whatever they needed or bringing them drinks.  Some were
unloading lumber from a truck and stacking it, some were busy sanding
long boards, while others were painting the latest building that was
completed.  There was a constant hum of sawing and hammering going on.

Over by the kitchen two men and one woman were sitting outside peeling
huge pots of potatoes and talking and laughing.  They waved at him and
called out their welcomes to him.  He wandered around, enjoying the
freedom, the fresh air, and the thought that he no longer had to hide
out in deserted buildings and scavenge for food for survival.

He found Alex, sitting at a small card table under some trees with
several others; obviously making plans of some sort.

"I see Dr. Kim finally let you go."  Alex greeted him with a smile.
Someone brought a chair for him and Alex introduced him around.  They
were planning their next retrieval for after lunch and making lists of
what was needed.

"You want to go along for the ride?"  Alex asked him.  "It's a small
town, about an hours drive.  We know the schedule the aliens have for
inspecting the small towns around here and they haven't deviated from
that schedule in two years.  They were through this town two days ago.
  So they are no where in the area and there's no chance of them
hearing our trucks.  I can't promise you it's totally safe, once in a
while we do run across other scavengers but they usually take off like
rabbits when they see us.  We haven't seen anyone there in the last
few months."

"Oh yeah, I'd like to go.  What are we going for?"  Walter answered
then asked, excited at the prospect of actually doing something for a
change even though it was just a ride into town.

"This is just a supply run.  We really lucked out with this little
town.  It has a WalMart, a Sears and a Home Depot and we have been
unloading the warehouses.  We're taking three trucks this time.  This
is mainly a maternity run."

"A what?"

"A maternity run.  One of our women is about ready to give birth in a
few weeks.  The other women asked if we could pick up a few things for
her.  I'm ashamed to say that none of us even thought about that."

"Well men never had to think about such things before.  The women just
naturally gathered that stuff up for themselves and men never had to
deal with it."  One of the men at the table offered.

"The women don't go on these trips with you?"  Skinner asked.

"Not lately.  At first they did when our only transportation was
bicycles and then wagons."

"Bicycles?  Wagons?"  Skinner asked.  "You went out scouting for
supplies on bikes or are we talking motorcycles?  What kind of wagons?
  Station wagons?"

"No, it was actual bicycles � twenty five of them.  That's how we got
here originally.  And that's how we went on those first scavenging
trips.  We didn't know how often they patrolled the small towns and we
were afraid to use anything with a motor."

"So you biked thirty miles?  How much could you carry back on a bike?"

"Yeah, we did.  There is another little town about fifteen miles out.
  That's where we biked back and forth the most.  We came up with some
rather ingenious ideas for hauling stuff.  And with ten or fifteen of
us going in at a time we were able to bring back what we needed to get
started.  And the wagons were horse drawn farm wagons we came across.
  They were a great help."

"And I take it this closest town has been emptied by now?"

"Of just about everything useful.  It's still being patrolled every
Tuesday morning at ten A.M. a truck rolls through there and they
glance around.  They don't even get out of the trucks.  We try and
keep every thing on the streets exactly as it was.  We have siphoned
all the gasoline out of the vehicles though, and emptied the town of
all the food.

"They could change up their routine and come on a different day."

"They could, but they haven't in two years.  We are very careful when
we go in.  There are enough of us and we post guards on either end of
town.  We never stay in town longer than necessary to get what we need
and get right back out.  There's no sense in taking any chances."

"That's where you got the motorcycles?"

"That's where I got mine; the one with the sidecar."  Alex grinned as
they looked over at the stand of about a dozen cycles standing nearby.

"The others were picked up here and there on different missions."

"I'd like to hear about some of these missions."

"Our bank president has the records of every mission."  The geologist,
Parks said and motioned to the man across the table from him.

"I'm not a bank president any more, Parks.  I'm just a record keeper now."

"Records are important," Skinner said and they all nodded in agreement.

Just then they were approached by four young men.  "We're ready
whenever you are, Alex."  One of them said.

"Sounds good to me.  I want to drive one of the trucks this time.
I've got a passenger who'll be accompanying me."

"Hey, glad to see you're out of the hospital." The one guy said.  "Did
you get Kim's OK to take him along?  He'll have your head if you take
him without permission."

"This is just a milk run and Kim released him.  What does he expect
Walter to do, just sit around and do nothing?  We're just taking him
for a ride, that's all."

Walter stood with the help of his crutches and they headed towards the
three trucks that were now waiting on the one small dirt road that
meandered through the area.  Alex opened the passenger door of the
lead truck and told the driver to grab a motorcycle as he would be
driving this morning.  He helped Walter into the truck and went around
and climbed in.

They made their way slowly towards the small bridge, then it was
through the fields and along the valley edge until they came to the
tunnel.  Walter watched it all in fascination, his first view of the
area from this vantage point.

The tunnel door had been opened for them and they drove slowly through
the opening.  Lanterns secured to the walls lit their way.

"This place is amazing."  Walter said as they exited into the bright
sunlight into what appeared to be a pile of rocks.  They weaved their
way around the boulders and out into flat countryside.  He could see
men behind them swirling tree branches in the dirt to wipe out the
tire marks.  Soon they were in a rocky area where no tracks were made.

The drive across the fields in the four-wheel drive trucks was
un-eventful.  Walter enjoyed being out and around but he was a bit
un-easy about being in an un-secured area.  The last thing he wanted
was to get stuck back in another detention camp.  A shiver ran through
him at that thought.

"You all right?"  Alex asked.

"Yeah, just a little nervous about getting caught out here."

"We are way out in the middle of nowhere, Walter.  The main roads are
patrolled daily, the side roads are patrolled weekly along with the
small towns.  They were through here two days ago and aren't expected
back this way for another five days.  They have never been seen out in
the open areas and they haven't varied their patterns since we first
started monitoring them."  Alex assured him.

"These trucks make a lot of noise.  What if they're heard?  Won't
someone come and investigate?"

"The closest main road is about thirty miles from the valley in the
opposite direction that we're traveling.  Our motorcyclists are out in
front and will signal if there is any danger."

"I guess I just won't be comfortable until we're back in the valley
again."  Walter sighed.

"You'll be all right.  We usually spend about an hour in town,
sometimes two, and then we'll head back.  Or I can turn this truck
around and take you back now and the others can go on without us if
you're that uncomfortable."

"No, don't do that.  I'm fine; just a little nervous."

Their first stop was Sears where they loaded up on baby items.  They
decided to get two of everything as keep one set in storage for the
next baby to be born.  Alex helped with the loading but Walter mostly
hobbled around and watched.  On push carts from the warehouse area, a
couple of guys brought out large empty cartons that once held large
appliances and they went up and down the baby aisles and filled the
boxes with; formula, diapers, wipes, blankets, clothes, baby food etc.
  Walter watched in awe as the boxes filled up and were hauled out and
loaded in the truck along with the cribs, high chairs, play pens,
swings, bassinets, strollers etc.

The first truck was completely loaded with the baby items, the second
truck had hit the linen department and brought out boxes and filled
them with towels, sheets, blankets, and pillows.  The third truck was
loading up over at Home Depot, bringing in more lumber.

Walter was leaning against the side of the truck waiting for the
others to finish loading when something caught his eye � movement in
the building across the street.  It was a fast food place with nothing
of any possible value.  He counted heads and realized that none of
their group was over there.

He turned back to Alex and said quietly, "We're being watched."

"Down on the corner?  It's one of our guys."

"Building across the street.  I saw the blinds open with two fingers
then close again.  Someone's in there."

Alex took a deep breath.  "Ok.  We pretty much know it's not aliens or
we'd be ashes in the street by now.  It must be a straggler.  You stay
here and watch the front.  I'll circle around back."

Walter nodded in agreement and tried to act casual as he stood there,
his heart pounding like it was in a five mile foot race.  He watched
Alex speak to one of the guys and they went back into Sears and out of
sight.  The other men kept on loading.

He heard the scuffle and then three of them walked out of the front
door of the fast food place, Krycek, his buddy and in between them was
a scruffy, bedraggled old man, protesting every step of the way.
"Leave me alone!  I don't have to do what you say.  There ain't no law
no more!"

They walked him across the street and stopped next to the trucks.  "I
didn't take all that much!" he was protesting.  "Not like you boys.
You been taking stuff by truck loads!"

"You've seen us before?"  Alex asked him.

"Sure I have; every time you come into town."

"Why didn't you ever contact us?  You could have gone back with us,
where it's safe."

"It's safe enough right here.  They come through here the same day
every week.  Me and Millie just get ourselves down in the cellar and
sit it out until we're sure they're gone.  You folks, I never know
what day you're going to show up."

"Is Millie your wife?"  Walter asked.

"No, no.  That was Alice.  She was a real good woman too.  She took
sick first winter after those heathens came.  There weren't no
electricity no more.  I tried to keep her warm but she just got sicker
and sicker.  I think she was scared sick.  She just didn't want to get
up outta that bed no more.  Everyone was gone.  We'd a been gone too
if we hadn't a been down in the basement stacking up the peaches Alice
had just canned.  We heard the commotion and peeked out the basement
window and saw what was happening.  It was awful; just awful."  He
choked up and couldn't go on for a minute.  "When we seen what was
happening, them invaders or whoever they are, burning people in the
street, we hid in the closet under the cellar stairs.  They come in
the house and even come down in the cellar but they didn't find us.
We was too smart for them!"  He pulled a filthy rag out of his back
pocket and wiped at his nose.  "We searched the town but wasn't no
body left.  We kept figuring somebody would come, maybe the Army or
something, but no body never did.  My Alice and me, we was married for
forty three years, never spent a night apart and then she was gone.
Just like that.  I put her in the ground myself, out back by the rose
bushes.  She always loved those rose bushes."

"So who is Millie, someone else that outsmarted them?"  Alex asked.

"Come on over to my house and you can meet her.  It's just two blocks
over that way."

"You men finish up here and I'll meet you over at Home Depot."  Krycek
said and he loaded the old man in the truck along with Skinner and
they headed out, the old man pointing out the way.

They stopped in front of a dilapidated old house, with a four-foot
chain link around it and they all got out.

"You think maybe you should stay in the truck?"  Krycek asked Skinner
quietly.

"Nah.  I can't see that there'd be any trouble here."

"Come on in.  It's kinda messy but I wasn't exactly expecting
company."  The old man produced a ring of keys out of his pockets and
unlocked the gate first and then the front door.  They walked in and
were greeted by a very fat, very pregnant little black and white dog
that got up from her place on the couch and went into spastic wiggles
as they all entered.

"Folks, meet Millie.  She's my buddy, aren't you old girl."  He lifted
the dog carefully into his arms and nuzzled her.

"Millie's a dog."  Krycek said to Skinner with an indulgent grin.

"So I see."

"I figured you got some place some where around here.  I seen you come
in for supplies.  I seen you back when you come in on those bikes;
before you got yourselves them trucks."

"Why didn't you ever come out and talk to us?"  Krycek asked.

"I was doing all right, right here."  They glanced around and saw
stacks and stacks of food filling almost every square inch of floor
and leaving just a pathway to get through from one room to another.

"Why not come back with us?  We've got a nice settlement going over in
a valley not far from here.  We've got it fixed up real nice.  We've
got a couple of doctors and a lot of real nice people."

"I figured you been doing some building.  You near cleaned out the
lumber yard."

"There's plenty of room.  We've got a whole little community going."

"Welllll, " he drug the word out.  "I didn't figure you'd want no old
drunk over there.  You got women and all.  I ain't much good company
any more.  Not since Alice left.
'Sides, I'd hate to leave Millie.  She needs me."

"You could bring Millie along.  We don't have a single dog in our
community.  We've got horses and chickens but no dogs."  Krycek said.

"I could bring Millie?"  His face brightened, showing gaps where he
was missing teeth.

"Sure!  We've got some kids and they would love it when the puppies
come.  They don't have a whole lot to do and having some puppies in
the community would really brighten things up for them."

"How long has it been since you had a drink?"  Skinner asked him.  He
was curious as he smelled no alcohol on the man.

"About a year.  I drunk up everything I could find after Alice passed.
  Them was hard times, here all alone.  I figured I'd just drink until
I died and I drank and drank and drank untill I passed out but I
always woke up afterwards.  I got really sick of the stuff.  Got tired
of throwing up, so I quit.  I ain't touched a drop in about a year."

"Well I don't see any reason why you should stay here alone when we've
got this great little community."  Krycek said.

"So what would I have to do?  I mean, I'm too old to do any building
and never did learn how to ride a bike.  Or would I be a prisoner or
something?"

"No, no; of course not.  You could do whatever you were comfortable
with doing.  There are so many things that need doing."  Krycek
faltered as he searched for ideas.

"You like to fish?"  Skinner asked after seeing a photo of the old man
on the mantle in fishing gear and holding up a big trout.

"I love it but I ain't done any in years."

"We have a river running through our valley and it's just filled with
tasty trout!"  Krycek added.

"No kidding?  I used to have a place where I went and always caught me
some big brownies.  I'd bring 'em home and Alice would fry them up for
dinner."

"Well, that settles it then.  You're coming back with us.  You can
bring Millie here, and you can fish till your hearts content.  I don't
suppose you play cards?"  Krycek asked.

"I used to.  But Alice always got on to me about it.  She didn't like
my friends coming over and filling the house up with noise.  She liked
the quiet."

"Well, we've got a couple of Gin Rummy players always looking for a
game."

The old man grinned his gap-toothed grin.  "Can I take my stuff?"

"What stuff would that be?"  Krycek asked.

"Just a few clothes, my photo album here, and my beer stein my uncle
brought me back from Germany during the big war and my banjo."

"You play a banjo?  That's great!  You'll be the first musician in our
group! Get your stuff together and we'll throw them in the back of the
truck."

"And you're sure it's all right to take a dog?  Cause I won't go
without Millie."

"Positive!"  Krycek said and the dog was shoved into his arms while
the old man hurried around and got his things together.

He stuffed everything into an old suitcase and tied it shut with a
piece of rope.  He took Millie back into his arms and told Krycek,
"We'd better grab some of this dog food too.  I got the special
expensive kind for Millie cause she needs it right now and I stocked
up on canned milk and puppy chow for the pups."

One of their other trucks pulled up behind theirs and called out that
they came to see what was taking so long.  They had room in their
truck and hauled out bag after bag of dog food, and puppy chow.

The old man sat with Millie on his lap, in between Krycek and Skinner
as they pulled up to the Home Depot where their third truck was being
loaded.

"You know there's someone else in town too."  He said matter-of-factly.

"There is?  Who?  We haven't seen anyone but you."

"Oh I haven't seen her either but I know there's a woman here.  She's
got a baby too."

"How do you know that if you haven't seen her?"  Skinner asked.

"I've seen her leavings."  He said as if that explained everything.

"Leavings?"  Krycek asked.

"Uh huh.  She's been over there to Sears & Roebuck too.  She left some
bloody kotex and some dirty smelling diapers there.  She's got a baby
all right.  I seen some open baby food jars."

"Jesus!"  Krycek swore.  "A woman out there alone with a baby.  You
think she was just passing through or have you seen other signs?"

"She's still here I think.  I seen them dirty diapers around now for
at least three, four months."

"Shit!"  Krycek cursed again.  "And we just loaded up all the baby
food we could find."

They climbed out of the truck and explained their dilemma to the
others.  They debated whether to try and search for the woman and
decided against it.  It was getting late and they needed to return to
the valley before dark.  They decided they would come back the next
day first thing in the morning and start a search.

They started out and just got back up on the main street when a little
girl darted out in front of them, waving her hands back and forth.
She looked to be about five or six years old, her hair twisted up in
about a dozen little pony tails, her black face shiny with tears.

"Mister, mister.  My Mommie needs help, she's bleeding!  Please help,
Mister."

"No!  No!  Keisha come back here!"  The scream came from an alley and
they turned to see the haggard looking woman holding a baby and
leaning against a fence post, her wiry black hair sticking out in all
directions and eyes red-rimmed from crying.  She was obviously in pain.

Krycek slammed on the brakes and they all got out.

"Please don't take my little girl, she don't know what she's talkin
'bout.  Keisha, you git over here this minute!  Oh Jesus, help me,"
she wailed.

"She's bleeding bad, Mister.  Can you help her?"  She ran to Krycek.
The little girl was clearly terrified but determined to find help for
her sick mommy.

"Come here, sweetheart."  He bent down and she went to him and took
his hand.

"Mommy's real bad sick.  She says Jesus will help us but we waited and
waited and Jesus didn't come.  Are you Jesus?"

"No, Sweetheart.  My name is Alex.  Is yours Keisha?"

The little girl shook her head vigorously.

"Please, please don't take her.  Jesus, help me.  Don't let them take
my little girl."  The mother wailed.

Krycek held the little girl's hand and walked the few steps over to
her mother.
"I have no intention of taking your daughter away from you.  I'm here
to help.  She says you're bleeding?"

"I'm all right.  I be just fine.  You go along now and help somebody
else.  We don't need no help."

Skinner walked over to them, made eye contact with Krycek and looked
to the ground where the woman was standing.  Krycek looked down and
saw the drops of blood darkening the dirt where she stood.

"You're bleeding.  Pretty badly it looks like."  Krycek said.

"Oh it's just a woman thing.  You go on now.  My girls and me, we be
just fine."

"I can't leave you like this.  You need help.  We're here to help.  We
have a place, a safe place with plenty of food and water and doctors
and nurses.  They can help you."

"Ain't nobody can help me."  She wiped her running nose on her
shoulder and pulled her little girl around behind her.

"But Momma, you said Jesus would help us.  He said his name is Alex
but I think he's Jesus."  The little girl stuck her head out from
behind her momma and pointed at Alex.

"Ma'am, I understand that you're frightened.  Everybody's frightened
after what happened.  But, just like you, and that man over there," He
pointed to the old man. "Some of us didn't get caught.  We found a
safe place and we're building a nice community.  We'd like you and
your children to come join us."

"You got any colored people there?"  She sniffed.

"No, but if you come we'll have three.  And there are new people
joining us all the time.  Sooner or later, I'm sure we'll have more."

"So what I'd be doin?  Washin your clothes and warmin your bed?"

"No.  Everyone is free in our community.  You'd be welcome to do
anything you wanted.  There's always lots of work to be done.  But
first you would be seen by our doctor.  He can help whatever's wrong
with you."

"Nobody won't be tryin to do me?"  She asked as she crossed her legs
and held them together tightly.

"Honey, nobody is going to do anything to you that you don't want them
to. You have my word.  Come on.  Let's get you in the truck.  You can
lie down in the back.  That second truck there is full of blankets and
pillows.  It's about an hours drive from here.  We need to get started
so we get there before dark."

"Is this for real?  I ain't gonna hafta be nobody's maid or nothin?"

"Yes, it's for real and no, you won't have to take care of anyone else
but yourself and your two beautiful daughters.  There are other women
in the group.  They will be tickled to death to have another women
join them.  You can stay in their barracks.  It's just for the womem.
  No men allowed.  You and your girls will be given bunks there.
You'll be warm and dry and there's heat when cold weather comes."

"Please, Momma!  Please!  Let's go!  You said Jesus would come for us
and he did!"

"Ok, Ok.  Can you wait just a minute while I get my stuff?"

"Sure, but we need to leave as soon as possible.  It's a long drive
and it's all cross country.  We stay off the roads."

"My stuff's just in the back.  I was lookin' for another place to
stay.  I'll be right back."

"Can I help you carry it?"  Krycek offered and followed her back
behind the building.  They came out a few seconds later, Krycek
pulling a large red suitcase on wheels.

They loaded the woman and her two girls and their suitcase in the back
of the truck and she immediately lay down on the plastic covered
blankets and pillows.  "If you're cold, you can open some of these
up."  Krycek opened one of the blankets and tossed it to her.

The little girl pulled the blanket up over herself and her momma and
flashed Krycek a big smile.  "Thank you, Jesus." she said sweetly.

"Alex!  I told you my name is Alex."  Krycek said.  The little girl
just giggled.

They got underway and Skinner looked over at Krycek and snickered,
"Jesus � Huh!"

They both laughed.  "I've been called a lot of things before but that
was definitely a first."

"Oh fuck!"  The old man sitting between them said.

"What's the matter?"  They both asked him.

"Am I dead?"  He looked from Krycek to Skinner and back to Krycek
again. "If I am, it's Ok.  I mean, you're takin' me to this place
where there's plenty of food and water, where I can fish and play
cards and keep my dog and play my banjo.  If that ain't heaven; what is?"

They roared with laughter.

Skinner was enjoying the first real laugh he had had in two years and
he said to the old man, "Does he look like Jesus to you?"

"I don't know.  What does Jesus supposed to look like?" The old man
asked eyeing Krycek.

"Oh please, not you too!"  Krycek could hardly drive he was laughing
so hard.

"Before Alice left she was talkin' a lot about Jesus.  She said he
would come for her soon and one day he would come for me and take me
to her.  Is my Alice in this community of yours?  Are you takin' me to
her?"

"Look," Skinner got control of himself.  "This is Alex Krycek.  I have
known him for many years and I can assure you, he is not Jesus."

"So the two of you are long time friends then?"

Krycek and Skinner looked at each other and Krycek said, "Not exactly
friends."

"Oh.  Well, hell.  That's Ok with me.  I've always been broad minded
about such things."

When Krycek and Skinner realized what the old man meant, they burst
into laughter again.  The rest of the trip was un-eventful and they
arrived at the mine entrance right at dusk.

They drove through the mine and out into the valley and the doorways
were closed and secured behind them.  The man and woman and two
children were taken directly to the dispensary where they were taken
care of immediately while the women hovered around oohing and aahing
over the children and welcoming the new comers.

Krycek drove Skinner over and stopped in front of his barracks.  "It's
been a long day.  I hope we didn't tire you out too much."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world.  Thank you for taking me
along.  I'm ready to go on another trip any time."

"I figured you'd enjoy the ride.  I didn't figure on so much
excitement though."

"I'm fine.  See you at dinner then � Jesus."  Skinner said as he
hopped down out of the truck.  They both dissolved in laughter again.

He hardly recognized the newcomers when he saw them in the cafeteria
an hour later.  They had been all cleaned up; the old man had his hair
cut and trimmed his beard.  And one of the high chairs had been set up
for the new seven month old baby.

At dinner, after all the debris had been cleared away, Krycek
introduced all the newcomers to the group.  Another farmer, a baker
and the father of two of the boys who turned out to be a plumber, had
come in the morning and the old man Bernie, the woman Luren and her
two children they had just brought in.  All were given a warm welcome.

After the meeting as everyone went their separate ways, Krycek caught
up with Skinner as he was walking back to his barracks.  "Skinner,
wait up."  He trotted up beside him.
"Is your bunk Ok?  They didn't put you next to Harry, did they?"

"The bunk is fine.  No, Harry is down at the other end."

"Good.  I'm so glad Dr. Kim released you."

"I think he was glad to get rid of me."

"Nah.  He loves having someone to fuss over.  It's really good to see
you up and around and on your feet again.

"It feels good to be out and around."  Then after a few steps he
added, "Everyone here says you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero, Walter.  You should know that better than anyone else."

"In these people's eyes you are.  Some think you're a hero, some think
you're Jesus.  It's amazing how far off some people's judgment can be."

"Walter, the past is dead and gone.  Could we please just put it
behind us and move on?"

"If everything here is as it seems to be, then yes we can.  But I'm
keeping my eye on things."

Krycek gave a disappointed little nod of his head and left.

Skinner saw the look and instantly regretted his words.  He went
inside to his bunk and lay awake for a long while thinking.  To these
people, Krycek was a hero.  He got them off that plane, brought them
here to safety and has been seeing to their needs for two years now.

As much as he had hated Krycek in the past, he had to admit that this
was a different Krycek than he had known.  This one cared about
people, worried about them, risked his life to rescue them.  This one
held a little girls hand and laughed out loud at a crazy old man.
This Krycek had rescued him, saved his life.  This Krycek � this
Krycek he liked.
He made a mental note to apologize to him in the morning.

The next morning he awoke to the sounds of people stirring.  He got up
and headed for the cafeteria for some coffee.  It was hot and
steaming, just the way he liked it.  He took his cup and wandered
outside.  He was looking for Krycek.  He wanted to apologize.

He saw him sitting with the Englishman talking and drinking their
coffee and headed over towards them.  He caught the last bit of the
conversation as he neared.

"You should tell him how you feel about him," the Englishman was
saying.  "I can't see that he'd be anything but flattered."

Krycek caught sight of him and looked visibly shaken for a second then
called out to him, "Good morning, Walter.  Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you."  He took an empty chair and sat down.

The Englishman greeted him then said he had something to do and left
the two of them alone.

Skinner cleared his throat and spoke, "I wanted to thank you for
taking me along yesterday."

"Well I never would have if I had known all the excitement we were
going to run into.  Sometimes we go weeks and no one shows up and then
like yesterday, we get a bunch in one day."

"It was exciting and I'm glad I went."  They were silent for a few
moments.  "Actually, I wanted to apologize for the comments I made
last night.  They were out of line.  You saved all these people, you
saved my life, you've been nothing but kind to me.  You even saved
Harry.  If that's not being a hero, I don't know what is."  He grinned.

Krycek chuckled.  "You have no idea how close I came to just taking
off and leaving them all in the woods that day.  I don't know why I
didn't.  My first instinct was to run.  But there was just something �
I don't know what, but something wouldn't let me leave them.  They
needed me.  Maybe that was it.  No one has ever really needed me before."

"Well these people do and their loyalty is well placed.  You've
brought them all through this nightmare and you've created this
wonderful little community for them and they are not just getting by,
they are thriving."

"Now wait a minute here.  I didn't do all this by myself.  They did
most of the work."

"Yes, but you planned it; you set everything in motion and you kept
after them until they got it all going.  I've been talking to a lot of
people and they all say the same thing.  If it wasn't for you, they'd
all be dead or in internment camps."

"It all just happened, Walter."  Krycek said and they sat in silence
for a while until he was called to help out with the planning of the
next building.

Skinner spent the rest of the day watching the activities of the
little community.

CHAPTER FIVE

Krycek was proud of what they had accomplished and set about making
immediate plans for two more buildings � another exactly like the one
they just finished so they could eventually have one for the women and
children and one for the men.  And he wanted to have the third one for
a dining room/kitchen/dispensary combination.  He broached the subject
the next morning at breakfast and everyone let out a big howl of
approval.  A few groaned but agreed that if more people were coming in
they would need it.

They decided to work on both buildings at the same time.  They figured
out where they were going to build and started hauling the material
in.  It was so much easier now that they were able to drive their
loads right into the valley through the tunnel and didn't have to
worry about having to haul everything over the pass.  Their river
crossing was enlarged with trees that were cut down and pulled to the
location by the horses and secured together and filled in with rocks
and sod. Everyone knew what they were doing now so the work went much
easier.  They still made daily trips to the lumber yard and the bike
riders still went along carrying back more and more goods for use in
the community.

Three weeks later they were on their way back when their scout riding
out ahead, let out a whistle signaling the group to stop.  One whistle
was just for them to stop.  Two was to hide.  They heard just one
whistle and stopped.  It had been the first time they had ever used
their pre-arranged system.

Four bike riders came up to them, the three strangers singing the
song, Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.  Krycek rode out to meet them.

"We were told to sing that stupid song and to tell you greetings from
Special Ops team two."  One of the men said.

"Hi, where are you from?"  Krycek asked.

"Reno.  We'd been doing some logging.  We had a whole team up there
but the three of us went into town for supplies and when we got back
they were all gone. We headed back to town but got caught up in a
traffic jam on the road.  We got out to see what was going on and we
saw these men � or aliens or whatever the hell they are, walking along
side the cars and shooting these little flame thrower things off and
burning all the cars and everyone in them."  We took off for the hills
and have been hiding out every since.  Your team caught us sleeping
and told us about you and this valley that's supposed to be hidden
where those bastards can't find it.  He said we should come join your
group.  Is that Ok with you?"

"Absolutely.  Welcome."  Krycek reached out his hand and shook with them.


By the first snowfall, they had four buildings built and three filled
with bunks.  Each barracks could sleep forty eight.  One was totally
for the women; two were for the men and one held the dispensary,
kitchen, and cafeteria.  More generators had been brought in but were
used mainly in the kitchen building.  This building had been designed
a bit different from the others.  The first thirty feet were set aside
for the cafeteria, then there was a partition all the way across and
the next ten feet were for the actual kitchen area.  The last ten feet
were divided crossways into two sections, one for the dispensary the
other for storage.  Across the back of this building, a porch had been
added and a shower room built.  Some washers and dryers had been
brought in along with a couple of hot water heaters so hot showers
were now available.

Once the winter wore on and the snow became a daily occurrence they no
longer made the trips into town.  It wasn't necessary and there was no
need to take the risk.

They had blown the pass before the first heavy snow and before long it
had filled with snow and they could no longer see it.  It was a
frightening prospect but things were going very well in camp with very
few arguments.  Plans were made for the spring and they settled in for
the long cold winter.

Harry had done his share and more and had built up a mountain of
firewood.  On clear days some would hike out into the woods and see
what they could see.  One morning at breakfast they heard shots being
fired.  The farmers, Randy and his brother had gone hunting and got a
nice elk.  Other times they brought in rabbits and showed Bobby how to
make a nice hearty rabbit stew.  The winter passed uneventfully with
no more visitors showing up singing for them. It was nearing spring
but still the snow fell.

One morning Parks came hurrying back into the dining room and said
that he had found a note by the outside of the mine doorway.  It had
been put in a plastic bag and tied with a red rag to a big bush just
outside the doorway.  Krycek opened the bag quickly and read the letter.

"It's from special ops team two.  They whistled and yelled and sang
the song and no one heard them.  They went back to the nearest town
and will wait there until they hear from us."  Krycek stopped and
gasped, "He says there are twenty two of them!"
He went back to reading again.  He says they have several children and
that two of them are pretty sick.  We'll need to take the wagons.
Rick, Randy, can you get them ready."

"You're going now?  It's snowing.  You might get stuck out there."
Harry warned.

"Today is Tuesday.  That town will be patrolled tomorrow.  We have to
go now or risk losing them all."

"It's no skin off my nose if you want to risk your lives, go ahead.
I'm staying right here where it's nice and warm."  Harry said as he
pulled his warm jacket closer around him.

"You have any idea how long this might have been stuck out there?"
Krycek asked Parks.

"No, sorry old boy, but I don't.  I haven't been out that front
doorway in weeks."

"They're probably all cozy up there in one of those nice houses."
Harry said.  "I wouldn't worry about them."

"And what about the sick children?  You wouldn't worry about them
either?"  Maddie asked angrily."

"That note could have been hanging out there since we blew the pass.
That was a months ago.  If those kids were that sick they are probably
already dead and buried."

"You're all heart, Harry!"  Someone said.

Krycek turned away with a disgusted shrug.  "Peterson, get some
blankets together, Bobby, get us some food.  Some broth, soup,
crackers and some of those canned vegetables.  We stripped that town
of food.  They've got to be starving."

Thirty minutes later they left, just the four of them � Rick and
Randy, each one to drive a wagon, and Peterson and Krycek.  It was
freezing cold and snowing heavily.  The trip took two hours in the
snow, instead of the usual one hour.  They still remembered to follow
procedure and went in on foot first and looked around.  They saw
nothing.  If they were still there, they were well hidden.

They drove the wagons slowly down the main street while Krycek and
Peterson took opposite sides and looked into each building.  They
found nothing.  They started through the residential areas.  Instead
of going through each house they started singing at the top of their
lungs, "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious"

Krycek didn't know the words and could hardly pronounce the word but
he bellowed along just the same.  When they came down the second block
they caught sight of someone running towards them waving his arms and
shouting the word back at them.

They had found them!  They had been there for ten days.  The two
little girls aged three and five were both critically ill.  One was
unconscious and the other had a severe cough and was running a high
temperature.  They had found a house where there was a cellar full of
items that had been home canned they were living on.  There was very
little left.  A few of the men were out scavenging through the town to
see if they could find anything else to eat when they head the singing.

At first they wanted to stay where they were and asked Krycek to just
bring food out to them but when he explained that the aliens would be
patrolling that town in the morning they decided to go ahead and
leave.  They wanted nothing more to do with aliens.  They had all been
brought out of camps and had horror stories to tell.  Krycek said to
save them till they got back to the valley and got them all wrapped in
blankets and in the back of the two wagons.

The snow was worse and it was colder than Krycek could ever remember
being.  The farmers kept the horses at a steady pace though it was
barely a fast walk.  Everyone huddled together and a few of the
children were crying.  By the time they got into the rocks they could
see the lamp light that Parks had set out for them.  Once inside the
tunnel they felt the relief of no more snow but they still had to push
on and back out into it again at the other side.

Parks had secured the door again behind them and followed them on his
bike back out into the snow covered valley.

The bridge over the stream had long since been widened to carry the
wagons so they were able to drive directly to the dispensary.  Marcia
and Maddie were waiting as well as Holly and Amber.  The pot bellied
stove in the center of the room had it reasonably warm and the parents
of the sick girls went inside, each carrying a precious child.  The
rest of the group went into the cafeteria where most everyone else was
waiting to meet them.

Bobby had made a large pot of stew using canned meat and vegetables
and worked up several dozen biscuits that he had popped in the oven
when the signal came in from Parks that they had arrived.

The newcomers first gathered around the stoves to warm up then
eventually took seats when the stew and biscuits were brought out.
They ate hungrily and between bites of food and sips of steaming hot
coffee they told their story.

Special Ops team two leader had three brothers in and around San
Francisco that he went looking for.  The town was empty and so was
every hiding place he could think of to try.
They had passed by a military base on their way into town and found it
had been turned into an internment camp so decided to go back and try
there.  It was easily enough to break into.  Once inside he found two
of his brothers, their wives and five children. The third brother was
somewhere on the east coast when everything happened and they had no
way of knowing what happened to him.

He walked them a few at a time to a corner by a window and explained
what was happening and they were eager to go along with it.  One of
the brothers and his son, went out first and the second member of the
team, took them outside the fence, hid them and went back for more.
Next went the wife and two children.  They were hurried to safety.  No
one inside the barracks building seemed to notice that people were
missing.  There were so many jammed in there that no one either
noticed or cared.  Everyone was milling around trying to find a place
to get comfortable.  There were four left.  They all went at once,
slipping out the window into the darkness and following the tracks in
the snow.  They hoped it would snow again to cover their tracks.
Before it was light again their tracks were long covered.

They walked for hours before they found an empty house far enough away
from the camp for them to feel safe.  The women had pushed the bikes
while the oldest boy about fourteen and the four men walked and
carried the smaller children.  It was bitterly cold but no one
complained.  They were too happy to be out of that place.

They found blankets to bundle up in, food to eat and they slept until
morning.  They found warm clothes to put on, more food to add to their
nearly depleted stash and one bicycle in the garage that had a child's
seat on the back.  The next morning they left with the two women
riding the bikes that were loaded with food, the oldest boy got the
other bike with the four year old in the child's seat and the men and
the other three children, aged eight, ten, and twelve all ran.  They
stopped often for rests and the men took turns piggy-backing the two
youngest when they got too tired to run.  They stayed off the roads
and spent the night in another abandoned house where they picked up
two more bikes.  The two dads got those bikes and managed to ride the
eight and ten year olds on the handle bars.  Now just the twelve year
old and the two Special Ops men were running.  By the time they
stopped for lunch in another house, they found two more bikes.  They
needed one more and they found that about an hour's ride after lunch.
  Now they were all riding.  The farther south they went the warmer it
got.  It took five days to make it to LA.  They found a place on the
outskirts of town and stayed there while the Special Ops men searched
for the other team member's parents.

He knew exactly where his parents would be if they hadn't been taken.
  During the fifties his grandparents had built a bomb shelter out in
their back yard like so many other families had and now his parents
were living in that house.  The last time he was home on leave they
had talked about filling it in but the grandchildren had enjoyed
playing in it too much so they never had.

They waited until after dark and slipped down the back alley and into
the yard.  Not a sound could be heard, not a light was seen in any
direction.  He hurried over to the spot hidden in the bushes behind
the garage and knocked sharply on the cover.  There was no answer.  No
sound of any kind.  He knocked again and called this time, "Momma,
Dad?  It's me, Frankie.  Are you in there?"

He heard the handle turning on the inside of the door and lifted it
open for them.  His dad popped out first and grabbed him in a bear
hug.  Then his weeping mother came out, babbling and holding on to
him.  "It's all right, it's all right.  I'm going to get you out of
here.  We've got a safe place for you."  Before he could say any more
he saw another head pop out and then another, man and a woman in their
late twenties.  He recognized them immediately.  They were his
parent's next door neighbors, the Kims � a young Viet Namese couple
with two little girls.  "Oh my God!  You're safe too!  He embraced
them both.  "Where are the girls?  Come on.  We've got to get out of
here.  I've got a safe place for you all to stay.  Do you still have
those bikes with the kid seats on the back?"  He asked the young
couple.  They said they did and the young man went next door with the
SO leader and they brought them back while the children were brought
up along with a couple carry-all bags that the men slung over their
shoulders.

His mom and dad were put on the bikes that they had ridden in on while
the neighbors had strapped their girls into the child seats on their
bikes and the SO team was afoot again.  Three blocks over the parents
signaled for them all to stop.  They stopped under some trees and the
parents told the SO team that they knew the family that lived in the
house they had stopped in front of and that their five kids all had
bikes.  The two men snuck off into the garage and came out with two
more bikes.  Once outside of town they were joined by the rest of the
group.  They were now sixteen and they headed north east, towards the
valley and safety.





They spent their fifth night out from LA in the forest in the northern
tip of Arizona.  The children were tired and scared and one of the
girls had a bad cough.  It was hard to keep them quiet.  Just before
dawn they were awakened by a sound in the trees.  The SO men pulled
out their knives and waited.  They saw it then, a figure creeping into
their campsite and placed something on the ground next to where the
girls slept and started to back quietly away.  He was met by an SO man
with his knife at the ready.  "What do you want?" he asked the intruder.

The man stood up and the rest of the camp started to rouse as well.
"I brought something for the child.  It will soothe her cough."

"I heard you in the woods.  How many more of you are there?"

"Four more."  The voice behind him said as more young men stepped into
the small clearing.  "We heard the child coughing.  She needs
medicine.  This is good medicine.  I made it myself."

They were all awake now and staring at the strangers � five young men.
  They were Hopi and all that was left of their village.

The little girl started coughing again and her mother held her close.

"Give her some.  It will help."  The one who had brought the medicine
in said.

"What is it?"  The SO leader asked.

"Herbs, and the juice from bark and roots.  It will ease her
discomfort.  Just squeeze it."

It appeared to be a small pouch of some sort.  The SO leader picked it
up and squeezed some into his hand and tasted it.  "It's sweet."

"We added some honey so the child would take it.  Please give it to her."

The child's father tasted it first.  The child's cough was getting
much worse, they needed to do something.  "Maybe try just a few drops"
the girl's father said, "a few drops couldn't hurt."  They squeezed a
few drops into the girl's mouth and her cough eased.  She coughed a
little more and her mother gave her more.  She quieted down then and
dozed off in her mother's arms.

They all sat down then and talked.  The Indians said they had been
rodeoing in Flagstaff and were headed home when everything happened.
When they got to their village, everyone was gone, many had been
killed.  They stayed in the woods and waited.  They said they knew
someone would come and show them the way to safety.  The group was now
twenty two.  The next morning the bikers and the Indians on horseback
started out.  The younger children that had been riding on handlebars
were now riding on horseback behind the Indians.

The Indians having ridden all over the area on horseback, lead the way
north up and around the canyon country.  It was straight up and across
Utah at an angle heading northeast. The farther north they got, the
colder it got and the sicker the girl got.  Soon her sister was
coughing too.  By the time they crossed into Colorado, both girls were
running temperatures.  It was snowing hard when they arrived at the
entrance to the valley so they left the note and headed back, half
frozen, to find shelter in town.

Krycek listened to their amazing story.  Their settlement was growing
by leaps and bounds.  He was glad he had insisted on them completing
the second male barracks building even though they worked in the
bitter cold.  He somehow suspected it would be needed and they were.
They had come a long way in the eleven months they had been there.

Long after everyone else had gone to bed; Krycek sat alone at the long
dining table, working on plans in his notebook.  Satisfied that he had
things well in control, he closed his notebook and leaned back in his
chair.

Parks came in after fixing himself a sandwich from the kitchen and
joined him.

"So we'll be starting our runs into town again soon I suppose?  What
will it be, search for more food or materials for further
construction?"  He asked as he sat across from Krycek.

"Both.  The need for food is never ending, as is the need for more
barracks.  No telling what Spring will bring.  We must devise a way
for anyone who shows up to contact us on the inside.  Either post
guards or leave some way for them to leave us a note and we check the
outer door frequently.  If that child dies it will be because we
failed to do this."

"Oh, my dear boy," Parks heaved a great sigh.  "You take on the entire
responsibility for this community when it's not solely your place.  We
all bear the burden equally."

"Perhaps.  But some of us are more capable of bearing it than others."
  Krycek rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're tired.  You should try and get more sleep.  You're the last
one up every night and the first one up every morning."

"I don't need much sleep.  I'm not used to it."  Krycek answered.

"You know what Dr. Kim would say about that!"

"I do.  So don't you tell him."  Krycek said with a tired smile.

"Tell me about yourself, Alexander.  What was your life like before
all this nonsense?  You said you were with the F.B.I.  Was that an
exciting life?  Do you miss it?"

"Actually, it sucked but it was just starting to get better.  I had
quit my job and was going to try and see what it was like to live a
normal life."

"Ha!"  Parks boomed.  "A normal life!  I don't think life will ever be
normal again; do you?"

"I have no idea."  Krycek stared into his coffee cup and swirled the
dregs.

"Did you lose someone?  Leave someone special behind?"

"No.  There was no one."

"Ahhh but you wish there had been."

"I do, at least I did.  But I never really had a chance in hell with
either one of them."

"And why not?  You're a charming young man; rather rough around the
edges maybe but of good heart."

Krycek chuckled at that.  "There are � or were a few people who
wouldn't agree with that."

"And these two were?"

"Past associates of mine.  We worked together at the Bureau for a time
and then on opposite sides for several years."

"Ah, I see.  Co workers, friends, rivals, enemies; all in one package."

"That's about it."

"Are they who you're thinking about when you stand and stare off
towards the old pass?  Are you hoping they will show up?"

"Before � there always was just that little bit of hope.  Now I don't
even have that any more."

"And why not?  They could well be in camps somewhere waiting for you
to ride to their rescue."

Another chuckle from Alex.  "Believe me, I'm the last person either
one of them would want to see."

"Tell me about them.  Women, men, or perhaps one of each, you old rascal?"

"Both male."

"Ah.  Into threesoms.  Kinky."

"No!"  Alex couldn't help but chuckle at that one coming from the
oh-so-proper Englishman.  "At different times.  First there was
Mulder.  We were partners for a while.  It was the best time of my
life; the absolute best.  I was crazy about him.  He hardly knew that
I existed.  Then something happened and he grew to hate me.  He
thought I had killed his father.  I didn't.  But nothing I said could
convince him otherwise."  He grimaced at the painful memory.

"I see.  Then you turned to the other one?"

"Not exactly.  My life was a real mess, I grew to hate everyone and
just about everyone hated me in return.  And Skinner, he hated me most
of all.  I was the most brutal to him."

"Oh.  So you were into that pain nonsense.  I never did really
understand the appeal of that sort of thing."

"No, it wasn't that way at all.  He was an Assistant Director at the
Bureau, an ex-Marine, big, bald and absolutely the sexiest thing on
two feet.  He was married though so I thought I didn't stand a chance.
  I used to follow him around and I found he used to frequent this
place that handled rent boys.  For some reason, that made me furious.
  I wanted to get back at him for going to them when I was just down
the hall and would have done anything for an hour alone with him."

"He sounds pretty special."

"He is � or he was.  I doubt if either of them made it.  Neither one
of them could take orders or even suggestions from anyone else.  I'm
sure they are both long gone."

"At least you have your memories of being with them."

"No, it never got that far with either of them.  I wanted to, I wanted
to badly but Mulder was too busy out there searching for his truths
and Skinner, with him it was lust at first sight and the knowledge
that he'd sooner break me in half as touch me kept me at a distance.
He'd walk right passed me in the hall and not even see me; not until I
got in his face, that is."

"How very sad.  You've carried a torch for two men and neither of them
responded in kind.  What a sad tale indeed.  It sounds like a
Victorian novel.  Only in that, some rich relative would have whisked
you away to his family's estate and married you off to his ugly daughter."

"Oh God!  Spare me."  Alex laughed as he got up, took his coffee cup
into the kitchen and rinsed it out, then said good night and left for
his bunk.  He always waited until everyone was asleep as he couldn't
bear their chatter and he didn't have any answers to their un-ending
questions.

He lay in his bunk and thought about Mulder and Skinner.  He knew they
were gone, he just knew it.  But some tiny spark of hope wouldn't die
and he found himself wondering what it would be like to find them, to
free them and bring them to this valley where they would be safe.
Would they think of him differently after seeing what he had
accomplished?   He thought they probably wouldn't.  Mulder would whine
constantly about finding Scully and Skinner would glare at him and
start giving orders.

The tears started slipping down his face and he turned on his side and
wiped at them with his blanket and let them fall.  Alex Krycek wept.

xxx

It was into their second year in the valley and Alex was reading the
latest list brought in by a SO team.  He read it � re-read it � then
took off for his bunk and started packing.  Skinner was alive!  Walter
Skinner, carpenter � he knew it was him!  Within an hour he was on his
way.

CHAPTER THREE

Before Peterson and Parks could leave, they decided to go ahead with
their meeting.
Krycek spoke first.

"Now that we're here and relatively safe we need to make some plans.
I know you all have questions and suggestions so this is the time to
speak up while we're all here and can vote on it.  Who wants to start?"

"I do!"  One of the ball players stood up.  "What about our families?
  I mean, are we going to try and find them?"

"Nothing would please me more than to tell you we could do just that
but you have to be realistic here.  Most everyone has been rounded up
and trucked off to God knows where.  Our only transportation is the
bikes.  Yes, we can pack up some supplies and go out but we need to
know where we're going and we don't have any information about that yet."

"Can't we send people out to get that information?"

"Yes we can and we will.  That's one of the reasons why we're having
this meeting, to decide what we should do and to set priorities."

"I think our families should be our first priority."  Another of the
ball players spoke up.

"You are right, certainly but first we must find out where they are
and how we can get to them."  Krycek said.

"We need Special Ops."  Peterson said.

"What's that?"  Someone asked.

"A group of soldiers who handle special missions."  One of the
soldiers answered.

"That's right.  They know how to live off the land and can get just
about any job done you need.  They can't be beat at what they do."

"Do you know where they were last training?"  Krycek asked.

"Last I heard there was a group training down around Santa Fe.  What
are you thinking?"

"That Special Ops guys are pretty darn smart and maybe some of them
are hiding out in the hills down there."

"You're thinking we should ride our bikes all the way down there to
look for them?"

"Uh huh.  We can't spare many though.  Three, tops.  Peterson will be
working on the earth mover, I'll take McConnel with me to find the
dynamite and we need to leave one behind in case there's a need to go
into town before we get back."

"I'll go," several of the guys said.

"Army only on this trip, boys.  It's going to be a long and dangerous
trip."

"Do you really think they can find our folks?"  One of the ball
players asked.

"I don't know.  All I do know is it's our best shot right now."
Krycek answered then asked, "Are there any other questions or
suggestions?"

"You really think you can pull something like this off?"  Harry asked.
  "Ride those bikes hundreds of miles and find some soldiers hidden out
in the hills?  This is insane!"

"What do you suggest we do, Harry?"  The Englishman asked.

"Sit tight and wait for this thing to be over with so we can all go home."

"I see." Parks said then added, "Did any of you think to bring a
butterfly net?  I think we're going to need it."

"You know where your tent is, Harry.  If that's what you want to do,
then go do it."

"You said we should speak our minds.  I'm just giving my opinion;
that's all."

"May I say something?"  It was the older farm boy, Randy.

"Certainly, Randy.  What's on your mind?"  Krycek asked.

"We have no idea how long we're going to be here and those of us
staying behind need something to do to feel like we're helping out.
It's May, prime planting time.  Could we make one more trip into town
and see if we can find some seeds and plant a garden?  Those fields
have good soil and we have all the water we need to irrigate if
necessary. The canned goods in that town won't last forever.   No
sense just sitting around when we could be doing something useful."

"I think that's a good idea, Randy." and to the group of soldiers he
said, "Whoever is staying behind can get a group together and go for
seed and whatever else you need.  I'm sure you can find some around
there somewhere."

"In the store I saw a rack with flower seeds.  I didn't see any
vegetable seeds but I wasn't looking for them and usually when you see
flower seeds, there are vegetable seeds as well."  One of the women said.

"Ok.  Good information.  Get your team together and go get your seeds
but make sure you follow procedure.  Stop in that stand of trees
outside of town and look the place over good for any new vehicles or
anything unusual before you go in.  And don't linger in town and don't
change anything or move anything around on the main street.   Just get
what you need and get out and high-tail it back here."

Then to the rest of the group he said, "Anything else?"

Harry mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, Harry?"  Krycek asked as they all stood and started to
leave.

"I was just wondering who put you in charge anyway?"

"Nobody.  Would you like to be in charge, Harry?  You can be
responsible for caring for twenty five people, seeing to it that they
stay alive and have enough to eat.  Would you like the job?"

"Awww �"  Harry gave a disgruntled wave and wandered off as the others
snickered and got on with their planning.


Peterson and Parks took off for the mine and were joined by one of the
soldiers, Andrews, another shade-tree mechanic who swore there was
never an engine built that he couldn't get running.

Krycek began making plans for a longer trip out in search of
explosives.  This was to be a two-man trip, no more were needed.

"Do you know what we'll need?" Sgt. McConnell asked as they loaded
their bikes from the supply tent.

"Yeah, I've used the stuff before but only on smaller jobs.  We'll
find it.  It might take a couple of days but we shouldn't have any
trouble getting our hands on some."

"How dangerous will it be carrying it around on these bikes?"

"Not dangerous at all as long as we keep the caps and the sticks
separate."

They said their good-byes and set out, each with a rifle scabbard
secured to his bike and a pistol to his belt. They headed north and
traveling light, they made good time.  The first town they came to had
have been a thirty mile ride.

They lay in the grass in the outskirts of town and used their
binoculars to scan for any sign of life.  There was none.  This town
was quite a bit bigger than the one closest to them but after an
hour's searching they came up empty handed.

They sat in a small caf� and drank warm sodas and opened some canned
food they found there.  No sense using up their supplies if they could
find things along the way that were safe to eat.

"Where to next?"  McConnel asked as Krycek studied a map.

"I wish I knew.  There is nothing but little towns around here.  The
only one with any size to it at all is Craig and it's another twenty
miles."

"You think we might find some dynamite there?"

"I don't know.  I haven't spent that much time in small towns.  Is
there a phone book around here?"  Krycek asked.

"A phone book?  I thought we weren't supposed to use the phones."

"I'm not going to call anyone.  And I'd bet money the lines are dead
anyway."  Krycek said.  "I just want to use the book.  You've seen the
commercials, 'Let your fingers do the walking'.  That's what I'm going
to do.  Here it is."  He pulled one out from under the counter and
started thumbing through it.

"You think you can find explosives in a phone book?"

"It's worth a try.  I've found stranger things.  There it is, Explosives."

"You're kidding!"  McConnell was incredulous.

"Shit.  Four addresses and they are all in Craig."

"I guess it's on to Craig then."  McConnell said.

"Not tonight.  It will be dark soon and it's too dangerous to head out
over unknown territory in the dark.  We'll spend the night here and
leave at first light."

They found a place where they couldn't be seen from the front windows
and went to sleep.

The next morning they headed for the small town of Craig.  Crouched in
the bushes on the outskirts of town, they scanned the area.  They
circled the town, stopping and scanning in several places.  The town
was empty.  They rode carefully and slowly through town looking for
the right street until they found it.  Down two blocks was a
construction shed, padlocked.  Krycek pulled his wallet out and out of
the back of it he pulled his set of picks and went to work on the
lock.  He had it open in less than ten seconds.

"That's amazing!" McConnel said.

"Not really," Krycek said.  "It's just a matter of sticking the two
rods in and moving the levers.  It's simple really.  They were
standing in the shed trying to decide how much dynamite to take when
they heard the motor.

"What's that?"  McConnel froze.

"Truck!  Get the bikes inside here; hurry!"  Krycek said and pulled
his bike in. McConnel did the same and they barely got the door closed
when the truck passed by.  There were no windows so they couldn't see
out but they could hear the truck as it passed then took the next
street behind them and circled back again.  Krycek had his gun in his
hand and McConnel drew his as well.

"Have you ever fired a gun at anyone?"  Krycek whispered.

"No.  But I will if I have to."

"Good. I'm not even sure that bullets will take them down.  If it
comes to shooting, I'd say aim for the head and keep on firing.  One
bullet might not do it.  Otherwise, keep the safety on and don't take
it off unless I tell you.  We don't want it to accidentally go off."

The truck drove slowly up and down the streets, block after block.
They stood rigid, afraid to move or make a sound that might be heard;
sweat poured down their faces and necks.  Finally the noise faded away
into the distance until it could no longer be heard.  They stayed
inside another fifteen minutes to make sure they were out of range
before they opened the door and peered out.  The place was empty again.

They loaded up the dynamite and miscellaneous supplies and were about
to leave when the rain started.

"Fuck!" McConnel said.  "What happens if this stuff gets wet?"

"Absolutely nothing.  It will be useless.  We can't leave until the
rain stops."  Krycek said.

"It could rain the rest of the day and night!"

"Yeah, it could."

They waited for about an hour and it was still pouring.

"Are we going to spend the night in here?  I'd hate to be in here if
lightning strikes." McConnel said.

They could see the lightning slashing across the sky.

"You're right.  This is the last place we need to be right now.  This
shed is probably insulated but there's no sense in taking any chances.
  There's a little mobile office building over there.  Let's make a run
for it.  We can stay there until the rain stops.  Grab some food out
of your pack."

"That sounds good to me!"  McConnel was relieved to get out of that shed.

It rained the rest of that day and all of the next.  On the third day
they started thinking of a plan to cover the dynamite with plastic
bags but then gave it up when they realized the fields would be too
muddy to ride in and they didn't relish the idea of being mired down
out in an open field with a load of dynamite while the storm held.

They spent the three days in the construction shed while the rain
poured.  On the fourth morning they awoke to sun shine and decided to
head out.  The going was rough and muddy and with both bikes loaded
down with explosives they tried to be as careful as they could.  It
was a long arduous trek back to the valley and they were exhausted.
They were met with the good news that the earth mover was now in
running order.  They had had to make two more trips into town for
parts but they were uneventful.  Krycek and McConnel spent the next
day curled up in their tents sleeping.

Fortunately there had only been a few days of light rain at the
campsite so they weren't disturbed too much.  It did solidify in
Krycek's mind that their next priority must be to get some proper
shelter up and began sketching a plan in the small note book he carried.

At breakfast, most of the group gathered and Krycek broached the subject.

"We need to think about a more permanent shelter here, a building."

"A building?  You mean a cabin or something?"  Someone asked.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a barracks type building,
something that we could heat this winter."

"You think we'll be here that long?"  One of the women asked.

"I have no idea, Marcia.  But we can't wait until the snow falls to
begin building something."

"You expect us to build an actual building?  You're dreaming!"  Harry
scoffed.

"Yes, Harry, just like I was dreaming when I said we could make it
seventy miles on bikes, remember?"

"Well that was different.  We had to do that.  We don't have to try
and build anything!"

"OK, Harry.  When the first snow falls and we are all warm in our
building, you can stay out in your tent.  Your choice."

"You think we could actually build a building?  What with?  You
planning on cutting down trees for the wood?"

"I was thinking we could go into town and have a look around.  Maybe
we can find a wagon of some kind, or devise one we could pull or push."

"I've seen some trucks down there.  Why not use them?"  Someone asked.

"Too noisy.  What if the guards came back and noticed them missing?"

"Yeah, trucks make too much noise and can be heard for miles."

"There might be some horses around."  One of the farmers offered.
"And if there's horses, there is usually a hay wagon near by."

"Oh, I remember seeing a sign that said 'Hay for Sale'," Marcia said.
  "I guess they would need a wagon or something big to deliver it."

"Probably a pickup with a trailer."  Someone said.

"Well, I'm going into town to see what's there.  For anyone who wants
to come with me, let's plan on leaving in about fifteen minutes."
Krycek finished his coffee and headed for the woods.

Fifteen of them set out for the trip that took only a little over an
hour when they were fresh and rested up.  They checked the town out
carefully then fanned out over the place, hitting all the homes they
could get to on bikes without going too far out of town.

In about thirty minutes the two farmers came hurrying up to Krycek.

"We found one!  We found a wagon and two horses!"  They were
breathless with excitement.

"No kidding!  Hey, that's great!  I just wish this little town had a
lumber yard."  Krycek said, his spirits definitely lifted.  Well, go
on, get the rig together and we'll see what we can take back on this
trip."

Krycek headed back to the general store where the others were
beginning to load their bikes with canned goods.  He told them about
the wagon and asked for suggestions as to what to take back to the
group, what would be the most welcome.

Marcia grabbed Krycek's arm and pulled him over to the back storage
area.  "This!" she declared as she stood beside a large rectangular
galvanized watering tank.

"Why a watering trough?"  Krycek asked.

"You look at that and see a watering trough; I look at it and see a
bath tub!"

Krycek saw it then and agreed.

"I've been eyeing this every time we come in and wished there was some
way to get it to the valley.  If there is one thing that we could all
benefit from, I say this is it."  Marcia said.

"You got it, Marcia.  Grab one end, I'll get the other.  Can you carry
it?"

"Sure thing!  It's not that heavy, just too darn big for a bike!"

They hauled it out front just as the farmers pulled the wagon up
front.  It was the first item on.  More shelving units were found, as
well as more huge cooking pots, a couple of smaller wash tubs that
came on a stand and could be used for laundry.  Several more water
cans and Krycek and the others siphoned gasoline from cars until they
had ten more five gallon cans filled and loaded on the wagon.  More
blankets were found and added to the load as well as several shovels,
picks and two wheel barrows.

The trip back took an hour and a half but they climbed over the rocks
with triumphant grins on their faces and hauled their take down the
other side.  They were met by those who stayed behind and help to
carry it all over to the campsite.  The women jumped up and down when
they saw their 'bath tub' and it went immediately into one of their tents.

They were all excited as they ate lunch and began talking in earnest
about a building.
Krycek asked but no one in the group had any construction experience
at all.  He told them he had worked for a construction company while
in college and thought they could do it.  He showed him the plans for
the simple rectangular structure, twenty feet wide and fifty feet
long.  He explained it in phases; first selecting a site and preparing
the ground.  Then measuring off the exact area and digging a small
trench, six inches deep and four inches wide.  Then the mixing of the
concrete and insertion of bolts in the wet concrete, he made it all
sound simple.

"I agree that all sounds simple enough but what about the rest of it?
  Have you ever built a building before?"  Someone asked.

"I helped build on a room one summer and I assisted on a lot of bigger
jobs."

"There's no way you can know how to build a building then!"  Harry
scoffed.

"Whatever we end up with will be a lot safer and warmer than those
tents, Harry."
Someone said.  The group was now getting more into it.

"We can do this, if everyone helps.  I can't do it alone."

He heard a chorus of "We'll help".

"And if I want to come inside during a storm, I'll have to help too, I
take it?"  Harry asked with disgust.

"That's right, Harry.  But there are a lot of really easy jobs in
construction.  It isn't all heavy lifting and sawing and nailing.
You'll see."

Twelve made the afternoon trip, and this time the wagon was loaded
down with what ever power tools they could find plus a small generator
and extension cords to power them.  Some of the hand tools ran on
batteries and they brought all they could find.  A few more sets of
saw horses, half a dozen ladders of various sizes and several more
cans of gasoline were added to the load.  The eleven on bikes loaded
up with more groceries and brought back stacks of towels and wash
cloths and in their back packs; pillows.

McConnel was helping Krycek load the last of the gas cans when he
said, "I remember seeing a lumber yard in one of those towns we were
in.  Do we make our next run there?"

"I was thinking the same thing.  It's a much longer run and we'll only
be able to do one a day but I think that's what we need to do starting
tomorrow morning.  I don't know how many others will want to make a
ride that long but we can ask them."

"If the two women want to go, they could ride over in the wagon with
their bikes.  Then they would only have to make the thirty mile ride
back." Peterson suggested.

"That's a good idea.  I like taking the women with us.  That way they
can get what ever stuff the women need and we don't have to be digging
through the Kotex aisles."  Krycek said with a grin."

"I heard that!"  Maddie, one the woman who had made all the bike trips
in with them, said as she stuffed some last minute first aid supplies
into her back pack.  "You take a fall or get hurt you'll be glad
Marcia and I'm around."

"Yes," Krycek grinned.  "I noticed you've gathered enough medical
supplies to open up a hospital."

"Well, we could, you know.  We're both R.N.s."

"Once we start building, I'm sure there will be lots of need for your
services."

"Let's hope not too many," she grinned and they headed out for the valley.

Krycek spent that evening after dinner, firming up his plans and
figuring out what supplies he would need.  The first trip they would
need the thin wood strips for the cement foundation forms and bags and
bags of the ready-mix concrete.  He figured that would be about all
that would fit for the first wagon load.

And so it went, day after day they made the long trip into the next
town and brought back stacks and stacks of building supplies and in
the few hours of daylight left between supper and darkness they
worked.  Some worked on the foundation, while others worked in the
fields where the farmers had cleared out a large field and got the
garden started.

Still others were working on the mine.  Parks showed Krycek where to
place the charges and Krycek would blast.  They went at it a little
bit at a time, starting from the valley side.  Krycek would set off a
couple of charges and the next few days the debris would be shoveled
into wheel barrows and pails and hauled to a dumping area below the
opening into the valley to make a ramp-like entrance.  They fell into
their sleeping bags each night feeling like they had really
accomplished something.

They all seemed to fit into their roles with ease.  The six soldiers
well trained in following orders and eager to help out the group in
any way needed, were all mid twenties; the four student football
players were two sets of brothers and though two only seventeen years
old and two eighteen years old, worked right along side the men,
pulling more than their share of the load.  They were all young and
strong and more than willing to help at whatever task they were given.
  They made every single supply run.  As did Samuelson the
photographer, aged forty, the two nurses, Maddie age twenty four and
Marcia age 23; the flight attendant, Teresa Harris aged 26, and the
two farmer brothers, Rick and Randy aged twenty six and twenty eight.

The eldest of the group, the bank president/turned camp supply and
record keeper, stayed in camp.  He was fifty three years old and like
Harry the cab driver, had never done any manual labor in is life.  He
kept track of everything that went into and out of the supply tent, he
gathered fire wood, and helped the cook.  He took his turn at emptying
the port-a-potties and filling the drinking water containers.  He was
very likeable and spent a lot of time with Harry encouraging him to
cooperate instead of complaining.  Some times it worked, some times it
didn't.

The two office workers, Charlene and Deborah, both in their mid
thirties also mostly stayed in camp. They both knew their way around a
kitchen and were more than happy to assist the cook.  They made an
occasional trip into the closest town but neither of them wanted to
make the thirty mile trek.  They did help the cook with meals, help
with the clean up afterwards and help carry dirt out of the mine and
took turns in the field.

The two teachers, Holly and Amber, ages twenty nine and thirty two,
were all over the place.  They made about half the bike runs, the rest
of the time they kept busy around the camp.  They worked in the
garden, in the mine, and did whatever else around that seemed to need
doing.

Parks, aged forty four, kept busy in the mine and came in only to eat
and sleep.

And Harry?  He grudgingly did what he had to but only just barely.  He
carried a deck of cards with him and was always asking people if they
wanted to play a little Gin Rummy.
He actually had a great sense of humor and wasn't half bad company as
long as no one was asking him to do anything.  He was forty eight
years old, and a taxi driver out of New York City with a lot of funny
and interesting stories to tell.  He had never done anything in his
life but go to school and drive a cab and his short stocky build
showed the results.   All his life he came home to his Momma's cooking
and then his wife's.  He never as much as made a sandwich before or
lifted a hand with housework and wouldn't know how to peel a potato if
his life depended on it.

Bobby Benson, their cook, was thirty seven, and had been a cook at a
Luby's restaurant in Dallas.  He was shy, red headed and freckled, and
seemed to love creating different meals with whatever canned goods or
produce they brought him.  His main goal in life had been to become a
chef in a fine restaurant.  His happiest moment was when one of the
women, returning from a bike run, pulled a Better Homes and Gardens
cook book out of her back pack for him.  He spent his days surveying
their groceries and planning the meals and making up lists of things
for them to look for while on their supply runs.

It was an odd grouping but somehow they all seemed to fit together and
made a great team.

Title: Beating the Darkness Back 4/7
 
Author: Anjou (Anjou@...)
 
Posting Date: October 2008
 
Rating: R for language and sexuality; M for Mature readers
 
Classification: Mulder/Scully, MSR, post-ep for IWTB
 
Archive: No archival until the story is completed, please. I'll be submitting to
Ephemeral and Gossamer myself.
 
Spoilers: Through I Want To Believe
 
Disclaimer: All X-Files personnel belong to 1013 and Fox. All other elements are
mine.
 
Author's Note:  Beating the Darkness Back will be posted in seven parts. Parts
1 & 2, and 3 & 4 will be posted together, as they are just long sections that
needed to be cut in half for ease of posting. This story is finished, although
still undergoing final editing for Parts 5-7. I expect it will be all posted in
a week's time. Posts can be read on my fic journal, Anjoufic
(http://anjoufic.livejournal.com) as well as Ephemeral and other XF fic sites.
The whole tale will be archived at my website, No Other
(http://the-cave-online.com/anjou/index.html), maintained by the generous dtg,
when it is completed.
 
Thanks to Konrad Frye and especially the fabulous Lilydale for not only
willingly answering questions about the novelization of "I Want To Believe" that
clarified the timeline for this writer, but for being brave enough to have read
it in the first place.
 
As always, my biggest thanks go to my sister and editrix, Suzanne, for her
support, and above all, her patience.
 
Summary: Where do we go from here, now that we are free?
 
~*~
 
March 30, 2008
 
Mulder felt a curious mixture of nervousness and relief as he and Scully said
good night to the resort staff after their day of sailing. She had been
inquisitive about what he had in the cooler under his seat as he rowed them out
to meet the boat, but she seemed to have forgotten about it in her excitement
over today’s adventure. He smiled to remember her enthusiasm, and was doubly
glad that he’d brought the camera to record the sight of her lounging on the
bench on the stern of their boat, wearing that purple bikini from their first
day on the island.
 
Mulder’d been unable to get his camera out and snap a photo of her in a
similar pose when they'd been in the rowboat, and even if the image of her was
burned into his retinas, he now had photographic proof of how Scully looked when
she was totally relaxed and happy. The days of sunshine had tinged her skin with
a bit of gold scattered here and there, freckles that made her scowl and slap on
more sunscreen, but that Mulder absolutely adored. His own skin had become
lightly tanned, despite her desire to keep him as white as possible.
 
He waited until the captain and mate were well away in their dinghy, then
shucked his swim trunks and dove into the crystal blue waters of the sea. He had
remembered how much he hated trunks after two days, especially sitting around
waiting for them to dry. Consequently, he only wore them as clothing, and not
swimwear, much to Scully’s amusement. He swam around their anchored sailboat,
going underneath once to tug on the anchor line and assure himself that they
were indeed, all set for the evening.
 
When he surfaced, Scully was kneeling on the padded bench at the stern with her
elbows on the railing, watching him with amusement. “All ship shape, nature
boy?” she inquired sweetly.
 
He spit a stream of water up at her like a dolphin. “Come out and play,” he
said, licking his salty lips.
 
She ducked out of the way of the stream, then reappeared, holding the camera.
“Smile, Mulder,” she said.
 
“Looking for a little something to keep you warm those long nights at the
hospital, Scully?”
 
She quirked an eyebrow. “I suppose it would be tactless of me to point out
that the water, while warm, is not that warm.”
 
“If you’d consent to swim the way your God intended us to,” he shot back.
“I’m sure that I could get respectably warm fast enough.”
 
“Nice try, Mulder,” she murmured, focusing on taking his picture.
 
He tilted his head back while she fiddled with settings, attempting to gain some
sort of order over his hair, then sank below the waterline again, filling his
mouth.
 
“Mulder,” she warned from above him. “I’ve got the camera.”
 
He rose from the sea and aimed a warm stream of water at her, soaking the crotch
of her purple bikini as she exclaimed in surprise.
 
“Happy to see me?” he asked cheekily, then turned and dove into the ocean
before hearing more than the first of her imprecations against him. He felt the
water surge out toward him as she dove in, and lengthened his stroke as he swam,
grinning when he came up to the surface. The chase was on.
 
~*~
 
At dinner, he watched Scully dig into the conch salad that the resort had
provided. Her salt-soaked hair had dried in long curls, and she had a fresh
smattering of freckles on her slightly pink nose. She’d changed into yet
another bikini, one that he’d decided was his absolute favorite as soon as
she’d appeared in it. It was turquoise, and the top was a strapless sculpted
band with a tortoise shell loop between the circles that covered some of his
favorite pieces of flesh. The bottom, unfortunately covered by a colorful but
unnecessarily large piece of cloth that she'd wrapped low around her waist, had
similar loops over her hip bones. It was a mystery to him how these bits of
fabric could be so alluring when he well knew what was underneath them, but they
were simply enchanting. He wondered if there was any way he could talk her into
wearing a bikini around the house on a regular basis, but decided it probably
wasn’t worth the risk of asking.
 
“Mulder,” she said, in a tone that let him know this was not the first time
she’d said his name. “What time is the captain coming to sail us back
tomorrow?”
 
“Around two,” he said, then paused. “So, are you enjoying your very late
birthday present?”
 
She smiled at him, and speared a large piece of conch with her fork. “How many
times am I going to have answer that question affirmatively, Mulder?” she
asked.
 
“Once more would be nice,” he answered, leaning in.
 
She leant forward and kissed him softly, then rubbed her pink nose against his.
“I like it very much,” she said, then kissed him again, letting him taste
the conch and champagne on her tongue. “I never realized how much I missed
sailing,” she sighed. “And you’ve done wonderfully well.”
 
Mulder looked out at the placid water. Once the sun had gone down, the wind had
dropped down to nothing. The sea around them barely rippled. “So far, so
good,” he said, omitting the unspoken ‘I told you so’.
 
Scully finally pushed back from the table, something he’d done a full ten
minutes before, and he smiled to see it. Ever since her cancer, he’d loved
nothing more than to see her eat a full and hearty meal. Her complaints that if
she ate the way he wanted her to that she’d be enormous fell on deaf ears --
she’d been adorable when she was heavy. Besides, he was at least twenty pounds
heavier than he’d been at his fighting weight, and she still loved him.
 
Scully sipped at her champagne, watching him. “Why do I think that I’m the
only one who’s going to gain weight on this vacation?” Her hand reached out
and strummed the tender muscles over his ribs, the ones that ached from all the
swimming he’d been doing. 
 
“As I always say,” he began, but she covered his mouth with her hand.
 
“I’m just glad to see you so relaxed and happy,” she said, then ducked her
head. “I feel like I should apologize to you, Mulder,” she said in a quiet
voice.
 
“For what?” He was utterly flummoxed by this turn in the conversation.
 
“I …” she sighed, and then leaned back in her chair, separating herself
from him. “I’ve been very selfish,” she said. “I knew how unhappy you
were, trapped in the house day after day, but I …” she held up her hand to
silence him as he began to protest. “I would have been perfectly happy to have
you stay there, hidden away forever.”
 
He smiled at her admission. “Scully, do you think that you’re telling me
something I didn’t know?”
 
She scowled at him. “I don’t think you really understand what I mean,” she
said.
 
“I do,” he insisted. “And you have to know that I'd feel, and do, the
exact same thing if it were you that had to be hidden away.”
 
She looked at him sharply.
 
“Besides,” he said, “I didn’t have anything better to do.”
 
She shook her head. “Don’t joke about it, Mulder,” she said. “I know
that you were depressed.”
 
“I was,” he said equably. “But the past tense is the operative here.”
She looked surprised at his admission. “And let’s be clear: at no time did I
feel like your prisoner, or that I was unwilling to wait it out. I just … I
couldn’t bear the thought of being away from you the way I’d been that year
…” She knew which of the two years that they'd been apart he was referring
to – the first had been torture, the second a waiting game --  and he was
upset to see her eyes fill with tears. “Scully,” he said sorrowfully, “do
we have to talk about this on your fake birthday?”
 
She nodded, and a tear rolled down her face but she was smiling at the same
time. “Yes, we do,” she said. “I don’t want us to forget how to be
honest.”
 
He nodded, but gritted his teeth against the surge of irritation that swept over
him. He had planned for other topics of conversation. “OK,” he said. “Then
I want you to think about this: if I wasn’t with you, hiding in our house,
sleeping in our bed at night, I would have been in a real prison, if I was still
alive. Or I would have been on the run, always looking over my shoulder, alone.
Hopeless.” He let his words sink in. “I don’t think I would have survived
that reality, either.”
 
Her eyes widened as his implication of self-harm hit home.
 
“Why would I want to live that way?” he asked her. “So, yes. Maybe I felt
trapped sometimes, and maybe I wanted to be more physically involved in some of
the things that I’ve been doing, but … I never felt like you were keeping me
there against my will. I don’t blame you, Scully.”
 
Her smile this time was tremulous. “I know that I’m not the easiest person
to live with,” she began, and he laughed.
 
“Does that mean that you think I am?” he teased.
 
She couldn’t keep a straight face at his remark.
 
“We’re not easy people, Scully,” he said. “We spark off each other in so
many ways. That’s what makes us so good together, but …”
 
“It’s also why shouldn’t be together,” she said softly, echoing the
conversation they’d had most recently had in a hallway at Our Lady of Sorrows,
but more times than he cared to remember over the years.
 
“But we are, right?” he said, his voice equally soft.
 
“Yes,” she said.
 
He pushed the table away and sat next to her on the bench, wrapping his arms
around her. He kissed his way down from her forehead to her lips. “Whither
thou goest, Scully,” he whispered, then sealed his vow with a kiss. “I
promise.”
 
She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down to her. He knew
that she couldn’t speak for fear of crying, so let her make her promise to him
with her lips and her tongue.
 
When they resurfaced, he pulled her back against his chest, dragging the table
within reach so they could get at their champagne. “Happy birthday, Scully,”
he said, clinking her glass.
 
“Thank you, Mulder,” she said, and he understood that she meant more than
his last few words.
 
They lay there sipping their champagne until Scully spoke again. “Is there any
chocolate?”
 
He laughed his answer, and watched as she got up and searched the galley for
dessert. He followed her, bringing in their plates and putting them in the tub
designated for dirty dishes. He saw the cooler on the floor and hesitated, then
went outside to get the rest of the dishes. When he returned, Scully was, of
course, rearranging them in the tub. Even though they weren’t going to be
washed until they were returned to the resort, she still wanted them to be just
so. He stood there, wordlessly watching his ever-so-slightly obsessive
compulsive love, and tried to work up the courage to broach the topic that was
the true reason for which he'd planned this private dinner.
 
“You know,” he began, trying to sound casual, “we could get married
now.” He handed her an empty serving dish.
 
“Mulder,” she said in a negative tone. “After all this time, why would
that matter?”
 
“We could get married in the church,” he countered quietly. “Get a
blessing.”
 
That caught her attention, and she stared up at him, wide-eyed but quiet, her
cross dangling from her neck. “You’d have to take classes,” she said after
a minute.
 
“I know,” he said. “I know what I would have to do.” He paused. “I
also know that it would mean something to you, Scully.”
 
“It would have meant more … before,” she said, carefully. “I just …
I’m not sure that anyone in my family would come to our wedding, Mulder.”
She looked down at her hands, and picked at a tiny chip in her perfect manicure.
“I don’t know if I’d want them to be there.”
 
He knew that she'd been hurt by her mother's failure to accept her choices, but
he doubted that she truly wouldn't want her to be there. Her brothers, however
– Mulder tread lightly, knowing that the estrangement between them had complex
underpinnings. He might not have ever finished his practicum, but Scully was his
partner, his love, and sometimes his only client. “Is that the only reason to
be married then? The public aspect of it?”
 
She blinked, looking at him blankly before she spoke again. “You know that
I'll never leave you, Mulder,” she said firmly. “Even when I couldn't come
home those nights, it was just a stress reaction. I never should have done
that.” She rounded the bin and came to stand in front of him, speaking
earnestly. “We made our vows a long time ago,” she said, and he had a flash
of memory of their motel room in Roswell. “What means something to me, Mulder,
is that you would do that for me, to give me something that you think I want.”
She kissed him, and he stifled his disappointment to stay in the kiss. “Thank
you,” she said, breaking away. She put her hand on his cheek. “I love
you.”
 
“I love you, too, Scully,” he echoed, and he meant it, despite the hollow
ache he felt at the moment. He bent over and retrieved the cooler, opening it so
that the cake box on top was clearly displayed.
 
She grinned and clapped her hands at the sight, and he smiled at her delight.
“Now, feed me some of that birthday cake!” she ordered.
 
~*~
 
Later, in the tiny bed below deck, he thought about their earlier conversation
as he twirled her bikini top around his finger, spinning it by the loop that had
lain between her breasts. She was drowsily pressed up against him, barely
covered by the sheet, both of them sweaty from the combination of their
exertions and the still air. Even though his body was satisfied, his restless
mind wouldn't settle down. He hadn't expected her to jump with joy over his
proposal, and didn't need to be married to sanctify his commitment to her, but
all the same, he wanted to be married. Wife, after all, was a word he could use
to describe her easily, a socially acceptable shorthand for the far more
complicated truth of what they were to each other. But, it was a name he
couldn't use, a right that he'd been unable to exercise without jeopardizing her
because he had no legal status. Now, he'd had his name, such as it was, returned
to him. Scully, however, had already
  dismissed the idea, and unless he reintroduced the topic and reframed it, she
wouldn't consider it again, at least not any time soon.
 
“Maybe I just want to change my name for real this time,” he announced
suddenly, as inspiration struck him.
 
She looked up at him, peeling her cheek from his chest. She’d been stroking
those newly developing muscles in his side again, seemingly fixated on them.
He’d decided that he needed to find a gym with a pool as soon as they got back
to Richmond. "You'd change your name?"
 
He shrugged. "It's not really my name, is it?" he asked. "Besides, you've been
my family longer than anyone that came before you."
 
She looked astonished. "Fox Scully?" Her mouth made the foreign shape awkwardly.
 
"Oh, I don't think so," Mulder said swiftly, and with a wince. "I was thinking
… Mulder Scully."
 
She goggled at him. "That would be hopelessly confusing," she said.
 
"Why?" he said. "Everyone calls me Mulder. It's my name."
 
"Yes, but Mulder? It's kind of a horrible first name to give a kid."
 
"Like Fox?" he said with a scowl. "Yeah, that's an awesome name for a kid."
 
She smiled at him, but he could see her mulling it over, which was his whole
point. She was quiet for a few minutes, curled up next to him as their small
boat stirred slightly in the calm waters. "You'd really change your name?"
 
He held up his hand and wiggled his ring finger. "You put a fat diamond on that
finger and I'm all yours, baby."
 
He loved making her laugh, maybe more than anything in the world, so he
delighted in her giggles even as he thought forlornly of the ring tucked away at
the bottom of the cooler in a Ziploc bag. He could be patient, he reminded
himself. He had years of experience. He’d already planted the seed -- he just
needed to tend it.
 
“Mulder Scully,” she said slowly, shifting up in the bed. She kissed a path
up from his chest, her fingers playing lightly over his sternum and his pecs,
before they slid up to cup his face. He turned his head to kiss her fingers,
drawing her ring finger into his mouth and sucking on it deliberately. She
straddled him, sitting up, and then tilted her head to regard him, her
sun-streaked curls streaming over her bared breasts.
 
He smiled at her. “That’s me,” he said.
 
“Hmm …” she purred, then leant forward to capture his lips with her own,
as his hands slid up to cup her breasts. Her hair made a curtain around them.
“You still do keep me guessing, Mulder,” she murmured.
 
He closed his eyes, and sank willingly into her embrace, and then her body, with
a sigh. As long as she was there with him, he would always be home.
 
~*~
 
There really was nothing like the ocean, he thought as he floated drowsily. His
back scratched lightly against the bottom of the lagoon, and he struggled up to
consciousness, not aware that he’d drifted so far. He must have dozed off. He
staggered up out of the water to find an entire sand city that stretched all the
way from the water's edge to the cabana and the path that led around to the
front of their bungalow. He felt suddenly awake as he searched the nearby area,
looking for the expected small form. Seeing no one, he shaded his eyes and
looked at the city again. The skyline looked familiar, with the water lapping at
its edge. Just outside the city, spaceships had crashed into the ground, their
large disks half buried in the sand where the sea grasses and the flowers began.
 
There was something disturbing about the tableau that he couldn't – they had
built a lot of spaceships over the years, but this kind of scale, with the
looming dead hulks of the ships in the ex-urbs, was new. And where was he?
Mulder turned and rushed up the path to the patio.
 
Scully lay on the hammock in repose, her arm outspread over the narrow back of a
boy, his skin dusted with sand that glistened in the dappled sunlight as they
swung back and forth. He could hear the low murmur of her voice as she talked to
William, something that had never happened, not once in all the years that
he’d dreamt of their son. William and Scully were laying on the hammock facing
each other, but he could only see Scully’s face, and the love on it as she
lifted her hand, stroking their son’s dark hair and then wiping at his cheek.
 
“Scully,” he said urgently, and she looked up at him, her smile radiant.
 
“See,” she said to the boy. “There he is.”
 
William turned his head, and his expression was so ineffably, utterly sad that
Mulder felt his own heart clench in his chest. “William,” he said in concern
and took a step forward, but before he could take another, William disappeared,
and all that was left was a diminishing pile of sand and the sound of Scully’s
choking sobs.
 
“Where is he, Mulder?” Her question sounded like an accusation, and he shook
his head in bewilderment, his eyes fixated on the sand slowly drifting off the
hammock as it rocked back and forth. Above Scully, the trees were filled with
parakeets, all watching.
 
“I …” he said helplessly, before he turned to run back to the lagoon. The
path that he'd taken before had disappeared, so he blundered through the
jungle-like growth, slapping the vines away that clung to his arms and legs as
he tried to force his way through. Finally, he burst out of the undergrowth to
the lagoon’s edge, but William was nowhere to be seen.
 
“William!”
 
The sound of his voice echoed, and he looked up to the empty sky and saw that
the birds were filling the trees across the lagoon, watching him impassively.
“Where is he?” he yelled at them, but they remained silent.
 
He glanced down at his feet and saw that the city was smashed to ruins around
him, but not by his heedless actions. His blood ran cold as he realized that the
spaceships that had before crashed harmlessly outside the city had instead laid
waste to it entirely, leaving only rubble and the skyline itself unrecognizable.
 
“William!”
 
Mulder was afraid that he’d said their son’s name out loud, but Scully slept
on in their little bunk. He'd sat up in the narrow bed grazing the low ceiling
above the bunk, chest heaving, heart pounding. He lay back down and tried to
regulate his breathing, his hand gripping his aching head as he resisted the
urge to gather Scully to his chest like a teddy bear, to wake her with his need
for reassurance as had happened so many nights when they were first reunited.
 
What did it mean? Was the dream trying to tell him something, or was it just a
manifestation of new anxiety? He was free, but there had been a kind of safety
in his solitude in their house. Was it merely the uncertainty of what was to
come now?
 
Scully shifted and murmured next to him, and he turned toward her, trying to
will himself to not wake her up, to not use her as a sedative to ease his
anxiety. It was a bad habit that he’d go back to in times of trouble, that
desperate loving in the middle of the night so that he could lapse into
unconsciousness. He moved to the edge of the bed and rolled out, careful to keep
his head down as he fumbled his way in the dim light to the ladderlike staircase
that led above deck.
 
It's just post-traumatic stress he told himself, trying to will himself into
rationally analyzing the dream. He'd gotten his life back, something he'd never
thought would happen. Now that he was free and seemingly of no concern to the
collaborators who were trying to bring about Armageddon, it was only logical
that his subconscious mind would wander to William. After all, it was his fault
that he was gone. He never should have left them alone in the first place -- it
was his job to protect them, and he'd failed. Mulder shivered at the thought,
and pulled Scully's sarong off the bench and wrapped it around his shoulders.
 
The stern of the boat was facing east, and it was still early enough that the
stars were out above his head while the horizon was warming from red to pink as
the sun readied its rise. He sat down on the bench and tried to push his morbid
thoughts away, but his remembrance of William's face tore at him. Never once in
all the years that they'd built sandcastles had William looked at him with
anything other than happiness. Of course, the dreams were his, and
subconsciously, he wanted to believe that William would still love him, even
after everything. He'd taken comfort from the time that they'd spent together,
silent as it usually was. So, why had he suddenly changed the dream scenario?
Why had Scully been there? Why had William needed to be comforted? His heart was
pounding with anxiety again, but he struggled to rein it in as he heard Scully's
sure footfalls coming up from behind him.
 
"Mulder …" he could hear the sleepy concern in her voice when suddenly she
gasped. "Oh!"
 
He turned and looked at her, and her face was transformed with wonder. He
followed her gaze and saw a pair of dolphins arcing from the water in the
distance, ahead of the sunrise. "Wow …" he said. All the years on the X-Files,
he'd seen some amazing things, but they weren't usually wondrous.
 
"Oh, Mulder," Scully breathed out. She knelt on the bench and watched the
dolphins playing, rapt at the sight, her freckled shoulder peeking out at him
from the loose-slung toga of the top sheet.
 
They were silent until the dolphins disappeared behind one of the nearby islands
that dotted the landscape.
 
"Were they here when you came up on deck?" she asked him. Her eyes were still
shining with absolute joy and excitement, allowing him to see the little girl
that she had been long before he knew her.
 
"No," he said, smiling, reaching out to her. "They appeared when you did. They
were waiting for you."
 
"I have always wanted to see dolphins in the wild," she said warmly. She pushed
and pulled him until his back was to the rising sun, then straddled his lap.
"Ever since I was a little girl," her eyes were darting from the horizon back to
him, alert for the possibility of the dolphins' return. "My father used to tell
us stories of dolphins following his ship, of them playing in the wake, and
every time he took us sailing," she shook her head. "I waited and I looked for
them, but they never came."
 
Mulder smiled. "Until now."
 
"Until now," she echoed. She shrugged her shoulders out of her cocoon and
wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with the hair at his nape. "Have you
ever seen them before?"
 
"Twice," Mulder said, considering. "The first time I was really little, and I
stuck my head between the railings of the ferry to get a good look at them. I
was so far over the bottom one that I almost fell overboard."
 
Scully laughed at the image.
 
He smiled at her. "You know, I don't think I ever saw them after Samantha
disappeared."
 
"You know what this means, Mulder?" Her eyes were still gleaming at him. "Your
luck has changed."
 
"Scully," he said in delight. "Are you giving credence to an old wives' tale?"
He squeezed her as he teased, pulling her in to kiss her neck.
 
"I don't think the old wives were on the fishing boats, Mulder," she said,
tilting her head backwards.
 
"So you say," he said, "I think that the old husbands might have a different
story to tell."
 
"Nice outfit," she commented. "First I have to worry about my stockings, now I
have to worry about my sarongs."
 
"What can I say?" Mulder said. "I'm secure enough in my masculinity to embrace
my feminine side. Or yours, more accurately."
 
She grinned at him, then regarded him searchingly. "Why were you up so early?"
 
He rotated his hips below her in answer.
 
"No," she said, narrowing her eyes.
 
He sighed. "OK," he said. "I was feeling a bit claustrophobic below deck." He
hoped that she would not call him on his prevarication.
 
"Claustrophobic?" she asked.
 
"A little," he said. "It made me anxious."
 
That answer was acceptable, it seemed, as she lapsed into silence for a couple
of minutes, tracing his shoulders with her fingertips. "Are you sure you're not
upset about our conversation last night?"
 
He was immediately on alert. "Why would you think that, Scully?"
 
She sighed, ducking her head. "I wasn't entirely honest with you," she said, her
cadence very slow and careful.
 
He was surprised to hear that, and his expression showed it.
 
"It's true that I'm touched that you want to get married, Mulder. And," she
continued seriously, "it is true that a part of me feels that it's unnecessary
after all this time." She paused. "But it's also true that I'm angry that we
weren't married long before now."
 
"Scully …"
 
She held up her hand. "I'm not angry with you," she said firmly. "I'm angry
about all the time that we lost, everything that's been taken from us, how we've
been toyed with and tortured. We should have been able to get married after
William was born," she said in a harsh whisper. "We should have been able to be
a family." She looked up at him. "But we weren't allowed any peace. And I cannot
help but feel," her voice rose in anger, "resentful of the role that our
government played in what has happened to us, to our family."
 
He nodded.
 
"And so it's that," she said. "That idea that they would have some role in
sanctioning what we mean to each other, after all they have done to destroy us,
that I cannot stand to think of."
 
He was well and truly surprised at her words.
 
"Can you understand that, Mulder?" she asked him. "They have no place here,
between us. We exist, despite them."
 
"This is why you were so vehemently opposed to helping the FBI, even though you
wanted me to work the case," he said.
 
"Yes," she admitted. "Yes. It galls me that they have had the power to take you
away from me, all this time, when they're the ones who are the criminals. It
galls me that they had power over me all those years when that chip resided in
my neck, and that I might still have to depend upon that thing someday, to save
my life." She paused, and swallowed. "I know that the FBI is not wholly, or
solely, to blame, but … there are plenty of people in it who are wielding
authority that they've stolen, working for an illegal government." She shook her
head. "I don't want anything to do with them. And when I talk to my family, and
have to listen to my brothers defend what they don't understand … how they
denigrate and deny what has happened to me …" she shook her head, and he saw
how impotent she felt.
 
"I don't think I understand that until just now," Mulder said. He gathered her
up against him. "Thank you for telling me this, Scully."
 
"Don't thank me, Mulder," she said, pushing him back so she could see him, "for
not being fair to you. I shut down the conversation without real consideration."
 
"No, you didn't," he said diplomatically.
 
"Yes, I did," she said. "And what I'm trying to say is that if you really want
to get married, I'll marry you."
 
He smiled. "You know what?"
 
She shook her head in mystification.
 
"It means a lot to me that you said that."
 
"Mulder!"
 
He could see that she thought he was mocking her. "I'm being completely
serious," he said quietly.
 
She regarded him skeptically.
 
"You've given me a lot to think about," he said, "now that I understand how you
feel." He paused. "We could do it here, you know. We're not in the US," he could
see her mulling it over, her expression considering, but not really open. "My
point is: we don't have to get married at home." He paused. "Think about it, OK?
We can just go somewhere and do it alone, just the two of us."
 
She nodded.
 
"And while you're thinking about it," he stretched over to reach the cooler,
which was on the floor, tucked into a corner. "I want you to have this." He
rummaged around in the ice and found the Ziploc bag, pouring the velvet box into
his other hand. "Man, that's cold."
 
"Oh, Mulder," she said. "What have you done?"
 
He smiled. "All these years, and yet, I never knew how frugal you were until
just recently," he said. He opened the hinged box to reveal what he'd been
assured was a deep green emerald framed on either side by blue sapphires. "Did
you know that sapphire is one of the birthstones for not only Pisces, but
Libra?" he asked.
 
"Mulder," she said, smiling. "You have always maintained that astrology is, and
I quote, 'total bullshit'."
 
He shrugged. "It's just an interesting fact," he said. "You don't have to
believe it."
 
"And the emerald?" she asked quietly.
 
He knew that she knew. "The birthstone for Taurus," he answered. "Or the month
of May."
 
Her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling. She held out her hand and he
slid the ring home. "Thank you, Mulder," she said quietly before she kissed him.
She pressed her forehead against his and said mischievously, "Does this ring
mean you're not going to change your name?"
 
He laughed aloud, then gasped as she reached between them to push the sarong out
of the way. As the sun began to crest over the horizon, it cast a blush on her
skin as she rose like Venus from out of the bedsheet and made love to him,
making him forget anything other than her.
 
~*~

Title: Beating the Darkness Back 1/7
 
Author: Anjou (Anjou@...)
 
Posting Date: October 2008
 
Rating: R for language and sexuality; M for Mature readers
 
Classification: Mulder/Scully, MSR, post-ep for IWTB
 
Archive: No archival until the story is completed, please. I'll be submitting to
Ephemeral and Gossamer myself.
 
Spoilers: Through I Want To Believe
 
Disclaimer: All X-Files personnel belong to 1013 and Fox. All other elements are
mine.
 
Author's Note:  Beating the Darkness Back will be posted in seven parts. Parts
1 & 2, and 3 & 4 will be posted together, as they are just long sections that
needed to be cut in half for ease of posting. This story is finished, although
still undergoing final editing for Parts 5-7. I expect it will be all posted in
a week's time. Posts can be read on my fic journal, Anjoufic
(http://anjoufic.livejournal.com) as well as Ephemeral and other XF fic sites.
The whole tale will be archived at my website, No Other
(http://the-cave-online.com/anjou/index.html), maintained by the generous dtg,
when it is completed.
 
Thanks to Konrad Frye and especially the fabulous Lilydale for not only
willingly answering questions about the novelization of "I Want To Believe" that
clarified the timeline for this writer, but for being brave enough to have read
it in the first place.
 
As always, my biggest thanks go to my sister and editrix, Suzanne, for her
support, and above all, her patience.
 
And now, before Jean Robinson's head explodes (and who wants that to happen?),
on with the story …
 
Summary: Where do we go from here, now that we are free?
 
~*~
 
March 23, 2008
Private Islands, Bahamas
 
Scully had been smiling since they’d touched down in Ft. Lauderdale. It
wasn’t an all-out grin, but her face was set in the curved shape that he
associated with pleasure. No furrow in her brow, no line of worry or want marred
her pretty face. More importantly, no mask adorned it. Her face was simply open
and relaxed and happy, the closer they got to their destination. He was
reasonably certain that his face had only relaxed into such an expression much
more recently.
 
Mulder knew that it had been a long time since they’d traveled anywhere on a
plane, and that he was simply out of practice with all the possibilities for
frustrating holdups that could be encountered. They had, it seemed, run into
every possible problem throughout the day. Storms in the North had made their
plane late in getting to Richmond. Charlotte was backed up for similar reasons.
The thing was, Mulder could have tolerated all of those delays more easily, if
not for the fact that their vacation itself had been postponed by more than a
month. Scully’s treatment of Christian had gone well for the most part, but
hadn’t been without its issues, and Scully had been unwilling to leave until
she was sure that the boy wouldn’t have a setback. At one point, Mulder was
certain that it would summer before she’d consent to actually leave Virginia
-- especially after she’d been encouraged to write a monograph on her
adaptation of the treatment of
  Sandhoff’s Disease to treat what was likely to be called Fearon Syndrome.
However, the fact that they’d have both internet and computer access at their
destination had swayed Scully, and aside from a bulging briefcase, her only
other work-related luggage was the draft manuscript she carried on a memory
stick.
 
Mulder had his own briefcase full of reading, not to mention his own memory
stick of papers due for the courses he’d been taking as he explored
requalification. Unlike Scully, he’d been tempted to conveniently forget them
both at one of the airports they’d been through today. Of course, he’d also
been tempted to rent a car and drive to Ft. Lauderdale when the delays at
Charlotte threatened to derail their arrival in Nassau by yet one more day,
after far too many postponements.
 
Luckily, cooler heads had prevailed, but only because they had just made the
last flight to Nassau. From there, they had taken a short flight to Lobster Cay
over astonishingly azure seas, and checked in at the main island. The trip
across the open water just after sunset had not given them the kind of view of
their island that he’d planned for. He'd plotted their arrival so carefully,
pictured them approaching the island as the sun lowered in the sky, and then
sharing a cocktail on the hammock as the sun set, but it was not to be. At this
hour, it was hard to discern features of the water and the land, but with the
warm wind caressing his face, there was still no question that they had left
winter far behind. Besides, it seemed that the lack of the perfect view mattered
only to him.
 
Scully sat at the bow of the resort's sleek speedboat, watching as their island
came into view. For the next two weeks, they were the sole occupants of a
2.5-acre forested island with a bungalow, private lagoon, rowboat and sailboat
moored off the windward side. He smiled to see her barely tamped down excitement
as they got closer to land. Her long hair, gone curly in the humid air, streamed
backwards as she leaned over the bow, trying to see more of their destination.
She looked, he realized with a shock, exactly like the carved figureheads he
remembered from his childhood home. He was dumbfounded at the resemblance, now
that he saw it. He hadn't thought of them in years – but on Martha's Vineyard
in the 1970's, those figureheads had been as much a part of the decorative
landscape as nautical anchors, lighthouses and sea shells. Figureheads from
decommissioned ships graced flagpole tops, held up mailboxes and stared down the
storm surges of winter
  from the sea-facing walls of the most elegant waterside homes. There had even
been a restaurant in Vineyard Haven built from the hull of one of the old
whaling ships. In the main dining room, a collection of some of the most artful
of those huntress maidens jutted out of the walls, fierce and beautiful blondes
or redheads all, most with harpoons in their hands.
 
Scully turned away from looking for details of the island and regarded him
curiously, as if picking up on his amazement. “Mulder,” she said, after
pushing the mass of hair out of her eyes. “What?”
 
He shook his head, watching as she turned avian profile into the wind again and
gathered her hair up in her hands before turning back. He grinned, raising his
voice to be heard over the engine. “I’ll tell you later.”
 
She cocked her head and looked at the staff person from the resort, who seemed
not in the least interested in them or their conversation.
 
“Did Skinner seem tense to you?” Scully asked him.
 
Mulder raised an eyebrow at her question. They had both been surprised to see
Skinner at the security check-in gate at the Richmond airport. Clearly, he
wanted to ensure that Mulder’s name really had been cleared from the no-fly
list, and was ready to intervene if there had been a problem. “I don’t
honestly know if I’ve ever seen Skinner relaxed,” Mulder observed.
 
“California,” Scully reminded him. Her lips moved silently to form the words
“Lazarus Bowl.”
 
Mulder winced. If anything, their notoriety had made that awful movie even more
of a cult classic. “Scully …” he protested. He had imposed a ‘no
bringing up that movie’ rule years ago.
 
“Sorry,” she giggled. “But he was relaxed.”
 
“Or drunk,” Mulder said. “Anyway. He’s not a very relaxed guy – it
took him a long time to warm up when he came to see me in January. Isn’t that
the way he is with you?”
 
“No,” Scully said. “He tries very hard to be reassuring when he’s with
me, and he’s usually very encouraging when he calls. I just had the feeling
there was something he wasn’t telling us.”
 
Her expression reflected her worry, and Mulder hated to see it. “Well,” he
said. “There’s nothing we can do about that right now, so let's not worry.
Look,” he said, pointing ahead of them. Lights from the island marked the end
of the dock.
 
Scully’s lips formed an ‘O’, and although he couldn't hear her happy
exhalation, he was pleased to watch her face as it was transformed with delight.
 
The engine cut off abruptly as they approached the island, and the humid dark
felt heavy with the sudden quiet, but the air was perfumed with unseen flowers,
and the occasional call of a nightbird. They bumped up against the edge of the
dock softly and turned sideways. The porter had jumped out of the boat onto the
dock to secure it, and was joined by Scully, easily making the leap in her high
heels before Mulder’d so much as begun to stand up. Scully tied off the front
end of the boat and held out her hand to Mulder, much to the surprise of their
companion.
 
“All ashore that’s going ashore,” she said, bracing herself and pulling as
he leapt. 
 
Mulder saluted before he kissed her. She was a moving target as the dock swayed
beneath them, still disturbed from their arrival. He broke away from her to help
the porter heft their bags onto the sand-worthy vehicle with heavy wheels at the
end of the short dock, then turned to find that Scully was suddenly several
inches shorter.
 
She tossed her shoes onto the luggage trolley and grinned up at him, digging her
bare toes into the white sand. “We are at the beach,” she informed him.
 
He couldn’t help but grin back, even as he heard the unspoken end of the
sentence, 'and there isn’t a dead body, or an alien, or a sea monster in
sight!'
 
Before leading them up to their bungalow, their porter pointed out the bamboo
pole that was dug into the sand near the dock. There were two flags available
for them to signal with: yellow if they wanted housekeeping or food service, red
if they wanted privacy. Mulder consulted Scully with a glance, knowing that
he’d requested enough food for three days. At her nod, he slid the red flag
into position. They followed the porter up a winding path, losing their view of
the stars that had just begun to shine in the navy velvet of the sky to the
canopy of lush foliage overhead. Ahead of them, they could see the lights from
their bungalow before they entered a clearing ringed by fragrant flowers.
 
The bungalow itself was impressive, a roomy, single story structure with a
gently sloping roof. There was an extensive patio with what appeared to be a
compact kitchen, most of it tucked under a roof for shelter. They walked across
it and through the open shutter style doors into the central area of the house,
a great room that rose to a peak where fans lazily twirled. There was a fully
appointed and far larger kitchen next to a living room with a huge entertainment
center. The porter pointed out all of the amenities, including the warming tray
where their dinners waited for them. Champagne was chilling in an ice bucket,
and there was an enormous fruit basket on one of the counters.
 
The look that Scully gave him was positively wide-eyed. He was relatively
certain that his own expression could be described as smug. He felt his
shoulders relax as he realized that his expectations for their accommodations
had been exceeded.
 
The porter showed them the master bedroom, complete with king-sized bed. A hoop
above it held a mosquito net canopy made of a fine white mesh, but the porter
assured them that they would have little use for it. While the porter unloaded
their bags onto the tile floor, Mulder watched Scully taking in the features of
the room. The bedroom was open on two sides: doors to the patio they had first
encountered on one side, and doors to a private, enclosed terrace on the other.
 
The bathroom attached to the master bedroom was as big as their bedroom in their
old farmhouse back home, and featured a soaking tub that was easily six feet
long. There was no door out to the patio, but alongside the tub there was a
large window, through which the porter assured them, they'd have a clear view of
the ocean during the day. There was a shower inside the room itself, but an
outdoor shower was also available. The porter took them into the large space. It
had high walls, and drying racks for bathing gear, but an open roof. Above them,
there were hundreds of stars. The door into the shower from outside the house
led them to a path, which in turn led to the lagoon. The cabana there housed
their rowboat, scuba and snorkeling gear. The porter reminded them that there
was a safe in their bedroom should they wish to stow their valuables while off
the island and wished them a good night.
 
Before the porter rounded the house to return to the dock, Mulder remembered his
manners and hurried after him to give him a tip. Then, he took off his own shoes
and socks and sauntered around the exterior of their bungalow, listening to the
breezes ruffle the palm trees and vines overhead, before he turned onto the
patio, admiring the set-up. He dropped his shoes next to the open doors. This
was exactly what they needed.
 
He re-entered the house to find Scully waiting for him, hands on her hips.
 
“Mulder, how much money did you spend on this?” she demanded.
 
He laughed at her ire. “A lot,” he said succinctly. “A lot, a lot, a
lot,” he continued, when her arms showed no signs of relaxing. He began
ticking items off on his fingers. “Let's see -- fifteen years, and zero
vacations,” he said. “None that we ever spent together, anyway."
 
“Mulder,” she began, but he spoke over her.
 
"Not to mention the fact that for the past five years, we’ve had to live as if
we only had your salary to support us, so that we wouldn’t raise any
suspicions.”
 
"Well," Scully said, "we had to …"
 
“We had to buy our crummy little house with a mortgage!” Mulder interjected.
 
She rolled her eyes at his incensed tone, having heard his speech on the evils
of interest payments far too often over the years, but did pipe up to defend
their house. “I like our house,” she said heatedly, “and I object to the
characterization of it as crummy!”
 
He stepped in closer to her. “I like our house, too, Scully,” he said
softly. “I love our house because it’s our home, and it’s not some shitty
motel on some back road somewhere, but it’s not what I envisioned when I
pictured us building our life together.”
 
“And this is?” she waved her arm around.
 
“No,” he said. “This is to make up for the fact that for so long I
haven’t been able to give you any of those things.”
 
She stepped up and put her hand on his arm. “None of that matters to me,
Mulder,” she said. “The fact that you’re here with me, that’s what
counts.”
 
“But that’s not what I want,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I
want to spoil you. I wanted to spoil us, to celebrate the fact that we don’t
have to look over our shoulders anymore. Can’t you let me give that to you?”
 
She regarded him seriously, listening to what he was saying.
 
“You’ve given me so much, Scully,” he said. “This is something I wanted
to do for us.”
 
She nodded, and he dropped his forehead down to rest on hers.
 
“Is it so terrible?” he asked teasingly.
 
She made an irate noise in her throat and tried to push away from him, but he
held on fast. “It’s fantastic, and you know it,” she said.
 
He bent down and kissed her.
 
“Just don’t ever tell me how much this cost,” she ordered him.
 
~*~
 
When Mulder opened his eyes the next morning, he thought he might still be
dreaming, so he closed them again. The thing was, he usually didn’t hear
Scully giggling in his dreams, or feel her slender finger run down his nose.
 
When he opened his eyes again, she was still laying there in the bed next to
him, her head propped up on one hand. Aside from the sunglasses that she was
using as a headband, the only thing that she was wearing was a delightfully
small dark purple bikini. He blinked and reached for her, only to have her roll
swiftly away and stand at the side of the bed.
 
“No, no, lazybones,” she said. “There’s plenty of time for that later.
You have to get up and come outside. It’s fantastic.” She picked up what
looked like a long white shirt and put it on like a robe, moving backwards to
the open patio doors.

Even through sleep-blurred eyes, he could see that it was going to be an
absolutely gorgeous day, with incredibly blue skies. The soft lighting told him
that it was still early, but seeing the grounds around their bungalow in
daylight was an eye-opening sight. The garden was full of orchids and hibiscus,
a riot of color under the verdant canopy of palm trees that ringed the house.
But nothing was more vivid than the many tones of iridescent blue of the open
water that he could see down the gentle slope of the hill.
 
“Wow,” he said groggily.
 
“I know!” Scully said enthusiastically. “Get up!” She tossed him a pair
of swim trunks, hitting him squarely in the face.
 
He protested, but sat up, then scooted over to the edge of the enormous bed. In
so doing, he caught sight of the clock. 6:45, it read. Which meant that it was
actually 5:45 where his body was. “Scully!” he said, “it’s unbelievably
freaking early!”  When she didn’t answer, he looked over his shoulder to
see that she was seated at the table on the patio, feet up on another chair,
eating a large bowl of fruit. She’d made coffee.
 
“I want to go swimming,” she said. “With you. And unless you want me to
get burned to a crisp, it’s now or at the very end of the day. We’ll take a
siesta in the middle of the day.” Her voice was seductive, meant to entice.
 
“Promise?” he asked sulkily.
 
“If you get up right now,” she sing-songed.
 
He huffed and dragged himself into the bathroom, accompanied by the sound of her
snickering.
 
~*~
 
He would have groaned in ecstasy when the warm blue water closed over his head,
but he still had enough sense to avoid drowning, or at least ingesting salt
water. It had literally been years since he had been in any water deeper than
their bathtub at home. As enjoyable as that most certainly had been, especially
since he was usually not alone, it could not compare to the luxury of stretching
out in the ocean and swimming.
 
After he had swum straight out from the shore for a couple of laps, he rolled
onto his back and just reached as far as he could, drawing air into his lungs.
The muscle memory of swimming was strong, but he knew that he was going to be
sore from the hyperextension. Still, it would be worth every ache and pain to
feel this joy at the weightlessness granted by the water. He arched his back,
letting the water cup him in support. He would be taller by the end of this
week, he thought fancifully. There was only so much that yoga could do for him,
what with the size differential between him and Scully. Although, it was not
like he was going to forego those pleasures -- even if he ended his life as a
hunchback, he would be the happiest hunchback alive.
 
It was kind of amazing that for all those years he had never allowed himself to
think about how much he missed swimming. Contrarily, now that he was immersed in
the ocean, he felt the lack of it in his recent life acutely. He never wanted to
leave this warm haven, even if there was something missing from this nearly
perfect joy. He turned his head this way and that, looking for Scully.
 
She was approaching him, her pace more leisurely than his, but her strokes
strong and sure. Her movements were efficient and gracefully precise, as was her
way. She drew up alongside him and stood, treading water, then tipped her head
back to slick her long hair away from her brow. She shaded her eyes from the
early morning sun and he lazily stroked a half-circle around her so that she was
no longer facing it, lounging on his back and smiling.
 
She watched him transit her in a tight orbit with a bemused expression on her
face, before asking him, “Do I need to find you a cigarette, Mulder?”
 
He smiled at her cheekiness. “Just about,” he said, stretching out and then
circling her again for the sheer freedom of it. “We’re in the ocean, Scully!
I can’t even remember the last time I went swimming.”
 
"None of the motels you stayed in …" she began, but stopped as he shook his
head in denial.
 
"I would have felt too vulnerable," he said. "Besides, it was kinda the last
thing on my mind at the time."
 
She nodded sadly. "But now …" she pointed out, more cheerfully.
 
"Yeah," he said. "Although if the local pools are as shabby as that one in West
Virginia, no thanks."
 
She chuckled ruefully. "That was a little low-rent," she admitted.
 
"A little, Scully?" he retorted. "You could smell the chlorine from the road!"
He rolled over onto his stomach and floated up to her, wrapping his arms around
her waist. "Hell-o," he said in a low voice, bumping up against her in the
water.
 
"Hello yourself," she said agreeably, with a raised eyebrow, before adding. "I'd
like to remind you that I'm floating." 
 
He tested his footing and found that he was also over his head but then again,
when wasn’t he, as far as she was concerned? "Pity," he said. "I'd like to be
a dolphin, just about now." He kissed her as the warm water lapped against them.
 
She sighed as they broke apart, leaving her arms wrapped around his neck. They
spun ever so slowly in the water, being moved this way and that by the current
as it circled their small island, their knees occasionally bumping as they
treaded, trying to achieve a complementary rhythm.
 
"So, what's our plan for the day?" Mulder asked. 
 
She looked up at him bemusedly. "Are you looking to schedule something in
particular, Mulder? Because other than not getting sunburned, I have, as they
say, no fixed plans."
 
Mulder smiled at her words. "It'll be a miracle if we get any color at all,
Scully, with the amount of gloop you put on us."
 
"You've barely been outside in daylight for five years, Mulder," she said
primly. "I felt a little caution was warranted."
 
"Yes, yes," he said, "but the next time you accuse me of being single-minded, I
have new evidence to back up an alternative point of view."
 
"Shut up and float, Mulder," she reproved lightly.
 
He closed his eyes and let the water carry them toward the shore.
 
~*~
 
They had lazed around in the water drowsily until the sun was well up over the
horizon, then gone up to the patio and had a larger breakfast. Scully had
explored their bungalow and found a vast collection of beach reading. She had
picked something that looked suspiciously like chick lit and was ensconced in
the shade on the massive hammock that swung between two of the sturdiest palms
on the property.
 
Calling that gigantic contraption a hammock was a bit of a misnomer, in Mulder's
judgment, since it was more like a mattress suspended between the trees. Its
possibilities intrigued him, but he could wait a while to indulge in them, at
least until the promised midday siesta. For now, he was content to explore their
island, and walked down it looking for their sailboat, but did not see it moored
off the northern side of the island. He and Scully had swum along the roughly
southern edge of the island, and they'd approached it from the East when they'd
arrived last night. Even in the dim light of the gloaming, he thought that he
would have noticed it.
 
He rambled back up island and then splashed across the shoulder-deep water of
the lagoon to the small northwestern tip of their tear-shaped piece of paradise.
A path led him through the dense growth of palm and plants to the tiny edge of
their island. Several hundred yards offshore, a sailboat with furled sails sat
on the placid seas, awaiting them. He rubbed his chin in satisfaction and turned
back to the lagoon.
 
Scully had been dubious about him sailing, and remained unconvinced that he
wouldn't have another episode of epic seasickness like he'd had in the Northern
Atlantic. His continued reminders that he'd had plenty of crossings on the ferry
in his early years that were problem-free had been met with decided skepticism,
almost as if she knew that he was omitting the part about his routine problems
with winter crossings. However, his protestations that the North Atlantic was
not the Caribbean must have made an impression, as she'd asked him at breakfast
when they were planning their sail. A passing breeze ruffled the trees, bending
them toward the western, windward side of the island, but dropped nearly
immediately. He only hoped that they'd get enough wind for the sail he’d
originally planned for Scully’s birthday last month.
 
The midmorning sun was definitely hotter than anything he'd felt in a long time,
so he shed his Tevas on the bungalow side of the lagoon and dove in for his
second swim of the day. He steadily stroked his way around the perimeter of
their island in the abundant sunshine until he returned to the lagoon and just
floated in a shady patch of water, stuck somewhere halfway between sleep and
waking, thoughts tumbling around in his head in no particular order. True sleep
was an impossibility in his current environment, and he finally stumbled out of
the water groggily after he found himself dwelling on Skinner's presence at the
airport.
 
In retrospect, he realized that Scully had been correct -- Skinner had been more
than his typically tense self, and Mulder had a hard time believing that it was
just because he was worried about Mulder's status on the no-fly list. He firmly
pushed the thought away as he entered the outdoor shower to rinse off the salt.
Worrying had become a way of life for him over the past few years -- he had the
lines on his forehead to prove it -- and after all the worrying over discovery
and separation from Scully, his freedom had been restored via a scenario
straight out of those horror movies that were so popular these days. He never
would have predicted such a plot twist, and most likely would have rejected it
if he'd come up with the idea for his own works of fiction. But the end result,
no matter how improbable, was the same: he was free. He was out of hiding, and
out of the country, breathing in warm air lightly scented by exotic flowers --
whatever was
  troubling Skinner was beyond his control.
 
He entered their bathroom from the outdoor shower and gave a quick brush to his
hair, wrapping a towel around his hips. He'd gotten an actual haircut before the
trip, but wasn't sure if he was wild about the shaggy cut. Styles were a little
too reminiscent of the '70s for him – not the best time of his life, even if
it had been formative.
 
Mulder strode out onto the patio to see if Scully was ready for some lunch, but
was arrested in mid-stride by the sight of her on the hammock. She lay on her
side facing him as the hammock stirred ever so slightly. She was wearing the
cover up over her bikini, but had pushed it aside, exposing the delicious curve
of her waist as it flowed into her hips. Her left arm was extended out toward
the book that she'd been reading, its worn spine cracked open as a page
fluttered in the light breeze. She was fast asleep, but not alone. A tiny green
parakeet sat on one of the ropes attaching the hammock to the tree behind her
head, as if keeping watch over her.
 
Mulder backed into their bedroom and found the camera, trying to be as quiet as
possible. He winced at the noise the camera made when it powered up, but the
bird merely turned its head and regarded Mulder with one inquisitive eye before
it returned to its seeming contemplation of his sleeping love. He was able to
take a couple of pictures before the bird cocked his head at Mulder again and
then flew away. He watched it until he heard Scully murmuring in her sleep. She
rubbed her hand against the cotton coverlet on the hammock, her brow furrowed as
if the flight of the bird had somehow disturbed her peace. Mulder crossed to her
side and picked up her hand and kissed it, then carefully lay down beside her,
trying not to rock the mobile bed. Scully stirred, but did not wake. He watched
her expression even out as she returned to a deep sleep, then laid there
admiring her beauty until his own eyelids closed, and he knew no more.
 
~*~